ILLUSTRIOUS DAMES
OF THE COURT OF
THE
VALOIS KINGS
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KATHARINE PRESCOTT WORMELEY
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Illustrious Dames
of tke Court of
Tke Valois Kings
by
PIERRE DE BOURDEILLE
and
C.-A. SAINT-BEUVE
5^'
I 5 -
Literally Translated by
KATHARINE PRESCOTT WORMELEY
Illustrated with Photogravure* from
the Original Paintings
NF.W YORK
The Lamb Publishing Co.
MCMXII
Copyright 1912 by
THE LAMB PUBLISHING COMPANY
All Tiithti Rettrvtd
FOREWORD
About twelve years ago this translation of the personal
recollections and records of the Abb6 de Brantome, who has
been called the ' ' Valet de Chambre' ' of history, by Katharine
Prescott Wormeley, was issued in a most elaborate and ex-
pensive style. The cost of translation and reproduction was
considerable and the work was sold at a correspondingly
high price, which practically placed it beyond the reach
of the ordinary reader.
The present issue, complete in every respect, with all
the illustrations of the costly original edition, is now pub-
lished to meet the demand for a less expensive form of this
realistic and intimate chronicle of the illustrious women of
the most luxurious European court at the most brilliant
epoch of its existence.
The Abbe left a priceless and artlessly written chronicle
of the Valois women who were largely responsible for the ruin-
ous extravagance and the colossal crimes of the period. He
introduces us to the crafty Florentine, Catharine de Medici ;
her beautiful daughters, Marguerite de Valois and Elizabeth
of Spain ; Diane de Poitiers, the woman of perennial youth
and beauty ; Jeanne d' Albert, mother of Henry IV, who was
poisoned by the revengeful Catharine ; and others more or
less prominent, with their attending satellites.
It was a time when were sown the earUest seeds which
two centuries later blossomed into the Terrors of the French
Revolution.
January 1912. G. E. C.
CONTENTS.
Paob
INTRODUCTION 1
DISCOUESE I. Anne de Bretagne, Queen of France .... 25
Sainte-Beuve's remarks upon her 40
DISCOURSE II. Catherine de' Medici, Queen, and mother of
our last kings 44
Sainte-Beuve's remarks upon her 86
DISCOURSE III. Marie Stuart, Queen of Scotland, formerly
Queen of our France 89
Sainte-Beuve's essay on her 121
DISCOURSE IV. :6lisabeth of France, Queen of Spain ... 138
DISCOURSE V. Marguerite, Queen of France and of Navarre,
sole daughter now remaining of the Noble House of France 152
Sainte-Beuve's essay on her 193
DISCOURSE VI. Mesdames, the Daughters of the Noble House
of France :
Madame Yoland 214
Madame Jeanne 215
Madame Anne 216
Madame Claude 219
Madame Rene'e 220
Mesdames Charlotte, Louise, Magdelaine, Marguerite .... 223
Mesdames Elisabeth, Claude, and Marguerite 229
Madame Diane 231
Marguerite de Valois, Queen of Navarre 234
Sainte-Beuve's essay on the latter 243
iv CONTENTS.
DISCOUKSE VII. Of Various Illusteiotts Ladies: Paoe
Isabelle d'Autriche, wife of Charles IX 262
Jeanne d'Autriche, wife of the Infante of Portugal 270
Marie d'Autriche, wife of the King of Hungary 273
Louise de Lorraine, wife of Henri III 280
Marguerite de Lorraine, wife of the Due de Joyeuse 282
Christine of Denmark, wife of the Due de Lorraine 283
Marie d'Autriche, wife of the Emperor Maximilian II. .... 291
Blanche de Montferrat, Duchesse de Savoie 293
Catherine de Cleves, wife of Henri I. de Lorraine, Due de Guise 297
Madame de Bourdeille 297
APPENDIX 299
INDEX 306
LIST OF
PHOTOGRAVURE ILLUSTRATIONS.
Coronation of Marie de' Medici Frontispiece
With Portraits, by Rubens (Peter Paul) ; in the Louvre. See de-
scription in Note to the Discourse.
FACINa
PAGK
Catherine de' Medici, Queen of France 44
School of the sixteenth century ; in the Louvre.
Ball at the Court of Henri III 81
With Portraits, attributed to Frangois Clouet ; in the Louvre. See
description in Note to Discourse VIL
Marie Stuart 120
School of the sixteenth century ; Versailles.
Elisabeth de France, Queen of Spain 185
By Rubens ; in the Louvre.
Diane de France, Duchesse d'Angouleme 233
School of the sixteenth century; in the Louvre.
Isabelle d'Autriche, Wife op Charles IX 262
By Franjois Clouet; in the Louvre.
Louise de Lorraine, Wife of Henri HI 280
School of the sixteenth century ; in the Louvre.
INTRODUCTION.*
The title, " Vie des Dames lUustres," given habitually to
one volume of Brantome's Works, is not that which was
chosen by its author. It was given by his first editor fifty
years after his death; Brantome himself having called his
work "The Book of the Ladies."
One of his earliest commentators, Castelnaud, almost a
cotemporary, says of him in his Memoirs : —
"Pierre de Bourdeille, Abb^ de Brantome, author of vol-
umes of which I have availed myself in various parts of this
history, used his quality as one of those warrior abb^s who
were called Ablates Milites under the second race of our
kings ; never ceasing for all that to follow arms and the
Court, where his services won him the Collar of the Order and
the dignity of gentleman of the Bedchamber to the King.
" He frequented, with unusual esteem for his courage and
intelligence, the principal Courts of Europe, such as Spain,
Portugal (where the king honoured him with his Order),
Scotland, and those of the Princes of Italy. He went to
Malta, seeking an occasion to distinguish himself, and after that
lost none in our wars of France. But, although he managed
perfectly all the great captains of his time and belonged to
them by alliance of friendship, fortune was ever contrary to
1 Taken chiefly from the Essays preceding the yarious editions of
Brantome's works published in tlie 18th and 19th centuries ; some of wliich
are anonymous ; the more recent being those of M. H. Vignaud and M.
Henri Moland. — Tr. ^
2 INTRODUCTION.
him ; so that he never obtained a position worthy, not of his
merits only, but of a name so illustrious as his.
" It was this that made him of a rather bad humour in his
retreat at Brantome, where he set himself to compose his
books in different frames of mind, according as the persons
who recurred to his memory stirred his bile or touched his
heart. It is to be wished that lie had written a discourse on
himself alone, like other seigneurs of his time. He would
then have shown us much, if nothing were omitted in it ;
but perhaps he abstained from doing this in order not to
declare his inclinations for the House of Lorraine at the very
moment of the ruin of all its schemes ; for he was greatly
attached to that house, and it appears in various places that
he had more respect than affection for the House of Bourbon.
It was this that made him take part against the Salic law, in
behalf of Queen Marguerite, whom he esteemed infinitely,
and whom he saw, with regret, deprived of the Crown of
France.
" In many other matters he gives out sentiments which have
more of the courtier than the abb^ ; indeed to be a courtier
was his principal profession, as it still is with the greater
part of the abb(?s of the present day ; and in view of this
quality we must pardon various little liberties which would
be less pardonable in a sworn historian.
" I do not speak of the volume of the ' Dames Galantes ' in
order not to condemn the memory of a nobleman whose other
Works have rendered him worthy of so much esteem; I
attribute the crime of that book to the dissolute habits of the
Court of his time, about which more terrible tales could be
told than those he relates.
" There is something to complain of in the method with
which he writes; but perhaps the name of 'Notes' may
cover this defect. However that may be, we can gather from
INTRODUCTION. 3
him much and very important knowledge on our History ;
and France is so indebted to him for this labour that I do
not hesitate to say that the services of his sword must yield
in value to those of his pen. He had much wit and was
well read in Letters. In youth he was very pleasing ; but
I have heard those who knew him intimately say that the
griefs of his old age lay heavier upon him than his arms, and
were more displeasing than the toils and fatigues of war by
sea or land. He regretted his past days, the loss of friends,
and he saw nothing that could equal the Court of the Valois,
in which he was born and bred. . . ."
" The family of Bourdeille is not only illustrious in tem-
poral prosperities, but it is remarkable throughout antiquity
for the valour of its ancestors. King Charlemagne held it
in great esteem,, which he showed by choosing, when the
splendid abbey of Brantome was founded in Pdrigord, that
the Seigneur de Bourdeille should be associated in that pious
work and be, with him, the founder of the Monastery. He
therefore made him its patron, and obliged his posterity to
defend it against all who might molest the monks and hinder
them in the enjoyment of their property.
" If we may rely on ancient deeds [pancartes'] still in pos-
session of this family, we must accord it a first rank among
those which claim to be descended from kings, inasmuch as
they carry back its origin to Marcomir, King of France, and
Tiloa Boardelia, daughter of a king of England.
"The same old deeds relate that Nicanor, son of this Mar-
comir, being appealed to by the people of Aquitaine to assist
them in throwing off the Roman yoke, and having come with
an army very near to Bordeaux, was compelled to withdraw
by the violence of the Eomans, who were stronger than he,
and also by a tempest that arose in the sea. Nicanor cast
anchor at an island, uninhabited on account of the wild be£,itj
4 INTRODUCTION.
that peopled it, and especially certain griffins, animals with
four feet, and heads and wings like eagles.
" He had no sooner set foot on land with his men than he
was forced to fight these monsters, and after battling with
them a long time, not without loss of soldiers, he succeeded
in vanquishing them. With his own hand he killed the
largest and fiercest of them all, and cut off' his paws. This
victory greatly rejoiced all the neighbouring countries, which
had suffered much damage from these beasts.
" On account of this affair, Nicanor was ever after surnamed
' The Griffin ' and honoured by every one, like Hercules
when he killed the Stymphalides in Arcadia, those birds of
prey that feed on human flesh. This is the origin of the
arms which the Seigneurs de Brantome bear to this day, to
wit: Or, two griffins' paws gules, onglde azure, counter
barred."
Pierre de Bourdeille, third son of Francois, Vicomte de
Bourdeille and Anne de Vivonne de la Chataignerie, was
born in the P^rigord in 1537, under the reign of Frangois I.
The family of Bourdeille is one of the most ancient and
respected in the P^rigord, which province borders on Gas-
cony and echoes, if we may say so, the caustic tongue and
rambling, restless temperaments that flourish on the banks of
the Garonne. " Not to boast of myself," says Brantome, " I
can assert that none of my race have ever been home-keeping ;
they have spent as much time in travels and wars as any, no
matter who they be, in France."
As for his father, Brantome gives an amusing account of
him as a true Gascon seigneur. He began Hfe by running
away from home to go to the wars in Italy, and roam the
world as an adventurer. He was, says Brantome, " a jovial
fellow, who could say his word and talk familiarly to the
INTRODUCTION. 5
greatest personages.** Pope Julius II. took a fancy to him.
" One day they were playing cards together and the pope
won from my father three hundred crowns and his horses,
which were very fine, and all his equipments. After he had
lost all, he said : ' Chadieu henit ! ' (that was his oath when
he was angry ; when he was good-natured he swore : * Char-
don henit ! ') — ' Chadieu henit ! pope, play me five hundred
crowns against one of my ears, redeemable in eight days. If
I don't redeem it I '11 give you leave to cut it off, and eat it
if you Hke.' The pope took him at his word ; and confessed
afterwards that if my father had not redeemed his ear, he
would not have cut it off, but he would have forced him to
keep him company. They began to play again, and fortune
willed that my father won back everything except a fine
courser, a pretty httle Spanish horse, and a handsome mule.
The pope cut short the game and would not play any more.
My father said to him : ' Hey ! Chadieu ! pope, leave me my
horse for money * (for he was very fond of him) ' and keep the
courser, who will throw you and break your neck, for he is
too rough for you ; and keep the mule too, and may she rear
and break your leg ! ' The pope laughed so he could not stop
himself. At last, getting his breath, he cried out : * I '11 do
better ; I '11 give you back your two horses, but not the mule,
and I '11 give you two other fine ones if you wiU keep me
company as far as Eome and stay with me there two months ;
we '11 pass the time well, and it shall not cost you anything.'
My father answered: ' Chadieu! pope, if you gave me your
mitre and your cap, too, I would not do it ; I would n't quit
my general and my companions just for your pleasure.
Good-bye to you, rascal.' The pope laughed, while all the
great captains, French and Italians, who always spoke so rev-
erently to his Holiness, were amazed and laughed too at such
liberty of language. When the pope was on the point of
6 INTRODUCTION.
leaving, he said to him, ' Ask what you want of me and you
shall have it,' thinking my father would ask for his horses ;
but my father did not ask anything, except for a hcense
and dispensation to eat butter in Lent, for his stomach could
never get accustomed to olive and nut oiL The pope gave it
him readily, and sent him a bull, which was long to be seen
in the archives of our house."
The young Pierre de Bourdeille spent the first years of
his existence at the Court of Marguerite de Valois, sister of
Francois I., to whom his mother was lady-in-waiting. After
the death of that princess in 1549 he came to Paris to begin
his studies, which he ended at Poitiers about the year 1556.
Being the youngest of the family he was destined if not
for the Church at least for church benefices, which he
never lacked through life. An elder brother. Captain de
Bourdeille, a valiant soldier, having been killed at the siege
of Hesdin by a cannon-ball which took off his head and the
arm that held a glass of water he was drinking on the breach,
King Henri II. desired, in recognition of so glorious a death,
to do some favour to the Bourdeille family ; and the abbey
of Brantome falling vacant at this very time, he gave it to the
young Pierre de BourdeiUe, then sixteen years old, who
henceforth bore the name of Seigneur and Abbd de Brantome,
abbreviated after a while to Brantome, by which name he is
known to posterity. In a few legal deeds of the period,
especially family documents, he is mentioned as " the rever-
end father in God, the Abb^ de Brantome."
Brantome had possessed his abbey about a year when he
began to dream of going to the wars in Italy ; this was the
high-road to glory for the young French nobles, ever since
Charles A^III. had shown them the way. Brantome obtained
from Francois I. permission to cut timber in the forest of
Saint-Trieix ; this cut brought him in five hundred golden
INTRODUCTION. 7
crowns, with which he departed in 1558, "bearing," he says,
" a matchlock arquebuse, a fine powder-horn from Milan,
and mounted on a hackney worth a hundred crowns, fol-
lowed by six or seven gentlemen, soldiers themselves, well
set-up, armed and mounted the same, but on good stout
nags."
He went first to Geneva, and there he saw the Calvinist
emigration; continuing his way he stayed at Milan and
Ferrara, reaching Rome soon after the death of Paul IV.
There he was welcomed by the Grand-Prior of France,
FrauQois de Guise, who had brought his brother, the Cardinal
of Lorraine, to assist in the election of a new pontifif.
This was the epoch of the Renaissance, — that epoch when
the knightly king made all Europe resound with the fame
of his amorous and warlike prowess ; when Titian and
Primaticcio were leaving on the walls of palaces their im-
mortal handiwork; when Jean Goujon was carving his
figures on the fountains and the facades of the Louvre;
when Rabelais was inciting that mighty roar of laughter
which, in itself, is a whole human comedy ; when the Mar-
guerite of Marguerites was teUing in her "Heptameron"
those charming tales of love. Francois L dies ; his son suc-
ceeds him ; Protestantism makes serious progress. Mont-
gomery kills Henri II., and Frangois II. ascends the throne
only to hve a year ; and then it is that Marie Stuart leaves
France, the tears in her eyes, sadly singing as the beloved
shores over which she had reigned so short a while re-
cede from sight: "FareweU, my pleasant land of France,
farewell ! "
Returning to France without any warrior fame but closely
attached by this time to the Guises, Brantome took to a
Court life. He assisted in a tournament between the grand-
prior, Frangois de Guise, disguised as an Egyptian woman,
8 INTRODUCTION.
" having on her arm a little monkey swaddled as an infant,
which kept its baby face there is no telling how," and M. de
Nemours, dressed as a bourgeoise housekeeper wearing at
her belt more than a hundred keys attached to a thick silver
chain. He witnessed the terrible scene of the execution of
the Huguenot nobles at Amboise (March, 1560); was at
Orleans when the Prince de Cond^ was arrested, and at
Poissy for the reception of the Knights of Saint-Michel.
In short, he was no more " home-keeping " in France than in
foreign parts.
Charles IX., then about ten years old, succeeded his brother
Frangois II. in December, 1560. The following year Due
FranQois de Guise was commissioned to escort his niece,
Marie Stuart, to Scotland. Brantome went with them, saw
the threatening reception given to the queen by her sullen
subjects, and then returned with the duke by way of Eng-
land. In London, Queen Elizabeth greeted them most
graciously, deigning to dance more than once with Due
FranQois, to whom she said : " Monsieur mon prieur " (that
was how she called him) " I like you very much, but not
your brother, who tore my town of Calais from me."
Brantome returned to France at the moment when the
edict of Saint-Germain granting to Protestants the exercise
of their religion was promulgated, and he was struck by
the change of aspect presented by the Court and the whole
nation. The two armed parties were face to face ; the Cal-
vinists, scarcely escaped from persecution, seemed certain of
approaching triumph ; the Prince de Cond6, with four hun-
dred gentlemen, escorted the preachers to Charenton through
the midst of a quivering population. " Death to papists ! " —
the very cry Brantome had first heard on landing in Scot-
land., where it sounded so ill to his ears — was beginnincr
to be heard in France, to which the cry of " Death to the
INTRODUCTION. 9
Huguenots!" responded in the breasts of an irritated popu-
lace. Brantome did not hesitate as to the side he should
take, — he was abb6, and attached to the Guises ; he fought
through the war with them, took part in the sieges of Blois,
Bourges, and Eouen, was present at the battle of Dreux,
where he lost his protector the grand-prior, and attached
himself henceforth to FranQois de Guise, the elder, whom
he followed to the siege of Orldans in 1563, where the duke
was assassinated by Poltrot de Mer^ under circumstances
which Brantome has vividly described in his chapter on that
great captain.
In 1564 BrantSme entered the household of the Due
d'Anjou (afterwards Henri III.) as gentleman-in-waiting to
tlie prince, on a salary of six hundred livres a year. But,
being seized again by his passion for distant expeditions, he
engaged during the same year in an enterprise conducted
by Spaniards agamst the Emperor of Morocco, and went
with the troops of Don Garcia of Toledo to besiege and take
the towns on the Barbary coast. He returned by way of
Lisbon, pleased the king of Portugal, Sebastiano, who con-
ferred upon him his Order of the Christ, and went from
there to Madrid, where Queen Elisabeth gave him the cordial
welcome on which he plumes himself in his Discourse upon
that princess. He was commissioned by her to carry to
her mother, Catherine de' Medici, the desire she felt to have
an interview with her; which interview took place at
Bayonne, Brantome not failing to be present.
In that same year, 1565, Sultan Suleiman attacked the
island of Malta. The grand-master of the Knights of Saint-
John, Parisot de La Valette, calle'd for the help of all Chris-
tian powers. The French government had treaties with the
Ottoman Porte which did not allow it to come openly to
the assistance of the Knights ; but many gentlemen, both
10 INTRODUCTION.
Catholic and Protestant, took part as volunteers. Among
them went Brantome, naturally. " We were," he says, " about
three hundred gentlemen and eight hundred soldiers. ]VL
de Strozzi and M. de Bussac were with us, and to them we
deferred our own wills. It was only a little troop, but as
active and vaUant as ever left France to fight the Infidel."
While at Malta he seems to have had a fancy to enter
the Order of the Knights of Saint-John, but Philippe Strozzi
dissuaded him. " He gave me to understand," says Bran-
tome, " that I should do WTong to abandon the fine fortune
that awaited me in France, whether from the hand of my
king, or from that of a beautiful, virtuous lady, and rich, to
whom I was just then servant and welcome guest, so that I
had hope of marrying her."
He left Malta on a galley of the Order, intending to go
to Naples, according to a promise he had made to the " beau-
tiful and virtuous lady," the Marchesa del Vasto. But a
contrary wind defeated his project, which he did not re-
nounce without regret. In after years he considered this
mischance a strong feature in his unfortunate destiny. " It
was possible," he says, " that by means of Mme. la marquise
I might have encountered good luck, either by marriage or
otherwise, for she did me the kindness to love me. But I
believe that my unhappy fate was resolved to bring me back
to France, where never did fortune smile upon me ; I have
always been duped by vain expectations ; I have received
much honour and esteem, but of property and rank, none
at all. Companions of mine who would have been proud
had I deigned to speak to them at Court or in the chamber
of the king or queen, have long been advanced before me ;
I see them round as pumpkins and highly exalted, though
I will not, for all that, defer to them to the length of my
thumb-naiL That proverb, ' Xo one is a prophet in his
INTRODUCTION. 11
own country/ was made for me. If I had served foreign
sovereigns as I have my own I should now be as loaded
with wealth and dignities as I am with sorrows and years.
Patience ! if Fate has thus woven my days, I curse her ! If
my princes have done it, I send them aU to the devil, if they
are not there already."
But when he started from Malta Brantome was still
young, being then only twenty-eight years of age. " Jog-
ging, meandering, vagabondizing," as he says, he reached
Venice ; there he thought of going into Hungary in search
of the Turks, whom he had not been able to meet in Malta.
But the death of Sultan Suleiman stopped the invasion for
one year at least, and Brantome reluctantly decided to return
to France, passing through Piedmont, where he gave a proof
of his disinterestedness, which he relates in his sketch of
Marguerite, Duchesse de Savoie.
Beaching his own land he found the war he had been so
far to seek without encountering it ; whereupon he recruited
a company of foot-soldiers, and took part in the third civil
war with the title of commander of two companies, though
in fact there was but one. Shortly after this he resigned
his command to serve upon the staff of Monsieur, com-
mander-in-chief of the royal army. After the battle of
Jarnac (March 15, 1569), being sick of an intermittent fever,
he retired to his abbey, where his presence throughout the
troubles was far from useless. But always more eager for
distant expeditions than for the dulness of civil war, Bran-
tome let himself be tempted by a grand project of Mardchal
Strozzi, who dreamed of nothmg less than a descent on
South America and the conquest of Peru. Brantome was
commissioned in 1571 to go to the port of Brouage and
direct the preparations for the armament. It was this en-
terprise that prevented him from being present at the battle
12 INTRODUCTION.
of Lepanto (October 7, 1571). "I should have gone there
resolutely, as did that brave M. de Grillon," he says, " if it
had not been for M. de Strozzi, who amused me a whole
year with that fine embarkation at Brouage, which ended
in nothing but the ruin of our purses, — to those of us at
least who owned the vessels." But if the duties which kept
him at Brouage robbed him of the glory of being present at
the greatest battle of the age, it also saved him from being
a witness of the Saint Bartholomew.
The treaty of June 24, 1573, put an end to the siege of
Eochelle and the fourth civil war. Charles IX. died on
May 30, 1574. Monsieur, elected the year before to the
throne of Poland, was in that distant country when the
death of his brother made him king of France. He has-
tened to return. BrantOme went to meet him at Lyons
and was one of the gentlemen of his Bedchamber from 1575
to 1583. During the years just passed Brantome, besides the
principal events already named in which he participated,
took part in various little or great events in the daily hfe
of the Court, such as : the quarrel of Sussy and Saint-Fal,
the splendid disgrace of Bussy d'Amboise, the death and
obsequies of Charles IX., the coronation of Henri III., etc.
Throughout them all he played the part of interested
spectator, of active supernumerary without importance 5
discontented at times and sulky, but always unable to make
himself feared.
The years went by in this sterile round. He was now
thirty-five years old. The hope of a great fortune was
realized no more on the side of his king than on that of his
beautiful, virtuous, and rich lady. He is, no doubt, " liked,
known, and made welcome by the kings, his masters, by his
queens and his princesses, and all the great seigneurs, who held
him in such esteem that the name of Brantome had great
INTRODUCTION. 13
reno-wn." But lie is not satisfied with the Court small-
change in which his services are paid. He is vexed that
his own lightheartedness is taken at its word ; he would be
very glad indeed if that love of liberty with which he
decked himself were put to greater trials. Philosopher in
spite of himself, he finds his disappointments all the more
painful because of his own opinion of his merits. He sees
men to whom he believes himself superior, preferred before
him. " His companions, not equal to him," he says in the
epitaph he composed for himself, " surpassed him in benefits
received, in promotions and ranks, but never in virtue or
in merit." And he adds, with posthumous resignation:
" God be praised nevertheless for all, and for his sacred
mercy ! "
Meantime, perchance a queen, Catherine de' Medici or
Marguerite de Valois, deigns to drop into his ear some trifling
word which he relishes with delight. Henri de Guise \le
Balafrd], who was ten years younger than himself, called him
" my son ; " and the Baron de Montesquieu, the one that
killed the Prince de Cond^ at Jarnac and was very much
older than Brantome, who had pulled him out of the water
during certain aquatic games on the Seine, called him
"father." Such were the familiarities with which he was
treated.
He was, it is true, chevalier of the Order of Saint-Michel,
but that was not enough to console his ambition. He com-
plained that they degraded that honour, no longer reserved
to the nobility of the sword. He thinks it bad, for instance,
that it was granted to his neighbour, Michel de Montaigne.
" We have seen," he says, " counsellors coming from the
courts of parliament, abandoning robes and the square cap to
drag a sword behmd them, and at once the king decks them
with the collar, without any pretext of their going to war.
14 INTRODUCTION.
This is what was given to the Sieur de Montaigne, who
would have done much better to continue to write his Essays
instead of changing his pen into a sword, which does not suit
him. The Marquis de Trans obtained the Order very easily
from the king for one of his neighbours, no doubt in derision,
for he is a great joker." Brantome always speaks very
slightingly of Montaigne because the latter was of lesser
nobility than his own ; but that does not prevent the Sieur
de Montaigne from being to our eyes a much greater man
than the Seigneur de Brantome.
Brantome continued to follow the Court. He accompanied
the queen-mother when she went in 1576 to Poitou to bring
back the Due d'Alengon, who was dabbling in plots. He
accompanied her again when she conducted in 1578 her
daughter Marguerite to Navarre ; and at their solemn entry
into Bordeaux he had the honour of being near them on the
" scaffold," or, as we should say in the present day, the plat-
form. He had also the luck to hear at Saint-Germain-en-
Laye King Henri III. make during his dinner, in presence of
the Due de Joyeuse (on whose nuptials the fluent monarch
was destined to spend a million), a discourse worthy of Cato
against luxury and extravagance.
In 1582, his elder brother, Andre de Bourdeille, seneschal
and governor of the Perigord, died. He left a son scarcely
nine years old. Brantome had obtained from King Henri III.
a promise that he should hold those offices until the majority
of his nephew, on condition of transmitting them at that
time. The king confirmed this promise on several occasions
during the last illness of Andrd de Bourdeille. But at the
latter's death it was discovered that he had bound himself in
his daughter's marriage contract to resign those offices to his
son-in-law. The king considered that he ought to respect
this family arrangement. Brantome was keenly hurt. " On
INTRODUCTION. 15
the second day of the year," he says, " as the king was
returning from his ceremony of the Saint-Esprit, I made my
complaint to him, more in anger than to implore him, as he
well understood. He made me excuses, although he was my
king. Among other reasons he said plainly that he could
not refuse that resignation when presented to him, or he
should be unjust. I made him no reply, except : ' Well, sire,
I ought not to have put faith in you ; a good reason never to
serve you again as I have served you.' On which I went
away much vexed. I met several of my companions, to
whom I related everything. I protested and swore that if
I had a thousand lives not one would I employ for a King of
France. I cursed my luck, I cursed life, I loathed the king's
favour, I despised with a curling lip those beggarly fellows
loaded with royal favours who were in no wise as worthy of
them as I. Hanging to my belt was the gilt key to the king's
bedroom ; I unfastened it and flung it from the Quai des
Augustins, where I stood, into the river below. I never again
entered the king's room ; I abhorred it, and I swore never to
set foot in it any more. I did not, however, cease to frequent
the Court and to show myself in the room of the queen, who
did me the honour to like me, and in those of her ladies and
maids of honour and of the princesses, seigneurs, and princes,
my good friends. I talked aloud about my displeasure, so
that the king, hearing of what I said, sent me a few words
by M. du Halde, his head valet de chamhre. I contented
myself with answering that I was the king's most obedient,
and said no more."
Monsieur (the Due d'Alengon) took notice of Brantome,
and made him his chamberlain. About this time it was that
he began to compose for this prince the " Discourses " after-
wards made into a book and called " Vies des Dames
Galantes," which he dedicated to the Due d'Alengon. The
16 INTRODUCTION.
latter died in 1584, — a loss that dashed once more the hopes
of Brantome and of others who, like him, had pinned their
faith upon that prince. After all, BrantOme had some reason
to complain of his evil star.
Then it was that Brantome meditated vast and even
criminal projects, which he himself has revealed to us : "I
resolved to sell the little property I possessed in France and
go off and serve that great King of Spain, very illustrious
and noble remunerator of services rendered to him, not com-
pelling his servitors to importune him, but done of his own
free will and wise opinion, and out of just consideration.
Wliereupon I reflected and ruminated within myself that I
was able to serve him well ; for there is not a harbour nor
a seaport from Picardy to Bayonne that I do not know per-
fectly, except those of Bretagne which I have not seen ; and
I know equally well all the weak spots on the coast of Lan-
guedoc from Grasse to Provence. To make myself sure of
my facts, I had recently made a new tour to several of the
towns, pretending to wish to arm a ship and send it on a
voyage, or go myself. In fact, I had played my game so
well that I had discovered half a dozen towns on these
coasts easy to capture on their weak sides, which I knew
then and which I still know, I therefore thought I could
serve the King of Spain in these directions so well that I
might count on obtaining the reward of great wealth and
dignities. But before I banished myself from France T
proposed to sell my estates and put the money in a bank of
Spain or Italy. I also proposed, and I discoursed of it to
the Comte de La Rochefoucauld, to ask leave of absence
from the king that I might not be called a deserter, and to
be relieved of my oath as a subject in order to go wherever
I should find myself better off tlian in his kingdom. I be-
lieve he could not have refused my retj^uest ; because every-
INTRODUCTION. 17
one is free to change his country and choose another. But
however that might be, if he had refused me I should have
gone all the same, neither more nor less like a valet who is
angry with his master and wants to leave him ; if the latter
will not give him leave to go, it is not reprehensible to take
it and attach himself to another master."
Thus reasoned BrantOme. He returns on several occa-
sions to these lawless opinions; he argues, apropos of the
Conn^table de Bourbon and La Noue, against the scruples
of those who are willing to leave their country, but not to
take up arms against her. " I'faith ! " he cries, " here are
fine, scrupulous philosophers ! Their quartan fevers ! While
I hold shyly back, pray who will feed me ? Whereas if I
bare my sword to the wind it will give me food and magnify
my fame."
Such ideas were current in those days among the nobles,
in whom the patriotic sentiment, long subordinated to that of
caste, was only developed later. These projects of treachery
should therefore not be judged altogether with the severity
of modern ideas. Besides, BrantOme is working himself
up ; it does not belong to every one to produce such grand
disasters as these he meditates. Moreover, thought is far
from action; events may intervene. People call them fate
or chance, but chance will often simply aid the secret im-
pulses of conscience, and bind our will to that it chooses.
" Fine Imman schemes I made ! " Brantome resumes. " On
the very point o£ their accomplishment the war of the
League broke out and turmoiled things in such a way that
no one would buy lands, for every man had trouble enough
to keep what he owned, neither would he strip himself of
money. Those who had promised to buy my property ex-
cused themselves. To go to foreign parts without resources
was madness, — it would only have exposed me to all sorts
2
18 INTRODUCTION.
of misery ; I had too much experience to commit that folly.
To complete the destruction of my designs, one day, at the
height of my vigor and jollity, a miserable horse, whose
white skin might have warned me of nothing good, reared
and fell over upon me breaking and crushing my loins, so
that for four years I lay in my bed, maimed, impotent in
every limb, unable to turn or move without torture and all
the agony in the world ; and since then my health has never
been what it once was. Thus man proposes, and God dis-
poses. God does all things for the best ! It is possible that
if I had reaUzed my plans I should have done more harm
to my country than the renegade of Algiers did to his ; and
because of it, I might have been perpetually cursed of God
and man."
Consequently, this great scheme remained a dream; no
one need ever have known anything about it if Brantome
himself had not taken pains to inform us of it with much
complacency.
The cruel fall which stopped his guilty projects must nave
occurred in 1585. At the end of three years and a half of
suffering he met, he tells us, " with a very great personage
and operator, called M. Saint-Christophe, whom God raised
up for my good and cure, who succeeded in relieving me
after many other doctors had failed." As soon as he was
nearly well he began once more to travel. It does not appear
that he frequented the Court after the death of Catherine de'
Medici, which took place in January, 1589 ; but he was
present, in that year, at the baptism of the posthumous son
of Henri de Guise, whom the Parisians adopted after the
father's murder at Blois, and named Paris. Agrippa dAu-
bignd, in his caricature of the Procession of the League, gives
Brantome a small place as bearer of bells. But was he really
there? It seems doubtful ; he makes somewhere the judicious
INTRODUCTION. 1&
reflection that : " One may well be surprised that so many
French nobles put themselves on the side of the League, for
if it had got the upper hand it is very certain that the clergy
would have deprived them of church property and wiped
their lips forever of it, which result would have cut the
wings of their extravagance for a very long while." The
secular Abb^ de Brantome had therefore as good reasons for
not being a Leaguer as for not being a Huguenot.
In 1590 he went to make his obeisance to Marguerite,
Queen of Navarre, then confined in the Chateau d'Usson in
Auvergne. He presented to her his " discourse " on " Spanish
Ehodomontades," perhaps also a first copy of the life of that
princess (which appears in this volume), and he also showed
her the titles of the other books he had composed. He was
so enchanted with the greeting Queen Marguerite, la Eeine
Margot, gave him, " the sole remainiag daughter of the noble
house of France, the most beautiful, most noble, grandest,
most generous, most magnanimous, and most accomplished
princess in the world" (when Brantome praises he does
not do it by halves), that he promised to dedicate to her
the entire collection of his works, — a promise he faithfully
fulfilled.
His health, now decidedly affected, confined more and
more to his own home this indefatigable rover, who had, as
he said, " the nature of a minstrel who prefers the house of
others to his own." Condemned to a sedentary life, he used
his activity as he could. He caused to be built the noble
castle of Eichemont, with much pains and at great expense.
He grew quarrelsome and litigious ; brought suits against his
relations, against his neighbours, against his monks, whom
he accused of ingratitude. By his will he bequeathed his
lawsuits to his heirs, and forbade each and all to compromise
them.
20 INTRODUCTION.
Difficult to live with, soured, dissatisfied with the world,
he was not, it would seem, in easy circumstances. He did
not spare posterity the recital of his plaints : " Favours, gran-
deurs, boasts, and vanities, all the pleasant things of the good
old days are gone like the wind. Nothing remains to me but
to have been all that; sometimes that memory pleases me,
and sometimes it vexes me. Nearing a decrepit old age, the
worst of all woes, nearing, too, a poverty which cannot be
cured as in our flourishing years when nought is impossible,
repenting me a hundred thousand times for the fine extrava-
gances I committed in other days, and regretting I did not
save enough then to support me now in feeble age, when I
lack all of which I once possessed too much, — I see, with a
bursting heart, an infinite number of paltry fellows raised to
rank and riches, while Fortune, treacherous and blind that
she is, feeds me on air and then deserts and mocks me. If
she would only put me quickly into the hands of death I
would still forgive her the wrongs she has done me. But
there is the worst of it ; we can neither hve nor die as we
wish. Therefore, let destiny do as it will, never shall I cease
to curse it from heart and lip. And worst of all do I detest
old age weighed down by poverty. As the queen-mother
said to me one day when I had the honour to speak to her
on this subject about another person, * Old age brings us
inconveniences enough without the additional burden of
poverty ; the two united are the height of misery, against
which there is one only sovereign cure, and that is death.
Happy he who finds it when he reaches fifty-six, for after
that our life is but labour and sorrow, and we eat but the
bread of ashes, as saith the prophet.'"
He continued, however, to write, retracing all that he had
seen and garnered either while making his campaigns with
the great captains of his time, or in gossiping with idle gen-
INTRODUCTION. 21
tlemen in the halls of the Louvre. It was thus he composed
his biographical and anecdotical volumes, which he retouched
and rewrote at intervals, making several successive copies.
That he had the future of his writings much at heart, in spite
of a scornful air of indifference which he sometimes assumed,
appears very plainly from the following clause in his will :
" I will," he says, " and I expressly charge my heirs to
cause to be printed my Books, which I have composed from
my mind and invention with great toil and trouble, written
by my hand, and transcribed clearly by that of Mataud, my
hired secretary; the which will be found in five volumes
covered with velvet, black, tan, green, blue, and a large vol-
ume, which is that of ' The Ladies,' covered with green velvet,
and another covered with vellum and gilded thereon, which is
that of 'The Ehodomontades.' They will be found in one
of my wicker trunks, carefully protected. Fine things will
be found in them, such as tales, discourses, histories, and witti-
cisms ; which no one can disdain, it seems to me, if once they
are placed under his nose and eyes. In ordfer to have them
printed according to my fancy, I charge with that purpose
Madame la Comtesse de Duretal, my dear niece, or some
other person she may choose. And to do this I order that
enough be taken from my whole property to pay the costs of
the said printing, and my heirs are not to divide or use my
property until this printing is provided for. It is not probable
that it will cost much ; for the printers, when they cast their
eyes upon the books, would pay to print them instead of
exacting money ; for they do print many gratis that are not
worth as much as mine. I can boast of this; for I have
shown them, at least in part, to several among that trade,
who offered to print them for nothing. But I do not choose
that they be printed during my life. Above all, I will that
the said printing be in fine, large letters, in a great volume to
22 iN-moDucTioN.
make tlie better show, with license from the king, who will
give it readily ; or without license, if that can be. Care
must also be taken that the printer does not put on another
name than mine ; otherwise I shall be frustrated of all my
trouble and of the fame that is my due. I also will that tlie
first book that issues from the press shall be given as a gift,
well bound and covered in velvet, to Queen Marguerite, my
very illustrious mistress, who did me the honour to read
some of my writings, and who thought them fine and
esteemed them."
This will was made about the year 1609. On the 15th of
July, 1614, Brantome died, after living his last years in com-
plete oblivion ; he was buried, according to his wishes, in the
chapel of his chateau of Eichemont. In spite of his ex-
press directions, neither the Comtesse de Duretal nor any
other of his heirs executed the clause in his will relating to
the publication of his works. Possibly they feared it might
create some scandal, or it may be that they could not obtain
the royal license. The manuscripts remained in the chateau
of Eichemont. Little by little, as time went on, they at-
tracted attention ; copies were made which found their way
to the cabinets and libraries of collectors. They were finally
printed in Holland; and the first volume, which appeared
in Leyden from the press of Jean Sambix the younger, sold
by r. Foppons, Brussels, 1665, was that which here follows:
" The Book of the Ladies," called by the publisher, not by
Brantome, " Lives of Illustrious Dames."
It is not easy to distinguish the exact periods at which
Brantome wrote his works. " The Book of the Ladies," first
and second parts, — Dames Illustres and Dames Galantes, —
were evidently the first written ; then followed " The Lives
of Great and Illustrious French Captains," " Lives of Great
Foreign Captains," " Anecdotes concerning Duels," " The
INTRODUCTION. 23
Ehodomontades," and " Spanish Oaths." Brantome did not
write his Memoirs, properly so-called ; his biographical facts
and incidents are scattered throughout the above-named
volumes.
The following translation of the " Book of the Ladies "
does not pretend to imitate Brantome's style. To do so
would seem an affectation in English, and attract attention
to itself which it is always desirable to avoid in translating.
Wherever a few of BrantSme's quaint turns of phrase are
given, it is only as they fall naturally into English.
THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
DISCOUESE I
ANNE DE BRETAGNE, QUEEN OF FRANCE.
Inasmuch as I must speak of ladies, I do not choose to
speak of former dames, of whom the histories are full ; that
would be blotting paper in vain, for enough has been written
about them, and even the great Boccaccio has made a fine
book solely on that subject [De claris muUerihus].
I shall begin therefore with our queen, Anne de Bretagne,
the most worthy and honourable queen that has ever been
since Queen Blanche, mother of the King Saint-Louis, and
very sage and virtuous.
This Queen Anne was the rich heiress of the duchy of
Bretagne, which was held to be one of the finest of Christen-
dom, and for that reason she was sought in marriage by
the greatest persons. M. le Due d'Orldans, afterwards King
Louis XII., in his young days courted her, and did for her
sake his fine feats of arms in Bretagne, and even at the
battle of Saint Aubin, where he was taken prisoner fighting
on foot at the head of his infantry. I have heard say that
this capture was the reason why he did not espouse her then ;
for thereon intervened Maximilian, Duke of Austria, since
emperor, who married her by the proxy of his uncle the
Prince of Orange in the great church at Nantes. But King
Charles VITL, having advised with his council that it was
26 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
not good to have so powerful a seigneur encroach and gefc
a footing in his kingdom, broke off a marriage that had been
settled between himself and Marguerite of Flanders, took
the said Anne from Maximilian, her affianced, and wedded
her himself; so that every one conjectured thereon that a
marriage thus made would be luckless in issue.
Now if Anne was desired for her property, she was as
much so for her virtues and merits ; for she was beautiful
and agreeable ; as I have heard say by elderly persons who
knew her, and according to her portrait, which I have seen
from life ; resembling in face the beautiful Demoiselle de
ChSteauneuf, who has been so renowned at the Court for her
beauty ; and that is sufficient to tell the beauty of Queen
Anne as I have heard it portrayed to the queen mother
[Catherine de' Medici].
Her figure was fine and of medium height. It is true that
one foot was shorter than the other the least in the world ;
but this was little perceived, and hardly to be noticed, so that
her beauty was not at all spoilt by it ; for I myself have seen
very handsome women with that defect who yet were ex-
treme in beauty, like Mme. la Princesse de Conde, of the
house of Longueville.
So much for the beauty of the body of this queen. That
of her mind was no less, because she was very virtuous, wise,
honourable, pleasant of speech, and very charming and sub-
tile in wit. She had been taught and trained by Mme. de
Laval, an able and accomplished lady, appointed her gov-
erness by her father. Due rran§ois. For the rest, she was
very kind, very merciful, and very charitable, as I have heard
my own folks say. True it is, however, that she was quick
in vengeance and seldom pardoned whoever offended her
maliciously ; as she showed to the Mardchal de Gi^ for the
affront he put upon her when the king, her lord and husband,
ANNE DE BRETAGNE, QUEEN OF FRANCE. 27
lay ill at Blois and was held to be dying. She. wishing to
provide for her wants in case she became a widow, caused
three or four boats to be laden on the Kiver Loire with all
her precious articles, furniture, jewels, rings and money, —
and sent them to her city and chateau of Nantes. The said
marshal, meeting these boats between Saumur and Nantes,
ordered them stopped and seized, being much too wishful to
play the good officer and servant of the Crown. But fortune
willed that the king, through the prayers of his people, to
whom he was indeed a true father, escaped with his life.
The queen, in spite of this luck, did not abstain from her
vengeance, and having well brewed it, she caused the said
marshal to be driven from Court. It was then that having
finished a fine house at La Verger, he retired there, saying
that the rain had come just in time to let him get under
shelter in the beautiful house so recently built. But this
banishment from Court was not all ; through great researches
which she caused to be made wherever he had been in com-
mand, it was discovered he had committed great wrongs,
extortions and pillages, to which all governors are given ; so
that the marshal, having appealed to the courts of parliament,
was summoned before that of Toulouse, which had long been
very just and equitable, and not corrupt. There, his suit
being viewed, he was convicted. But the queen did not wish
his death, because, she said, death is a cure for all pains and
woes, and being dead he would be too happy ; she wished
him to live as degraded and low as he had been great ; so
that he might, from the grandeur and height where he had
been, live miserably in troubles, pains, and sadness, which
would do him a hundred-fold more harm than death, for
death lasted only a day, and mayhap only an hour, whereas
his languishing would make him die daily.
Such was the vengeance of this brave queen. One day she
28 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
was so angry against M. d'OrMans that she could not for a
long time be appeased. It was in this wise : the death of her
son, M. le dauphin, having happened, King Charles, her hus-
band, and she were in such despair that the doctors, fearing
the debility and feeble constitution of the king, were alarmed
lest such grief should do injury to his health; so they coun-
selled the king to amuse himself, and the princes of the
Court to invent new pastimes, games, dances, and mum-
meries in order to give pleasure to the king and queen ; the
which M. d'Orldans having undertaken, he gave at the
Chateau d'Amboise a masquerade and dance, at which he did
such follies and danced so gayly, as was told and read, that
the queen, believing he felt this glee because, the dauphin
being dead, he knew himself nearer to be King of France,
was extremely angered, and showed him such displeasure that
he was forced to escape from Amboise, where the Court then
was, and go to his chateau of Blois. Nothing can be blamed
in this queen except the sin of vengeance, — if vengeance is a
sin, — because otherwise she was beautiful and gentle, and had
many very laudable sides.
When the king, her husband, went to the kingdom of
Naples [1494], and so long as he was there, she knew very
well how to govern the kingdom of France with those whom
the king had given to assist her; but she always kept her
rank, her grandeur, and supremacy, and insisted, young as she
was, on being trusted ; and she made herself trusted, so that
nothing was ever found to say against her.
She felt great regret for the death of King Charles [in
1498], as much for the friendship she bore him as for seeing
herself henceforth but half a queen, having no children.
And when her most intimate ladies, as I have been told on
good authority, pitied her for being the widow of so great a
king, and imable to return to her high estate, — for King
ANNE DE BRETAGNE, QUEEN OF FRANCE. 29
Louis [the Due d'Orl^ans, her first lover] was then married
to Jeanne de France, — she replied she would " rather be the
widow of a king all her life than debase herself to a less than
he ; but still, she was not so despairing of happiness that she
did not think of again being Queen of France, as she had been,
if she chose." Her old love made her say so ; she meant to
relight it in the bosom of him in whom it was yet warm.
And so it happened ; for King Louis [XII.], having repudi-
ated Jeanne, his wife, and never having lost his early love,
took her in marriage, as we have seen and read. So here was
her prophecy accomplished; she having founded it on the
nature of King Louis, who could not keep himself from lov-
ing her, all married as she was, but looked with a tender eye
upon her, being stiU Due d' Orleans; for it is difficult to
quench a great fire when once it has seized the souL
He was a handsome prince and very amiable, and she did
not hate him for that. Having taken her, he honoured her
much, leaving her to enjoy her property and her duchy with-
out touching it himself or taking a single louis ; but she
employed it well, for she was very liberal And because
the king made immense gifts, to meet which he must have
levied on his people, which he shunned like the plague, she
supplied his deficiencies ; and there were no great captains
of the kingdom to whom she did not give pensions, or make
extraordinary presents of money or of thick gold chains
when they went upon a journey ; and she even made little
presents according to quality ; everybody ran to her, and
few came away discontented. Above all, she had the reputa-
tion of loving her domestic servants, and to them she did
great good.
She was the first queen to hold a great Court of ladies,
such as we have seen from her time to the present day.
Her suite was very large of ladies and young girls, for she
30 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
refused none ; she even inquired of the noblemen of her
Court whether they had daughters, and what they were, and
asked to have them brought to her. I had an aunt de
Bourdeille who had the honour of being brought up by her
[Louise de Bourdeille, maid of honour to Queen Anne in
1494] ; but she died at Court, aged fifteen years, and was
buried behind the great altar of the church of the Fran-
ciscans in Paris. I saw the tomb and its inscription before
that church was burned [in 1580.]
Queen Anne's Court was a noble school for ladies ; she
had them taught and brought up wisely; and all, taking
pattern by her, made themselves wise and virtuous. Be-
cause her heart was great and lofty she wanted guards, and
so formed a second band of a hundred gentlemen, — for
hitherto there was only one; and the greater part of the
said new guard were Bretons, who never failed, when she
left her room to go to mass or to promenade, to await her
on that little terrace at Blois, still called the Breton perch,
"La Perche aux Bretons," she herself having named it so
by saying when she saw them : " Here are my Bretons on
their perch, awaiting me."
You may be sure that she did not lay by her money, but
employed it well on all high things.
She it was, who built, out of great superbness, that fine
vessel and mass of wood, called " La Cordelifere," which at-
tacked so furiously in mid-ocean the " Regent of England,"
grappling to her so closely that both were burned and noth-
ing escaped, — not the people, nor anything else that was in
them, so that no news was ever heard of them on land ;
which troubled the queen very much.^
The king honoured her so much that one day, it being
reported to him that the law clerks at the Palais [de Justice]
1 See Ai)pen(lix.
ANNE DE BRETAGNE, QUEEN OF FRANCE. 31
and the students also were playing games in which there
was talk of the king, his Court, and all the great people,
he took no other notice than to say they needed a pastime,
and he would let them talk of him and his Court, though
not licentiously ; but as for the queen, his wife, they should
not speak of her in any way whatsoever ; if they did he
would have them hanged. Such was the honour he bore
her.
Moreover, there never came to his Court a foreign prince
or an ambassador that, after having seen and listened to
them, he did not send them to pay their reverence to the
queen ; wishing the same respect to be shown to her as to
him ; and also, because he recognized in her a great faculty
for entertaining and pleasing great personages, as, indeed,
she knew well how to do ; taking much pleasure in it her-
self ; for she had very good and fine grace and majesty in
greeting them, and beautiful eloquence in talking with them.
Sometimes, amid her French speech, she would, to make
herself more admired, mingle a few foreign words, which
she had learned from M. de Grignaux, her chevalier of
honour, who was a very gallant man who had seen the
world, and was accomplished and knew foreign languages,
being thereby very pleasant good company, and agree-
able to meet. Thus it was that one day. Queen Anne
having asked him to teach her a few words of Spanish to
say to the Spanish ambassador, he taught her in joke a little
indecency, which she quickly learned. The next day, while
awaiting the ambassador, M. de Grignaux told the story to
the king, who thought it good, understanding his gay and
lively humour. Nevertheless he went to the queen, and
told her all, warning her to be careful not to use those
words. She was in such great anger, though the king only
laughed, that she wanted to dismiss M. de Grignaux, and
32 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
showed him her displeasure for several days. But M. de
Grignaux made her such humble excuses, telling her that
he only did it to make the king laugh and pass his time
merrily, and that he was not so ill-advised as to fail to warn
the king in time that he might, as he really did, warn her
before the arrival of the ambassador ; so that on these ex-
cuses and the entreaties of the king she was pacified.
Now, if the king loved and honoured her living, we may
believe that, she being dead, he did the same. And to mani-
fest the mourning that he felt, the superb and honourable
funeral and obsequies that he ordered for her are proof ; the
which I have read of in an old " History of France " that I
found lying about in a closet in our house, nobody caring for
it ; and having gathered it up, I looked at it. Now as this
is a matter that should be noted, I shall put it here, word
for word as the book says, without changing anything ; for
though it is old, the language is not very bad ; and as for
the truth of the book, it has been confirmed to me by
my grandmother, Mme. la Seneschale de Poitou, of the
family du Lude, who was then at the Court. The book re-
lates it thus : —
" This queen was an honourable and virtuous queen, and
very wise, the true mother of the poor, the support of gentle-
men, the haven of ladies, damoiselles, and honest girls, and
the refuge of learned men ; so that all the people of France
cannot surfeit themselves enough in deploring and regretting
her.
"She died at the castle of Blois on the twenty-first of
January, in the year 1513, after the accomplishment of a
thing she had most desired, namely : the union of the king,
her lord, with the pope and the Roman Church, abhorring as
she did schism and divisions. For that reason she had never
ceased urging the king to this step, for which she wag \s
ANNE DE BRETAGNE, QUEEN OF FRANCE. 33
much loved and greatly revered by the Catholic princes and
prelates as the king had been hated.
" I have seen at Saint-Denis a grand church cope, all cov-
ered with pearls embroidered, which she had ordered to be
made expressly to send as a present to the pope, but death
prevented. After her decease her body remained for three
days in her room, the face uncovered, and nowise changed by
hideous death, but as beautiful and agreeable as when living.
" Friday, the twenty-seventh of the month of January, her
body was taken from the castle, very honourably accompanied
by all the priests and monks of the town, borne by persons
wearing mourning, with hoods over their heads, accompanied
by twenty-four torches larger than the other torches borne
by twenty-four officers of the household of the said lady,
on each of which were two rich armorial escutcheons bear-
ing the arms emblazoned of the said lady. After these
torches came the reverend seigneurs and prelates, bishops,
abb&, and M. le Cardinal de Luxembourg to read the office ;
and thus was removed the body of the said lady from the
Chateau de Blois. . . .
" Septuagesima Sunday, twelfth of February, they arrived
at the church of ISTotre-Dame des Champs in the suburbs of
Paris, and there the body was guarded two nights with great
quantities of lights ; and on the following Tuesday, the devout
services having been read, there marched before the body
processions with the crosses of all the churches and all the
monasteries of Paris, the whole University in a body, the
presidents and counsellors of the sovereign court of Parlia-
ment, and generally of all other courts and jurisdictions,
officers and advocates, merchants and citizens, and other
lesser officers of the town. All these accompanied the said
body reverentially, with the very noble seigneurs and ladies
aforenamed, just as they started from Blois, all keeping fine
34 THE BOOK OF THE -SADIES.
order among themselves according to their several ranks. . . .
And thus was borne through Paris, in the order and manner
above, the body of the queen to be sepulchred in the pious
church of Saint-Denis of France ; preceded by these pro-
cessions to a cross which is not far beyond the place where
the fair of Landit is held.
"And to the spot where stands the cross the reverend
father in God, the abb^ and the venerable monks, with the
priests of the churches and parishes of Saint-Denis, vestured
in their great copes, with their crosses, came in procession,
together with the peasants and the inhabitants of the said
town, to receive the body of the late queen, which was then
borne to the door of the church of Saint-Denis, still accom-
panied honourably by all the above-named very noble princes
and princesses, seigneurs, dames, and damoiselles, and their
train as already stated. . . .
"And all being duly accomplished, the body of the said
lady, Madame Anne, in her lifetime very noble Queen of
France, Duchesse of Bretagne, and Comtesse d'fitampes, was
honourably interred and sepulchred in the tomb for her
prepared.
" After this, the herald-at-arms for Bretagne summoned all
the princes and officers of the said lady, to wit : the chevalier
of honour, the grand-master of the household, and others,
each and all, to fulfil their duty towards the said body, which
they did most piteously, shedding tears from their eyes. And,
this done, the aforenamed king-at-arms cried three times
aloud in a most piteous voice : * The very Christian Queen of
France, Duchesse de Bretagne, our Sovereign Lady, is dead ! '
And then all departed. The body remained entombed.
" During her life and after her death she was honoured by
the titles I have before given : true mother of the poor ; the
comfort of noble gentlemen ; the haven of ladies and damoi-
ANNE DE BRlfrAGNE, QUEEN OF FRANCE. 35
selles and honest girls ; the refuge of learned men and those
of good lives ; so that speaking of her dead is only renewing
the grief and regrets of all such persons, and also that of her
domestic servants, whom she loved singularly. She was veiy
rehgious and devout. It was she who made the foundation
of the * Bons-Hommes ' [monastery of the order of Saint-
Frangois de Paule at Chaillot], otherwise called the Minimes ;
and she began to build the church of the said * Bons-Hommes '
near Paris, and afterwards that in Eome which is so beautiful
and noble, and where, as I saw myself, they receive no monks
but Frenchmen."
There, word for word, are the splendid obsequies of this
queen, without changing a word of the original, for fear of
doing worse, — for I could not do better. They were just like
those of our kings that I have heard and read of, and those
of King Charles IX., at which I was present, and which the
queen, his mother, desired to make so fine and magnificent,
though the finances of France were then too short to spend
much, because of the departure of the King of Poland, who
with his suite had squandered and carried off a great deal
[1574].
Certainly I find these two interments much alike, save for
three things: one, that the burial of Queen Anne w^as the
most superb ; second, that all went so weU in order and so
discreetly that there was no contention of ranks, as occurred
at the burial of King Charles ; for his body, being about to
start for Notre-Dame, the court of parliament had some
pique of precedence with the nobility and tlie Church, claim-
ing to stand in the place of the king and to represent him
when absent, he being then out of the kingdom. [Henri III.
was then King of Poland]. On which a great princess, as
the world goes, who was very near to him, whom I know
but will not name, went about argumg and saying : " It was
36 • THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
no wonder if, during the lifetime of the king, seditions and
troubles had been in vogue, ^seeing that, dead as he was, he
was still able to stir up strife." Alas ! he never did it, poor
prince ! either dead or living. We know well who were the
authors of the seditions and of our civil wars. That princess
who said those words has since found reason to regret
them.
The third thing is that the body of King Charles was
quitted, at the church of Saint-Lazare, by the whole pro-
cession, princes, seigneurs, courts of parliament, the Church,
and the citizens, and was followed and accompanied from
there by none but poor M. de Strozzi, de Fumel, and myself,
with two gentlemen of the bedchamber, for we were not
willing to abandon our master as long as he was above
ground. There were also a few archers of the guard, quite
XJitiable to see, in the fields. So at eight in the evening in
the month of July, we started with the body and its effigy
thus badly accompanied.
Eeaching the cross, we found all the monks of Saint-
Denis awaiting us, and the body of the king was honourably
escorted, with the ceremonies of the Church, to Saint-Denis,
where the great Cardinal de Lorraine received it most honour-
ably and devoutly, as he knew well how to do.
The queen-mother was very angry that the procession did
not continue to the end as she intended — save for Monsieur
her son, and the King of Navarre, whom she held a prisoner.
The next day, however, the latter arrived in a coach, with
a very good guard, and captains of the guard with him, to
be present at the solemn high service, attended by the
whole procession and company as at first, — a sight very sad
to see.
After dinner the court of parliament sent to tell and to
command the grand almoner Aniyot to go and say grace
ANNE DE BRETAGNE, QUEEN OF FRANCE. 37
after meat for them as if for the king. To which he made
answer that he should do nothing of the kind, for it was
not before them he was bound to do it. They sent him
two consecutive and threatening commands ; which he still
refused, and went and hid himself that he might answer
no more. Then they swore they would not leave the table
till he came ; but not being able to find him, they were
constrained to say grace themselves and to rise, which they
did with great threats, foully abusing the said almoner, even
to calling him scoundrel, and son of a butcher. I saw the
whole affair; and I know what Monsieur commanded me
to go and tell to M. le cardinal, asking him to pacify the mat-
ter, because they had sent commands to Monsieur to send
to them, as representatives of the king, the grand almoner
if he could be found. M. le cardinal went to speak to them,
but he gained nothing ; they standing firm on their opinion
of their royal majesty and authority. I know what M. le
cardinal said to me about them, telling me not to say it, —
that they were perfect fools. The chief president, de Thou,
was then at their head ; a great senator certainly, but he had
a temper. So here was another disturbance to make that
princess say again that King Charles, either living or dead,
on earth or under it, that body of his stirred up the world
and threw it into sedition. Alas ! that he could not do.
I have told this little incident, possibly more at length than
I should, and I may be blamed ; but I reply that I have
told and put it here as it came into my fancy and memory ;
also that it comes in b, propos ; and that I cannot forget it,
for it seems to me a thing that is rather remarkable.
Now, to return to our Queen Anne : we see from this fine
last duty of her obsequies how beloved she was of earth and
heaven ; far otherwise than that proiid, pompous queen, Isa-
bella of Bavaria, wife of the late King Charles VI., who
38 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
having died in Paris, her body was so despised it was put
out of her palace into a little boat on the river Seine, with-
out form of ceremony or pomp, being carried through a
little postern so narrow it could hardly go through, and
thus was taken to Saint-Denis to her tomb like a simple
damoiselle, neither more nor less. There was also a differ-
ence between her actions and those of Queen Anne : for she
brought the English into France and Paris, threw the king-
dom into flames and divisions, and impoverished and rumed
every one ; whereas Queen Anne kept France in peace, en-
larged and enriched it w4th her beautiful duchy and the fine
property she brought with her. So one need not wonder
that the king regretted her and felt such mourning that he
came nigh dying in the forest of Vincennes, and clothed
himself and all his Court so long in black ; and those who
came otherwise clothed he had them driven away ; neither
would he see any ambassador, no matter who he was, unless
he were dressed in black. And, moreover, that old History
which I have quoted, says : " When he gave his daughter to
M. dAngoul>5me, afterwards King Francois, mourning was
not left off by him or his Court ; and the day of the espousals
in the church of Saint-Germain-en-Laye, the bridegroom and
bride were vestured and clothed " — so this History says —
" in black cloth, honestly cut in mourning shape, for the death
of the said queen, Madame Anne de Bretagne, mother of
the bride, in presence of the king, her father, accompanied
by the princes of the blood and noble seigneurs and prel-
ates, princesses, dames, and damoiselles, all clothed in, black
cloth made in mourning shape." That is what the book
says. It was a strange austerity of mourning which should
be noted, that not even on the day of the wedding was it
dispensed with, to be renewed on the following day.
From this we may know how beloved, and worthy to be
ANNE DE BRETAGNE, QUEEN OF FRANCE. 39
beloved this princess was by the king, her husband, who
sometimes in liis merry moods and gayety would caU her
"his Breton."
If she had lived longer she would never have consented
to that marriage of her daughter ; it was very repugnant to
her and she said so to the king, her husband, for she mor-
tally hated Madame d'Angouleme, afterwards Eegent, their
tempers being quite unlike and not agreeing together ; be-
sides which, she had wished to unite her said daughter to
Charles of Austria, then young, the greatest seigneur of
Christendom, who was afterwards emperor. And this she
wished in spite of ISL d'Angouleme coming very near the
Crown ; but she never thought of that, or would not think
of it, trusting to have more children herself, she being only
thirty-seven years old when she died. In her lifetime and
reign, reigned also that great and wise queen, Isabella of
Castile, very accordant in manners and morals with our
Queen Anne. For which reason they loved each other
much and visited one another often by embassies, letters,
and presents; 'tis thus that virtue ever seeks out virtue.
King Louis was afterwards pleased to marry for the third
time Marie, sister of the King of England, a very beautiful
princess, young, and too young for him, so that evil came of
it. But he married more from policy, to make peace with
the English and to put his own kingdom at rest, than for
any other reason, never being able to forget his Queen Anne.
He commanded at his death that they should both be covered
by the same tomb, just as we now see it in Saint-Denis, all in
white marble, as beautiful and superb as never was.
Now, here I pause in my discourse and go no farther;
referring the rest to books that are written of this queen
better than I could write ; only to content my own self have
I made this discourse.
40 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
I will say one other little thing ; that she was the first of
our queens or prince 3ses to form the usage of putting a belt
round their arms and escutcheons, which until then were
borne not inclosed, but quite loose ; and the said queen was
the first to put the belt.
I say no more, not having been of her time ; although I
protest having told only truth, having learned it, as I have
said, from a book, and also from Mme. la Seneschale, my
grandmother, and from Mme. de Dampierre, my aunt, a true
Court register, and as clever, wise, and virtuous a lady as ever
entered a Court these hundred years, and who knew well how
to discourse on old things. From eight years of age she was
brought up at Court, and forgot nothing ; it was good to hear
her talk ; and I have seen our kings and queens take a singu-
lar pleasure in listening to her, for she knew all, — her own
time and past times ; so that people took word from her as
from an oracle. King Henri Til. made her lady of honour
to the queen, his wife. I have here used recollections and
lessons that I obtained from her, and I hope to use many
more in the course of these books.
I have read the epitaph of the said queen, thus made : —
" Here lies Anne, who was wife to two great kings,
Great a hundred-fold herself, as queen two times I
Never queen like her enriched all France ;
That is what it is to make a grand alliance."
Gui Patin, satirist and jovial spirit of his time [he was
born in 1601], attracted to Saint-Denis because a fair was
held there, visits the abbey, the treasury, " where " he says,
" there was plenty of silly stuff and rubbish," and lastly the
tombs of the kings, " where I could not keep myself from
weeping to see so many monuments to the vanity of humaa
ANNE DE BRETAGNE, QUEEN OF FRANCE. 41
life ; tears escaped me also before the tomb of the great and
good king, Frangois I., who founded our College of Professors
of the King. I must own my weakness ; I kissed it, and
also that of his father-in-law, Louis XII., who was the Father
of his People, and the best king we have ever had in France."
Happy age ! still neighbour to beliefs, when those reputed
the greatest satirists had these touching naivetes, these
wholly patriotic and antique sensibilities.
Mezeray [born ten years later], in his natural, sincere and
expressive diction, his clear and full narration, into which he
has the art to bring speaking circumstances which animate
the tale, says in relation to Louis XII. [in his " History of
France "] : " When he rode through the country the good folk
ran from all parts and for many days to see him, strewing
the roads with flowers and foliage, and striving, as though he
were a visible God, to touch his saddle with their handker-
chiefs and keep them as precious relics."
And two centuries later, Comte Eoederer, in his Memoir
on Polite Society and the Hotel de Eambouillet, printed
in 1835, tells us how in his youth his mind was already busy
with Louis XII., and, returning to the same interest in after
years, he made him his hero of predilection and his king.
In studying the history of France he thought he discov-
ered, he says, that at the close of the fifteenth century and
the beginning of the sixteenth what has since been called the
" French Eevolution " was already consummated ; that liberty
rested on a free Constitution; and that Louis XII., the
Father of his People, was he who had accomplished it.
Bonhomie and goodness have never been denied to Louis XII.,
but Eoederer claims more, he claims ability and skill. The
Italian wars, considered generally to have been mistakes, he
excuses and justifies by showing them in the king's mind as
a means of useful national policy ; he needed to obtain from
42 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
Pope Alexander VI. the dissolution of his marriage with
Jeanne de France, in order that he might marry Anne de
Bretagne and so unite the duchy with the kingdom. Eoederer
makes King Louis a type of perfection ; seeming to have
searched in regions far from those that are historically bril-
liant, far from spheres of fame and glory, into " the depths
obscure," as he says himself, " of useful government for a
hero of a new species."
More than that : he thinks he sees in the cherished wife
of Louis XIL, in Anne de Bretagne, the foundress of a school
of polite manners and perfection for her sex. " She was,"
Brantome had said, " the most worthy and honourable queen
that had ever been since Queen Blanche, mother of the King
Saint-Louis. . . . Her Court was a noble school for ladies ;
she had them taught and brought up wisely ; and all,
taking pattern by her, made themselves wise and virtuous."
Eoederer takes these words of Brantome and, giving them
their strict meaning, draws therefrom a series of conse-
quences : just as Frangois I. had, in many respects, over-
thrown the political state of things estabhshed by Louis XIL,
so, he believes, had the women beloved of Frangois over-
turned that honourable condition of society established by
Anne de Bretagne. Starting from that epoch he sees, as it
were, a constant struggle between two sorts of rival and
incompatible societies: between the decent and ingenuous
society of which Anne de Bretagne had given the idea, and
the licentious society of which the mistresses of the king,
women like the Duchesse d'Etampes and Diane de Poitiers,
procured the triumph. These two societies, to his mind,
never ceased to co-exist during the sixteenth century ; on
the one hand was an emulation of virtue and merit on the
part of the noble heiresses, alas, too eclipsed, of Anne de
Bretagne, on the other an emulation with high bidding of
ANNE DE BRETAGNE, QUEEN OF FRANCE. 43
gallantry, by the giddy pupils of the school of Frangois I.
To Eoederer the Hotel de Eambouillet, that perfected salon,
founded towards the beginning of the seventeenth century,
is only a tardy return to the traditions of Anne de Bretagne,
the triumph of merit, virtue, and polite manners over the
license to which all the kings, from rran9ois I., including
Henri IV., had paid tribute.
Eeaching thus the Hotel de Eambouillet and holding
henceforth an unbroken thread in hand, Eoederer divides and
subdivides at pleasure. He marks the divers periods and the
divers shades of transition, the growth and the decline that
he discerns. The first years of Louis XIV.'s youth cause
him some distress ; a return is being made to the ways of
Frangois L, to the brilliant mistresses. Ecederer, not con-
cerning himself with the displeasure he wiU cause the classi-
cists, lays a little of the blame for this return on the four
great poets, Molifere, La Fontaine, Eacine, and Boileau himself,
all accomplices, more or less, in the laudation of victor and
lover. However, age comes on ; Louis XIV. grows temperate
in turn, and a woman, issuing from the very purest centre of
Mme. de Eambouillet's society, and who was morally its
heiress, a woman accomplished in tone, in cultivation of
mind, in precision of language, and in the sentiment of pro-
priety, — Mme. de Maintenon, — knows so well how to seize
the opportunity that she seats upon the throne, in a modest
half-light, all the styles of mind and merit which made the
perfection of French society in its better days. The triumph
of Mme. de Maintenon is that of polite society itself ; Anne
de Bretagne has found her pendant at the other extremity of
the chain after the lapse of two centuries.
Sainte-Beuve, Causeries du Lundi, Vol. VIII.
DISCOUESE 11.
CATHEEINE DE' MEDICI, QUEEN, AND MOTHER OE OUR
LAST KINGS.
I HAVE wondered and been astonished a liundred times
that, so many good writers as we have had in our day in
France, none of them has been inquisitive enough to make
some fine selection of the life and deeds of the queen-mother,
Catherine de' Medici, inasmuch as she has furnished ample
matter, and cut out much fine work, if ever a queen did —
as said the Emperor Charles to Paolo Giovio [Italian histo-
rian] when, on his return from his triumphant voyage in
the " Goulette " intending to make war upon King Francois,
he gave him a provision of ink and paper, saying he would
cut him out plenty of work. So it is true that this queen
cut out so much that a good and zealous writer might make
an Iliad of it ; but they have all been lazy, — or ungrateful,
for she was never niggardly to learned men ; I could name
several who have derived good benefits from this queen, from
which, in consequence, I accuse them of ingratitude.
There is one, however, who did concern himself to write
of her, and made a little book which he entitled " The Life
of Catherine ; " ^ but it is an imposture and not worthy of
belief, as she herself said when she saw it; such falsities
being apparent to every one, and easy to note and reject.
He that wrote it wished her mortal harm, and was an enemy
to her name, her condition, her life, her honour, and nature ;
and that is why he should be rejected. As for me, I would
1 See Appendix,
CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 45
I knew how to speak well, or that I had a good pen, well
mended, at my command, that I might exalt and praise her
as she deserves. At any rate, such as my pen is, I shall now
employ it at all hazards.
This queen is extracted, on the father's side, from the race
of the Medici, one of the noblest and most illustrious fami-
nes, not only in Italy, but in Christendom. Whatever may
be said, she was a foreigner to these shores because the
alliances of kings cannot commonly be chosen in their king-
dom ; for it is not best to do so ; foreign marriages being as
useful and more so than near ones. The House of the
Medici has always been allied and confederated with the
crown of France, which still bears the Jleur-de-li/s that King
Louis XI. gave that house in sign of alliance and perpetual
confederation [the Jleur de Louis, which then became the
Florentine lily].
On the mother's side she issued originally from one of the
noblest families of France ; and so was truly French in race,
heart, and affection through that great house of Boulogne
and county of Auvergne ; thus it is hard to tell or judge
in which of her two families there was most grandeur and
memorable deeds. Here is what was said of them by the
Archbishop of Bourges, of the house of Beaune, as great a
learned man and worthy prelate as there is in Christendom
(though some say a trifle unsteady in belief, and little good in
the scales of M. Saint-Michel, who weighs good Christians
for the day of judgment, or so they say) : it is given in the
funeral oration which the archbishop made upon the said
queen at Blois : —
" In the days when Brennus, that great captain of the
Gauls, led his army throughout all Italy and Greece, there
were with him in his troop two French nobles, one named
Felsinus, the other named Bono, who, seeing the wicked
46 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
design of Brennus, after liis fine conquests, to invade the
temple of Delphos and soil himself and his army with the
sacrilege of that temple, withdrew, both of them, and passed
into Asia with their vessels and men, advancing so far that
they entered the sea of the Medes, which is near to Lydia
and Persia. Thence, having made great conquests and ob-
tained great victories, they were returning through Italy,
hoping to reach France, when Felsinus stopped at a place
where Florence now stands beside the river Arno, which he
saw to be fine and delectable, and situated much as another
which had pleased him much in the country of the Medes.
There he built a city which to-day is Florence ; and his com-
panion. Bono, built another and named it Bononia, now called
Bologna, the which are neighbouring cities. Henceforth, in
consequence of the victories and conquests of Felsinus
among the Medes, he was called Medicus among his friends, a
name that remained to the family ; just as we read of Paulus
sumamed Macedonicus for having conquered Macedonia from
Perseus, and Scipio called Africanus for doing the same in
Africa."
I do not know where M. de Beaune may have taken this
history ; but it is very probable that before the king and
such an assembly, there convened for the funeral of the
queen, he would not have alleged the fact without good
authority. This descent is very far from the modern story
invented and attributed without grounds to the family of
jMedici, according to that lying book which I have men-
tioned on the life of the said queen. After this the said
Sieur de Beaune says further, he has read in the chronicles
that one named Everard de' Medici, Sieur of Florence, went,
with many of his subjects, to the assistance of the voyage
and expedition made by Charlemagne against Desiderius,
King of the Lombards ; and having very bravely succoured
CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 47
and assisted him, was confirmed and invested with the
lordship of Florence. Many years after, one Anemond de*
Medici, also Sieur of Florence, went, accompanied by many
of his subjects, to the Holy Land, with Godefroy de Bouillon,
where he died at the siege of Nicaea in Asia. Such greatness
always continued in that family until Florence was reduced
to a republic by the intestine wars in Italy between the em-
perors and the peoples, the illustrious members of it mani-
festing their valour and grandeur from time to time ; as we
saw in the latter days Cosmo de' Medici, who, with his arms,
his navy, and vessels, terrified the Turks in the Mediterra-
nean Sea and in the distant East ; so that none since his
time, however great he may be, has surpassed him in strength
and valour and wealth, as Ptaffaelle Volaterano has written.
The temples and sacred shrines by him built, the hospitals
by him founded, even in Jerusalem, are ample proof of his
piety and magnanimity.
There were also Lorenzo de' Medici, surnamed the Great for
his virtuous deeds, and two great popes, Leo and Clement,
also many cardinals and grand personages of the name;
besides the Grand Duke of Tuscany, Cosmo de' Medici, a
wise and wary man, if ever there was one. He succeeded in
maintaining himself in his duchy, which he found invaded
and much disturbed when he came to it.
In short, nothing can rob this house of the Medici of its
lustre, very noble and grand as it is in every way.
As for the house of Boulogne and Auvergne, who will say
that it is not great, having issued originally from that noble
Eustache de Boulogne, whose brother, Godefroy de Bouillon,
bore arms and escutcheons with so vast a number of
princes, seigneurs, chevaliers, and Christian soldiers, even to
Jerusalem and the Sepulchre of our Saviour ; and would have
made himself, by his sword and the favour of God, king, not
48 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
only of Jerusalem but of the greater part of the East, to the
confusion of Mahomet., the Saracens, and the Mahometans,
amazing all the rest of the world and replanting Christianity
in Asia, where it had fallen to the lowest ?
For the rest, this house has ever been sought in alliance
by all the monarchies of Christendom and the great families ;
such as France, England, Scotland, Hungary, and Portugal,
which latter kingdom belonged to it of right, as I have heard
President de Thou say, and as the queen herself did me the
honour to tell me at Bordeaux when she heard of the death
of King Sebastian [in Morocco, 1578], the Medici being
received to argue the justice of their rights at the last
Assembly of States before the decease of King Henry [in
1580]. This was why she armed M. de Strozzi to make an
invasion, the King of Spain having usurped the kingdom ;
she was arrested in so fine a course only by reasons which 1
will explain at another time.
I leave you to suppose, therefore, whether this house
of Boulogne was great ; yes, so great that I once heard Pope
Pius IV. say, sitting at table at a dinner he gave after his
election to the Cardinals of Ferrara and Guise, his creations,
that the house of Boulogne was so great and noble he knew
none in France, whatever it was, that could surpass it in
antiquity, valour, and grandeur.
All this is much against those malicious detractors who
have said that this queen was a Florentine of low birth.
Moreover, she was not so poor but what she brought to
France in marriage estates which are worth to-day twenty -six
thousand lirres, — such as the counties of Auvergne and Laura-
gais, the seigneuries of Leverons, iJonzenac, Boussac, Gorr^ges,
Hondecourt and other lands, — all an inheritance from her
mother. Besides which, her dowry was of more than two
hundred thousand ducats, which are worth to-day over four
CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 49
hundred thousand ; with great quantities of furniture, precious
stones, jewels, and other riches, such as the finest and largest
pearls ever seen in so great a number, which she afterwards
gave to her daughter-in-law, the Queen of Scotland [Mary
Stuart], whom I have seen wearing them.
Besides all this, many estates, houses, deeds, and claims in
Italy.
But more than all else, through her marriage the affairs of
France, which had been so shaken by the imprisonment of
the king and his losses at Milan and Naples, began to get
firmer. King Frangois was very willing to say that the mar-
riage had served his interests. Therefore there was given to
this queen for her device a rainbow, which she bore as long
as she was married, with these words in Greek ^w? ^ipec
T/Se yaXijvTjv. Which is the same as saying that just as this
fire and bow in the sky brings and signifies good weather
after rain, so this queen was a true sign of clearness, serenity,
and the tranquillity of peace. The Greek is thus translated :
Lucem fert et serenitatem — • " She brings light and serenity."
After that, the emperor [Charles V.] dared push no longer
his ambitious motto : " Ever farther." For, although there
was truce between himself and King Francois, he was nurs-
ing his ambition with the design of gaining always from
France whatever he could ; and he was much astonished at
this alliance with the pope [Clement VII.], regarding the lat-
ter as able, courageous, and vindictive for his imprisonment
by the imperial forces at the sack of Eome [1527]. Such a
marriage displeased him so much that I have heard a truthful
lady of the Court say that if he had not been married to the
empress, he would have seized an alliance with the pope him-
self and espoused his niece [Catherine de' Medici], as much
for the support of so strong a party as because he feared the
pope would assist in making him lose Naples, Milan, and
4
50 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
Genoa; for the pope had promised King Francois, in an
authentic document, when he delivered to him the money of
his niece's dowry and her rings and jewels, to make the dowry
worthy of such a marriage by the addition of three pearls of
inestimable value, of the excessive splendour of which all the
greatest kings were envious and covetous ; the which were
Naples, Milan, and Genoa. And it is not to be doubted that
if the said pope had lived out his natural life he would have
sold the emperor well, and made him pay dear for that im-
prisonment, in order to aggrandize his niece and the kingdom
to which she was joined. But Clement VII. died young, and
all this profit came to nought.
So now our queen, having lost her mother, Magdelaine de
Boulogne, and Lorenzo de' Medici, Duke of Urbino, her
father, in early life, was married by her good uncle the pope
to France, whither she was brought by sea to Marseille in
great triumph ; and her wedding was pompously performed,
at the age of fourteen. She made herself so beloved by the
king, her father-in-law, and by King Henri, her husband
[not king till the death of Francois I.], that on remaining ten
years without producing issue, and many persons endeavouring
to persuade the king and the dauphin, her husband, to repu-
diate her because there was such need of an heir to France,
neither the one nor the other would consent because they
loved her so much. But after ten years, in accordance with
the natural habit of the women of the race of Medici, who
are tardy in conceiving, she began by producing the little
King Francois II. After that, was born the Queen of
Spain, and then, consecutively, that fine and illustrious
progeny w^hom we have all seen, and also others no sooner
born than dead, by great misfortune and fatality. All this
caused the king, her husband, to love her more and more,
and in such a way that he, who was of an amorous tempera-
CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 51
ment, and greatly liked to make love and to change his loves,
said often that of all the women in the world there was none
like his wife for that, and he did not know her equal. He
had reason to say so, for she was truly a beautiful and most
amiable princess.
She was of rich and very fine presence ; of great majesty,
but very gentle when need was; of noble appearance and
good grace, her face handsome and agreeable, her bosom
very beautiful, white and full ; her body also very white,
the flesh beautiful, the skin smooth, as I have heard from
several of her ladies ; of a fine plumpness also, the leg and
thigh very beautiful (as I have heard, too, from the same
ladies) ; and she took great pleasure in being well shod and
in having her stockings well and tightly drawn up.
Besides all this, the most beautiful hand that was ever
seen, as I believe. Once upon a time the poets praised
Aurora for her fine hands and beautiful fingers ; but I think
our queen would etface her in that, and she guarded and
maintained that beauty all her life. The king, her son,
Henri III., inherited much of this beauty of the hand.
She always clothed herself well and superbly, often with
some pretty and new invention. In short, she had many
charms in herself to make her beloved. I remember that
one day at Lyons she went to see a painter named Corneille,
who had painted in a large room all the great seigneurs,
princes, cavaliers, queens, princesses, ladies of the Court, and
damoiselles. Being in the said room of these portraits we
saw there our queen, painted very well in all her beauty
and perfection, apparelled ^ la Frangaise in a cap and her
great pearls, and a gown with wide sleeves of silver tissue
furred with lynx, — the whole so well represented to the life
that only speech was lacking ; her three fine daughters were
beside her. She took great pleasure at the sight, and all the
52 THE BOOK OF THE L^ADIES.
company there present did the same, praising and admiring
her beauty above all. She herself was so ravished by the
contemplation that she could not take her eyes from the
picture until M. de Nemours came to her and said : " Madame,
I think you are there so well portrayed that nothing more
can be said ; and it seems to me that your daughters do you
proper honour, for they do not go before you or surpass you."
To this she answered : " My cousin, I think you can re-
member the time, the age, and the dress of this picture ; so
that you can judge better than any of this company, for
you saw me like that, whether I was estimated such as you
say, and whether I ever was as I there appear." There was
not one in the company that did not praise and estimate
that beauty highly, and say that the mother was worthy
of the daughters, and the daughters of the mother. And
such beauty lasted her, married and widowed, almost to her
death ; not that she was as fresh as in her more blooming
years, but always well preserved, very desirable and agreeable.
For the rest, she was very good company and of gay
humour ; loving all honourable exercises, such as dancing, in
which she had great grace and majesty.
She also loved hunting ; about which I heard a lady of
the Court tell this tale : King Francois, having chosen and
made a company which was called " the little band of tlie
Court ladies," the handsomest, daintiest, and most favoured,
often escaped from the Court and went to other houses to
hunt the stag and pass his time, sometimes staying thus
withdrawn eight days, ten days, sometimes more and some-
times less, as the humour took him. Our queen (who was
then only Mme. la dauphine) seeing such parties made with-
out her, and that even Mesdames her sisters-in-law were there
while she stayed at home, made prayer to the king, to take
her always with him, and to do her the honour to permit
that she should never budfje without him.
CATHERINE DE' MEDICL 53
It was said that she, being very shrewd and clever, did
this as much or more to see the king's actions and get his
secrets and hear and know all things, as from liking for the
hunt.
King Francois was pleased with this request, for it showed
the good-will that she had for his company ; and he granted
it heartily ; so that besides loving her naturally he now
loved her more, and delighted in giving her pleasure in the
hunt, at which she never left his side, but followed him at
full speed. She was very good on horseback and bold;
sitting with ease, and being the first to put the leg around
a pommel ; which was far more graceful and becoming
than sitting with the feet upon a plank. Till she was sixty
years of age and over she liked to ride on horseback, and
after her weakness prevented her she pined for it. It was
one of her greatest pleasures to ride far and fast, though she
fell many times with damage to her body, breaking her leg
once, and wounding her head, which had to be trepanned.
After she was widowed and had charge of the king and the
kingdom, she took the king always with her, and her other
children ; but while her husband, King Henri, lived, she
usually went with him to the meet of the stag and the other
hunts.
If he played at pall-mall she watched him play, and played
herself. She was very fond of shooting with a cross-bow
ct jalct [ball of stone], and she shot right well; so that
always when she went to ride her cross-bow was taken
with her, and if she saw any game, she shot it.
She was ever inventing some new dance or beautiful ballet
when the weather was bad. Also she invented games and
passed her time with one and another intimately ; but always
appearing very grave and austere when necessary.
She was fond of seeing comedies and tragedies ; but after
54 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
" Sophonisbe," a tragedy composed by M. de Saint-Gdlais. was
very well represented by her daughters and other ladies and
damoiselles and gentlemen of her Court, at Blois for the
marriages of M. du Cypi^re and the Marquis d'Elboeuf, she
took an opinion that it was harmful to the affairs of the king-
dom, and woiild never have tragedies played again. But she
listened readily to comedies and tragi-comedies, and even
those of " Zaui " and " Pantaloon," taking great pleasure in
them, and laughing with all her heart like any other ; for she
liked laughter, and her natural self was jovial, loving a witty
word and ready with it, knowing well when to cast her speech
and her stone, and when to withhold them.
She passed her time in the afternoons at work on her silk
embroideries, in which she was as perfect as possible. In
short, this queen liked and gave herself up to all honourable
exercises ; and there was not one that was worthy of herself
and her sex that she did not wish to know and practise.
There is what I can say, speaking briefly and avoiding pro-
lixity, about the beauty of her body and her occupations.
When she called any one " my friend " it was either
that she thought him a fool, or she was angry with him.
This was so well known that she had a serving gentleman
named M. de Bois-Fevrier, who made reply when she called
him " my friend " : " Ha ! madame, I would rather you
called me your enemy; for to call me your friend is as
good as saying I am a fool, or that you are in anger against
me ; for I know your nature this long time."
As for lier mind, it was very great and very admirable, as
was shown in so many fine and signal acts by which her life
has been made illustrious forever. The king, her husband,
and his council esteemed her so much that when the king
went his journey to Germany, out of liis kingdom, he estab-
lished and ordered her as regent and ":uvernor throughout
CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 55
his dominions during his absence, by a declaration solemnly
made before a full parliament in Paris. And in this office
she behaved so wisely that there was no disturbance, change,
or alteration in the State by reason of the king's absence ;
but, on the contrary, she looked so carefully to business that
she assisted the king with money, means, and men, and other
kinds of succour ; which helped him much for his return, and
even for the conquest which he made of cities in the duchy
of Luxembourg, such as Yvoy, Montmedy, Dampvilliers,
Chimay, and others.
I leave you to think how he who wrote that fine life I
spoke of detracted from her in saying that never did the king,
her husband, allow her to put her nose into matters of State.
Was not making her regent in his absence giving her ample
occasion to have full knowledge of them ? And it was thus
she did during all the journeys that he made yearly in going
to his armies.
What did she after the battle of Saint-Laurens, when
the State was shaken and the king had gone to Compifegne
to raise a new army? She so espoused affairs that she
roused and excited the gentlemen of Paris to give prompt
succour to their king, which came most apropos, both in
money and in other things very necessary in war.
Also, when the king was wounded, those who were of that
time and saw it cannot be ignorant of the great care she took
for Ms cure : the watches she made beside him without ever
sleeping ; the prayers with which, time after time, she im-
portuned God ; the processions and visitation of churches
which she made ; and the posts which she sent about every-
where inquiring for doctors and surgeons. But his hour had
come ; and when he passed from this world into the other,
she made such lamentations and shed such tears that never did
she stanch them ; and in memory of him, whenever he was
56 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
spoken of as long as she lived, they gushed from the depths
of her eyes ; so that she took a device proper and suitable to
her tears and her mourning, namely : a mound of quicklime,
on which the drops of heaven fell abundantly, with these
words writ in Latin: Adorem extincta testantur vivere
Jlamma ; the drops of water, like her tears, showing ardour,
though the flame was extinct. This device takes its allegory
from the nature of quicklime, which, being watered, burns
strangely and shows its fire though flame is not there. Thus
did our queen show her ardour and her affection by her
tears, though flame, which was her husband, was now ex-
tinct ; and this was as much as to say that, dead as he was,
she made it appear by her tears that she could never forget
him, but should love him always.
A like device was borne in former days by Madame Valen-
tine de Milan, Duchesse d'Orleans, after the death of her
husband, killed in Paris, for which she had such great re-
gret that for all comfort and solace in her moaning, she
took a watering-pot for her device, on the top of which was
an S, in sign, so they say, of seule, souvenir, soucis, soujpirer,
and around the said watering-pot were written these words :
Hien ne m'est jplus ; plus ne m'est rien — " Nought is more to
me ; more is to me nothing." This device can still be seen
in her chapel in the church of the Franciscans at Blois.
The good King Een^ of Sicily, having lost liis wife Isabel,
Duchesse de Lorraine, suffered such great grief that never
did he truly rejoice again; and when his intimate friends
and favourites urged him to consolation he led them to his
cabinet and showed them, painted by his own hand (for he
was an excellent painter), a Turkish bow with its string un-
strung, beneath which was written : Arco per lentare jnaga
nonsana — "The bow although unstrung heals not the wound."
Then he said to them : " My friends, with this picture
CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 57
I answer all your reasons: by unstringing a bow or
breaking its string, the harm thus done by the arrow may
quickly be mended, but, the life of my dear spouse being by
death extinct and broken, the wound of the loyal love — the
which, her living, filled my heart — cannot be cured." And
in various places in Angers we see these Turkish bows with
broken strings and beneath them the same words, Arco -per
lentare piaga non sana ; even at the Franciscan church, in
the chapel of Saint-Bernardin which he caused to be deco-
rated. This device he took after the death of his wife ; for
in her lifetime he bore another.
Our queen, around her device which I have told of,
placed many trophies: broken mirrors and fans, crushed
plumes, and pearls, jewels scattered to earth, and chains in
pieces ; the whole in sign of quitting worldly pomp, her
husband being dead, for whom her mourning never was
remitted. And, without the grace of God and the fortitude
with which he had endowed her, she would surely have suc-
cumbed to such great sadness and distress. Besides, she saw
that her young children and France had need of her, as we
have since seen by experience; for, like a Semiramis, or
second Athalie, she foiled, saved, guarded, and preserved her
said young children from many enterprises planned against
them in their early years ; and this with so much industry
and prudence that everybody thought her wonderful She,
being regent of the kingdom after the death of her son King
Francois during the minority of our king by the ordering of
the Estates of Orleans, imposed her will upon the King
of Navarre, who, as premier prince of the blood, wished to
be regent in her place and govern all things ; but she gained
so well and so dexterously the said Estates that if the said
King of Navarre had not gone elsewhere she would have
caused him to be attainted of the crime of lese-inajcste.
58 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
And possibly she would still have done so for the actions
which, it was said, he made the Prince de Conde do about
those Estates, but for Mme. de Montpeusier, who governed
her much. So the said king was forced to content himself
to be under her. Now there is one of the shrewd and subtle
deeds she did in her beginning.
Afterwards she knew how to maintain her rank and au-
thority so imperiously that no one dared gainsay it, however
grand and disturbing he was, for a period of three months
when, the Court being at Fontainebleau, the said King of
Navarre, wishing to show his feelings, took offence because
M. de Guise ordered the keys of the king's house brought to
him every evening, and kept them all night in his room like
a grand-master (for that is one of his offices), so that no one
could go out without his permission. This angered the King
of Navarre, who wished to keep the keys himself ; but, being
refused, he grew spiteful and mutinied in such a way that
one morning suddenly he came to take leave of the king
and queen, intending to depart from the Court, taking with
him all the princes of the blood whom he had won over,
together with M. le Conn^table de Montmorency and his
children and nephew.
The queen, who did not in any way expect this step, was
at first much astonished, and tried all she could to ward off
the blow, giving good hope to the King of Navarre that if
he were patient he would some day be satisfied. But fine
words gained her nothing with the said king, who was set
on departing. WTiereupon the queen bethought her of this
subtle point : she sent and gave commandment to M. le
conn^table, as the principal, first, and oldest officer of the
crown, to stay near the king, his master, as his duty and
office demanded, and not to leave him. M. le conndtable,
wise and judicious as he was, being very zealous for his
CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 59
master and careful of his grandeur and honour, after reflect-
ing on his duty and the command sent to him, went to
see the king and present himself as ready to fulfil his
office ; which greatly astonished the King of Navarre, who
was on the point of mounting his horse expecting M. le
conndtable, who came instead to represent his duty and
office and to persuade him not to budge himself nor to de-
part ; and did this so well that the King of Navarre went
to see the king and queen at the instigation of the connd-
table, and having conferred with their Majesties, his journey
was given up and his mules were countermanded, they having
then arrived at Melun. So all was pacified to the great content
of the King of Navarre. Not that M. de Guise diminished in
any way his office, or yielded one atom of his honour, for
he kept his pre-eminence and all that belonged to him, with-
out being shaken in the least, although he was not the
stronger ; but he was a man of the world in such things,
who was never bewildered, but knew very well how to brave
all and hold his rank and keep what he had.
It is not to be doubted, as all the world knows, that, if the
queen had not bethought her of this ruse regarding M. le
conndtable, all that party would have gone to Paris and
stirred up things to our injury ; for which reason great praise
should be given to the queen for this shift. I know, for I was
there, that many persons said it was not of her invention, but
that of Cardinal de Tournon, a wise and judicious prelate ; but
that is false, for, old stager though he was, i' faith the queen
knew more of wiles than he, or all the council of the king
together; for very often, when he was at fault, she would
help him and put him on the traces of what he ought to
know, of which I might produce a number of examples ; but
it will be enough to give this instance, which is fresh, and
which she herself did me the honour to disclose to me. It is
as follows : —
60 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
When she went to Guyenne, and lately to Coignac, to recon-
cile the princes of the Eeligion and those of the League, and
so put the kingdom in peace, for she saw it would soon be
ruined by such divisions, she determined to proclaim a truce
in order to treat of this peace ; at which the King of Navarre
and the Prince de Conde were very discontent and mutinous,
— all the more, they said, because this proclamation did them
great harm on account of their foreigners, who, having heard
of it, might repent of their coming, or delay it; and they
accused the said queen of having made it with that intention.
So they said and resolved not to see the queen, and not to
treat with her unless the said truce were rescinded. Xow
finding her council, whom she had with her, though com-
posed of good heads, very ridiculous and little to be honoured
because they thought it impossible to find means to rescind
the said truce, the queen said to them : " Truly, you are very
stupid as to the remedy. Know you not better ? There is
but one means for that. You have at Maillezais the regiment
of Neufvy and de Sorlu, Huguenots ; send me from here, from
Niort, all the arquebusiers that you can, and cut them to pieces,
and there you have the truce rescinded and undone without
further trouble." As she commanded so it was executed ;
the arquebusiers started, led by the Capitaine I'Estelle, and
forced their fort and their barricades so well that there they
were quite defeated, Sorlu killed, who was a valiant man,
Neufvy taken prisoner with many others, and all their ban-
ners captured and brought to Niort to the queen ; who, using
her accustomed turn of clemency, pardoned all and sent them
away with their ensigns and even with their flags, which, as
regards the flags, is a very rare thing. But she chose to do
this stroke, rare or not, so she told me, to the princes ; who
now knew they had to do with a very able princess, and that
it was not to her they sliould address such mockery as to
CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 61
make her rescind a truce by the very heralds who had pro-
claimed it ; for while they were thinking to make her receive
that insult, she had fallen upon them, and now sent them
word by the prisoners that it was not for them to affront her
by asking unseemly and unreasonable things, because it was
in her power to do them both good and evil.
That is how this queen knew how to give and teach a les-
son to her council. I might tell of many such things, but I
have now to treat of other points : the first of which must be
to answer those whom I have often heard say that she was
the first to rouse to arms, and so was cause of our civil wars.
Whoso will look to the source of the matter will not believe
that ; for the triumvirate having been created, she, seeing
the proceedings which were preparing and the change made
by the King of Navarre, — who from being formerly Huguenot
and very reformed had made himself Catholic, — and knowing
that through that change she had reason to fear for the king,
the kingdom, and her own person that he would move against
them, reflected and puzzled her mind to discover to what such
proceedings, meetings, and colloquies held in secret tended.
Not being able, as they say, to come at the bottom of the
pot, she bethought her one day, when the secret council was
in session in the room of the King of Navarre, to go into the
room above his, and by means of a tube which she had caused
to be slipped surreptitiously under the tapestry she listened
unperceived to their discourse. Among other things she
heard one thing that was very terrible and bitter to her.
The Mardchal de Saint-Andr^, one of the triumvirate, gave it
as his opinion that the queen should be put in a sack and
flung into the river, for that otherwise they could never suc-
ceed in their plans. But the late M. de Guise, who was very
good and generous, said that must not be; for it were too
unjust to make the wife and mother of our kings perish thus
62 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
miserably, and he opposed it all. For this the said queen
has always loved him, and proved it to his children after his
death by giving them his estates.
I leave you to suppose what this sentence was to the
queen, having heard it thus with her own ears, and whether
she had no occasion for fear, although she was thus defended
by M. de Guise. From what I have heard tell by one of
her most intimate ladies, she feared they would strike the
blow without the knowledge of M. de Guise, as indeed she
had reason to do ; for in deeds so detestable an upright man
should always be distrusted, and the act not communicated
to him. She was thus compelled to consider her safety, and
employ those she saw already under arms [the Prince de
Condd and other Protestant leaders], begging them to have
pity for a mother and her children.
That is the whole cause, just as it was, of the civil war.
She would never go to Orleans with the others, nor give
them the king and her children, as she could have done ;
and she was very glad that in the hurly-burly of arms she
and the king her son and her other children were in safety,
as was reasonable. Moreover, she requested and held the
promise of the others that whenever she should summon
them to lay down their arms they would do so ; which,
nevertheless, they would not do when the time came, no
matter what appeals she made to them, and what pains she
took, and the great heat she endured at Talsy, to induce
them to listen to the peace she could have made good and
secured for all France had they then listened to her ; and
this great fire and others we have since seen lighted from
this first brand would have been forever extinguished in
France if they would then have trusted her. I know what
I myself have heard her say, with the tears in her eyes, and
with what zeal she endeavoured to do it.
CATHERINE DE' MEDICL G'^)
This is why they cannot charge her with the first spark
of the civil war, nor yet with the second, which was the day
of Meaux ; for at that time she was thinking only of a hunt,
and of giving pleasure to the king in her beautiful house at
Monceaux. The warning came that M. le Prince and others
of the Eeligion were in arms and advancing to surprise and
seize the king under colour of presenting a request. God
knows who was the cause of this new disturbance, and with-
out the six thousand Swiss then lately raised, who knows
what might have happened ? This levy of Swiss was only the
pretext of their taking up arms, and of saying and publishing
that it was done to force them to war. In fact it was they,
themselves, as I know from being at Court, who requested
that levy of the king and queen, on the passage of the Duke
of Alba and his army, fearing that under colour of reaching
Flanders he might descend upon the frontiers of France ;
and they urged that it was the custom to arm the frontiers
whenever a neighbouring State was arming. No one can be
ignorant how urgent for this they were to the king and
queen by letters and embassies, — even M. le Prince himself
and M. I'amiral [Coligny] coming to see the king on this
subject at Saint-Germain-en-Laye, where I saw them.
I would also like to ask (for all that I write here I saw
myself) who it was who took up arms on Shrove Tuesday,
and who suborned and solicited ]\Ionsieur the king's brother,
and the King of Navarre, to give ear to the enterprises for
which Mole and Coconas were executed in Paris. It was
not the queen, for it was by her prudence that she prevented
them from uprising, — by keeping Monsieur and the King of
Navarre so locked in to the forest of Vincennes that they
could not get out; and on the death of King Charles she
held them so tightly in Paris and the Louvre, barring their
windows one morning, — at any rate those of the King of
64 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
Xavarre, who was lodged on the lower floor (the King of
Navarre, told me this himself with tears in his eyes), — that
they could not escape as they intended, which would greatly
have embroiled the State and prevented the return of Poland
to the King, which was what they were after. I know all
this from having been invited to the fricassee, which was one
of the finest strokes ever made by the queen. Starting from
Paris she conducted them to Lyons to meet the king so dex-
terously that no one who saw them would ever have sup-
posed them prisoners ; they went in the same coach with her,
and she presented them herself to the king, who, on his
side, pardoned them soon after.
Also, who was it that enticed Monsieur the king's brother
to leave Paris one fine night and the company of his brother
who loved him well, and whose affection he cast off to go
and take up arms and embroil all France ? M. de La None
knows well, and also the secret plots that began at the siege
of Eochelle, and what I said to him about them. It was
not the queen-mother, for she felt such grief at seeing one
brother banded against another brother and his king, that
she swore she would die of it, or else replace and reunite them
as before — which she did ; for I heard her say at Blois, in
conversation with Monsieur, that she prayed for nothing so
much as that God would grant her the favour of that re-
union, after which he might send her death and she would
accept it with all her heart ; or else she would gladly retire
to her houses of Monceaux and Chenonceaux, and never
mix further in the affairs of France, wishing to end her days
in tranquillity. In fact, she truly wished to do the latter ;
but the king implored her to abstain, for he and his kingdom
had great need of her. I am assured that if she had not
made this peace at that time, all was over with France, for
there were in the country fifty thousand foreigners, from
CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 65
one region or another, who would have aided in humbling
and destroying her.
It was, therefore, not the queen who called to arms at this
time to satisfy the State-Assembly at Blois, the which, want-
ing but one religion and proposing to abolish that which was
contrary to their own, demanded, if the spiritual blade did
not suffice to abolish it, that recourse should be had to the
temporal. Some have said that the. queen had bribed them ;
that is false. I do not say that she did not bribe them later,
which was a fine stroke of policy and intelligence; but it
was not she who called together the said Assembly ; so far
from that, she blamed them for all, and also because tliey
lessened greatly the king's authority and her own. It was
the party of the Eeligion wdiich had long demanded that
Assembly, and required by the terms of the last peace that it
should be called together and assembled ; to which the queen
objected strongly, foreseeing abuses. However, to content
them because they clamoured for it so much, they had it, to
their own confusion and damage, and not to their profit and
contentment as they expected, so that finally they took up
arms. Thus it was still not the queen who did so.
IsTeither was it she who caused them to be taken up when
Mont-de-Marsan, La F^.re in Picardy, and Cahors were taken.
I remember what the king said to M. de Miossans, who
came to him on behalf of the King of Navarre ; he rebuffed
him harshly, and told him that while those princes were
cloying him with line words they were calling to arms and
taking cities.
Now that is how this queen was the instigator of all our
wars and civil fires, the which, while she never lighted them,
she spent her pains and labour in striving to extinguish,
abhorring to see so many of the nobles and men of honour
die. And without that, and without her commiseration, they
5
66 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
who have hated her with mortal hatred would have been
ill-off, and their party underground and not flourishing as it
now is ; which must be imputed to her kindness, of which
we now have sore need, for, as every one says and the poor
people cry, " We have no longer the queen-mother to make
peace for us." It was not her fault that peace was not made
when she went to Guyenne lately to treat of it with the King
of Navarre and the Prince de Cond^.
They have tried to accuse her also of being an accomplice
in the wars of the League. Why, then, should she have
brought about the peace of which I speak if she were that ?
Why should she have pacified the riot of the barricades in
Paris ? Wliy should she have reconciled the king and the
Due de Guise only to destroy the latter and kill him ?
Well, let them launch into such foul abuse against her all
they will, never shall we have another queen in France so
good for peace.
They have accused her of that massacre in Paris [the
Saint-Bartholomew] ; all that is a sealed book to me, for at
that time I was preparing to embark at Brouage ; but I have
often heard it said that she was not the chief actress in it.
There were three or four others, whom I might name, who
were more ardent in it than she and pushed her on, making
her believe, from the threats uttered on the wounding of
M. I'amiral, that the king was to be killed, and she with all
her children and the whole Court, or else that the country
would be in arms much worse than ever. Certainly the
party of Pieligion did very wrong to make the threats it is
said they made ; for they brought on the fate of poor M.
I'amiral, and procured his death. If they had kept them-
selves quiet, said no word, and let M. I'amiral's wound heal,
he could have left Paris at his ease, and nothing further
would have come of it. ]\I. de La Xoue was of that opinion.
CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 67
He and M. Strozzi and I have often spoken of it, he not
approving of such bravados, audacities, and threats as were
made at the very Court of the king in his city of Paris ; and
he greatly blamed M. de Theligny, his brother-in-law, who
was one of the hottest, calling him and his companions per-
fect fools and most incapable. M. I'amiral never used such
language as I have heard from others, at least not aloud. I
do not say that in secret and private with his intimate
friends he never spoke it. That was the cause of the death
of M. I'amiral and the massacres of his people, and not the
queen ; as I have heard say by those who know well, although
there are many from whose heads you could never oust the
opinion that this train was long laid and the plot long in
hatching. It is all false. The least passionate think as I
have said; the more passionate and obstinate believe the
other way ; and very often we give credit for the ordering of
events to kings and great princes, and say after those events
have happened how prudent and provident they were, and
how well they knew how to dissimulate, when all the while
they knew no more about them than a plum.
To return again to our queen ; her enemies have put it
about that she was not a good Frenchwoman. God knows
with what ardour I saw her urge that the English might be
driven from France at Havre de Grace, and what she said of
it to M. le Prince, and how she made him go with many
gentlemen of his party, and the crown-companies of M.
d'Andelot, and other Huguenots, and how she herself led the
army, mounted usually on a horse, like a second beautiful
Queen Marfisa, exposing herself to the arquebusades and the
cannonades as if she were one of her captains, looking to the
making of the batteries, and saying she should never be at
ease until she had taken that town and driven the English
out of France ; hating worse than poison those who had sold
68 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
it to them. And thus she did so much that finally she made
the country French.
When Eouen was besieged, I saw her in the greatest anger
when she beheld supplies entering the town by means of a
French galley captured the year before, she fearing that the
place, failing to be taken by us, would come under the domin-
ion of the English. For this reason she pushed hard at the
wheel, as they say, to take it, and never failed every day to
come to the fort Sain te- Catherine to hold council and see
the firing. I have often seen her passing along the covered
way of Sainte-Catherine, the cannonades and arquebusades
raining roimd her, and she caring nothing for them.
Those who were there saw her as I did; there are still
many ladies, her maids of honour who accompanied her, to
whom the firing was not too pleasant ; I knew this for I saw
them there ; but when M. le connetable and j\I. de Guise
remonstrated with her, telling her some misfortune would
come of it, she only laughed and said : Why should she
spare herself more than they, inasmuch as she had as good
courage as they had, though not their strength, which her
sex denied her ? As for fatigue, she endured that well,
whether on foot or on horseback, I think that for long
there had never been a queen or a princess better on horse-
back, sitting with such grace, — not appearing, for all that, like
a masculine dame, in form and style a fantastic amazon, but
a comely princess, beautiful, agreeable, and gentle.
They said of her that she was very Spanish. Certainly
as long as her good daughter lived [Elisabeth, wife of
Philip II.] she loved Spain ; but after her daughter died
we knew, at least some of us, whether she had reason to
love it, either country or nation. True it is that she was
always so prudent that she chose to treat the King of
Spain as her good son-in-law, in order that he in turn should
CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 69
treat better her good and beautiful daughter, as is the cu»tom
of good mothers ; so that he never came to trouble France,
nor to bring war there, according to his brave heart and
natural ambition.
Others have also said that she did not like the nobility
of France and desired much to shed its blood. I refer for
that to the many times that she made peace and spared that
blood; besides which, attention should be paid to this,
namely : that while she was regent, and her children minors,
there were not known at Court so many quarrels and combats
as we have seen there since ; she would not allow them,
and forbade expressly all duelling and punished those who
transgressed that order. I have seen her at Court, when
the king went away to stay some days and she was left
absolute and alone, at a time when quarrels had begun again
and were becoming common, also duelling, which she never
would permit, — I have known her, I say, give a sudden
order to the captain of the guards to make arrests, and to the
marshals and captains to pacify the quarrel ; so that, to tell
the truth, she was more feared than the king ; for she knew
how to talk to the disobedient and the dissolute, and rebuke
them terribly.
I remember that once, the king having gone to the baths
of Bourbon, my late cousin La Chastaignerie had a quarrel
with Pardailhan. She had him searched for, in order to
forbid him, on his hfe, to fight a duel ; but not being able
to find him for two whole days, she had him tracked so
well that on a Sunday morning, he being on the island of
Louviers awaiting his enemy, the grand provost arrived to
arrest him, and took him prisoner to the Bastille by order
of the queen. But he stayed there only one ^ight ; for she
sent for him and gave him a reprimand, partly sharp and partly
gentle, because she was really kind, and was harsh only when
70 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
she chose to be. I know very well what she said to me
also when I was for seconding my said cousin, namely : that
as the older I ought to have been the wiser.
The year that the king returned to Poland a quarrel arose
between Messieurs de Grillon and d'Entraigues, two brave
and valiant gentlemen, who being called out and ready to
fight, the king forbade them through M. de Rambouillet,
one of his captains of the guard then in quarters, and he
ordered M. de Nevers and the Mar^chal de Retz to make
up the quarrel, which they failed in doing. That evening
the queen sent for them both into her room ; and as their
quarrel was about two great ladies of her household, she
commanded them with great sternness, and then besought
them both in all gentleness, to leave to her the settlement
of their differences ; inasmuch as, having done them the
honour to meddle in it, and the princes, marshals, and cap-
tains having failed in making them agree, it was now a
point of honour with her to have the glory of doing so :
by which she made them friends, and they embraced with-
out other forms, taking all from her ; so that by her prudence
the subject of the quarrel, which was delicate, and rather
touched the honour of the two ladies, was never known
publicly. That was the true kindness of a princess ! And
then to say she did not like the nobility ! Ha ! the truth
was, she noticed and esteemed it too much. I think there
was not a great family in the kingdom with whom she was
not acquainted ; she used to say she had learned from King
Francois the genealogies of the great families of his king-
dom ; and as for the king, her husband, he had this faculty,
that when he had once peen a nobleman he knew him
always, in face, in deeds, and in reputation.
I have seen the queen, often and ordinarily, while the king,
her son, was a minor, take the trouble to present to him her-
CATHERINE DE' MEDICL 71
self the gentlemen of his kingdom, and put them in his
memory thus : " Such a one did service to the king your
grandfather, at such and such times and places ; and this one
served your father ; " and so on, — commanding him to remem-
ber all this, and to love them and do well by them, and rec-
ognize them at other times ; which he knew very well how
to do, for, through such instruction, this king recognized
readily all men of character and race and honour throughout
his kingdom.
Detractors have also said that she did not like her people.
What appears ? Were there ever so many tallies, subsidies,
imposts, and other taxes while she was governing during the
minority of her children as have since been drawn in a single
year ? Was it proved that she had all that hidden money in
the banks of Italy, as people said ? Far from that, it was
found after her death that she had not a single sou ; and, as
I have heard some of her financiers and some of her ladies
say, she was indebted eight thousand crowns, the wages of
her ladies, gentlemen, and household officers, due a year, and
the revenue of the whole year spent ; so that some months
before her death her financiers showed her these necessities •
but she laughed and said one must praise God for all and
find something to live on. That was her avarice and the
great treasure she amassed, as people said ! She never
amassed anything, for she had a heart wholly noble, liberal,
and magnificent, like her great uncle. Pope Leo, and that
magnificent Lorenzo de' Medici. She spent or gave away
everything ; erecting buildings, spending in honourable mag-
nificences, and taking pleasure in giving recreations to her
people and her Court, such as festivals, balls, dances, tourna-
ments and spearing the ring \couremens de hague], of which
latter she held three that were very superb during her life-
time : one at Fontainebleau on the Shrove Tuesday after the
72 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
first troubles; where there were tourneys and breakmg of
lances and combats at the barrier, — in short, all sorts of
feats of arms, with a comedy on the subject of the beautiful
Genevra of Ariosto, which she caused to be represented by
Mme. d'Angouleme and her most beautiful and virtuous
princesses and the ladies and damoiselles of her Court, who
certainly played it very well, and so that nothing finer was
ever seen. The second was at Bayonne, at the interview
between the queen and her good daughter Elisabeth, Queen
of Spain, where the magnificence was such in all things that
the Spanish, who are very disdainful of other countries than
their own, swore they had never seen anything finer, and
that their own king could not approach it ; and thus they
returned to Spain much edified.
I know that many in France blamed this expense as being
superfluous ; but the queen said that she did it to show for-
eigners that France was not so totally ruined and poverty-
stricken because of the late wars as they thought ; and that
if for such tourneys she was able to spend so much, for mat-
ters of importance she could surely do better, and that France
was all the more feared and esteemed, whether through the
sight of such wealth and richness, or through that of the
prowess of her gentlemen, so brave and adroit at arms ; as
indeed there were many there very good to see and worthy
to be admired. Moreover, it was very reasonable tliat for
the greatest queen of Christendom, the most beautiful, the
most virtuous, and the best, some great solemn festival
above all others should be held. And I can assure you that
if this liad not been done, the foreigners would have mocked
us and gone back to Spain thinking and holding us all in
France to be beggars.
Therefore it was not without good and careful consideration
that this wise and judicious c|ueen made this outlay. She
CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 73
made another very fine one on the arrival of the Poles in
Paris, whom she feasted most superbly in her Tuileries;
after which, in a great hall built on pvirpose and surrounded
by an infinite number of torches, she showed them the finest
ballet that was ever seen on earth (I may indeed say so) ;
the which was composed of sixteen of her best-taught ladies
and. damoiselles, who appeared in a great rock [_roc, grotto ? ]
all silvered, where they w^ere seated in niches, like vapours
around it. These sixteen ladies represented the sixteen
provinces of France, with the most melodious music ever
heard ; and after having made, in this rock, the tour of the
hall, like a parade in camp, and letting themselves be seen
of every one, they descended from the rock and formed them-
selves into a little battalion, fantastically imagined, with
violins to the number of thirty sounding a warlike air ex-
tremely pleasant ; and thus they marched to the air of the
violins, with a fine cadence they never lost, and so approached,
and stopped before their Majesties. After which they danced
their ballet, most fantastically invented, with so many turns,
counterturns, and gyrations, such twining and blending, such
advancing and pausing (though no lady failed to find her
place and rank), that all present were astonished to see how
in such a maze order was not lost for a moment, and that all
these ladies had their judgment clear and held it good, so
well were they taught ! This fantastic ballet lasted at least
one hour, the which being concluded, all these sixteen ladies,
representing, as I have said, the sixteen provinces, advanced
to the king, the queen, the King of Poland, Monsieur his
brother, the King and Queen of Navarre, and other grandees
of France and Poland, presenting to each a golden salver as
large as the palm of the hand, finely enamelled and beauti-
fully chased, on which were engraved the fruits and products
of each province in which they were most fertile, such as
74 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
citrons and oranges in Provence, cereals in Champagne, wines
in Burgundy, and in Guyenne warriors, — great honour that
for Guyenne certainly ! And so on, through the other
provinces.
At Bayonne the like presents were made, and a combat
fought, which I could represent very well, with the presents
and the names of those who received them, but it would
be too long. At Bayonne it was the men who gave to the
ladies ; here, it was the ladies giving to the men. Take note
that all these inventions came from no other devising and
brain than that of the queen ; for she was mistress and in-
ventress of everything ; she had such faculty that whatever
magnificences were done at Court, hers surpassed all others.
For which reason they used to say there was no one hke
the queen-mother for doing fine things. If such outlays
were costly, they gave great pleasure ; and people often said
she wished to imitate the Eoman emperors, who studied to
exhibit games to their people and give them pleasures, and
so amuse them as not to leave them leisure to do harm.
Besides the pleasure she took in giving pleasure to her
people, she also gave them much to earn ; for she liked all
sorts. of artisans and paid them well ; employing them each
in his owTi art, so that they never wanted for work, es-
pecially masons and builders, as is shown by her beautiful
houses : the Tuileries (still unfinished), Saint-Maur, Mon-
ceaux, and Chenonceaux. Also she liked learned men, and
was pleased to read, and she made others read, the books
they presented to her, or those that she knew they had
written. AU were acceptable, even to the fine invectives
which were published against her, about which she scoffed
and laughed, without anger, calling those who wrote them
gabblers and " givers of trash " — that was her use of the
word
CATHERINE DE' MEDICL - 75
She wished to know everything. On the voyage to Lor-
raine, during the second troubles, the Huguenots had with
them a fine culverin to which they gave the name of " the
queen-mother." They were forced to bury it at Villenozze,
not being able to drag it on account of its long shafts and
bad harness and weight ; after which it never could be
found again. The queen, hearing that they had given it
her name, wanted to know why. A certain person, having
been much urged by her to tell her, replied : " Because,
madame, it has a cahbre [diameter] broader and bigger than
that of others." The queen was the first to laugh at this
reply.
She spared no pains in reading anything that took her
fancy. I saw her once, having embarked at Blaye to go
and dine at Bourg, reading the whole way from a parchment,
like any lawyer or notary, a proces-verhal made on Derbois,
favourite secretary of the late M. le conndtable, as to cer-
tain underhand dealings and correspondence of which he
was accused and for which imprisoned at Bayonne. She
never took her eyes off it until she had read it through ;
and there were more than ten pages of parchment. When
she was not hindered, she read herself all letters of impor-
tance, and frequently with her own hand made' replies ;
I saw her once, after dinner, write twenty long letters
herself.
She wrote and spoke French very well, although an
Italian ; and even to persons of her own nation she usually
spoke it, so much did she honour France and its language ;
taking pains to exhibit its fine speech to foreigners, grandees,
and ambassadors, who came to visit her after seeing the
king. She always answered them very pertinently, with
great grace and majesty ; as I have also seen and heard her
do to the courts of parliament, both publicly and privately ;
76 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
often controlling the latter finely when they rambled in talk
or were over-cautious, or would not comply with the edicts
made in her privy council and the ordinances issued by the
king and herself. You may be sure she spoke as a queen
and made herself feared as one. I saw her once at Bordeaux
when she took her daughter Marguerite to her husband, the
King of Navarre. She had commanded that court of parlia-
ment to come and be spoken to, — they not being willing to
abolish a certain brotherhood, by them invented and main-
tained, which she was determined to break up, foreseeing
that it would bring some results in the end which might be
prejudicial to the State. They came to meet her in the
garden of the Bishop's house, where she was walking one
Sunday morning. One among them spoke for all, and gave
her to understand the fruitfulness of this brotherhood and
the utility it was to the public. She, without being pre-
pared, replied so well and with such apt words, and apparent
and appropriate reasons to show it was ill-founded and
odious, that there was no one present who did not admire
the mind of the queen and remain confused and astonished
when, as her last word, she said ; " No, I will, and the king
my son wills that it be exterminated, and never heard of
again, for secret reasons that I shall not tell you, besides
those that I have told you ; and if not, I will make you feel
what it is to disobey the king and me." So each and all
went away and nothing more was said of it.
She did these turns very often to the princes and the
greatest people, when they had done some great wrong and
made her so angry that she took her haughty air, — no one
on earth being so superb and stately as she, when needful,
sparing no truths to any one. I have seen the late M. de
Savoie, who was intimate with the emperor, the King of
Spain, and so many grandees, fear and respect her more than
CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 77
if she had been his mother, and M. de Lorraine the same, —
in short, all the great people of Christendom ; I could give
many examples ; but another time, in due course, I will tell
them ; just now it suffices to say what I have said.
Among other perfections she was a good Christian and
very devout ; always making her Easters, and never failing
any day to attend divine service at mass and vespers ; which
she rendered very agreeable to pious persons, by the good
singers of her chapel, — she being careful to collect the most
exquisite ; also she herself loved music by nature, and often
gave pleasure with it in her apartment, wdiich was never
closed to virtuous ladies and honourable men, she seeing all
and every one, not restricting it as they do in Spain, and also
in her own land of Italy; nor yet as our later queens,
Isabella of Austria and Louise of Lorraine, have done ; but
saying, like King Francois, her father-in-law (whom she
greatly honoured, he having set her up and made her free),
that she wished to keep her Court as a good Frenchwoman,
and as the king, her husband, would have wished; so that
her apartments were the pleasure of the Court.
She had, ordinarily, very beautiful and virtuous maids of
honour, who conversed with us daily in her antechamber,
discoursing and chatting so wisely and modestly that none of
us would have dared to do otherwise ; for the gentlemen who
failed in this were banished and threatened, and in fear of
worse until she pardoned and forgave them, she being kind
in herself and very ready to do so.
In short, her company and her Court were a true paradise
in the world, and a school of all virtue and honour, the orna-
ment of France, as the foreigners wdio came there knew well
and said ; for they were all most politely received, and her ladies
and maids of honour were commanded to adorn themselves
at their coming like goddesses, and to entertain these visitors,
78 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
not amusing themselves elsewhere ; otherwise she taunted
them well and reprimanded them.
In fact, her Court was such that when she died the voices
of all declared that the Court was no longer a Court, and that
never again would France have a true queen-mother. What
a Court it was ! such as, I believe, no Emperor of Eome in
the olden time ever held for ladies, nor any of our Kings of
Prance. Though it is true that the great Emperor Charle-
magne, King of France, during his lifetime took great pleas-
ure in making and maintaining a grand and full Court of
peers, dukes, counts, palatines, barons, and knights of France ;
also of ladies, their wives and daughters, with others of all
countries, to pay court and lionour (as the old romances of
that day have said) to the empress and queen, and to see the
fine jousts, tournaments, and magnificences done there by
knights-errant coming from all parts. But what of that ?
These fine, grand assemblies came together not oftener than
three or four times a year; at the end of each fete they
departed and retired to their houses and estates until the
next time. Besides, some have said that in his old age
Charlemagne was much given over to women, though always
of good company ; and that Louis le Debonnaire, on ascend-
ing the throne, was obliged to banish his sisters to other
places for the scandal of their lives with men ; and also that
he drove from Court a number of ladies who belonged to the
joyous band. Charlemagne's Courts were never of long dura-
tion (I speak now of his great years), for he amused himself
in those days with war, according to our old romances,
and in his last years his Court was too dissolute, as I have
already said. But the Court of our King Henri II. and
the queen his wife, was held daily, whether in war or peace,
and whether it resided in one place or another for months,
or went to other castles and pleasure-houses of our kings.
CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 79
who are not lacking in them, having more than the kings
of other countries.
This large and noble company, keeping always together, at
least the greater part of them, came and went with its queen,
so that usually her Court was filled by at least three hundred
ladies and damoiselles. The intendants of the king's houses
and the quartermasters affirmed that they occupied fully
one-half of the rooms, as I myself have seen during the
thirty-three years I lived at Court, except when at war or in
foreign parts. Having returned, I was always there ; for the
sojourn was to me most agreeable, not seeing elsewhere any-
thing finer ; in fact I think, since the world was, nothing has
ever been seen like it ; and as the noble names of these beau-
tiful ladies who assisted our queen in adorning her Court
should not be overlooked, I place them here, according as I
remember them from the end of the queen's married life and
throughout her widowhood, for before that time I was too
young to know them.
First, I place Mesdames the daughters of France. I place
them first because they never lost their rank, and go before
all others, so grand and noble is their house, to wit : —
Madame Elisabeth de France, afterwards Queen of Spain.
Madame Claude, afterwards Duchesse de Lorraine.
Madame Marguerite, afterwards Queen of Navarre.
Madame the king's sister, afterwards Duchesse de Savoie.
The Queen of Scots, afterwards dauphine and Queen of
France.
The Queen of Navarre, Jeanne d'Albret.
Madame Catherine, her daughter, to-day called Madame
the king's [Henri IV.] sister.
Madame Diane, natural daughter of the king [Henri II.],
afterwards legitimatized, the Duchesse d'Angouleme.
Madame d'Enghien, of the house of Estouteville.
80 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
Madame la Princesse de Condd, of the house of Roye.
Madame de Nevers, of the house of Vendome.
Madame de Guise, of tlie house of Ferrara.
Madame Diane de Poitiers, Duchesse de Valentinois.
Mesdames d'Aumale and de Bouillon, her daughters.^
Need I name more ? No, for my memory could not fur-
nish them. There are so many other ladies and maids that
I beg them to excuse me if I pass them by with my pen, —
not that I do not greatly value and esteem them, but I
should dream over them and amuse myself too much. To
make an end, I must say that in all this company there was
nothing to find fault with in their day ; beauty abounded,
all majesty, all charm, all grace ; happy was he who could
touch with love such ladies, and happy those who could
tliat love eseapar. I swear to you that I have named only
those ladies and damoiselles who were beautiful, agreeable,
very accomplished, and well sufficient to set fire to the
whole world. Indeed, in their best days they burned up
a good part of it, as much us gentlemen of the Court as
others who approached the flame ; to some of whom they
were gentle, aimable, favourable, and courteous. I speak of
none here, hoping to make good tales about them in this
book before I finish it, and of others whose names are not
comprised here ; but the whole told so discreetly, without
scandal, that nothing will be known, for the curtain of
silence will cover their names ; so that if by chance the}^
should any of them read tales of themselves they will not
be annoyed. Besides, though the pleasures of love cannot
last forever, by reason of many inconveniences, hindrances,
and changes, the memories of the past are always pleasing.
^ Here follow the names of ninety-three larlics and sixty-six damoiselles ;
amon^' the latter are "Mesdamoiselles Elaniniin (Fleming ?) Veton (Sea-
ton ? ) Beton ( Beaton ? ) Leviston, cscossoises." The three first-named on the
above list are the daughters of Henri TT. and Catherine de' Medici. — Tk.
^
^-
N
>::
CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 81
[This refers to " Les Dames Galantes," and not to the present
volume.]
Now, to thoroughly consider how fine a sight was this
troupe of beautiful ladies and damoiselles, creatures divine
rather than human, we must imagine the entries into Paris
and other cities, the sacred and superlative bridals of our
kings of France, and their sisters, the daughters of France ;
such as those of the dauphin, of King Charles, of King
Henri III., of the Queen of Spain, of Madame de Lorraine,
of the Queen of Navarre, not to speak of many other grand
weddings of the princes and princesses, like that of M. de
Joyeuse, which would have surpassed them all if the Queen
of Navarre had been there. Also we must picture to our-
selves the interview at Bayonne, the arrival of the Poles,
and an infinite number of other and like magnificences,
which I could never finish naming, where I saw these ladies
appear, each more beautiful than the rest ; some more finely
appointed and better dressed than others, because for such
festivals, in addition to their great means, the king and
queen would give tliem splendid liveries.
In short, nothing was ever seen finer, more dazzling,
dainty, superb ; the glory of Niqude never approached it
[enchanted palace in " Amadis "J. All this shone in a ball-
room of the Tuileries or the Louvre as the stars of heaven
in the azure sky. The queen-mother wished and commanded
her ladies always to appear in grand and superb apparel,
though she herself during her widowhood never clothed herself
in worldly silks, unless they were lugubrious, but always
properly and so well-fitting that she looked the queen above
all else. It is true that on the days of the weddings of
her two sons Henri and Charles, she wore gowns of
black velvet, wishing, she said, to solemnize the event by so
signal an act. While she was married she always dressed
6
82 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
xery richly and superbly, and looked what she was. And it
was fine to see and admire her in the general processions
that were made, both in Paris and other cities, such as
the Fete Dieu, that of the liameaux [Palm Sunday], bear-
ing palms and branches with such grace, and on Candlemas
Day, when the torches were borne by all the Court, the
flames of which contended against their own brilhancy. At
these three processions, which are most solemn, we certainly
saw nothing but beauty, grace, a noble bearing, a fine gait
and splendid apparel, all of which delighted the spectators.
It was fine also to see the queen in her married life going
through the country in her litter, being pregnant, or after-
wards on horsel)ack attended by forty or fifty ladies and
damoiselles mounted on handsome hackneys well caparisoned,
and sitting their horses with such good grace that the men
could not do better, either in equestrian style or apparel ;
their hats adorned with plumes which floated in the air as
if demanding either love or war. Virgil, who took upon
himself to write of the apparel of Queen Dido when she
went to the chase, says nothing that approaches the luxury
of that of our queen with her ladies, may it not displease
her, as I think I have said elsewhere.
Tliis queen (made by the act of the great King Frangois),
who introduced this beautiful pageantry, never forgot or let
slip anything of the kind she had once learned, but always
wanted to imitate or surpass it; I have heard her speak thiee
or four times in my life on this subject. Those who have
seen things as I did still feel their souls enchanted like
mine, for what I say is true ; I know it having seen it.
So there is the Court of our queen. Unhappy was tlie day
when she died ! I have heard tell that our present king
[Henri IV.], some eighteen months after he saw himself
more in hope and prospect of becoming King of France,
CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 83
began one day to discourse with the late M. le Mar^chal
de Biron, on the plans and projects he would undertake to
make his Court prosperous and line and in all things like
that of our said queen, for at that time it was in its greatest
lustre and splendour. j\I. le marechal answered : '■' It is not
in your power, nor in that of any king who will ever reign,
unless you can manage with God that he shall resuscitate
the queen-mother, and bring her round to you." But that
was not what the king wanted, for when she died there was
no one whom he hated so much, but without grounds, as I
could see, and as he should have known better than I.
How luckless was the day on which such a queen died, at
the very point when we had such great necessity for her, and
still have !
She died at Blois of sadness caused by the massacre whicli
there took place, and the melancholy tragedy there played,
seeing that, without reflection, she had brought the princes
to Blois thinking to do well ; whereas it was true, as M. le
Cardinal de Bourbon said to her : " Alas ! madame, you have
led us all to butchery without intending it." That so touched
her heart, and also the death of those poor men, that she took
to her bed, having previously felt ill, and never rose again.
They say that when the king announced to her the murder
of j\I. de Guise, saving that he was now absolutelv kincj,
without equal, or master, she asked him if he had put the
affairs of his kingdom in order before striking the blow. To
which he answered yes. " God grant it, my son," she said.
Very prudent that she was, she foresaw plainly what would
happen to him, and to all the kingdom.^
Persons have spoken diversely as to her death, and even as
1 Henri III, convoked the States-General at Blois in 1588 ; the Due de
Guise (Henri, le Balafre) was tliere assassinated, hy the king's order,
December 23, 1588 ; his brotlier, Cardinal de Bourbon, the next day. — Tii.
84 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
to poison. Possibly it was so, possibly not; but she was
held to have died of desperation, and she had reason to
do so.
She was placed on her state-bed, as one of her ladies told
me, neither more nor less like Queen Anne of whom I have
already spoken, clothed in the same royal garments that the
said Queen Anne wore, they not having served since her
death for any others ; and thus she was borne to the church
of the castle, with the same pomp and solemnity as Queen
Anne, where she lies and rests still. The king wished to
take her to Chartres and thence to Saint-Denis, to put her
with the king, her husband, in the same tomb which she had
caused to be made, built, and constructed, so noble and
superb, but the war which came on prevented it.
This is what I can say at this time of this great queen,
who has given assuredly such noble grounds to speak worthily
of her that this short discourse is not enough for her praise.
I know that well ; also that the quality of my speech does
not suffice, for better speakers than I would be insufficient.
At any rate, such as my discourse is, I lay it, in all humility
and devotion, at her feet ; also I would avoid too great pro-
lixity, for which indeed I feel myself too capable ; but I hope
I shall not separate from her much, although in my discourses
I shall be silent, and only speak of what her noble and
incomparable virtues command me, giving me ample matter
so to do, I having seen all that I have written of her ; and as
fur what had happened before my time, I heard it from persons
most illustrious ; and thus I shall do in all my books.
This queen, who was of many kings the mother,
Of queens also, belonging here to France,
Died wlien we had most need of her support ;
For none but she could give us true assistance.
CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 85
M^zeray [in his "History of France"], who never thinks
of the dramatic, nevertheless makes known to us at the start
his principal personages ; he shows them more especially in
action, without detaching them too much from the general
sentiment and interests of which they are the leaders and
representatives, while, at the same time, he leaves to each his
individual physiognomy. The old Conn^table de Mont-
morency, the Guises, Admiral de Coligny, the Chancellor de
I'Hopital define themselves on his pages by their conduct and
proceedings even more than by the judgment he awards
them. Catherine de' Medici is painted there in all her dis-
simulation and her network of artifices, in which she was
often caught herself ; ambitious of sovereign power without
possessing either the force or the genius of it; striving to
obtain it by craft, and using for this purpose a continual sys-
tem of what we should call to-day see-sawing ; " rousing and
elevating for a time one faction, putting to sleep or lowering
another ; uniting herself sometimes with the feeblest side
out of caution, lest the stronger should crush her ; sometimes
with the stronger from necessity ; at times standing neutral
when she felt herself strong enough to command both sides,
but without intention to extinguish either." Far from being
always too CathoHc, there are moments when she seems to
lean to the Eeformed religion and to wish to grant too much
to that party ; and this with more sincerity, perhaps, than
belonged to her naturally. The Catherine de' Medici, such
as she presents herself and is developed in plain truth on the
pages of M^zeray is well calculated to tempt a modem writer.
As there is nothing new but that which is old, for often dis-
coveries are nothing more than that which was once known
and is forgotten, the day when a modern historian shall take
up the Catherine de' Medici of M^zeray and give her some
of the rather forced features which are to the taste of the
S6 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
present day, there will come a great cry of astonishment and
admiration, and the critics will register a new discovery.^
M. Xiel, librarian to the ministry of the Interior, an en-
lightened amateur of the arts and of history, has been
engaged since 1848 in publishing a series of Portraits or
" Crayons " of the celebrated personages of the sixteenth
century, hings, queens, mistresses of kings, etc., the whole
forming already a folio volume. M. Xiel has applied him-
self in this collection to reproduce none but authentic
portraits and soLly from the original, and he has confined
himself to a single form of portraiture, that which was
drawn in crayons of divers colours by artists of the sixteenth
century. " They designated in those days by the name of
' crayons,' " he observes, " certain portraits executed on paper
in red chalk, in black lead, and in white chalk, shaded and
touched in a way to present the effect of painting." These
designs, faithfully reproduced, in which the red tone pre-
dominates, are for the most part originally due to un-
knovrn artists, who seem to have belonged to the true
French lineage of art. They resemble the humble com-
panions and followers of our chroniclers who simply sought
in their rapid sketches to catch physiognomies, such as they
saw them, with truth and candour; the likeness alone con-
cerned them.
FranQois I. leads the procession with his obscure wives,
and one, at least, of his obscure mistresses, the Comtesse de
Chateaubriant. Henri II. succeeds him, giving one hand to
Catherine de' jMedici, the other to Diane de Poitiers. "We
are shovrn a Marie Stuart, young, before and after her widow-
1 ITonore '1e BalzacV volume, in t?ie T'hilosophical Sprier of his " Com-
edy of Huiiiiin Life," on Catlierine de' Medici, while called a romance, is
really an admirable and carefully drawn historical portrait, iiiid might be
read to profit in connection with Brantome's account of her. — Tr.
CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 87
hood. In general, the men gain most from this rapid repro-
duction of feature ; whereas with the women it needs an
effort of tlie imagination to catch tlieir delicacy and the
liower of their beauty. Charles IX. at twelve years of tige,
and again at eighteen and twenty, is there to the life and
caught from nature. Henri IV. is shown to us younger and
fresher than as we are wont to see him, — a Henri de Navarre
quite novel and before his beard grizzled. His first wife,
Marguerite de Valois, is portrayed at her most beauteous
age, but so masked by her costume and cramped in her ruff
that we need to be aware of her charm to be certain that the
doll-like figure had any. Gabrielle d'Estrdes, who stands
aloof, stiffly imprisoned in her gorgeous clothes, also needs
explanation and reflection before she appears what she really
was. Tlie testimony of " Notices " aids these portraits ; for
M. Niel accompanies his personages with remarks made with
erudition and an inquiring mind.
One of the brief writings of that period which make
known clearly the person and nature of Henri IV. is the
Memoir of the first president of Normandy, Claude Groulard,
at all times faithful to the king, who has left us a naive
account of his frequent journeys to that prince and the so-
journs he made with him. Among many remarks which
Groulard has collected from the lips of Henri IV. there is
one that paints the king well in his sound good sense, his
freedom from rancour, and his knowledge — always practical,
never ideal — of human beings. Groulard is relating the
approaching marriage of the king with a princess of Florence.
When Henri IV. announced it to him the worthy president
replied by an erudite comparison with the lance of Achilles,
saying that the Florentine house would thus repair the
wounds it had given to France in the person of Catherine
de' Medici. " But I ask you," said Henri IV., speaking there-
88 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
upon of Catherine and excusing her, " I ask you what a poor
woman could do, left by the death of her husband, with five
little children on her arms, and two families in France who
were thinking to grasp the crown, — ours and the Guises.
Was she not compelled to play strange parts to deceive
first one and then the other, in order to guard, as she has
done, her sons, who have successively reigned through the
wise conduct of that shrewd woman ? I am surprised that
she never did worse."
Sainte-Beuve, Causeries du Lundi (1855).
DISCOUESE III.
MARIE STUART, QUEEN OF SCOTLAND, FORMERLY QUEEN
OF OUR FRANCE.
Those who wish to write of this illustrious Queen of
Scotland have two very ample subjects : one her life, the
other her death ; both very ill accompanied by good fortune,
as I shall show at certain points in this short Discourse in
form of epitome, and not a long history, which I leave to
be written by persons more learned and better given to
writing than I.
This queen had a father, King James, of worth and
valour, and a very good Frenchman ; in which he was right.
After he was widowed of Madame Magdelaine, daughter of
France, he asked King Frangois for some honourable and
virtuous princess of his kingdom with whom to re-marry,
desiring nothing so much as to continue his alliance with
France,
King Frangois, not knowing whom to choose better to
content the good prince, gave him the daughter of M. de
Guise, Claude do Lorraine, then the widow of M. de Longue-
ville, wise, virtuous, and honourable, of which King James
was very glad and esteemed himself fortunate to take her ;
and after he had taken and espoused her he found himself
the same ; the kingdom of Scotland also, which she governed
very wisely after she was widowed ; which event happened in
a few years after her marriage, but not before she had pro-
duced a fine issue, namely this most beautiful princess in
the world, our queen, of whom I now speak, she being, as
90 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
one might say, scarcely born and still at the breast, when the
English invaded Scotland. Her mother was then forced to
hide her from place to place in Scotland from fear of that
fury ; and, without the good succour King Henri sent her
she would scarce have been saved ; and even so they had to
put her on ves.^els and expose her to tlie waves, the storms
and winds of the sea and convey her to France for greater
security ; where certainly ill fortune, not being able to
cross the seas with her or not daring to attack her in France,
left her so alone that good fortune took her by the hand.
And, as her youth grew on, we saw her great beauty and her
great virtues grow likewise; so that, coming to her fifteenth
year, her beauty shone like the light at mid-day, effacing the
sun when it shines the brightest, so beauteous was her body.
As for her soul, that was equal ; she had made herself
learned in Latin, so that, being between thirteen and four-
teen years of age, she declaimed before King Flenri, the
queen, and all the Court, publicly in the hall of the Louvre,
an harangue in Latin, which she had made Iierself, main-
taining and defending, against common opinion, that it was
well l;ecoming to women to know letters and the liberal
arts. Think what a rare thing and admirable it wa=^, to see
this wise and beautiful young queen thus orate in Latin,
which she knew and understood right well, for I was tliere
and saw her. Also she made Antoine Fochain, of Chauny
in Yermandois, prepare for her a rhetoric in French, which
still exists, that she might the better understand it, and
make herself as eloquent in French as she had been in
Latin, and better than if she had been born in France. It
was good to see her speak to every one, whether to great or
small.
As long as she lived in France she always reser%-ed two
hours daily to study and read ; so that there was no human
MARIE STUART. 91
knowledge she could not talk upon. Above all, she loved
poesy and poets, but especially M. de Eonsard, M. du Bellay,
and M. de Maison-Fleur,^ who all made beautiful poems and
elegies upon her, and also upon her departure from France,
which I have often seen her reading to herself, in France and
in Scotland, with tears in her eyes and sighs from her
heart.
She was a poet herself and composed verses, of which I
have seen some that were fine and well done and in no wise
resembling those they have laid to her account on her love
for the Earl of Bothwell, which are too coarse and too ill-
polished to have come from lier beautiful making. M. de
Itonsard was of my opinion as to this one day when we were
reading and discussing them. Those she composed were far
more beautiful and dainty, and quickly done, for 1 have
often seen her retire to her cabinet and soon return to show
them to such of us good folk as were there present. More-
over she wrote well in prose, especially letters, of which I
have seen many that were very fine and eloquent and lofty.
At all times when she tallied with others she used a most
gentle, dainty, and agreeable style of speech, with kindly
majesty, mingled, however, with discreet and modest reserve,
and above all with beautiful grace ; so that even her native
tongue, which in itself is very rustic, barbarous, ill-sounding,
and uncouth, she spoke so gracefully, toning it in such a way,
that she made it seem beautiful and agreeable in her, though
never so in others.
See what virtue there was in such beauty and grace that
they could turn coarse barbarism into sweet civility and
social grace. "SVe must not be surprised therefore that be-
ing dressed (as I have seen her) in the barbarous costume
of the uncivilized people of her country, she appeared, in
^ See Appendix.
92 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
mortal body and coarse ungainly clothing a true goddess.
Those who have seen her thus dressed will admit this truth ;
and those who did not see her can look at her portrait, in
which she is thus attired. I have heard the queen-mother,
and the king too, say that she looked more beautiful, more
agreeable, more desirable in that picture than in any of the
others. But how else could she look, whether in her beauti-
ful rich jewels, in French or Spanish style, or wearing her
Italian caps, or in her mourning garments ? — which latter
made her most beautiful to see, for the whiteness of her
face contended with the whiteness of her veil as to which
should carry the day ; but the texture of her veil lost it ;
the snow of her pure face dimmed the other, so that when
she appeared at Court in her mourning the following song
was made upon her : —
" L'on voit, sous blanc atour
En grand deuil et tristesse,
Se pourmener mainct tour
De beaute la deese,
Tenant le trait en main
De son fils inhumain ;
" Et Amour, sans fronteau,
Voletter autour d'elle,
Desguisant son bandeau
En un funebre voile,
Oil sont ces mots ecrits :
Mourir ou etre pris.''^ ^
That is how this princess appeared under all fashions of
clothes, whether barbarous, worldly, or austere. She had
also one other perfection with which to charm the world, — a
voice most sweet and excellent ; for she sang well, attuning
her voice to the lute, which she touched very prettily with
that white hand and those beautiful fingers, perfectly made,
^ See Appendix.
MARIE STUART. 93
yielding in nothing to those of Aurora. What more remains
to tell of her beauty ? — if not this saying about her : that the
sun of her Scotland was very unlike her, for on certain days
of the year it shines but five hours, while she shone ever, so
that her clear rays illumined her land and her people, who of
all others needed light, being far estranged from the sun of
heaven. Ah ! kingdom of Scotland, I think your days are
shorter now than they ever were, and your nights the longer,
since you have lost the princess who illumined you ! But
you have been ungrateful ; you never recognized your duty
of fidelity, as you should have done ; which I shall speak of
presently.
This lady and princess pleased France so much that King
Henri was urged to give her in alliance to the dauphin, his
beloved son, who, for his part, was madly in love with her.
The marriage was therefore solemnly celebrated in the great
church and tlie palace of Paris ; where we saw this queen
appear more beauteous than a goddess from the skies,
whether in the morning, going to her espousals in noble
majesty, or leading, after dinner, at the ball, or advancing in
the evening with modest steps to offer and perform her vows
to Hymen ; so that the voice of all as one man resounded
and proclaimed throughout the Court and the great city that
happy a hundredfold was he, the prince, thus joined to such
a princess ; and even if Scotland were a thing of price its
queen out-valued it ; for had she neither crown nor sceptre,
her person and her glorious beauty were worth a kingdom ;
therefore, being a queen, she brought to Trance and to her
husband a double fortune.
This was what the world went saying of her ; and for this
reason she was called queen-dauphine and her husband the
king-dauphin, they living together in great love and pleasant
concord.
94 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
Next, King Henri dying, they came to be King and Queen
of rrance, the king and queen of two great kingdoms, happy,
and most happy in themselves, had death not seized the king
and left her widowed in the sweet April of her finest youth,
having enjoyed together of love and pleasure and felicity but
four short years, — a felicity indeed of short duration, which
evil fortune might well have spared ; but no, malignant as
she is, she wished to miserably treat this princess, who made
a song herself upon her sorrows in this wise : —
En mon triste et doux chant,
D'un ton fort lamentable,
Je jette un deuil tranchant,
De perte incomparable,
Et en soupirs cuisans,
Passe mes meilleurs ans.
Fut-il uu tel mallieur
De dure destinde,
N'y si triste douleur
De dame fortunde,
Qui mon cceur et mon oeil
Vois en bierre et cercueil,
Qui en mon doux printemps
Et fleur de ma jeunesse,
Toutes les jjeiues sens
D'une extresme tristesse,
Et en rien n'ay plaisir
Qu'en regret et desir ?
Ce qui m'estoit plaisant
Ores m'est peine dure;
Le jour le plus luisant
INl'est unit noire et obscure.
Et n'est rien si cxquis
Qui de moy soit requis.
J'ay au ca'ur et k I'oeil
Un portrait et image
MARIE STUART. 95
Qui figure mon deuil
Et mon pasle visage,
De violettes teiut,
Qui est I'amoureux teint.
Pour mon mal estranger
Je ne m'arreste en place ;
Mais j'en ay beau clianger,
Si ma douleur n'efface ;
Car mon pis et mon mieux
Sout les plus deserts lieux.
Si en quelque sejour,
Soit en bois ou en pree.
Soit sur I'aube du jour,
Ou soit sur la vespree,
Sans cesse mon coeur sent
Le regret d'un absent.
Si parfois vers les cieux
Tiens h dresser ma veue,
Le doux traict de ses yeux
Je vols en une nue ;
Ou bien je le vols en I'eau,
Comme dans un tombeau.
Si je suis en repos
Sommeillant sur ma couche,
J'oy qu'il me tient propos,
Je le sens qui me touche :
En labeur, en recoy
Tousjours est prfes de moy.
Je ne vois autre object,
Pour beau qu'il prdsente
A qui que soit subject,
Oncques mon coeur consente,
Exempt de perfection
A cetle affection.
Mets, chanson, icy fln
A si triste complainte,
96 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
Dont sera le refrein :
Amour vraye et non feinte
Pour la separation
N'aura diminution.^
Sucbi are the regrets which this sad queen went piteously
singing, and manifesting even more by her pale face ; for, from
the time she became a widow, I never saw her colour return
during the time I had the honour to see her in France and
in Scotland ; whither at the end of eighteen months she was
forced to go, to her great regret, to pacify her kingdom,
much divided on account of religion. Alas ! she had neither
wish nor will to go. I have often heard her say she dreaded
that journey like death ; and preferred a hundredfold to stay
in France a simple dowager, and would content herself
with Touraine and Poitou for her dowry, rather than go to
reign in her savage country ; but messieurs her imcles, at
least some of them, but not all, advised her, indeed they
urged her (I will not tell the occasions), for which they have
since repented sorely.
As to this, there is no doubt that if, at her departure King
Charles, her husband's brother, had been of age to marry,
and not so small and young (though much in love with her,
as I have seen), he would never have let her go, but resolutely
would have wedded her ; for I have seen him so in love
that never did he look upon her portrait that his eyes were
not fixed and ravished, as though he could not take them
from it nor yet be satisfied. And often have I heard him
call her the most beauteous princess ever born into the
world, and say how he thought the king, his brother, too
happy to have enjoyed the love of such a princess, and that
he ought in no wise to regret his death in the tomb since he
had possessed in this world such beauty and pleasure for
^ See Appendix.
MARIE STUART. 97
the little time he stayed here ; and also that such happiness
was worth a kingdom. So that had she remained in Trance
he would surely have wedded her ; he was resolved upon it,
although she was his sister-in-law, but the pope would never
have refused the dispensation, seeing that he had already in
like case granted one to his own subject, M. de Love, and
also to the Marquis d'Aguilar in Spain, and many others in
that country, where they make no difficulty in maintaining
their estates and do not waste and dissipate them, as we
do in France.
Much discourse on this subject have I heard from him,
and from many, which I shall omit, not to wander from the
topic of our queen, wlio was at last persuaded, as I have
said, to return to her kingdom of Scotland ; but her voyage
being postponed till the spring she did so much to delay it
from month to month that she did not depart until the end
of the month of August. I must mention that this spring,
in which she thought to leave, came so tardily, and was so
cold and grievous, that in the month of April it gave no
sign of donning its beautiful green robe or its lovely flowers.
On which the gallants of the Court augured and proclaimed
that the spring had changed its pleasant season for a hard
and grievous winter, and would not wear its beauteous
colours or its verdure because it mourned the departure of
this sweet queen, who was its lustre. M. de Maison-Fleur,
a charming knight for letters and for arms, made on that
theme a most fine elegy.
The beginning of the autumn having come, the queen,
after thus delaying, was forced to abandon France ; and
having travelled by land to Calais, accompanied by aU her
uncles, M. de Nemours, most of the great and honourable
of the Court, together with the ladies, like Mme. de Guise
and others, all regretting and weeping hot tears for the loss
7
98 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
of such a queen, she found in port two galleys : one that of
M. de Mevillon, the other that of Captain Albise, with two
convoying vessels for sole armament. After six days' rest at
Calais, having said her piteous farewells all full of sighs to
the great company about her, from the greatest to the
least, she embarked, having her uncles with her. Messieurs
d'Aumale, the grand prior, and d'Elboeuf, and M. d'Amville
(now M. le Conn^table), together with many of us, all nobles,
on board the galley of M. de Mevillon, as being the best and
handsomest.
As the vessel began to leave the port, the anchor being up,
we saw, in the open sea, a vessel sink before us and perish,
and many of the sailors drown for not having taken the
channel rightly ; on seeing which the queen cried out in-
continently : " Ah, my God ! what an omen is this for my
journey!" The galley being now out of port and a fresh
wind rising, we began to make sail, and the convicts rested
on their oars. The queen, without thinking of other action,
leaned her two arms on the poop of the galley, beside the
rudder, and burst into tears, casting her beauteous eyes to
the port and land she had left, saying ever these sad
words : " Adieu, France ! adieu, France ! " — repeating them
again and again; and this sad exercise she did for nearly
five hours, until the night began to fall, when they asked
her if she would not come away from there and take some
supper. On that, her tears redoublmg, she said these words ;
" This is indeed the hour, my dear France, when I must
lose you from sight, because the gloomy night, envious of
my content in seeing you as long as I am able, hangs a
black veil before mine eyes to rob me of that joy. Adieu,
then, my dear France; I shall see you nevermore !"
Then she retired, saying she had done the contrary of
Dido, who looked to the sea when ^neas left her, while she
MARIE STUARX 99
had looked to land. She wished to lie down without eating
more than a salad, and as she would not descend into the
cabin of the poop, they brought her bed and set it up on
the deck of the poop, where she rested a little, but did not
cease her sighs and tears. She commanded the steersman
to wake her as soon as it was day if he saw or could even
just perceive the coasts of France, and not to fear to call her.
In this, fortune favoured her ; for the wind having ceased
and the vessel having again had recourse to oars, but little
way was made during the night, so that when day appeared
the shores of France could still be seen ; and the steersman
not having failed to obey her, she rose in her bed and gazed
at France again, and as long as she could see it. But the
galley now receding, her contentment receded too, and again
she said those words : " Adieu, my France ; I think that I
shall never see you more."
Did she desire, this once, that an English armament (with
which we were threatened) should appear and constrain her
to give up her voyage and return to the port she had left ?
But if so, God in that would not favour her wishes, for, with-
out further hindrance of any kind we reached Petit-Lict
[Leith]. Of the voyage I must tell a little incident : the first
evening after we embarked, the Seigneur Chastellard (the
same who was afterwards executed for presumption, not for
crime, as I shall tell), being a charming cavalier, a man of
good sword and good letters, said this pretty thing when he
saw them lighting the binnacle lamp : " There is no need of
that lamp or this torch to light us by sea, for the eyes of our
queen are dazzling enough to flash their fine fires along the
waves and illume them, if need be."
I must note that the day before we amved at Scotland,
being a Sunday, so great a fog arose that we could not see from
the poop to the mast of the galley ; at which the pilot and tlio
100 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
overseers of the galley-slaves were much confounded, — so
much so, that out of necessity we had to cast anchor in open
sea, and take soundings to know where we were. The fog
lasted all one day and all the night until eight o'clock on the
following morning, when we found ourselves surrounded hy
innumerable reefs ; so that had we gone forward, or even to
one side, the ship would have struck and we should have
perished. On which the queen said that, for her part, she
should not have cared, wishing for nothing so much as death ;
but that not for her whole kingdom of Scotland would she
have wished it or willed it for others. Having now sighted
and seen (for the fog had risen) the coast of Scotland, there
were some among us who augured and predicted upon the
said fog, that it boded we were now to land in a quarrel-
some, mischief-making, unpleasant kingdom {pvyauriie hrou-
ille, hrouillon, et mul plaiscint].
We entered and cast anchor at Petit-Lict, where the prin-
cipal persons of that place and Islebourg [Edinburgh] were
gathered to meet their queen ; and then, having sojourned at
Petit-Lict only two hours, it was necessary to continue our
way to Islebourg, which was barely a league farther. The
queen went on horseback, and the ladies and seigneurs on
nags of the country, such as they were, and saddled and
bridled the same. On seeing which accoutrements the queen
began to weep and say that these were not the pomps, tlie
dignities, the magnificences, nor yet the superb horses of
France, which she had enjoyed so long ; but since she must
change her paradise for hell, she must needs take patience.
And what is worse was that when she went to bed, being
lodged on the lower floor of tlie abbey of Islebourg [Holy-
rood], which is certainly a noble building and is not like the
country, there came beneath her window some five or six
hundred scoundrels of the town, who gave her a serenade
MARIE STUAET. 101
with wretched violins and little rebecks (of which there is
no lack in Scotland), to which they chanted psalms so badly
sung and so out of tune that nothing could be worse. Ha 1
what music and what repose for her first night !
The next morning they would have killed her chaplain in
front of her lodging; had he not escaped quickly into her
chamber he was dead ; they would have done to him as they
did later to her secretary David [Eiccio] whom, because he
was clever, the queen liked for the management of her affairs ;
but they killed him in her room, so close to her that the
blood spurted upon her gown and he fell dead at her feet.
What an indignity ! But they did many other indignities to
her ; therefore must we not be astonished if they spoke ill of
her. On this attempt being made against her chaplain she
became so sad and vexed that she said : " This is a fine be-
ginning of obedience and welcome from my subjects ! I know
not what may be the end, but I foresee it will be bad."
Thus the poor princess showed herself a second Cassandra in
prophecy as she was in beauty.
Being now there, she lived about three years very dis-
creetly in her widowhood, and would have continued to do
so, but the Parliament of her kingdom begged her and en-
treated her to marry, in order that she might leave them a
fine king conceived by her, like him of the present day
[James I]. There are some who say that, during tlie first
wars, the King of Navarre desired to marry her, repudiating
the queen his wife, on account of the Religion ; but to this
she would not consent, saying she had a soul, and would not
lose it for all the grandeurs of the world, — making great
scruple of espousing a married man.
At last she wedded a young English lord, of a great house,
but not her equal [Henry Darnley, Earl of Lennox, her
cousin]. The marriage was not happy for either the one or
102 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
the other. I shall not here relate how the king her husband,
having made her a very fine child, who reigns to-day, died,
being killed by a fougade [small mine] exploded where he
lodged. The history of that is written and printed, but not
with truth as to the accusations raised against the queen of
consenting to the deed. They are lies and insults ; for never
was that queen cruel ; she was always kind and very gentle.
Never in France did she any cruelty, nor would she take
pleasure or have the heart to see poor criminals put to death
by justice, like many grandees whom I have known ; and
when she was in her galley never would she allow a single
convict to be beaten, were it ever so little ; she bejrfjed her
uncle, the grand-prior, as to this, and commanded it to the
overseer herself, having great compassion for their misery,
so that her heart was sick for it.
To end this topic, never did cruelty lodge in the heart of
such great and tender beauty ; they are liars who have said
and written it ; among others M. Buchanan,-^ who ill returned
the kindnesses the queen had done him both in France and
Scotland in saving liis life and relieving him from banish-
ment. It would have been better had he employed his most
excellent knowledge in speaking better of her, and not about
the amours of Bothwell ; even to transcribing sonnets she had
made, which those who knew her poesy and her learning
have always said vrere never written by her ; nor did they
judge less falsely that amour, for Bothwell was a most ugly
man, with as bad a grace as could be seen.
But if this one [Buchanan] said no good, others have
written a noble book upon her innocence, wliich I have
seen, and which declared and proved it so that the poorest
minds took hold of it and even her enemies paid heed ; but
1 George Buchanan, historian and Scotch poet, who wrote libels and
calumnies against Marie Stuart in prison (French editor.)
MARIE STUART 103
they, wishing to ruin her, as they did in the end, were obsti-
nate, and never ceased to persecute her until she was put
into a strong castle, which they say is that of Saint- Andrew
in Scotland. There, having lived nearly one year miserably
captive, she was delivered by means of a most honourable
and brave gentleman of that land and of good family, named
M. de Beton, wliom I knew and saw, and who related to
me the whole story, as we were crossing the river before the
Louvre, when he came to bring the news to the king. He
was nephew to the Bishop of Glasco, ambassador to France,
one of the most worthy men and prelates ever known, and
who remained a faithful servant to his mistress to her last
breath, and is so still, after her death.
So then, the queen, being at liberty, did not stay idle;
in less than no time she gathered an army of those whom
she thought her most faithful adherents, leading it herself, —
at its head, mounted on a good horse, dressed in a simple
petticoat of white taffetas, with a coif of crepe on her head ;
at which I have seen many persons wonder, even the queen-
mother, that so tender a princess, and so dainty as she was
and had been all her life, should accustom herself at once
to the hardships of war. But what would one not endure
to reign absolutely and revenge one's self upon a rebellious
people, and reduce it to obedience ?
Behold this queen, therefore, beautiful and generous, like
a second Zenobia, at the head of her army, leading it on to
face that of her enemies and to give battle. But alas ! what
misfortune ! Just as she thought her side would engage the
others, just as she was animating and exhorting them with
her noble and valorous words, which might have moved the
rocks, they raised their lances without fighting, and, first on
one side and then upon another, threw down their arms, em-
braced, and were friends ; and all, confederated and sworn
104 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
together, plotted to seize the queen, and make her prisonei
and take her to England. M. Coste, the steward of her
household, a gentleman of Auvergne, related this to the
queen-mother, having come from there, and met her at
Saint-Maur, where he told it also to many of us.
After this she was taken to England, where she was
lodged in a castle and so closely confined in captivity that
she never left it for eighteen or tvventy years until her
death ; to which she was sentenced too cruelly for the
reasons, such as they were, that were given on her trial ;
but the principal, as I hold on good authority, was that the
Queen of England never liked her, Vjut was always and for
a long time jealous of her beauty, which far surpassed her
own. That is what jealousy is ! — and for religion too ! So
it was that this princess, after her long imprisonment, was
condemned to death and to have lier head cut off; this
judgment was pronounced upon her two months before she
was executed. Some say that she knew nothing of it until
they went to execute her. Others declare that it was told
to her two months earlier, as the queen-mother, who was
greatly distressed, was informed at Coignac, where she then
was ; and she was even told of this particular : no sooner
was the judgment pronounced than Queen Marie's chamber
and bed were hung with black. The queen-mother tiiereon
praised the firmness of the Queen of Scotland and said she
had never seen or heard tell of any queen more steadfast
in adversity. I was present when she said this, but I never
thought th-} Queen of England would let her die, — not
esteeming her so cruel as all that. Of her own nature she
was not (though she was in this). I also thought that M.
de Bellievre, whom the king despatched to save her life,
would have worked out something good ; nevertheless, he
gained nothing.
MARIE STUART. 105
But to come to this pitiful death, which no one can
describe without great compassion. On the seventeenth of
February of the year one thousand five hundred and eighty-
seven, theie came to the place where the queen was prisoner,
a castle called Fodringhaye, the commissioners of the
Queen of England, sent by her (I shall not give their names,
as it would serve no end) about two or three o'clock in the
afternoon ; and in presence of Paulet, her guardian or jailer,
read aloud their commission to the prisoner touching her
execution, declaring to her that the next morning they should
proceed to it, and admonishing her to be ready between seven
and eight o'clock.
She, without in any way being surprised, thanked them
for their good news, saying that nothing could be better
for her than to come to the end of her misery ; and that for
long, ever since her detention in England, she had resolved
and prepared herself to die ; entreating, nevertheless, the
commissioners to grant her a little time and leisure to make
her will and put her affairs in order, — inasmuch as all de-
pended upon their will, as their commission said. To which
the Comte de Cherusbery [Earl of Shrewsbury] replied
rather roughly : " No, no, madame, you must die. Hold
yourself ready between seven and eight to-morrow morning.
We shall not prolong the delay by a moment." There was
one, more courteous it seemed to her, who wished to use
some demonstrations that might give her more firmness to
endure such death. She answered him that she had no need
of consolation, at least not as coming from him ; but tliat if
he wished to do a good office to her conscience he would
send for her almoner to confess her ; which would be an
obligation that surpassed all others. As for her body, she
said she did not think they would be so inhuman as to
deny her the right of sepulture. To this he replied that
106 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
she must not expect it ; so that she was forced to write her
confession, which was as follows : —
" I have to-day been combated for my religion ard to make
me receive the consolation of heretics. You will hear from
Bourgoing and others that I have faithfully made protesta-
tion of my faith, in which I choose to die. I requested to
have you here, to make my confession and to receive my
sacrament ; this has been cruelly refused to me, also the
removal of my body, and the power to freely make my will,
or to write aught, except through their hands. In default
of that, I confess the grievousness of my sins in general,
as I had expected to make to you in particulars ; entreating
you, in God's name, to watch and pray with me this night
for the forgiveness of my sins, and to send me absolution
and pardon for all the offences which I have committed. I
shall endeavour to see you in their presence, as they have
granted me ; and if it is permitted I shall ask pardon of you
before them all. Advise me of the proper prayers to use
this night and to-morrow morning, for the time is short and
I have no leisure to write ; I shall recommend you like the
rest, and especially that your benefices may be preserved and
secured to you, and I shall commend you to the king. I
have no more leisure ; advise me in writing of all you think
good for my salvation."
That done, and having thus provided for the salvation of
her soul before all things else, she lost no time, though
little remained to her (yet long enough to have shaken the
firmest constancy, but in her they saw no fear of death, only
much content to leave these earthly miseries), in writing to
our king, to tlie queen-mother, whom she honoured much,
to Monsieur and Madame de Guise, and other private per-
sons, letters truly very piteous, but all aiming to let them
know that to her latest hour she had not lost memory of
MARIE STUART. 107
friends ; and also the contentment she received in seeins
herself delivered from so many woes by which for one and
twenty years she had been crushed ; also she sent presents
to all, of a value and price in keeping with a poor, unfortu-
nate, and captive queen.
After this, she summoned her household, from the highest
to the lowest, and opened her coffers to see how much money
remained to her ; this she divided to each according to the
service she had had from them ; and to her women she
gave what remained to her of rings, arrows, headgear, and
accoutrements ; telling them that it was with much regret
she had no more with which to reward them, but assuring
them that her son would make up for her deficiency ; and
she begged her maitre d'hotel to say this to her said son ;
to whom she sent her blessing, praying him not to avenge
her death, leaving all to God to order according to His holy
will. Then she bade them farewell without a tear ; on the
contrary she consoled them, saying they must not weep to
see her on the point of blessedness in exchange for all the
sorrows she had had. After which she sent them from her
chamber, except her women.
It now being night, she retired to her oratory, where she
prayed to God two hours on her bare knees upon the ground,
for her women saw them ; then she returned to her room
and said to them : " I think it would be best, my friends, if
I ate something and went to bed, so that to-morrow I may
do nothing unworthy of me, and that my heart may not
fail me." What generosity and what courage I She did
as she said ; and taking only some toast with wine she went
to bed, where she slept little, but spent the night chiefly
in prayers and orisons.
She rose about two hours before dawn and dressed her-
self as properly as she could, and better than usual ; taking
108 THE BOOK OF TIIE LADIES.
a gown of black velvet, which she had reserved from her
other accoutrements, saying to her women : " My friends, I
would rather have left you this attire than that of yesterday,
hut I think I ought to go to death a little honourably and
have upon me something more than common. Here is a
handkerchief, which I also reserved, to bind my eyes when
I go there ; I give it to you, ma mie (speaking to one of her
women), for I wish to receive that last office from you."
After this, she retired to her oratory, having bid them
adieu once more and kissed them, — giving them many par-
ticulars to tell the king, the queen, and her relations ; not
things that tended to vengeance, but the contrary. Then
she took the sacrament by means of a consecrated wafer
which the good Pope Pius V. had sent her to serve in some
emergency, the which she had always most sacredly pre-
served and guarded.
Having said her prayers, which were very long, it now
being fully morning she returned to her chamber, and sat
beside the fire ; still talking to her women and comforting
them, instead of their comforting her ; she said that the
joys of the world were nothing ; that she ought to serve as
a warninfT to the rrreatest of the earth as well as to the
o o
smallest, for she, having been cpeen of the kingdoms of
France and Scotland, one by nature, the other by fortune,
after triumphing in the midst of all honours and grandeurs,
was reduced to the hands of an executioner ; innocent, how-
ever, which consoled her. She told them their Ijcst pattern
was that she died in the Catholic religion, holy and good,
which she would never abandon to her latest brentli, having
been baptized therein ; and that she wanted no faiiie after
her death, except that they would publish her iiiinness
througliout all Prance when tliey returned tlierc, as she
be[i"ed of them ; and further, thou'ih she knew tbev would
MARIE STUART. 109
have much heart-break to see her on the scaffold performing
this tragedy, yet she wished them to witness her death ;
knowing well that none would be so faithful in making the
report of what was now to happen.
As she ended these words some one knocked roughly on
the door. Her women, knowing it was the hour they were
coming to fetch her, wanted to make resistance ; but she said
to them : " My friends, it will do no good ; open the door."
First there entered a man with a white stick in his hand,
who, without addressing any one, said twice over as he ad-
vanced : " I have come — I have come." The queen, not
doubting that he announced to her the moment of execu-
tion, took a little ivory cross in her hand.
Next came the above-named commissioners ; and when
they had entered, the queen said to them : " Well, messieurs,
you have come to fetch me. I am ready and well resolved
to die ; and I think the queen, my good sister, does much
for me ; and you likewise who are seeking me. Let us go."
They, seeing such firmness accompanied by so extreme a
beauty and great gentleness, were much astonished, for never
had she seemed more beautiful, having a colour in her
cheeks which embellished her.
Thus Boccaccio wrote of Sophonisba in her adversity, after
the taking of her husband and the town, speaking to Massi-
nissa : " You would have said," he relates, " that her misfor-
time made her more beauteous ; it assisted the sweetness of
her face and made it more agreeable and desirable."
The commissioners were greatly moved to some compas-
sion. Still, as she left the room they would not let her
women follow her, fearing that by their lamentations, sighs,
and outcries they would disturb the execution. But the
queen said to them : " What, gentlemen ! would you treat
me with such rigour as not to allow my women to accom-
110 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
pany me to death ? Grant me at least this favour." "W^iich
they did, on her pledging her word she would impose silence
upon them when the time came to admit tliem.
The place of execution was in the hall, where they had
raised a broad scaffold, about twelve feet square and two
high, covered with a shabby black cloth.
She entered this hall without any change of countenance
but with majesty and gi-ace, as though she were entering a
ballroom, where in other days she had so excellently shone.
As she neared the scaffold she called to her mattre d'hotel
and said, " Help me to mount ; it is the last service I shall
receive from you ; " and she repeated to him what she had
already told him in her chamber he was to tell her sou.
Then, being on the scaffold, she asked for her almoner, beg-
ging the officers who were there to permit him to come to
her, which they flatly refused, — the Earl of Kent saying to
her that he pitied her greatly for thus clinging to super-
stitions of a past age, and that she ought to bear the cross of
Christ in her heart and not in her hand. To which she made
answer that it w^as difficult to bear so beautiful an image in
the hand without the heart being touched bv emotion and
memory ; and that the most becoming thing in a Christian
person was to carry a real sign of the redemption to the
death before her. Then, seeing that she could not have her
almoner, she asked that her women might come as they had
promised her ; which was done. One of them, on entering
the hall, seeing her mistress on the scaffold among her execu-
tioners, could not keep from crying out and moaning and
losing her control; but the queen instantly laying her finger
on her lips, she restrained herself.
Her Majesty then began to make her protestations, namely:
that never had she plotted against the State, nor asainst the
life of the queen, her good sister, — except in trying to regain
MARIE STUART. Ill
her liberty, as all captives may. But she saw plainly that
the cause of her death was religion, and she esteemed herself
very happy to finish her life for that cause. She begged
the queen, her good sister, to have pity upon her poor ser-
vants whom she held captive, because of the affection they
had shown in seeking the liberty of their mistress, inasmuch
as she was now to die for all.
They then brought to her a minister to exhort her [the
Dean of Peterborough], but she said to him in English,
" Ah I my friend, give yourself patience ; " declaring that she
would not hold converse with him nor hear any talk of his
sect, for she had prepared herself to die without counsel, and
that persons like him could not give her consolation or con-
tentment of mind.
Notwithstanding this, seeing that he continued his prayers
in his jargon, she never ceased to say her own in Latin,
raising her voice above that of the minister. After which
she said again that she esteemed herself very happy to shed
the last drop of her blood for her religion, rather than live
longer and wait till nature had completed the full course of
her life ; and that she hoped in Him whose cross she held in
her hand, before whose feet she was prostrate, that this tem-
poral death, borne for Him, would be for her the passage, the
entrance to, and the beginning of life eternal with the angels
and the blessed, who would receive her blood and present it
before God, in abolition of her sins ; and them she prayed
to be her intercessors for the obtaining of pardon and mercy.
Such were her prayers, being on her knees on the scaffold,
which she made with a fervent heart ; adding others for the
pope, the kings of France, and even for the Queen of England,
praying God to illuminate her with his Holy Spirit ; piaying
also for her son and for tlie islands of Britain and Scotland
that they might be converted.
112 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
That done, she called her women to help her to remove
her black veil, her headdress, and other ornaments ; and as
the executioner tried to touch her she said, " Ah ! my friend,
do not touch me ! " But she could not prevent his doing so,
for after they had lowered her robe to the waist, that villain
pulled her roughly by the arm and took off her doublet
[pourpoinf] and the body of her petticoat [corps de cotte] with
its low collar, so that her neck and her beautiful bosom, more
white than alabaster, were bare and uncovered.
She arranged herself as quickly as she could, saying she
was not accustomed to strip before others, especially so large
a company (it is said there were four or five hundred persons
present), nor to employ the services of such a valet.
The executioner then knelt down and asked her pardon ;
on which she said that she pardoned him, and all who were
the authors of her death with as much good-will as she
prayed that God would show in forgiving her sins.
Then she told her woman to whom she had given the
handkerchief to bring it to her.
She wore a cross of gold, in which was a piece of the true
cross, with the image of Our Saviour upon it ; this she wished
to give to one of her ladies, but the executioner prevented
her, although Her Majesty begged him, saying that the lady
would pay him three times its value.
Then, all being ready, she kissed her ladies, and bade them
retire with her benediction, making the sign of the cross upon
them. And seeing that one of them could not re?^ train her
sobs she imposed silence, saying she was bound by a promise
that they would cause no trouble by their tears and moans ;
and she commanded them to withdraw quietly, and pray to
God for her, and bear faithful testimony to her death in the
ancient and sacred Catholic religion.
One of the women having bandaged her eyes with the
MARIE STUART. 113
handkerchief, she threw herself instantly on her knees with
great courage and without the slightest demonstration or sign
that she feared death.
Her firmness was such that all present, even her enemies,
were moved ; there were not four persons present who could
keep from weeping ; they thought the sight amazing, and
condemned themselves in their consciences for such injustice.
And because the minister of Satan importuned her, trying
to kill her soul as well as her body, and troubling her prayers,
she raised her voice to surmount his, and said in Latin the
psalm : In te, Domine, speravi ; non confundar in cctermtm ;
which she recited throughout. Having ended it, she laid her
head upon the block, and, as she repeated once more the
words. In manus tuas, Domine, commendo spiritum meum,
the executioner struck her a strong blow with the axe, that
drove her headgear into her head, which did not fall until the
third blow, — to make her martyrdom the greater and more
glorious, though it is not the pain but the cause that makes
the martyr.
This done, he took the head in his hand, and showing it to
all present said : " God save the queen, Elizabeth ! Thus
perish the enemies of the gospel ! " So saying, he uncoifed
her in derision to show her hair, now white ; which, however,
she had never shrunk from showing, twisting and curling it
as when her hair was beautiful, so fair and golden ; for it was
not age had changed it at thirty-five years old (being now
but forty) ; it was the griefs, the woes, the sadness she had
borne in her kmgdom and in her prison.
This hapless tragedy ended, her poor ladies, anxious for
the honour of their mistress, addressed themselves to Paulet,
her jailer, begging him that the executioner should not touch
the body, but that they might be allowed to disrobe it after
all the spectators had withdrawn, so that no indignity might
114 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
be done to it, promising to return all the clothing, and what-
ever else he might ask or claim ; but that cursed man sent
them roughly away and ordered them to leave the hall.
Then the executioner unclothed her and handled her at his
discretion, and when he had done what he wished the body
was carried to a chamber adjoining that of her serving-men,
and carefully locked in, for fear they should enter and en-
deavour to perform any good and pious office. And to their
grief and distress was added this : that they could see her
through a hole, half covered by a piece of green drugget torn
from her Ijilliard table. What brutal indifference ! What
animosity and indignity ! — not even to have bought her a
black cloth a little more worthy of her!
The poor body was left there loug in that state until it be-
gan to corrupt so that they were forced to salt and embalm
it, — but slightly, to save cost ; after which they put it in a
leaden coffin, where it was kept for seven months and then
carried to profane ground around the temple of Petersbrouch
[Peterborough Cathedral]. True it is that this church is dedi-
cated to the name of Saint Peter, and that Queen Catherine
of Spain is buried there as a Catholic ; but the place is now
profane, as are all the churches in England in these days.
There are some who have said and written, even the Eng-
lish who have made a book on this death and its causes, that
tlie spoils of the late queen were taken from the executioner
by paying him the value in money of her clothes and her
royal ornaments. The cloth with which the scaffold was
covered, even the boards of it were partly burned and partly
washed, for fear that in times to come they might serve
superstition ; that is to say, for fear that any careful Catholic
might some day buy and preserve them with respect, honour,
and reverence (a fear which may possibly serve as a prophecy
and augury), as the ancient Fathers had a practice of keep-
MARIE STUART. 115
ing relics and of taking care with devotion of the monuments
of martyrs. In these days heretics do nothing of the kind.
Quia omnia quce martyt'um erant, cremabant, as Eusebius
says, et cineres in Mhodanum s^argebant, ut cum corporibus
interiret eorum quoque 7nemoria. Nevertheless, the memory
of this queen, in spite of all things, will live forever in glory
and in triumph.
Here, then, is the tale of her death, which I hold from the
report of two damoiselles there present, very honourable
certainly, very faithful to their mistress, and obedient to her
commands in thus bearing testimony to her firmness and to
her religion. They returned to France after losing her, for
they were French ; one was a daughter of Mme. de Eard,
whom I knew in France as one of the ladies of the late
queen. I think that these two honourable dpmoiselles
would have caused the most barbarous of men to weep at
hearing so piteous a tale ; which they made the more
lamentable by tears, and by their tender, doleful, and noble
language.
I also learned much from a book which has been pub-
lished, entitled " The Martyrdom of the Queen of Scotland,
Dowager of France." Alas ! that being our queen did her
no service. It seems to me that being such they ought
to have feared our vengeance for putting her to death;
and tliey would have thought a hundred times before they
came to it, if our king had chosen to take the mitiative.
But, because he hated the Messieurs de Guise, his cousins,
he took no pains except as formal duty. Alas ! what could
that poor innocent do ? This is what many asked.
Others say that he made many formal appeals. It is true
that he sent to the Queen of England M. de Bellievre, one
of the greatest and wisest senators of France and the ablest,
who did not fail to otl'er all his arguments, with the king's
116 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
prayers and threats, and do all else that he could; and
among other things he declared that it did not belong to
one king or sovereign to put to death another king or
sovereign, over whom he had no power either from God or
man.
I have never known a generous person who did not say
that the Queen of England w^ould have won immortal glory
had she used mercy to the Scottish queen ; and also she
would be exempt from the risk of vengeance, however tardy,
which awaits her for the shedding of innocent blood that
cries aloud for it. It is said that the English queen was
well advised of this ; but not only did she pass over the
advice of many of her kingdom, but also that of many
great Protestant princes and lords both in France and
Germany, — such as the Prince de Conde and Casimir, since
dead, and the Prince of Orange and others, who had sub-
scribed to this violent death while not expecting it, but
afterwards felt their conscience burdened, inasmuch as it
did not concern them and brought them no advantage, and
they did it only to please the queen ; but, in truth, it did
them inestimable detriment.
They say, too, that Queen Elizabeth, when she sent to
notify that poor Queen Marie of this melancholy sentence,
assured her that it was done with great and sad regret on
her part, under constraint of Parhament whicli urgi/d it on
her. To which Queen Marie answered: "She has much
more power than that to make them ol)edient to her will
when it pleases her ; for she is the princess, or more truly
the prince, who has made herself tlie most feared and
reverenced."
Xow, I rely on the truth of all things, whicli time will
reveal. Queen Marie will live glorious in this world and in
the other ; and the time will come in a few years when some
MARIE STUART. 117
good pope will canonize her in memory of the martyrdom
she suffered for the honour of God and of his Law.
It is not to be doubted that if that great, valiant, and
generous prince, the late M. de Guise, the last [Henri, le
Balafr^, assassinated at Blois], was not dead, vengeance for
so noble a queen and cousin thus murdered would not still
be unborn. I have said enough on so pitiful a subject, which
I end thus : —
This queen, of a beauty so incomparable.
Was, with too great injustice, put to death :
To sustain that heart of faith inviolable
Can it be there are none to avenge the wrong ?
One there is who has written her epitaph in Latin verses,
the substance of which is as follows : " Nature had produced
this queen to be seen of all the world : with great admira-
tion was she seen for her beauty and virtues so long as she
lived : but England, envious, placed her on a scaffold to be
seen in derision : yet was well deceived ; for the sight turned
praise and admiration to her, and glory and thanksgiving to
God."
I must, before I finish, say a word here in reply to those
whom I have heard speak ill of her for the death of Chastel-
lard, whom the queen condemned to death in Scotland, — lay-
ing upon her that she had justly suffered for making others
suffer. L^pon that count there is no justice, and it should
never have been made. Those who know the history will
never blame our queen ; and, for that reason, I shall here
relate it for her justification.
Chastellard was a gentleman of Dauphin^, of good family
and condition, for he was great-nephew on his mother's side
of that brave M. de Bayard, whom they say he resembled in
figure, which in him was medium, very beautiful and slender,
118 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
as they say M. de Bayard had also. He was very adroit at
arms, and inclined in all ways to honourable exercises, such
as firing at a mark, playing at tennis, leaping, and dancing.
In short, he was a most accomplished gentleman ; and
as for his soul, it was also very noble ; he spoke well, and
"wrote of the best, even in rhyme, as well as any gentle-
man in France, using a most sweet and lovely poesy, like a
knight.
He followed M. d'Amville, so-called then, now M. le
Conndtable ; but when we v.'ere with M. le Grand Prieur,
of the house of Lorraine, who conducted the queen [to
Scotland] the said Chastellard was with us, and, in this
company became known to the queen for his charming
actions, above all for his rhymes ; among which he made
some to please her in translation from Italian (which he
spoke and knew well), beginning, Che giova posseder cittci e
rcrjni ; which is a very well made sonnet, the substance of
which is as follows : " AVhat serves her to possess so many
kingdoms, cities, towns, and provinces, to command so many
peoples, and be respected, feared, admired of all, if still to
sleep a widow, lone and cold as ice ? "
He made also other rhymes, most beautiful, which I have
seen written by his hand, for they never were imprinted,
that I know.
The queen, therefore, who loved letters, and principally
poems, for sometimes she made dainty ones herself, was
pleased in seeing those of Chastellard, and even made re-
sponse, and, for that reason, gave him good cheer and enter-
tained him often. But he, in secrecy, was kindled by a
flame too high, the which its object could not hinder, for
who can shield herself from love ? In times gone by the
most chaste goddesses and dames were loved, and still are
loved ; indeed we love their marble statues ; but for that
MARIE STUART. 119
no lady has been blamed unless she yielded to it. There-
fore, kindle who will these sacred fires !
Chastellard returned with all our troop to France, much
grieved and desperate in leaving so beautiful an object of his
love. After one year the civil war broke out in France. He,
who belonged to the Eeligion [Protestant], struggled within
himself which side to take, whether to go to Orleans with
the others, or stay with M. d'Amville, and make war against
his faith. On the one hand, it seemed to him too bitter to
go against his conscience ; on the other, to take up arms
against his master displeased him hugely ; wherefore he re-
solved to fight for neither the one nor yet the other, but to
banish himself and go to Scotland, let fight who would,
and pass the time away. He opened this project to M.
d'Amville and told him his resolution, begging him to write
letters in his favour to the queen ; which he obtained : then,
taking leave of one and all. he went ; I saw him go ; he
bade me adieu and told me in part his resolution, we being
friends.
He made his voyage, which ended happily, so that, having
arrived in Scotland and discoursing of his intentions to the
queen, she received him kindly and assured him he was wel-
come. But he, abusing such good cheer and seeking to
attack the sun, perished like Phaeton; for, driven by love
and passion, he was presumptuous enough to hide beneath
the bed of her Majesty, where he was discovered when she
retired. The queen, not wishing to make a scandal, par-
doned him ; availing herself of that good counsel which the
lady of honour gives to her mistress in the " Xovels of the
Queen of iSTavarre," when a seigneur of her brother's Court,
slipping through a trap-door made by him in the alcove,
seeking to win her, brought nothing back but shame and
scratches : she wishing to punish his temerity and complain
120 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
of him to her brother, the lady of honour counselled her
that, since the seigneur had won nought but shame and
scratches, it was for her honour as a lady of such mark not
to be talked of ; for the more it was contended over, the
more it would go to the nose of the world and the mouth of
gossips.
Our Queen of Scotland, being wise and prudent; passed
this scandal by ; but the said Chastellard, not content and
more than ever mad with love, returned for the second
time, forgetting both his former crime and pardon. Then
the queen, for her honour, and not to give occasion to her
women to think evil, and also to her people if it w^ere known,
lost patience and gave him up to justice, which condemned
him quickly to be beheaded, in view of the crime of such an
act. The day having come, before he died he had in his
hand the hymns of M. de Eonsard ; and, for his eternal
consolation, he read from end to end the Hymn of Death
(which is well done, and proper not to make death abhorrent),
taking no help of other spiritual book, nor of minister or
confessor.
Having ended that reading wholly, he turned to the spot
where he thought the queen must be, and cried in a loud
voice : "Adieu, most beautiful, most cruel princess in all the
world ! " then, firmly stretching his neck to the executioner,
he let himself be killed very easily.
Some have wished to discuss why it was that he called
her cruel ; whether because she had no pity on his love, or on
his life. But what should she have done ? If, after her first
pardon she had granted him a second, she would on all sides
have been slandered ; to save her honour it was needful that
the law should take its course. That is the end of this
history.
MARIE STUART. 121
" Well, they may say what they will, many a true heart
will be sad for Mary Stuart, e'en if all be true men say
of her." That speech, which Walter Scott puts into the
mouth of one of the personages in his novel of " The Abbot "
at the moment when he is preparing the reader for an intro-
duction to the beautiful queen, remains the last word of
posterity as it was of contemporaries, — the conclusion of
history as of poesy.
Elizabeth living triumphed, and her policy after her lives
and triumphs still, so that Protestantism and the British
empire are one and the same thing. Marie Stuart suc-
cumbed, in her person and in that of her descendants ;
Charles I. under the axe, James II. in exile, each continued
and added to his heritage of faults, imprudences, and
calamities ; the whole race of the Stuarts was cut off, and
seems to have deserved it. But, vanquished in the order
of things and under the empire of fact, and even under that
of inexorable reason, the beautiful queen has regained all
in the world of imagination and of pity. She has found,
from century to century, knights, lovers, and avengers. A
few years ago, a Russian of distinction, Prince Alexander
Labanoff, began, with incomparable zeal, a search through
the archives, the collections, the libraries of Europe, for
documents emanating directly from Marie Stuart, the most
insignificant as well as the most important of her letters, in
order to connect them and so make a nucleus of history,
and also an authentic shrine, not doubting that interest,
serious and tender interest, would rise, more powerful still,
from the bosom of truth itself. On the appearance of this
collection of Prince Labanoff, M. Mignet produced, from
1847 to 1850, a series of articles in the " Journal des Savants,"
in which, not content with appreciating the prince's docu-
ments, he presented from himself new documents, hitherto
122 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
unpublished and affording new ligMs. Since then, leaving
the form of criticism and dissertation, M. Mignard has taken
this fine subject as a whole, and has written a complete
narrative upon it, grave, compact, interesting, and definitive,
which he is now publishing [1851].
In the meantime, about a year ago, there appeared a
" History of Marie Stuart " by M. Dargaud, a writer of talent,
whose book has been much praised and much read. M.
Dargaud made, in his own way, various researches about the
heroine of his choice ; he went expressly to England and
Scotland, and visited as a pilgrim all the places and scenes
of Marie Stuart's sojourns and captivities. While drawing
abundantly from preceding writers, M, Dargaud does them
justice with effusion and cordiality ; he sheds through every
line of his history the sentiment of exalted pity and poesy
inspired within him by the memory of that royal and
Catholic victim ; he deserves the fine letter which Mme. Sand
wrote him from Xohant, April 10, 1851, in which she congratu-
lates him, almost without criticism, and speaks of Marie Stuart
with charm and eloquence. If I do not dwell at greater
length upon the work of M. Dargaud, it is, I must avow,
becau-e I am not of that too emotional school which softens
and enervates history. I think that history should not neces-
sarily be dull and v/earisome, but still less do I think it
sliould be impassioned, sentimental, and as if magnetic.
Without wishing to depreciate the qualities of M. Dargaud,
which are too much in the taste of the day not to be their
own recommendation, I shall follow in preference a more
severe historian, whose judgment and whose method of
procedure inspire me with confidence.
]\rarie Stuart, born December 8, 1542, six days before the
death of her father, who was then combating, like all the
kings his predecessors, a turbulent nobility, began as an
MARIE STUART. 123
orphan her fickle and unfortunate destiny. Storms assailed
her in her cradle, —
" As if, e'en then, inhuman Fortune
Would suckle me with sadness and with pain,"
as an old poet, in I know not what tragedy, has made her
say. Crowned at the age of nine months, disputed already
in marriage between the French and English parties, eacli
desiring to prevail in Scotland, she was early, through the
influence of her mother, Marie de Guise (sister of the illus-
trious Guises), bestowed upon the Dauphin of France, the son
of King Henri 11. August 13, 1548, Marie Stuart, then rather
less than six years old, landed at Brest. Betrothed to the
young dauphin, who, on his father's death became Frangois XL,
she was brought up among the children of Henri II, and
Catherine de' Medici, and remained in France, first as dau-
phine, then as queen, until the premature death of her
husband. She lived there in every respect as a French
princess. These twelve or thirteen years in France were
her joy and her charm, and the source of her ruin.
She grew up in the bosom of the most polished, most
learned, most gallant Court of those times, shining there in
her early bloom like a rare and most admired marvel, know-
ing music and all the arts (divince Palladis artcs), learning
the languages of antiquity, speaking themes in Latin, supe-
rior in French rhetoric, enjoying an intercourse with poets,
and being herself their rival with her poems. Scotland,
during all this time, seemed to her a barbaric and savage
land, which she earnestly hoped never to see again, or, at
any rate, never to inhabit. Trained to a policy wholly of
the Court and wholly personal, they made her sign at Fon-
tainebleau at the time of her marriage (1558) a secret deed
of gift of the kingdom of Scotland to the kings of France,
at the same time that she publicly gave adherence to the
124 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
conditions which the commissioners from Scotland had
attached to the marriage, conditions under which she pledged
herself to maintain the integrity, the laws, and the liberties
of her native land. It was at this very moment that she
secretly made gift to the kings of France of her whole king-
dom by an act of her own good- will and power. The Court
of France prompted her to that imprudent treachery at the
age of sixteen. Another very impolitic imprudence, which
proclaimed itself more openly, was committed when Henri XL,
on the death of Mary Tudor, made Marie Stuart, the dauphine,
bear the arms of England beside those of Scotland, thus
presenting her thenceforth as a declared rival and com-
petitor of Elizabeth.
When Marie Stuart suddenly lost her husband (December
5, 1560), and it was decided that she, a widow at eighteen,
should, instead of remaining in her dowry of Touraine, re-
turn to her kingdom of Scotland to bring order to the civil
troubles there existing, universal mourning took place in
the world of young French seigneurs, noble ladies, and poets.
The latter consigned their regrets to many poems which pict-
ure Marie Stuart to the life in this decisive liour, the first
really sorrowful hour she had ever known. We see her
refined, gracious, of a delicate, fair complexion, the form and
bust of queen or goddess, — L'Hopital himself had said of
her, after his fashion, in a grave epithalamium : —
*' Adspectu veneranda, putes ut Numen inesse :
Tantus in ore decor, majestas regia tanta est ! " —
of a long hand, elegant and slender 'gracilis), an alabaster
forehead dazzling beneath the crape, and with golden hair —
which needs a brief remark. It is a poet (Eonsard) who
speaks of " the gold of lier ringed and braided hair," and
poets, as we know, employ their words a little vaguely.
Mme. Sand, speaking of a portrait she had seen as a child
MARIE STUART. 125
in the English Convent, says, without hesitation, " Marie
was beautiful, but red-haired." M. Dargaud speaks of an-
other portrait, " in which a sunray lightens," he says rather
oddly, " the curls of her living and electric hair." But
Walter Scott, reputed the most correct of historical romance-
writers, in describing Marie Stuart a prisoner in Lochleven
Castle, shows us, as though he had seen them, her thick
tresses of " dark brown," which escaped now and then from
her coif. Here we are far from the red or golden tints, and
I see no other way of conciliating these differences than to rest
on " that hair so beautiful, so blond and fair " [si blonds et cen-
dres'l which Brantome, an ocular witness, admired, — -hair
that captivity whitened, leaving the poor queen of forty-six
" quite bald " in the hands of her executioner, as I'Estoile
relates. But at nineteen, the moment of her departure from
France, the young widow was in all the glory of her beauty,
except for a brilliancy of colour, which she lost at the death
of her first husband, giving place to a purer whiteness.
Withal a lively, graceful, and sportive mind, and French
raillery, an ardent soul, capable of passion, open to desire,
a heart which knew not how to draw back when flame or
fancy or enchantment stirred it. Such was the queen, ad-
venturous and poetical, who tore herself from France in
tears, sent by politic uncles to recover her authority amid
the roughest and most savage of " Frondes."
Scotland, since IMarie Stuart left it as a child, had under-
gone great changes ; the principal was the Eeformed religion
w^hich had taken root there and extended itself vigorously.
The great reformer Knox preached the new doctrine, whicli
found in Scotland stern, energetic souls ready made to receive
it. The old strug;Q;le of the lords and barons asjainst the
kings was complicated and redoubled now by that of cities
and people against the brilliant beliefs of the Court and the
126 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
Catholic hierarchy. The birth of modern society, of civil
equality, of respect for the rights of all was painfully work-
ing itself out through barbaric scenes, and by means of
fanaticism itself. Alone and without counsel, contending
with the lords and the nobility as her ancestors had done,
Marie Stuart, quick, impulsive, subject to predilections and
to antipathies, was already insufficient for the work ; what
therefore could it be when she found herself face to face
with a religious party, born and growing during recent years,
face to face with an argumentative, gloomy party, moral and
daring, discussing rationally, Bible in hand, the right of
kings, and pushing logic even into prayer ? Coming from
a literary and artificial Court, there was nothing in her that
could comprehend these grand and voiceless movements of
the people, either to retard them or turn them to her own
profit by adapting herself to them. "She returned," says
M. Mignet, " full of regrets and disgust, to the barren moun-
tains and the uncultured inhabitants of Scotland. ]\Iore
lovable than able, very ardent and in no way cautious, she
returned with a grace that was out of keeping with her sur-
roundings, a dangerous beauty, a keen but variable intellect,
a generous but rash soul, a taste for the arts, a love of ad-
venture, and all the passions of a woman joined to the exces-
sive liberty of a widow."
And to complicate the peril of this precarious situation
she had for neighbour in England a rival queen, Elizabeth,
whom slie had first offended by claiming her title, and next,
and no less, by a feminine and proclaimed superiority of
beauty and grace, — a rival queen capable, energetic, rigid,
and dissimulating, representing the contrary religious opinion,
and surrounded by able counsellors, firm, consistent, and
committed to the same cause. The seven years that :\Iarie
Stuart spent in Scotland after her return from Erance
MARIE STUART. 127
(August 19, 1561) to her imprisonment (May 18, 1568) are
filled with all the blunders and all the faults that could be
committed by a young and thoughtless princess, impulsive,
unreflecting, and without shrewdness or ability except in the
line of her passion, never in view of a general political pur-
pose. The policy of Mme. de Longueville, during the
Fronde, seems to me of the same character.
As to other faults, the moral faults of poor Marie Stuart,
they are as well known and demonstrated to-day as faults
of that kind can well be. Mme. Sand, always very indul-
gent, regards as the three black spots upon her life the
abandonment of Chastellard, her feigned caresses to the
hapless Darnley, and her forgetfulness of Bothwell.
Chastellard, as we know, was a gentleman of Dauphin^
musician and poet, in the train of the servitors and adorers
of the queen, who at first was very agreeable to her, Chastel-
lard was one of the troop who escorted Marie Stuart to
Scotland, and sometime later, urged by his passion, he
returned there. But not knowing how to restrain himself,
or to keep, as became him, to poetic passion while waiting
to inspire, if he could, a real one, he was twice discovered
beneath the bed of the queen ; the second time she lost
patience and turned him over to the law. Poor Chastellard
was beheaded ; he died reciting, so they say, a hymn of
Eousard's, and crying aloud : " cruel Lady ! " After so
stern an act, to which she was driven in fear of scandal and
to put her honour above all attainder and suspicion, Marie
Stuart had, it would seem, but one course to pursue, namely :
to remain the most severe and most virtuous of princesses.
But her severity for Chastellard, though shown for effect,
is merely a peccadillo in comparison with her conduct to
Darnley, her second husband. By marrying this young-
man (July 29, 1565), her vassal, but of the race of the
128 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
Stuarts and her own family, Marie escaped the diverse
political combinations which were striving to attract her
to a second marriage; and it would have been, perhaps,
a sensible thing to do, if she had not done it as an act of
caprice and passion. But she fell in love with Darnley in
a single day, and became disgusted in the next. This tall,
weakly youth, timid and conceited by turns, with a heart
" soft as wax," had nothing in him which subjugates a woman
and makes her respect him. A woman such as Marie
Stuart, changeable, ardent, easily swayed, with the sentiment
of her weakness and of her impulsiveness, likes to find
a master and at moments a tyrant in the man she loves,
whereas she soon despises her slave and creature when he is
nought but that ; she much prefers an arm of iron to an
effeminate hand.
Less than six months after her marriage Marie, wholly dis-
gusted, consoled herself with an Italian, David Eiccio, a man
thirty-two years of age, equally well fitted for business or
pleasure, who advised her and served her as secretary, and
was gifted with a musical talent well suited to commend him
to women in other ways. The feeble Darnley confided his
jealousy to the discontented lords and gentlemen, and
they, in the interests of their faction, prodded his vengeance
and offered to serve it with their sword. ^Ministers and
Presbyterian pastors took part in the affair. The whole was
plotted and managed with perfect unanimity as a chastise-
ment of Heaven, and, what is more, by help of deeds and
formal agreements which simulated legality. Tlie queen and
her favourite, apparently before they had any suspicions,
were taken in a net. David Eiccio was seized by the con-
spirators while supping in ^Marie's cabinet (March 9, 1566),
Darnley being present, and from there he was dragged into
the next room and stabbed. Marie, at this date, was six
MAEIE STUART. 129
months pregnant by her husband. On that day, outraged in
honour and embittered in feeling, she conceived for Darnley
a deeper contempt mingled with horror, and swore to avenge
herself on the murderers. For this purpose she bided her
time, she dissimulated ; for the first time in her life she con-
trolled herself and restrained her actions. She became
politic — as the nature is of passionate women — only in
the interests of her passion and her vengeance.
Here is the gravest and the most in-eparable incident of
her life. Even after we have fully represented to ourselves
what the average morahty of the sixteenth century, with all
the treachery and atrocities it tolerated, was, we are scarcely
prepared for this. JNIarie Stuart's first desire was to revenge
herself on the lords and gentlemen who had lent their dag-
gers to Darnley, rather than on her weak and timid husband.
To reach her end she reconciled herself with the latter and
detached him from the conspirators, his accomphces. She
forced him to disavow them, thus degrading and sinking him
in his own estimation. At this point she remained as long
as a new passion was not added to her supreme contempt.
Meantime her child was born (June 19), and she made
Darnley the father of a son who resembled both parents on
their worst sides, the future James I. of England, that soul
of a casuist in a king. But by this time a new passion was
budding in the open heart of Marie Stuart. He whom she
now chose had neither Darnley's feebleness nor the salon
graces of a Riccio ; he was the Earl of Bothwell, a man of
thirty, ugly, but martial in aspect, brave, bold, violent, and
capable of daring all things. To him it was that this flexible
and tender will was henceforth to cling for its support.
Marie Stuart has found her master ; and him she will obey
in all things, without scruple, without remorse, as happens
always in distracted passion.
130 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
But how rid herself of a husband henceforth odious ?
How unite herself to the man she loves and whose ambition
is not of a kind to stop half way ? Here again we need —
not to excuse, but to explain Marie Stuart — we need to
represent to our minds the morality of that day. A goodly
number of the same lords who had taken part in Eiccio's
murder, and who were leagued together by deeds and docu-
ments, offered themselves to the queen, and, for the purpose
of recovering favour, let her see the means of getting rid of a
husband who was now so irksome. She answered this over-
ture by merely speaking of a divorce and the difficulty of
obtaining it. But these men, little scrupulous, said to her
plainly, by the mouth of Lethington, the ablest and most
poHtic of them all : " Madame, give yourself no anxiety ; we,
the leaders of the nobility, and the heads of your Grace's
Council, will find a way to deliver you from him without
prejudice to your son ; and though my Lord Murray, here
present (the illegitimate brother of Marie Stuart), is little
less scrupulous as a Protestant than your Grace is as a Papist,
1 feel sure that he will look through his fingers, see us act,
and say nothing."
The word was spoken ; Marie had only to do as her brother
did, " look tlirough her fingers," as the vulgar saymg was, and
let things go on without taking part in them. She did take
a part however ; she led into the trap, by a feigned return of
tenderness, the unfortunate Darnley, then convalescing from
the small-pox. She removed his suspicions without much
trouble, and, recovering her empire over him, persuaded him
to come in a litter from Glasgow to Kirk-of-Pield, at the
gates of Edinburgh, where there was a species of parsonage,
little suitable for the reception of a king and queen, but very
convenient for the crime now to be committed.
There Darnley perished, strangled with his page, during
MARIE STUART. 131
the night of February 9, 1567. The house was blown up by
means of a barrel of gunpowder, placed there to give the idea
of an accident. During this time Marie had gone to a masked
ball at Holyrood, not having quitted her husband until that
evening, when all was prepared to its slightest detail. Both-
well, who was present for a time at the ball, left Edinburgh
after midnight and presided at the killing. These circum-
stances are proved in an irrefragable manner by the testimony
of witnesses, by the confessions of the actors, and by the let-
ters of Marie Stuart, the authenticity of which M. Mignard,
with decisive clearness, places beyond all doubt. She felt
that in giving herself thus to Bothwell's projects she fur-
nished him with weapons against herself and gave him
grounds to distrust her in turn. He might say to himself, as
the Duke of Norfolk said later, that " the pillow of such a
woman was too hard " to sleep upon. During the preparation
of this horrible trap she more than once showed her repug-
nance to deceive the poor sick dupe who trusted her. "I
shall never rejoice," she writes, " through deceiving him who
trusts me. Nevertheless, command me in all things. But
do not conceive an ill opinion of me ; because you yourself
are the cause of this ; for I would never do anything against
him for my own particular vengeance." And truly this role
of Clytenmestra, or of Gertrude in Hamlet was not in accord-
ance with her nature, and could only have been imposed upon
her. But passion rendered her for this once insensible to
pity, and made her heart (she herself avows it) " as hard as
diamond." Marie Stuart soon put the climax to her ill-
regulated passion and desires by marrying Both well ; thus
revolting the mind of her whole people, whose morality,
fanatical as it was, was never in the least depraved, and was
far more upright than that of the nobles.
The crime was echoed beyond the seas. L'Hopital, that
132 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES,
representative of the human conscience in a dreadful era,
heard, in his country retreat, of the misguided conduct of her
whose early grace and first marriage he had celebrated in his
stately epithalamium ; and he now recorded his indignation
in another Latin poem, wherein he recounts the horrors of
that funereal night, and does not shrink from calling the wife
and the young mother " the murderess, alas ! of a father
whose child was still at her breast."
On the 15th of May, three months — only three months
after the murder, at the first smile of spring, the marriage
with the murderer was celebrated. Marie Stuart justified
in all ways Shakespeare's saying : " Frailty, thy name is
Woman." For none was ever more a woman than Marie
Stuart.
Here I am unable to admit the third reproach of Mme.
Sand, that of Marie Stuart's forgetfulness of Bothwell. I
see, on the contrary, through all the ol^stacles, all the perils
immediately following this marriage, that Marie had no other
idea than that of avoiding separation from her violent and
domineering husband. She loved him so madly that she
said to whosoever might hear her (April, 1567) tliat " she
would quit France, England, and her own country, and follow
him to the ends of the earth in nought but a white petticoat,
rather than be parted from him." And soon after, forced by
the lords to tear herself from Bothwell, she reproaches them
bitterly, asking but one thing, " that both be put in a vessel
and sent away where Fortune led them." It was only en-
forced separation, final imprisonment, and the impossibility
of communication, which compelled the rupture. It is true
that Marie, a prisoner in England, solicited the Parliament
of Scotland to annul her marriage witli Bothwell, in the hope
she then had of marrying the Duke of Norfolk, who played
the lover to herself and crown, thousrh she never saw him.
MAKIE STUART. 133
But, Bothwell being a fugitive and ruined, can we reproach
Marie Stuart for a project from which she hoped for restora-
tion and deliverance ? Her passion for Bothwell had been a
delirium, which drove her into connivance with crime. That
fever calmed, Marie Stuart turned her mind to the resources
which presented themselves, among which was the offer of
her hand. Her wrong-doing does not lie there; amid so
many infidelities and horrors, it would be pushing delicacy
much too far to require eternity of sentiment for the re-
mains of an unbridled and bloody passion. That which is
due to such passions, when they leave no hatred behind
them, that which becomes them best, is oblivion.
Such conduct, and such deeds, crowned by her heedless
flight into England and the imprudent abandonment of her
person to Elizabeth, seem little calculated to make the touch-
ing and pathetic heroine we are accustomed to admire and
cherish in Marie Stuart. Yet she deserves all pity ; and we
have but to follow her through the third and last portion of
her life, through that long, unjust, and sorrowful captivity
of nineteen years (May 18, 1568, to February 5, 1587) to
render it unconsciously. Struggling without defence against
a crafty and ambitious rival, liable to mistakes from friends
outside, the victim of a grasping and tenacious policy which
never let go its prey and took so long a time to torture before
devouring it, she never for a single instant fails towards her-
self ; she rises ever higher. That faculty of hope which so
often had misled her becomes the grace of her condition and
a virtue. She moves the whole world in the interest of her
misfortunes; she stirs it with a charm all-powerful. Her
cause transforms and magnifies itself. It is no longer that
of a passionate and heedless woman punished for her frailties
and her inconstancy ; it is that of the legitimate heiress of
the crown of England, exposed in her dungeon to the eyes of
134 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
the world, a faithful, unshaken Catholic, who refuses to sac-
rifice her faith to the interests of her ambition or even to the
salvation of her life. The beauty and grandeur of such a
role were fitted to stir the tender and naturally believing
heart of Marie Stuart. She fills her soul with that role ; she
substitutes it, from the first moment of her captivity, for all
her former personal sentiments, which, little by little, subside
and expire within her as the fugitive occasions which aroused
them pass away. She seems to remember them no more than
she does the waves and the foam of those brilliant lakes that
she has crossed. For nineteen years the whole of Catholicity
is disquieted and impassioned about her ; and she is there,
half-heroine, half-martyr, making the signal and waving her
banner beliiud the bars. Captive that she was, do not accuse
her of conspiring against Elizabeth ; for with her ideas of right
divine and of absolute kingship from sovereign to sovereign,
it was not conspiring, she being a prisoner, to seek for the
triumph of her cause ; it was simply pursuing the war.
From the moment when Marie Stuart is a prisoner, when
we see her crushed, deprived of all that comforts and con-
soles, infirm, alas ! with whitened liair before her time, when
we hear her, in the longest and most remarkable of her
letters to Elizabeth (November 8, 1582), repeating for the
twentieth time : " Your prison, without right, without just
grounds, has already so destroyed my body that you will
soon see an end if this lasts much longer ; so that my
enemies have no great time to satisfy their cruelty against
me ; nought remains to me but my soul, the which it is not
in your power to render captive," — when we dwell on this
mixture of pride and plaint, pity carries us along ; our lienrts
speak ; the tender charm with which she was endowed, and
which acted upon all who approached her, asserts its power
and lays its spell upon us even at this distance. It is not
MAKIE STUART. 135
by the text of a scribe, nor yet with the logic of a statesman
that we judge her ; it is with the heart of a knight, or rather,
let me say, with that of a man. Humanity, pity, religion,
supreme poetic grace, all those invincible and immortal
powers feel themselves concerned in her person and cry to
us across the ages. " Bear these tidings," she said to her
old Melvil at the moment of death : " that I die firm in
my religion, a true Catholic, a true Scotchwoman, a true
Frenchwoman." These behefs, these patriotisms and national-
ities thus evoked by Marie Stuart have made that long
echo that replies to her with tears and love.
What reproach can we make to one who, after nineteen
years of anguish and moral torture, searched, during the
night that preceded her death, in the " Lives of the Saints "
(which her ladies were accustomed to read to her nightly)
for some great sinner whom God had pardoned. She
stopped at the story of the penitent thief, which seemed to
her the most reassuring example of human confidence and
divine mercy ; and while Jean Kennedy, one of her ladies,
read it to her, she said : " He was a great sinner, but not so
great as I. I implore our Lord, in memory of His Passion,
to remember and liave mercy upon me, as He had upon liim,
in the hour of death." Tliose true and sincere feelings, that
contrite humility in her last and sublime moments, this per-
fect intelligence, and profound need of pardon, leave us with-
out means of seeing any stain of the past upon her except
through tears.
It was thus that old Etienne Pasquier felt. Having to
relate in his " Ptccherches " the death of ]\Iarie Stuart, he
compares it with the tragic history of the Conn^table de
Saint-Pol, and that of the Conndtable de Bourbon, which
left him under a mixture of conflicting sentiments. "But
in that of which I now discourse," he says, " methinks I see
136 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
only tears ; and is there, by chance, a man who, reading
this, will not forgive his eyes ? "
M. Mignet, who examines all things as an historian, and
gives but short pages to emotion, has admirably distinguished
and explained the different pliases of Marie Stuart's cap-
tivity, and the secret springs which were set to work at
various periods. He has, especially, cast a new light, aided
by Spanish documents in the Archives of Simancas, on the
slow preparations of the enterprise undertaken by Philip
II., that fruitless and tardy crusade, delayed until after the
death of Marie Stuart, which ended in the disastrous shij)-
wreck of the invincible Armada.
Issuing from this brilliant and stormy episode of the history
of the sixteenth century, which has been so strongly and judi-
ciously set before us by M. Mignet, full of these scenes of
violence, treachery, and iniquity, and witliout having the inno-
cence to believe that humanity has done forever with such
deeds, we congratulate ourselves in spite of everything, and
rejoice that we live in an age of softened and amehoratcd
public morals. We exclaim with M. de Tavannes, when he
relates in his " Memoirs " the life and death of Marie Stuart :
" Happy he who lives in a safe State ; where good and e^■il
are rewarded and punished according to their deserts."
Happy the times and the communities where a certain general
morality and human respect for opinion, where a penal
( 'ode, and especially the continual check of publicity, exist
to interdict, even to the boldest, those criminal resolutions
which every human heart, if left to itself, is ever tempted to
engender.
Sainte-Beuve, Causeries du Linidi (1851).
DISCOUESE IV.
:feLISABETH OF FRANCE, QUEEN OF SPAIN.
I WKITE here of the Queen of Spain, Elisabeth of France,
a true daughter of France in everything, a beautiful, wise,
virtuous, spiritual, and good queen if ever there was one ;
and I believe since Saint Elisabeth no one has borne that
name who surpassed her in all sorts of virtues and per-
fections, although that beautiful name of Elisabeth has
been fateful of goodness, virtue, sanctity, and perfection to
those who have borne it, as many believe.^
When she was born at Fontainebleau, the king her grand-
father, and her father and mother made very great joy of it ;
you would have said she was a lucky star bringing good
hap to France ; for her baptism brought peace to us, as did
her marriage. See how good fortunes are gathered in one
person to be distributed on diverse occasions ; for then it
was that peace was made with King Henry [VIII.] of Eng-
land ; and to confirm and strengthen it our king made him
her sponsor and gave to his goddaughter the beautiful name
of Elisabeth ; at whose birth and baptism the rejoicings
were as great as at those of the little King Francois the
last.
Child as she w^as, she jiromised to be some great thing at
a future day; and when she came to be grown up she
promised it more surely still ; for all virtue and goodness
1 She was the daughter of Henri II. and Catherine de' Medici, married
to Philip II., King of Spain, after the death of Queen Mary of England. —
Tr.
138 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
abounded in her, so that the whole Court admired her, and
prognosticated a fine grandeur and great royalty to her in
time. So they say that when King Henri married his
second daughter, Madame Claude, to the Due de Lorraine,
there were some who remonstrated against the wrong done
to the elder in marrying the younger before her; but tlie
king made this response : " My daughter Elisabeth is such
that a duchy is not for her to marry. She must have a
kingdom ; and even so, not one of the lesser but one of the
greater kingdoms ; so great is she herself in all things ;
which assures me that she can miss none, wherefore she can
wait."
You would have said he prophesied the future. He did
not fail on his side to seek and procure one for her ; for when
peace was made between the two kings at Cercan she was
promised in marriage to Don Carlos, Prince of Spain, a brave
and gallant prince and the image of his grandfather, the
Emperor Charles, had he lived. But the King of Spain, his
father, becoming a widower by the death of the Queen of
England, his wife and cousin-german, and having seen the
portrait of Madame Elisabeth and finding her very beautiful
and much to his liking, cut the ground from under the feet
of his son and did himself the charity of wedding her him-
self. On which the French and Spaniards said with one
voice that one would think she was conceived and born be-
fore the world and reserved by God until his will had joined
her with this great king, her husband ; for it must have
been predestined that he, being so great, so powerful,
and thus approaching in all grandeur to the skies, should
marry no other princess than one so perfect and accom-
plished. When the Duke of Alba came to see her and
espouse her for the king, his master, he found her so ex-
tremely agreeable and suited to the said master that he said
Elisabeth of France. 139
she was a princess who would make the King of Spain very
easily forget his grief for his last two wives, the English and
the Portuguese.
After this, as I have heard from a good quarter, the said
prince, Don Carlos, having seen her, became so distractedly
in love with her, and so full of jealousy, that he bore a great
grudge against his father, and was so angry with him for
having deprived him of so fine a prize that he never loved
him more, but reproached him with the great wrong and
insult he had done him in taking her who had been promised
to him solemnly in the treaty of peace. They do say that
this was, in part, the cause of his death, with other topics
which I shall not speak of at this hour ; for he could not
keep himself from loving her in his soul, honouring and
reverinfT her, so charminsr and ag[raeable did she seem in his
eyes, as certainly she was in everything.
Her face was handsome, her hair and eyes so shaded her
complexion and made it the more attractive that I have heard
say in Spain that the courtiers dared not look upon her for
fear of being taken in love and causing jealousy to the king,
her husband, and, consequently, running risk of their lives.
The Church people did the same from fear of temptation,
they not having strength to command their flesh to look at
her without being tempted. Although she had had the
small-pox, after being grown-up and married, they had so
well preserved her face with poultices of fresh eggs (a very
proper thing for that purpose) that no marks appeared. I
saw the queen, her mother, very much concerned to send
her by many couriers many remedies ; but this of the egg-
poultice was sovereign.
Her figure was very fine, taller than that of her sisters,
which made her much admired in Spain, where such tall
women are rare, and for that the more esteemed. And with
140 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
this figure slie had a bearing, a majesty, a gesture, a gait and
grace that intermingled the Frenchwoman with the Spaniard
in sweetness and gravity ; so that, as I myself saw, when she
passed through her Court, or went out to certain places,
whether churches, or monasteries, or gardens, there was such
great press to see her, and the crowd of persons was so tliick,
there was no turning round in the mob ; and happy was he
or she who could say in the evening, " I saw the queen."
It was said, and I saw it myself, that no queen was ever
loved in Spain like her (begging pardon of the Queen Isabella
of Castile), and her subjects called her la reyna de la pa.z y
de la hojidad, that is to say, " the queen of peace and kind-
ness ; " but our Frenchmen called her " the olive-branch of
peace."
A year before she came to France to visit her mother at
Bayonne, she fell ill to such extremity that the physicians
gave her up. On which a little Italian doctor, who had no
great vogue at Court, presenting himself to the king, declared
that if he were allowed to act he would cure her ; which the
king permitted, she being almost dead. The doctor under-
took her and gave her a medicine, after which they suddenly
saw the colour return miraculously to her face, her speech
came back, and then, soon after, her convalescence began.
Nevertheless the whole Court and all the people of Spain
blocked the roads with processions and comings and goings to
churches and hospitals for her health's sake, some in sliirts,
others bare-footed and bare-headed, offering oblations, prayers,
orisons, intercessions to God, with fasts, macerations of the
body, and other good and saintly devotions for lier health ;
so that every one believes firmly that these good prayers,
tears, vows, and cries to God were the cause of her cure,
rather than the medicine of that doctor.
I arrived in Spain a month after this recovery of her
ELISABETH OF FRANCE. 141
health ; but I saw so much devotion among the people in
giving thanks to God, by fetes, rejoicings, magnificences, fire-
works, that there was no doubting in any way how much
they felt. I saw nothing else in Spain as I travelled through
it, and reaching the Court just two days after she left her
room, I saw her come out and get into her coach, sitting at
the door of it, which was her usual place, because such beauty
should not be hidden within, but displayed openly.
She was dressed in a gown of white satin all covered with
silver trimmings, her face uncovered. I think that nothing
was ever seen more beautiful than this queen, as I had the
boldness to tell her ; for she had given me a right good wel-
come and cheer, coming as I did from France and the Court,
and bringing her news of the king, her good brother, and the
queen, her good mother ; for all her joy and pleasure was to
know of them. It was not I alone who thought her beautiful,
but all the Court and all the people of Madrid thought so
likewise ; so that it might be said that even illness favoured
her, for after doing her such cruel harm it embellished her
skin, making it so delicate and polished that she was cer-
tainly more beautiful than ever before.
Leaving thus her chamber for the first time, to do the
best and saintliest thing she could she went to the churches
to give thanks to God for the favour of her health ; and this
good work she continued for the space of fifteen days, not
to speak of the vow she made to Our Lady of Guadalupe ;
letting the whole people see her face uncovered (as was her
usual fashion) till you might have thought they worshipped
her, so to speak, rather than honoured or revered her.
So when she died [1568], as I have heard the late M. de
Lignerolles, who saw her die, relate, he having gone to carry
to the King of Spain the news of the victory of Jarnac, never
were a people so afflicted, so disconsolate ; none ever shed
142 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
SO many tears, being unable to recover themselves in any
way, but mourning her with despair incessantly.
She made a noble end [a^. 23], leaving this world with
firm courage, and desiring much the other.
Sinister things have been said of her death, as having
been hastened. I have heard one of her ladies tell thot
the first time she saw her husband she looked at him so
fixedly that the king, not liking it, said to her : Que mirais ?
Si tengo canas ? which means : " What are you gazing at ?
Is my hair white ? " These words touched her so much to
the heart that ever after her ladies augured ill for her.
It is said that a Jesuit, a man of importance, speaking of
her one day in a sermon, and praising her rare virtues,
charities, and kindness, let fall the words that she had
wickedly been made to die, innocent as she was; for which
he was banished to the farthest depths of tlie Indies of
Spain. This is very true, as I have been told.
There are other conjectures so great that silence wm^i be
kept about them ; but very true it is that this princess was
the best of her time and loved by every one.
So long as she lived in Spain never did she forget the
affection she bore to France, and in that was not like Ger-
maine de Foix, second wife of King Ferdinand, who when
she saw herself raised to such high rank became so haugluy
that she made no account of her own country, and disdained
it so much that, when Louis XIL, her uncle, and Ferdinand
came to Savonne, she, being with her husband, held herself
so high that never would she notice a Frenchman, not eveii
her brother Gaston de Foix, Due de Xemours, neither would
she deign to speak or look at the greatest persons of France
who were present ; for which she was much ridiculed. But
after the death of her husband she suffered for this, having
fallen from her high e-tate and being held in no great ac-
Elisabeth of France. 143
count, whereat she was miserable. They say there are none
so vainglorious as persons of low estate who rise to grandeur ;
not that I mean to say that princess was of low estate, being
of the house of Foix, a very illustrious and great house ; but
from simple daughter of a count to be queen of so great a
kingdom was a rise which gave occasion to feel much glory,
but not to forget herself or abuse her station towards a King
of France, her uncle, and her nearest relations and others
of the land of her birth. In this she showed she lacked
a great mind; or else that she was foolishly vainglorious.
For surely there is a difference between the house of Foix
and the house of France ; not that I mean to say the house
of Foix is not great and very noble, but the house of France
-hey!
Our Queen Ehsabeth never did like that. She was born
great in herself, great in mind and very able, so that a
royal grandeur could not fail her. She had, if she had
wished it, double cause over Germaine de Foix to be
haughty and arrogant, for she was daughter of a great King
of France, and married to the greatest king in tlie world, he
being not the monarch of one kingdom, but of many, or, as
one might say, of all the Spains, — Jerusalem, the Two
Sicilies, Majorca, Minorca, Sardinia, and the Western Indies,
which seem indeed a world, besides being lord of infinitely
more lands and greater seigneuries than Ferdinand ever had.
Therefore we should laud our princess for her gentleness,
which is well becoming in a great personage towards each
and ail ; and likew-ise for the affection she showed to
Frenchmen, w^ho, on arriving in Spain, were welcomed by
her with so benign a face, the least among them as well as
the greatest, that none ever left her without feeling honoured
and content. I can speak for myself, as to the honour she
did me in talking to me often during the time I stayed
144 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
there ; asking me, at all hours, news of the king, the queen
her mother, messieurs her brothers, and madame her sister,
with others of the Court, not forgetting to name them., each
and all, and to inquire about them ; so that I wondered
much how she could remember these things as if she had
just left the Court of France ; and I often asked her how
it was possible she could keep such memories in the midst
of her grandeur.
When she came to Bayonne she showed herself just as
famihar with the ladies and maids of honour, neither more
nor less, as she was when a girl; and as for those who
were absent or married since her departure, she inquired
with great interest about them all. She did the same to
the gentlemen of her acquaintance, and to those who were
not, informing herself as to who the latter were, and say-
ini,' : " Such and such were at Court in my dav, I knew them
well ; but these were not, and I desire to know them." In
short, she contented every one.
When she made her entry into Bayonne she was mounted
on an ambling horse, most superbly and richly caparisoned
with pearl embroideries which had formerly been used by
the deceased empress when she made her entries into her
towns, and were thought to be worth one hundred tliousand
crowns, and some say more. She had a noble grace on horse-
back, and it was fine to see her ; slie showed herself so
beautiful and so agreeable that every one was charmed with
her.
We all had commands to go to meet her, and accompany
her on this entry, as indeed it was our duty to do ; and we
were gratified when, having made her our reverence, she did
us the honour to thank us ; and to me above all she gave
good greeting, because it was scarcely four months since I
had left her in Spain ; which touched me much, receiving
I:lisabeth of france. 145
such favour above my companions and more honour than
belonged to me.
On my return from Portugal and from Pignon de Belis
[Penon de Velez], a fortress which was taken in Barbary,
she welcomed me very warmly, asking me news of the con-
quest and of the army. She presented me to Don Carlos,
who came into her room, together with the princess, and to
Don Juan [of Austria, Philip II.'s brother, the conqueror
of Lepanto]. I was two days without going to see her, on
account of a toothache I had got upon the sea. She asked
Eiberac, maid of honour, where I was and if I were ill, and
having heard what my trouble was she sent me her apothe-
cary, who brought me an herb very special for that ache,
which, on merely being held in the palm of the hand, cures
the pain suddenly, as it did very quickly for me.
I can boast that I was the first to bring the queen-mother
word of Queen Elisabeth's desire to come to France and see
her, for which she thanked me much both then and later ;
for the Queen of Spain was her good daughter, whom she
loved above the others, and who returned her the like ; for
Queen Elisabeth so honoured, respected, and feared her that
I have heard her say she never received a letter from
the queen, her mother, without trembling and dreading lest
she was angry with her and had written some painful
thing; though, God knows, she had never said one to her
since she was married, nor been angry with her ; but the
daughter feared the mother so much that she always had
that apprehension.
It was on this journey to Bayonne that Pompadour the
elder having killed Chambret at Bordeaux, wrongfully as
some say, the queen-mother was so angry that if she could
have caught him she would have had him beheaded, and no
one dared speak to her of mercy.
10
146 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
M. Strozzi, who was fond of the said Pompadour, be-
thought him of employing his sister, Siguora Clarice Strozzi,
Comtesse de Tenda, wliom the Queen of Spain loved from
her earliest years, they having studied together. The said
countess, who loved her brother, did not refuse him, but
begged the Queen of Spain to intercede ; who answered that
she would do anytliing for lier except that, because she
dreaded to irritate and annoy the queen, her mother, and
displease her. But the countess continuing to importune
her, she employed a third person who sounded the ford
privately, telling the queen-mother that the queen, her
daugliter, would have asked this pardon to gratify the said
countess had she not feared to displease her. To which the
queen-mother replied that the thing must be wholly impos-
sible to make her refuse it. On which the Queen of Spain
made her little request, but still in fear ; and suddenly it was
granted. Such w^as the kindness of this princess, and her
virtue in honouring and fearuig the queen, her mother, she
being herself so great. Alas ! the Christian proverb did not
hold good in her case, namely : " He that would live long
years must love and honour and fear his father and mother ; "
for, in spite of doing all that, she died in the lovely and
pleasant April of her days ; for now, at the time I write,
[1591] she would have been, had she lived, forty-six years
old. Alas ! that this fair sun disappeared so soon in a dark-
some grave, when she might have lighted this fine world for
twenty good years without even then being touclied by age ;
for she was by nature and complexion fitted to keep her
beauty long, and even had old age attacked her, her beauty
was of a kind to be the stronger.
Surely, if lier death was hard to Spaniards, it was still
more b'ittiT to us Frenchmen, for as long as she lived France
was never invaded by those quarrels which, since then,
Elisabeth of France. 147
Spain has put upon us ; so well did she know how to win
and persuade the king, her husband, for our good and our
peace ; the which should make us ever mourn her.
She left two daughters, the most honourable and virtuous
infantas in Christendom. When they were large enough,
that is to say, three or four years old, she begged her hus-
band to leave the eldest wholly to her that she might bring
her up in the French fashion. Which the king willingly
granted. So she took her in hand, and gave her a fine and
noble training in the style of her own country, so that to-day
that iafanta is as French as her sister, the Duchesse de Savoie,
is Spanish ; she loves and cherishes France as her mother
taught her, and you may be sure that all the influence and
power that she has with the king, her father, she employs
for the help and succour of those poor Frenchmen whom she
knows are suffering in Spanish hands. I have heard it
said that after the rout of M. Strozzi, very many French
soldiers and gentlemen having been put in the galleys,
she went, when at Lisbon, to visit all the galleys that were
then there ; and all the Frenchmen whom she found on
the chain, to the number of six twenties, she caused to be
released, giving them money to reach tlieir own land ; so
that the captains of the galleys were obliged to hide those
that remained.
She was a very beautiful princess and very agreeable, of
an extremely graceful mind, who knew all the affairs of the
kingdom of the king, her father, and was well trained in
them. I hope to speak of her hereafter by herself, for she
deserves all honour for the love she bears to France ; she
says she can never part with it, havhig good right to it ; and
we, if we have obligation to this princess for loving us, how
much more should we have to the queen, her mother, for
having thus brought her up and taught her.
148 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
Would to God I were a good enough petrarchizer to exalt
as I desire this Elisabeth of France ! for, if the beauty of
her body gives me most ample ruatter, that of her fine soul
gives me still more, as these verses, which were made upon
her at Court at the time she was married, will testify :
Happy the prince whom Heaven ordains
To Elisabeth's sweet acquaintance :
IMore precious far than crown or sceptre
The glad enjoyment of so great a treasure-
Gifts most divine she had at birth,
The proof and the effect of which we see;
Her youthful years showed then- appearance,
But now her virtues bear their perfect fruit.
When this queen was put into the hands of the Due de
rinfantado and the Cardinal de Burgos, who were com-
missioned by their king to receive her at Eoncevaux in a
great hall, after the said deputies had made their reverence,
she rising ftom her chair to welcome them. Cardinal de
Burgos harangued her; to whom she made response so
honourably, and in such fine fashion and good grace that he
was quite amazed ; for she spoke in the best manner, having
been very well taught.
After which the King of Navan'e, who was there as her
principal conductor, and also leader of all the army which
was with her, was summoned to deliver her, according to
the order, which was shown to the Cardinal de Bourbon, to
receive her. The king replied, for he spoke well, and said :
" I place in your hands this princess, whom I have brought
from the house of the greatest kins in the world to be
placed in the hands of the most illustrious king on earth.
Knowing you to be very sufficient and chosen by the king
your master to receive her, I make no difficulty nor doubt
that you will acquit yourselves worthily of this trust, which
Elisabeth of fkance. 149
I now discharge upon you ; begging you to have peculiar
care of her health and person, for she deserves it ; and I
wish you to know that never did there enter Spain so great
an ornament of all virtues and chastities, as in time you will
know well by results."
The Spaniards replied at once that already at first sight
they had very ample knowledge of this from her manner
and grave majesty ; and, in truth, her virtues were rare.
She had great knowledge, because the queen her mother
had made her study well under M. de Saint-Etienne, her
preceptor, whom she always loved and respected until her
death. She loved poesy, and to read it. She spoke well,
in either French or Spanish, with a very noble air and much
good grace. Her Spanish language was beautiful, as dainty
and attractive as possible ; she learned it in three or four
months after coming to Spain.
To Frenchmen she always spoke French ; never being
willing to discontinue it, but reading it daily in the fine
books they sent from France, which she was very anxious
to have brought to her. To Spaniards and all others she
spoke Spanish and very well. In short, she was perfect in
all things, and so magnificent and liberal that no one could
be more so. She never wore her gowns a second time, but
gave them to her ladies and maids ; and God knows what
gowns they were, so rich and so superb that the least was
reckoned at three or four hundred crowns ; for the king, her
husband, kept her most superbly in such matters ; so that
every day she had a new one, as I was told by her tailor,
who from being a very poor man became so rich that
nothing exceeded him, as I saw myself.
She dressed well, and very pompously, and her habili-
ments became her much ; among other things her sleeves
were slashed, with scollops which they call in Spanish ^puri'
150 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES
tas ; her head-dress the same, where nothing lacked. Those
who see her thus in painting admire her ; I therefore leave
you to think what pleasure they had who saw her face to
face, with all her gestures and good graces.
As for pearls and jewels in great quantity, she never
lacked them, for the king, her husband, ordered a great estate
for her and for lier household. Alas ! what served her
that for such an end ? Her ladies and maids of honour felt
it. Those who, being French, could not constrain them-
selves to live in a foreign land, she caused, by a prayer
which she made to the king, her husband, to receive each
four thousand crowns on their marriage ; as was done to
Mesdaraoiselles Eiberac, sisters, otherwise called Guitigniferes,
de Fuinel, the two sisters de Thorigny, de Noyau, d'Arne,
de La ]\Iotte au Groin, Montal, and several others. Those
who were willing to remain were better off, like Mesdamoi-
selles de Saint-Ana and de Saint-Legier, who had the honour
to be governesses to Mesdames the infantas, and were mar-
ried very richly to two great seigneurs ; they were the
wisest, for better is it to be great in a foreign country than
little in your own, — - as Jesus said : " No one is a prophet in
his own land."
Tliis is all, at this time, that I shall say of this good, wise
and very virtuous queen, though later I may speak of her.
But I give this sonnet which was written to her praise by
an honourable gentleman, she being still Madame, though
promised in marriage : —
" Princess, to whom the skies give such advantage
That, for the part you liave in Heaven's divinity,
They grant you all the virtues of this eartli.
And crown you with the gift of immortality :
" And since it pleased them that in early years
Your heavenly gifts of deity be seen,
:fcLISABETH OF FRANCE. 151
So that you temper with a humble gravity
The royal grandeur of your sacred heritage :
" And also since it pleases them to favour you,
And place in you the best of all their best,
So that your name is cherished every^,vhere :
" Methinks that name should undergo a change,
And though we call you now Elisabeth of France,
You should be named Elisabeth of Heaven."
I know that I may be reproved for putting into this Dis-
course and others preceding it too many little particulars
which are quite superfluous. I think so myself ; but I know
that if they displease some persons, they will please others.
Methinks it is not enough when we laud persons to say that
they are handsome, wise, virtuous, valorous, valiant, magnan-
imous, liberal, splendid, and very perfect ; those are general
descriptions and praises and commonplace sayings, borrowed
from everybody. AVe should specify such things and describe
particularly all perfections, so that one may, as it were, touch
them with the finger. Such is my opinion, and it pleases
me to retain and rejoice my memory with things that I
have seen.
Epitaph on the said Queen.
" Beneath this stone lies Elisabeth of France :
Who was Qu.een of Spain and queen of peace,
Christian and Catholic. Iler lovely presence
Was useful to us all. Now that her noble bones
Are dry and crumbling, lying under ground,
We have nought but ills and wars and troubles."
DISCOURSE V.
MARGUERITE, QUEEN OF FRANCE AND OF NAVARRE,
SOLE DAUGHTER NOW REMAINING OF THE NOBLE
HOUSE OF FRANCE.i
When I consider the miseries and ill-adventures of that
beautiful Queen of Scotland of whom I have heretofore
spoken, and of other princesses and ladies whom I shall not
name, fearing by such digression to impair my discourse on
the Queen of Navarre, of whom I now speak, not being as
yet Queen of France, I cannot think otherwise than that
Fortune, omnipotent goddess of weal and woe, is the opposing
enemy of human beauty ; for if ever there was in the world a
being of perfect beauty it is the Queen of Navarre, and yet
she has been little favoured by Fortune, so far ; so that one
may indeed say that Fortune was so jealous of Nature for
having made this princess beautiful that she wished to run
counter in fate. However that may be, her beauty is sucli
that the blows of said Fortune have no ascendency upon her,
for the generous courage she drew at birth from so many
brave and valorous kings, her father, grandfather, great-
grandfather, and their ancestors, has enabled her hitherto to
make a brave resistance.
To speak now of the beauty of this rare princess : T think
that all those who are, will be, or ever have l:)een Ijeside it
are plain, and cannot have beauty; for the fire of licrs so
burns the wings of others that they dare not hover, or even
1 Daughter of Ht'iiri II. and Catherine de' Medici, — "La Reine
Margot." — Tk.
MARGUERITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 153
appear, around it. If there be any unbeliever so chary of
faith as not to give credence to the miracles of God and
Nature, let him contemplate her fine face, so nobly formed,
and become converted, and say that Mother Nature, that
perfect workwoman, has put all her rarest and subtlest w^its
to the making of her. For whether she shows herself smil-
ing or grave, the sight of her serves to enkindle every one ;
so beauteous are her features, so well defined her lineaments,
so transparent and agreeable her eyes that they pass descrip-
tion ; and, what is more, that beautiful face rests on a body
still more beautiful, superb, and rich, — of a port and majesty
more like to a goddess of heaven than a princess of earth ;
for it is believed, on the word of several, that no goddess was
ever seen more beautiful ; so that, in order to duly proclaim
her beauty, virtues, and merit, God must lengthen the earth
and heighten the sky beyond where they now are, for space
in the airs and on tlie land is lacking for the flight of her
perfection and renown.
Those are the beauties of body and mind in this fair prin-
cess, which I at this time represent, like a good painter,
after nature and without art. I speak of those to be seen
externally ; for those that are secret and hidden beneath
white linen and rich accoutrements cannot be here depicted
or judged except as being very beautiful and rare ; but this
must be by faith, presumption, and credence, for sight is
interdicted. Great hardship truly to be forced to see so
beautiful a picture, made by the hand of a divine workman,
in the half only of its perfection ; but modesty and laudable
shamefacedness thus ordain it — for they lodge among prin-
cesses and great ladies as they do among commoner folk.
To bring a few examples to show how the beauty of this
queen was admired and held for rare : I remember that when
the Polish ambassadors came to France, to announce to our
154 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
King Henri [then Due d'Anjou] his election to the kingdom
of Poland, and to render him homage and obedience, alter
they had made their reverence to King Charles, to the queen-
mother, and to their king, they made it, very particularly,
and for several days, to Monsieur, and to the King and Queen
of Navarre ; but the day when they made it to the said
Queen of Navarre she seemed to them so beautiful and so
superbly and richly accoutred and adorned, and with such
great majesty and grace that they were speechless at such
beauty. Among others, there was Lasqui, the chief of the
embassy, whom I heard say, as he retired, overcome by the
sight : " No, never do I wish to see such beauty again. Will-
ingly would I do as do the Turks, pilgrims to Mecca, where
the sepulchre of their prophet Mahomet is, and where they
stand speechless, ravished, and so transfixed at the sight of
that superb mosque that they wish to see nothing more and
burn their eyes out with hot irons till they lose their sight,
so subtly is it done ; saying that nothing more could be seen
as fine, and therefore would they see nothing." Thus said
that Pole about the beauty of our princess. And if the Poles
were won to admiration, so were others. I instance here
Don Juan of Austria, who (as I have said elsewhere), pass-
ing through Prance as stilly as he could, and reaching Paris,
knowing that that night a solemn ball was given at the
Louvre, went there disguised, as much to see Queen Mar-
guerite of Navarre as for any other purpose. He there had
means and leisure to see her at his ease, dancing, and led by
the king, her brother, as was usual. He gazed upon lier long,
admired her, and then proclaimed her high above the beauties
of Spain and Italy (two regions, nevertheless, most fertile in
beauty), saying these words in Spanish : " Thov?gh the beauty
of that queen is more divine than human, she is made to damn
and ruin men rather than to save them."
MARGUERITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 155
Shortly after, he saw her again as she went to the baths of
Lifege, Don Juan being then at Namur, where she had to
pass ; tlie which crowned all his hopes to enjoy so fine a
sight, and he went to meet her with great and splendid
Spanish magnificence, receiving her as though she were the
Queen Elisabeth, her sister, in the latter's lifetime his queen,
and Queen of Spain. And though he was most enchanted
with the beauty of her body, he was the same with that of
her mind, as I hope to show in its proper place. But it was
not Don Juan alone who praised and delighted to praise her,
but all his great and brave Spanish captains did the same,
and even the very soldiers of those far-famed bands, who
went about saying among themselves, in soldierly chorus,
that " the conquest of such beauty was better than that of a
kingdom, and happy would be the soldiers who, to serve her,
would die beneath her banner."
It is not surprising that such people, well-born and noble,
should think this princess beautiful, but I have seen Turks
coming on an embassy to the king her brother, barbarians
that they were, lose themselves in gazing at her, and say
that the pomp of their Grand Signior in going to his mosque
or marching with his army was not so fine to see as the
beauty of this queen.
In short, I have seen an infinity of other strangers who
have come to France and to the Court expressly to behold
her whose fame had gone from end to end of Europe, so they
said.
I once saw a gallant ISTeapolitan knight, who, having come
to Paris and the Court, and not finding the said queen, de-
layed his return two months in order to see her, and having
seen her he said these words : " In other days, the Princess
of Salerno bore the like reputation for beauty in our city of
Naples, so that a foreigner who had gone there and had not
156 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
seen her, when he returned and related his visit, and was
asked had he seen that princess, and answered no, was
told that in that case he had not seen Naples. Thus
I, if on my return without seeing this beautiful princess
I were asked had I seen Prance and the Court, could
scarcely say I had, for she is its ornament and enrichment.
But now, having seen and contemplated her so well, I can
say that I have seen the greatest beauty in the world, and
that our Princess of Salerno is as nothing to her. Now I
am well content to go, having enjoyed so fine a sight. 1
leave you Prenchmen to think how happy you should be
to see at your ease and daily her fine face ; and to approach
that flame divine, which can w^arni and kindle frigid hearts
from afar more than the beauty of our most beauteous
dames near-by." Such were the words said to me one day
by that charming Neapolitan knight.
An honourable Prench gentleman, whom I could name,
seeing her one evening, in her finest lustre and most stately
majesty in a ball-room, said to me these words : " Ah ! if
the Sieur des Essarts, who, in his books of ' Amadis ' forced
himself with such pains to well ajid richly describe to the
world the beautiful Nicquee and her glory, had seen this
queen in his day he would not have needed to borrow so
many rich and noble words to depict and set forth Nicqude's
beauty ; 't would have sufficed him to declare she was the
semblance and image of the Queen of Navarre, unique in
this world ; and thus the beauteous Nicquee would have
been better pictured than she has been, and without
superfluity of words."
Therefore, 'M. de Pionsard had good reason to compose
that glorious elegy found among his works in honour of
this beautiful Princess Marguerite of Prance, then not mar-
ried, in which he has introduced the goddess Venus askin^r
MARGUERITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 157
her son whether in his rambles here below, seeing the ladies
of the Court of France, he had found a beauty that sur-
passed her own. " Yes, mother," Love replied, " I have found
one on whom the glory of the finest sky is shed since ever
she was born." Venus flushed red and would not credit it,
but sent a messenger, one of her Charites, to earth to ex-
amine that beauty and make a just report. On which Vv^e
read in the elegy a rich and fine description of the charms
of that accomplished princess, in the mouth of the Charite
Pasithea, the reading of which cannot fail to please the
world. But M. de Konsard, as a very honourable and able
lady said to me, stopped short and lacked a little sometliing,
in that he should have told how Pasithea returned to
heaven, and there, discharging her commission, said to Venus
that her son had only told the half ; the which so saddened
and provolvcd the goddess into jealousy, making her blame
Jupiter for the wrong he did to form on earth a beauty that
shamed those of heaven (and principally hers, the rarest of
them all), that henceforth she wore mourning and made ab-
stinence from pleasures and delights ; for there is nothing
so vexatious to a beautiful and perfect lady as to tell her
she has her equal, or that another can surpass her.
Now, we must note that if our queen was beauteous in
herself and in her nature, also she knew well how to array
herself; and so carefully and richly was she dressed, both
for her body and her head, that nothing lacked to give her
full perfection.
To the Queen Isabella of Bavaria, wife of King Charles VI.,
belongs the praise of having brought to France the pomps
and gorgeousness that henceforth clothed most splendidly
and gorgeously the ladies ; ^ for in the old tapestries of that
1 Brantome's words are gnrgiasatcs and gorgiasment ; do they mark tlie
introduction of ruffs around the neck, gorge ? — Tk.
158 JilE BOOK OF TIIE LADIES.
period iu the houses of our kings we see portrayed the
ladies attired as they then were, in nought but drolleries,
slovenliness, and vulgarities, in place of the beautiful, superb
fashions, dainty headgear, inventions, and ornaments of
our queen ; from which the ladies of the Court and Trance
take pattern, so that ever since, appearing in her modes,
they are now great ladies instead of simple madams, and so
a hundredfold more charming and desirable. It is to our
Queen Marguerite that ladies owe this obligation.
I remember (for I was there) that when the queen mother
took this queen, her daughter, to the King of Xavarre, her
husband, she passed through Coignac and made some st;.y.
While they were there, came various grand and honouraljle
ladies of the region to see them and do them reverence, who
were all amazed at the beauty of the princess, and could not
surfeit themselves in praising her to her mother, she being lost
in joy. "Wherefore she begged her daughter to array herself
one day most gorgeously in the fine and superb apparel that
she wore at Court for great and magnificent pomps and
festivals, in order to give pleasure to these worthy dames.
"WTiich she did, to obey so good a mother ; appearing robed
superbly in a gown of silver tissue and dove-colour, a la
holonnoise [houillomice — with puffs?], and hanging sleeves,
a rich head-dress with a white veil, neither too large nor yet
too small ; the whole accompanied with so noble a majesty
and good grace that she seemed more a goddess of lieaven
than a queen of earth. The queen-mother said to her:
"My daughter, you look well." To which she answered:
" Madame, I begin early to wear and to wear out my gowns
and the fashions I have brought from Court, because when
I return I shall bring notliing with me only sci.sors and
stuffs to dress me then according to current fashions." The
queen-mother asked her : " What do you mean by that, my
MARGUERITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 159
daughter ? Is it not you yourself who invent and produce
these iasliions of dress ? Wherever you go the Court will
take them from you., not you from the Court." Which
was true ; for after she returned she was always in advance
of the Court, so well did she know how to invent in her
dumty mind all sorts of charming things.
But the Leauteous queen in whatsoever fashion she
dressed, were it db la franmise with her tall head-dress, or in
a simple coif, with her grand veil, or merely in a cap, could
never prove which of these fasliions became her most and
made her most beautiful, admirable, and lovable ; for she
well knew how to adapt herself to every mode, adjusting
each new device in a way not common and quite inimitable.
So that if other ladies took her pattern to form it for them-
selves they could not rival her, as I have noticed a hundred
times. I have seen her dressed in a robe of white satin that
shimmered much, a trifle of rose-colour minghug in it, with
a veil of tan crfpe or Roman gauze flung carelessly round her
head ; yet nothing was ever more beautiful ; and whatever
may be said of the goddesses of the olden time and the em-
presses as we see them on ancient coins, they look, though
splendidly accoutred, like chambermaids beside her.
I have often heard our courtiers dispute as to which attire
became and embellished her the most, about wdiich each had
his own opinion. For my part, the most becoming array in
which I ever saw her was, as I think, and so did others, on
the day when the queen-mother made a fete at the Tuileries
for the Poles. She was robed in a velvet gown of Spanish
rose, covered with spangles, with a cap of the same velvet,
adorned with plumes and jewels of such splendour as never
was. She looked so beautiful in this attire, as many told
her, that she wore it orten and was painted in it ; so that
among her various portraits this one carries the day over all
160 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
others, as the eyes of good judges will tell, for there are
plenty of her pictures to judge by.
When she appeared, thus dressed, at the Tuileries, I said
to M. de lionsard, who stood next to me : " Tell the truth,
monsieur, do you not think that beautiful queen thus appar-
elled is like Aurora, as she comes at dawn with her fair white
face surrounded with those rosy tints ? — for face and gown
have much in sympathy and likeness." M. de Eonsard
avowed that I was right ; and on this my comparison, think-
ing it fine, he made a sonnet, which I would fain have now,
to insert it here.
I also saw this our great queen at the first States-general
at Blois on the day the king, her brother, made his harangue.
She was dressed in a robe of orange and black (the ground
being black with many spangles) and her great veil of cere-
mony ; and being seated according to her rank she appeared
so beautiful and admirable that I heard more than tliree
hundred persons in that assembly say tliey were better in-
structed and delighted by the contemplation of such divine
beauty than by listening to the grave and noble words of the
king, her brother, though he spoke and harangued his be«t.
I have also seen her dressed in her natural hair without any
artifice or peruke ; and though her hair was very black
(having derived that from her father, King Henri), slie knew
so well how to curl and twist and arrange it after the fashion
of her sister, the Queen of Spain, who wore none but her own
hair, that such coiffure and adornment became her as well as,
or better than, any other. That is what it is to have beauties
by nature, which surpasses all artifice, no matter what it may
be. And yet she did not Hke the fashion much and seldom
used it, but preferred perukes most daintily fashioned.
In short, I should never have done did I try to describe all
her adornments and forms of attire in which she was ever
MARGUERITE OE FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 161
more and more beauteous ; for she changed them often, and
all were so becoming and appropriate, as though Nature and
Art were striving to outdo each other in making her beautiful.
But this is not all ; for her fine accoutrements and adornments
never ventured to cover her beautiful throat or her lovely
bosom, fearing to wrong the eyes of all the world that roved
upon so fine an object ; for never was there seen the like in
form and whiteness, and so full and plump that often the
courtiers died with envy when they saw the ladies, as I have
seen them, those who were her intimates, have license to kiss
her with great delight.
I remember that a worthy gentleman, newly arrived at
Court, who had never seen her, when he beheld her said to
me these words : " I am not surprised that all you gentlemen
should like the Court; for if you had no other pleasure than
daily to see that princess, you have as much as though you
lived in a terrestrial paradise."
Eoman emperors of the olden time, to please the people
and give them pleasure, exhibited games and combats in
their theatres ; but to give pleasure to the people of France
and gain their friendship, it was enough to let them often see
Queen Marguerite, and enjoy the contemplation of so divine
a face, which she never hid behind a mask like other ladies
of our Court, for nearly all the time she went uncovered ;
and once, on a flowery Easter Day at Blois, still being
Madame, sister of the king (although her marriage was then
being treated of), I saw her appear in the procession more
beautiful than ever, because, besides the beauty of her face
and form, she was most superbly adorned and apparelled ; her
pure white face, resembling the skies in their serenity, was
adorned about the head with quantities of pearls and jewels,
especially brilliant diamonds, worn in the form of stars, so
that the calm of the face and the sparkling jewels made one
11
162 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
think of the heavens when starry. Her beautiful body with
its full, tall form was robed in a gown of crinkled cloth of
gold, the richest and most beautiful ever seen in France,
This stuff was a gift made by the Grand Signior to M. de
Grand-Champ, our ambassador, on his departure from Con-
stantinople, — it being the Grand Siguier's custom to present
to those who are sent to him a piece of the said stuff
amounting to fifteen ells, which, so Grand-Champ told me,
cost one hundred crowns the ell ; for it was indeed a master-
piece. He, on coming to France and not knowing how to
employ more worthily the gift of so rich a stuff, gave it to
Madame, the sister of the king, who made a gown of it, and
wore it first on the said occasion, when it became her well —
for from one grandeur to another there is only a hand's
breadth. She wore it all that day, although its weight was
heavy ; but her beautiful, rich, strong figure supported it well
and served it to advantage ; for had she been a little shrimp
of a princess, or a dame only elbow-high (as I have seen
some), she would surely have died of the weight, or else
have been forced to change her gown and take another.
That is not all : being in tlie procession and walking in
her rank, her visage uncovered, not to deprive the people of
so good a feast, she seemed more beautiful still by holding
and bearing in her hand her palm (as our queens of all time
have done) with royal majesty and a grace half proud half
sweet, and a manner little common and so different from
all the rest that whoso had seen her would have said:
" Here is a princess who goes above the run of all things in
the world." And we courtiers went about saying, with one
voice boldly, that she did well to bear a palm in her hand,
for she bore it away from others; surpassing them all in
beauty, in grace, and in perfection. And I swear to you
that in that procession we forgot our devotions, and did not
MARGUERITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 103
make tliem while contemplating and admiring that divine
princess, who ravished lis more than divine service ; and yet
we thought we committed no sin ; for whoso contemplates
divinity on earth does not offend the divinity of heaven ;
inasmuch as He made lier such.
"When the queen, her mother, took her from Court
to meet her hushand in Gascoigne, I saw how all the
courtiers grieved at her departure as though a great
calamity had fallen on their heads. Some said : " The
Court is widowed of her beauty ; " others : " The Court
is gloomy, it has lost its sun ; " others again : " How dark
it is ; we have no torch." And some cried out : " Why
should Gascoime come here jrascoiojninf:' to steal our
beauty, destined to adorn all France and the Court, Fon-
tainebleau, Saint-Germain, the hotel du Louvre, and all the
other noble places of our kings, to lodge her at Pau and
X^rac, places so unlike the others ? " But many said : " The
deed is done ; the Court and France have lost the loveliest
flower of their garland."
In short, on all sides did we hear resound sucli little
speeches upon this departure, — half in vexed anger, half in
sadness, ■ — ■ although Queen Louise de Lorraine remained
behind, who was a very handsome and wise princess, and
virtuous (of whom I hope to speak more worthily in her
place) ; but for so long the Court had been accustomed to
that beauteous sight it could not keep from grieving and
proffering such words. Some there were who would have
liked to kill ]\I. de Duras, who came from his master the
King of Navarre to obtain her; and this I know.
Once there came news to Court that she was dead in
An^'ergne some eight days. On which a person whom I
met said to me : " That cannot be, for since that time the
sky is clear and fine; if she were dead we should have
164 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
seen eclipse of sun, because of the great sympathy two suns
must have, and nothing could be seen but gloom and
clouds."
Enough has now been said, methinks, upon the beauty of
her body, though the subject is so ample that it deserves a
decade. I hope to speak of it again, but at present I must
say something of her noble soul, which is lodged so well in
that noble body. If it was born thus noble within her she
has known how to keep it and maintain it so ; for she loves
letters much and reading. "While young, she was, for her
age, quite perfect in them ; so that we could say of her :
This princess is truly the most eloquent and best-speaking
lady in the world, with the finest style of speech and the
most agreeable to be found. "When the Poles, as I have
said before, came to do her reverence they brought with
them the Bishop of Cracovie, the chief and head of the
embassy, who made the harangue in Latin, he being a
learned and accomplished prelate. The queen replied so
pertinently and eloquently without the help of an interpreter,
having well understood and comprehended the harangue,
that all were struck with admiration, calling her with one
voice a second Minerva, goddess of eloquence.
"When the queen her mother took her to the king her
husband, as I have said, she made her entry to Bordeaux,
as was proper, being daughter and sister of a king, and wife
of the King of Xavarre, first prince of the blood, and gov-
ernor of Guyenne. The queen her mother willed it so, for
she loved and esteemed her much. This entry was fine ;
not so much for the sumptuous magnificence there made
and displayed, as for the triumph of this most beautiful
and accomplished queen of the world, mounted on a fine
wdiite horse superbly caparisoned ; she herself dressed all in
orange and spangles, so sumptuously as never was ; so that
MARGUERITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 165
none could get their surfeit of looking at her, admiring and
lauding her to the skies.
Before she entered, the State assembly of the town came
to do reverence and offer their means and powers, and to
harangue her at the Chartreux, as is customary. M. de
Bordeaux [tlie bishop] spoke for the clergy ; M. le Marechal
de Biron, as mayor, wearing his robes of office, for the town,
and for himself as lieutenant-general afterwards ; also M.
Largebaston, chief president for the courts of law. She
answered them all, one after the other (for I heard her, be-
ing close beside her on the scaffold, by her command), so
eloquently, so wisely and promptly and with such grace
and majesty, even changing her words to each, without
reiterating the first or the second, although upon the same
subject (which is a thing to be remarked upon), that
when I saw that evening the said president he said to me,
and to others in the queen's chamber, that he had never
in his life heard better speech from any one ; and that he
imderstood such matters, having had the honour to hear the
two queens. Marguerite and Jeanne, her predecessors, speak
at the like ceremonies, — they having had in their day the
most golden-speaking lips in France (those were the words he
used to me) ; and yet they were but novices and apprentices
compared to her, who truly was her mother's daughter.
I repeated to the queen, her mother, this that the presi-
dent had said to me, of which she was glad as never was ;
and told me that he had reason to think and say so, for,
though she was her daughter, she could call her, without
falsehood, the most accomplished princess in the world, able
to say exactly what she wished to say the best. And in like
manner I have heard and seen ambassadors, and sreat for-
eign seigneurs, after they had spoken with her, depart con*
founded by her noble speech.
166 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
I have often heard her make such fine discourse, so grave
and so sententious, that could I put it clearly and correctly
here in writing I should delight and amaze the world ; but
it is not possible ; nor could any one transcribe her words, so
inimitable are they.
But if she is grave, and full of majesty and eloquence in
her high and serious discourses, she is just as full of charm-
ing grace in gay and witty speech ; jesting so prettily, with
give and take, that her company is most agreeable ; for,
though she pricks and banters others, 'tis all so dt -propos and
excellently said that no one can be vexed, but only glad of it.
But further : if she knows how to speak, she knows also
how to write ; and the beautiful letters we have seen from
her attest it. They are the finest, the best couched, whether
they be serious or familiar, and such that the greatest writers
of the past and present may hide their heads and not pro-
duce their own when hers appear ; for theirs are trifles near
to hers. No one, having read them, would fail to laugh
at Cicero with his familiar letters. And whoso would collect
Queen Marguerite's letters, together with her discourses, would
make a school and training for the world ; and no one should
feel surprised at this, for, in herself, her mind is sound and
quick, with great information, wise and solid. She is a
queen in all things, and deserves to rule a mighty kingdom,
even an empire, — about wliich T shall make the following
digression, all the more because it has to do with the present
subject.
When her marriage was granted at Blois to the King of
Navarre, difficulties were made by Queen Jeanne [d'Albret,
Henri IV.'s mother], very different then from what she M^rote
to my mother, who was her lady of honour, and at this time
sick m her own house. I have read the letter, writ by her
own hand, in the archives of our house ; it savs thus : —
MARGUERITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 167
" I write you this, my great friend, to rejoice and give you
health with the good news my husband sends me. He hav-
ing had the boldness to ask of the king Madame, his young
daughter, for our son, the king has done him the honour to
grant it ; for which I cannot tell you the happiness I have."
There is much to be said thereon. At this time there was
at our Court a lady whom I shall not name, as silly as she
could be. Being with the queen-mother one evening at her
coucher, the queen inquired of her ladies if they had seen her
daughter, and whether she seemed joyful at the granting of
her marriage. This silly lady, who did not yet know her
Court, answered first and said : " How, madame, should she
not be joyful at such a marriage, inasmuch as it will lead to
the crown and make her some day Queen of France, when it
falls to her future husband, as it well may do in time." The
queen, hearing so strange a speech, replied : " 3Ia mie, you are
a great fool. I would rather die a thousand deaths than see
your foolish prophecy accomplished ; for I hope and wish
long life and good prosperity to the king, my son, and all my
other children." On which a very great lady, one of her
intimates, inquired : " But, madame, in case that great mis-
fortune — from which God keep us ! — happens, would you
not be very glad to see your daughter Queen of France, inas-
much as the crown would fall to her by right through that
of her husband ? " To which the queen made answer :
" Much as I love this daughter, I think, if that should hap-
pen, we should see France much tried with evils and misfor-
tunes. I would rather die (as she did in fact) than see her
in that position ; for I do not believe that France would obey
the King of Navarre as it does my sons, for many reasons
which I do not tell."
Behold two prophecies accomplished : one, that of the fool-
ish lady, the other, but only till her death, that of the able
168 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
princess. The latter prophecy has failed to-day, by the grace
which God has given our king [Henri IV.], and by the force
of his good sword and the valour of his brave heart, which have
made him so great, so victorious, so feared, and so absolute
a king as he is to-day after too many toils and hindrances.
May God preserve him by His holy grace in such prosperity,
for we need him much, we his poor subjects.
The queen said further : " If by the abohtion of the Sahc
law, the kingdom should come to my daughter in her own
right, as other kingdoms have fallen to the distaff, certainly
my daughter is as capable of reigning, or more so, as most
men and kmgs whom I have known ; and I think that her
reign would be a fine one, equal to that of the king her
grandfather and that of the king her father, for she has a
great mind and great virtues for doing that thing." And
thereupon she went on to say how great an abuse was the
Salic law, and that she had heard M. le Cardinal de Lorraine
say that when he arranged the peace between the two kings
with the other deputies in the abbey of Cercan, a dispute
came up on a point of the Salic law touching the succession
of women to the kingdom of France ; and M. le Cardinal de
Grandvelle, otherwise called d'Arras, rebuked the said Cardinal
de Lorraine, declaring that the Salic law was a veritable abuse,
which old dreamers and chroniclers had written down, with-
out knowing why, and so made it accepted; although, in
fact, it was never made or decreed in France, and was only a
custom that Frenchmen had given each other from hand to
hand, and so introduced ; whereas it was not just, and, conse-
quently, was violable.
Thus said the queen-mother. And, when all is said, it
was Pharamond, as most people hold, who brought it from
his own country and introduced it in France ; and we cer-
tainly ought not to observe it, because he was a pagan ; and
MARGUERITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 169
to keep so strictly among us Christians the laws of a pagan
is an offence against God. It is true that most of our laws
come from pagan emperors ; but those which are holy, just,
and equitable (and truly there are many), we ourselves have
ruled by them. But the Salic law of Pharamond is unjust
and contrary to the law of God, for it is written in the Old
Testament, in the twenty-seventh chapter of Numbers : " If
a man die and have no son ye shall cause his inheritance to
pass to his daughter." This sacred law demands, therefore,
that females shall inherit after males. Besides, if Scripture
were taken at its word on this Salic law, there would be no
such great harm done, as I have heard great personages say,
for they .speak thus : " So long as there be males, females can
neither inherit nor reign. Consequently, in default of males,
females should do so. And, inasmuch as it is legal in Spain,
Navarre, England, Scotland, Hungary, Naples, and Sicily that
females should reign, why should it not be the same in
France ? For what is right in one place is right everywhere
and ill all places ; places do not make the justice of the
law."
In all the fiefs we have in France, duchies, counties,
baronies, and other honourable lordships, which are nearly
and even greatly royal in their rights and privileges, many
women, married and unmarried, have succeeded; as in
Bourbon, Vendome, Montpensier, Nevers, Rh(5tel, Flandres,
Eu, Bourgogne, Artois, Zellande, Bretaigne ; and even like
Mathilde, who was Duchesse de Normandie ; Eldonore,
Duchesse de Guyenne, who enriched Henry II., King of
England ; Beatrix, Comtesse de Provence, who brought that
province to King Louis, her husband ; the only daughter of
Raimond, Comtesse de Thoulouse, who brought Thoulouse
to Alfonse, brother of Saint-Louis; also Anne, Duchesse de
Bretaigne, and others. Why, therefore, should not the king-
170 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
dom of France call to itself in like manner the daughters of
France ?
Did not the beautiful Galatea rule in Gaul when Hercules
married her after his conquest of Spain ? — from which mar-
riage issued our brave, valiant, generous Gauls, who in the
olden time made themselves laudable.
Why should the daughters of dukes in this kingdom be
more capable of governing a duchy or a county and ad-
ministering justice (which is the duty of kings) than the
daughters of kings to rule the kingdom of France ? As if
the daughters of France were not as capable and fitted to
command and reign as those of other kingdoms and fiefs
that I have named !
For still greater proof of the iniquity of the Salic law it
is enough to show that so many chroniclers, writers, and
praters, who have all written about it, have never yet agreed
among themselves as to its etymology and definition. Some,
like Postel, consider that it takes its ancient name and
origin from the Gauls, and is only called Salic instead of
Gallic because of the proximity and likeness in old type
between the letter S and the letter G. But Postel is as
visionary in that (as a great personage said to me) as he is
in other things.
Jean Ceval, Bishop of Avranches, a great searcher into
the antiquities of Gaul and France, tried to trace it to the
word salle, because this law was ordained only for salles and
royal palaces.
Claude Seissel thinks, rather inappropriately, that it comes
from the word sal in Latin, as a law full of salt, that of
sapience, wisdom, a metaphor drawn from salt.
A doctor of laws, named Ferrarius Montanus, will have it
that Pharamond was otherwise called Salicq. Others
derive it from Sallogast, one of the principal councillors of
Pharamond.
MARGUERITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 171
Others again, wishing to be still more subtle, say that the
derivation is taken from the frequent sections in the said
law beginning with the words: si aliquis, si aliqua. But
some say it comes from Frangois Saliens ; and it is so men-
tioned in Marcellin.i
So here are many puzzles and musings ; and it is not to
be wondered at that the Bishop of Arras disputed the
matter with the Cardinal de Lorraine : just as those of his
nation in their jests and jugglings, supposing that this law
was a new invention, called Phihppe de Valois le roi trouve,
as if, by a new right never recognized before in France,
he had made himself king. On which was founded that,
the county of Flanders having fallen to a distaff. King
Charles V. of France did not claim any right or title to
it ; on the contrary, he portioned his brother Philippe
with Bourgogne in order to make his marriage with the
Countess of Flanders ; not wishing to take her for him-
self, thinking her less beautiful, though far more rich, than
her of Bourbon. Wliich is a great proof and assurance that
the Salic law was not observed except as to the crown. And
it cannot be doubted that women, could they come to the
throne, beautiful, honourable, and virtuous as the one of
whom I here speak, would draw to them the hearts of their
subjects by their beauty and sweetness far more than men
do by their strength.
M. du Tillet says that Queen Clotilde made France accept
the Christian religion, and since then no queen has ever
wandered from it ; which is a great honour to queens, for
it was not so with the kings after Clovis ; Chilperic I.
was stained with Arian error, and was checked only by
1 The Salic law : so called from being derived from the laws of the
ancient Salian Franks, — according to Storraonth, Littre, and Cassell's
Cyclopaedia. — Tb.
172 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
the firm resistance of two prelates of the Galilean church,
according to the statement of Grdgoire de Tours.
Moreover, was not Catherine, daughter of Charles VI.,
ordained Queen of France by the king, her father, and his
council [in 1420] ?
Du Tillet further says that the daughters of France were
held in such honour that although they were married to less
than kings they nevertheless kept their royal titles and were
called queens with their proper names ; an honour which was
given them for life to demonstrate forever that they were
daughters of the kings of France. This ancient custom
shows dumbly that the daughters of France can be sovereigns
as well as the sons.
In the days of the King Saint-Louis it is recorded of a court
of peers held by him that the Countess of Flanders was pres-
ent, taking part with the peers. This shows how the Salic
law was not kept, except as to the crown. Let us see still
further what M. du Tillet says : —
"By the Salic law, written for all subjects, where there
were no sons the daughters inherited the patrimony ; and this
should rule the crown also, so that ^lesdames the daughters
of France, in default of sons, should take it ; nevertlieless,
they are perpetually excluded by custom and the private law
of the house of France, based on the arrogance of Frenchmen,
who cannot endure to be governed by women." And else-
where he says : " One cannot help being amazed at the long
ignorance that has attributed this custom to the Salic law,
which is quite the contrary of it."
King Charles V., treating of the marriage of Queen INIarie
of France, his daughter, with Guillaume, Count of Hainault,
in the year 1374, stipulated for the renunciation by the said
count of all right to the kingdom and to Dauphint^ ; which
is a great point, for see the contradictions !
MARGUERITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 173
Certainly if women could handle arms like men they could
make themselves accredited; but by way of compensation,
they have their beautiful faces ; which, however, are not
recognized as they deserve ; for surely it is better to be gov-
erned by beautiful, lovely, and honourable women than by
tiresome, conceited, ugly, and sullen men such as I have seen
in this France of ours.
I would like to know if this kingdom has found itself any
better for an infinitude of conceited, silly, tyrannical, foolish,
do-nothing, idiotic, and crazy kings — not meaning to accuse
our brave Pharamond, Clodion, Clovis, Pepin, Martel, Charles,
Louis, Philippe, Jean, Francois, Henri, for they are all brave
and magnanimous, those kings, and happy they w^ho were
under them — than it would have been with an infinitude of
the daughters of France, very able, very prudent, and very
worthy to govern. I appeal to the regency of the mothers
of kings to show this, to wit : —
Fr^d^gonde, liow did she administer the affairs of France
during the minority of King Clothaire, her son, if not so
wisely and dexterously that he found himself before he died
monarch of Gaul and of much of Germany ?
The like did Mathilde, wife of Dagobert, as to Clovis II.,
her son ; and, long after, Blanche, mother of Saint-Louis, who
behaved so wisely, as I have read, that, just as the Eoman
emperors chose to call themselves " Augustus " in commemo-
ration of the luck and prosperity of Augustus, the great
emperor, so the former queen-mothers after the decease of
the kings, their husbands, desired each to be called " Reine
Blanche," in honourable memory of the government of that
wise princess. Though M. du Tillet contradicts this a little,
I have heard it from a very great senator.
And, to come lower down, Isabeau of Bavaria had the
regency of her husband, Charles VI. (who lost his good
174 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
sense), by the advice of the Council ; and so had Madame de
Bourbon for little King Charles VIII. (hiring his minority ;
Madame Louise de Savoie for King Francois I.; and our
queen-mother for King Charles IX., her son.
If, therefore, foreign ladies (except Madame de Bourbon,
who was daughter of France) were capable of governing
France so well, why should not our own ladies do as much,
having good zeal and affection, they being born here and
suckled here, and the matter touching them so closely ?
I should like to know in what our last kings have sur-
passed our last three daughters of France, Elisabeth, Claude,
and Marguerite ; and whether if the latter had come to be
queens of France they would not have governed it (I do not
wish to accuse the regency, which was very great and very
wise) as well as their brothers. I have heard many great
personages, well-informed and far-seeing, say that possibly
we should not have had the evils we did have, now liave,
and shall have still ; adducing reasons too long to put liere.
Bat the common and vulgar fool says : " Must observe tlie
Salic law." Poor idiot that he is ! does he not know that
tlie Germans, from whose stock we issued, were wont to call
their women to affairs of State, as we learn from Tacitus ?
From that, we can see how this Salic law has been corrupted.
It is but mere custom ; and poor women, unable to enforce
their rights by the point of the sword, men have excluded,
and driven them from everything. Ah ! why have we no
more brave and valiant paladins of France, — a lioland, a
Renaud, an Ogier, a Deudon, an Olivier, a Graffon, an Yvon,
and an infinity of other braves, whose glory and profession it
was to succour ladies and support them in the troubles and
adversities of their lives, their honour, and their fortunes ?
Why are they here no longer to maintain the rights of our
Queen Marguerite, daughter of France, who barely enjoys
MAEGUERITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 175
an inch of land in France, which she quitted in noble state,
though to her, perhaps, the whole belongs by right divine
and human ? Queen Marguerite, who does not even enjoy
her county of Auvergne, which is hers by law and equity
as the sole heiress of the queen, her mother, is now with-
drawn into the castle of Usson, amid the deserts, rocks,
and mountains of Auvergne, — a different habitation, verily,
from the great city of Paris, where she ought now to be
seated on her throne and place of justice, which belongs to
her in her own right as well as by that of her husband.
But the misfortune is that they are not there together. If
both were again united in body and soul and friendship, as
they once were, possibly all would go right once more, and
together they would be feared, respected, and known for
what they are.
(Since tliis was written God has willed that they be recon-
ciled, which is indeed great luck.)
I heard M. de Pibrac say on one occasion that these
Navarre marriages are fatal, because husband and wife are
always at variance, — as was the case with Louis Hutin,
King of Prance and of Navarre, and Marguerite de Bour-
gogne, daughter of Due Eobert III. ; also Philippe le Long,
King of France and Navarre, with Jeanne, daughter of Comte
Othelin of Bourgogne, who, being found innocent, was vindi-
cated well ; also Charles le Bel, King of France and of Navarre,
with Blanche, daughter of Othelin, another Comte de Bour-
gogne ; and further, King Henri d'Albret with ^Marguerite de
Valois, who, as I have heard on good authority, treated her
very ill, and would have done worse had not King Francois,
her brother, spoken sternly to him and threatened him for
honouring his sister so little, considering the rank she held.
The last King Antoine of Navarre died also on ill terms
with Queen Jeanne, his wife ; and our Queen Marguerite is
176 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
now in dispute and separation from her husband ; but God
will some day happily unite them in spite of these evil
times.
I have heard a princess say that Queen Marguerite saved
her husband's life on the massacre of Saint-Bartholomew ;
for indubitably he was proscribed and his name written on
the " red paper," as it was called, because it was necessary,
they said, to tear up the roots, namely, the King of Navarre,
the Prince de Conde, Amiral de Coligny, and other great
personages ; but the said Queen Marguerite flung herself on
her knees before King Charles, to implore him for the life of
her husband and lord.^ King Charles would scarcely grant
it to her, although she was his good sister. I relate this for
what it is worth, as I know it only by hearsay. But she
bore this massacre very impatiently and saved several, among
them a Gascon gentleman (I think his name was Ldran), who,
wounded as he was, took refuge beneath her bed, she being
in it, and the murderers pursuing him to the door, from
which she drove them ; for she was never cruel, but kind,
like a daughter of France.
They say that the quarrel between herself and her hus-
band came more from the difference in their religion than
from anything else ; for they each loved his and her own,
and supported it strongly. The queen having gone to Pau,
the chief town of B^arn, she caused the mass to be said there ;
and a certain secretary of the king, her husband, named ]e Pin,
who had formerly belonged to M. I'Amiral, not being able to
stomach it, put several of the inhabitants of the town who
had been present at the mass into prison. The queen was
much displeased ; and he, wishing to remonstrate, spoke to
her much louder than he should, and very indiscreetly, even
^ Marguerite was married to Henri, King of Navarre, six days before
the massacre of Saint-Bartholomew, August, 1572.
MARGUERITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 177
before the king, who gave him a good rebuke and dismissed
him ; for King Henri knows well how to like and respect what
he ought ; being as brave and generous as his fine and noble
actions have always manifested ; of which I shall speak at
length in his life.
The said le Pin fell back upon the edict which is there
made, and to be observed under penalty, namely, that mass
shall not be said. The queen, feeling herself insulted, and
God knows she was, vowed and declared she would never
again set foot in that country because she chose to be free
in the exercise of her religion ; whereupon she departed, and
has ever since kept her oath very carefully.
I have heard it said that nothing lay so heavily on her
heart as tliis indignity of being deprived of the exercise of
her religion ; for which reason she begged the queen, her
good mother, to come and fetch her and take her to France
to see the king and Monsieur, his brother, whom she hon-
oured and loved much. Having arrived, she was not received
and seen by the king, her brother, as she should have been.
Seeing this great change since she had left France, and the
rise of many persons she would never have thought of to
grandeurs, it irked her much to be forced to pay court to
them, as others, her equals, were now doing ; and far from
doing so herself, she despised them openly, as I well saw, so
high was her courage. Alas ! too high, certainly, for it caused
her misfortunes : had she been willing to restrain herself
and lower her courage the least in the world she would not
have been thwarted and vexed as she has been.
As to which I shall relate this story : when the king, her
brother, went to Poland, he being there, she knew that
M. du Gua, much favoured l)y her brother, had made some
remarks to her disadvantage, enough to set brother and sister
at variance or enmity. At the end of a certain time M. du
12
178 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
Gua returned from Poland and arrived at Court, bearing let-
ters from the king to his sister, which he went to her apart-
ment to give her and kiss hands. This I saw myself. When
she beheld him enter she was in great wrath, and as he came
to her to present the letter she said to him, with an angry
face : " Lucky for you, du Gua, that you come before me with
this letter from my brother, which serves you as a safeguard,
for I love him much and all who come from him are free
from me ; but without it, I would teach you to speak about
a princess like myself, the sister of your kings, your masters
and sovereigns." M. du Gua answered very huml)ly : " I
should never, madame, have presented myself before you,
knowing that you wish me ill, without some good messa^je
from the king, my master, who loves you, and whom you
love also; or without feeling assured, madame, that for love
of him, and because you are good and generous, you would
hear me speak." And then, after making her his excuses and
telling his reasons (as he knew well how to do), he denied
very positively that he had ever spoken against the sister of
his kings otherwise than very reverently. On which she
dismissed him with an assurance that she would ever be
his cruel enemy, — a promise which she kept until his
death.
After a while the king wrote to Mme. de Dampierre and
begged her, for the sake of giving him pleasure, to iiuluce
the Queen of Xavarre to pardon M. du Gua, which Mme. de
Dampierre undertook with very great regret, knowing well
the nature of the said queen ; but because the king loved
her and trusted her, she took the errand and went one day
to see the said queen in her room. Finding her in pretty
good humour, she opened the matter and made the appeal,
namely : that to keep the good graces, friendship, and favour
of the king, her brother, who was now about to become
MARGUERITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 179
King of France, she ought to pardon M. dvi Gua, forget the
past, and take him again into favour ; for the king loved
and favoured him above his other friends ; and by thus
taking M. du Gua as a friend she would gain through him
many pleasures and good offices, inasmuch as he quietly
governed the king, his master, and it was much better to
have his help than to make him desperate and goad him
against her, because he could surely do her much harm ;
telling her how she had seen in her time during the reign
of Frangois I., IMesdames Madeleine and Marguerite, one
Queen of Scotland later, the other Duchesse de Savoie, her
aunts, although their hearts were as high and lofty as her
own, bring down their pride so low as to pay court to M.
de Sourdis, who was only master of the wardrobe to the
king, their father ; yet they even sought him, hoping by his
means, to obtain the favour of the king ; and thus, taking
example by her aunts, she ought to do the same herself in
relation to M. du Gua.
The Queen of Navarre, having listened very attentively
to Mme. de Dampierre, answered her rather coldly, but with
a smiling face, as her manner was : " Madame de Dampierre,
what you say to me may be good for you ; you need favours,
pleasures, and benefits, and were I you the words you say to
me might be very suitable and proper to be received and put
in practice ; but to me, who am the daughter of a king, the
sister of kings, and the wife of a king, they have no mean-
ing ; because with that high and noble rank I cannot, for my
honour's sake, be a beggar of favours and benefits from the
king, my brother ; and I hold him to be of too good a nature
and too well acquainted with his duty to deny me anything
unless I have the favour of a du Gua ; if otherwise, he will
do great wrong to himself, his honour, and his royalty. And
even if he be so unnatural as to forget himself and what he
180 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
owes to me, I prefer, for my honour's sake and as my courage
tells me, to be deprived of his good graces, because I would
not seek du Gua to gain his favours, or be even suspected of
gaining them by such means and intercession ; and if the
king, my brother, feels himself worthy to be king, and to
be loved by me and by his people, I feel myself, as his
sister, worthy to be queen and loved, not only by him but
by all the world. And if my aunts, as you allege, degraded
themselves as you say, let them do as they would if such
was their humour, but their example is no law to me, nor
will I imitate it, or form myself on any model if not my
own." On that she was silent, and Mme. de Dampierre
retired ; not that the queen was angry with her or showed
her ill-will, for she loved her much.
Another time, when M. d'Epernon went to Gascoigne
after the death of Monsieur (a journey made for various
purposes, so they said), he saw the King of Kavarre at
Pamiers, and they made great cheer and caresses to each
other. I speak thus because at that time M. d'Epernon
was semi-king of France because of the dissolute favour
he had with his master, the King of France. After having
caressed and made good cheer together the King of Xavarre
asked him to go and see him at N^rac when he had been
to Toulouse and was on his way back ; which he promised
to do. The King of Navarre having gone there first to
make preparations to feast him well, the Queen of Xavarre,
wdio was then at Nerac, and who felt a deadly hatred to ]\r.
d'Epernon, said to the king, her husband, that she would
leave the place so as not to disturb or hinder the fete, not
being able to endure the sight of M. d'Epernon without some
scandal or venom of anger which she might disgorge, and so
give annoyance to the king, her husband. On which the
king begged her, by all the pleasures that she could give
MARGUEKITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 181
him, not to stir, but to help him to receive the said Sieur
d'Epernon and to put her rancour against him underfoot
for love of him, her husband, and all the more because it
greatly concerned both of them and their grandeur.
" Well, monsieur," replied the queen, " since you are
pleased to command it, I will remain and give him good
cheer out of respect to you and the obedience that I owe
to you." After which she said to some of her ladies : " But
I will answer for it that on the days that man is here I
will dress in habiliments I never yet have worn, namely:
dissimulation and hypocrisy ; I will so mask my face with
shams that the king shall see there only good and honest
welcome and all gentleness ; and likewise I will lay discre-
tion on ray lips, so that externally I will make him think
my heart internally is kind, which otherwise I would not
answer for ; I do this being nowise in my own control, but
wholly in his, — so lofty is he and full of frankness, unable
to bear vileness or the venom of hypocrisy, or to abase
himself in any way.
Therefore, to content the king, her husband, for she
honoured him much, as he did her, she disguised her feelings
in such a way that, M. d'Epernon being brought to her
apartment, she received him in the same manner the king
had asked of her and she had promised ; so that all present,
the chamber being full of persons eager to see the entrance
and the interview, marvelled much, while the king and
M. d'Epernon were quite content. But the most clear-
sighted and those who knew the nature of the queen mis-
doubted something hidden within ; and she herself said
afterwards it was a comedy in which she played a part
unwillingly.
These are two tales by which to see the lofty courage of
this queen, the which was such, as I have heard the queen,
182 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
her mother, say (discoursing of this topic), that she resembled
in this her father ; and that she, the queen-mother, had no
other child so like him, as much in ways, humours, linea-
ments, and features of the face as in courage and generosity ;
telling also how she had seen King Henri during King
Franc^ois' lifetime unal:>le for a kingdom to pay his court and
cringe to Cardinal de Tournon or to Amiral d'Annebault,
the favourites of King Francois, even though he might
often have had peace with Emperor Charles had he been
willing so to do ; but his honour could not submit to such
attentions. And so, like father, like daughter. Neverthe-
less, all that injured her much. I remember an infinite
number of annoyances and indignities she received at Court,
which I shall not relate, they are too odious ; until at last
she was sent away, with great affront and yet most innocent
of what they put upon her ; the proofs of which were known
to many, as I know myself; also the king, her husband, was
convinced of it, so that he brought King Henri to account,
which was very good of him, and henceforth there resulted
between the two brothers [-in-law] a certain hatred and
contention.
The war of the League happened soon after ; and because
the Queen of Xavarre feared some evil at Court, being a
strong Catholic, she retired to Agen, which had been given
to her with the region about it by her brothers, as nn ap-
panage and gift for life. As the Catholic religion was con-
cerned, which it was necessary to maintain, and also to
exterminate the other, she wished to fortify her side as best
she conld and repress the other side. But in this she was
ill-served by means of ^Mme. de Duras, who governed her
much, and made, in her name, great exactions and extor-
tions. The people of the town were embittered, and covertly
sought their freedom and a means to drive away their lady
MARGUERITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 183
and her bailiffs. On whicli disturbance the Mardchal de
Matignon took occasion to make enterprise against the town,
as the king, having learned the state of things, commanded
him with great joy to do in order to aggravate his sister,
whom he did not love, to more and more displeasure. This
enterprise, which failed at first, was led the second time so
dexterously by the said marshal and the inhabitants, that
the town was taken by force with such rapidity and alarm
that the poor queen, in spite of all she could do, was forced
to mount in pillion behind a gentleman, and Mme. de Duras
behind another, and escape as quickly as they could, riding
a dozen leagues without stopping, and the next day as much
more, to find safety in the strongest fortress of France,
which is Carlat. Being there, and thinking herself in safety,
she was, by the manoeuvres of the king, her brother (who
was a very clever and very subtle king, if ever there was
one), betrayed by persons of that country and the fortress,
so that when she fled she became a prisoner in the hands of
the Marquis de Canillac, governor of Auvergne, and was
taken to the castle of Usson, a very strong fortress also,
almost impregnable, which that good and sly fox Louis XI.
had made such, in order to lodge his prisoners in a hundred-
fold more security than at Loches, Bois de Yincennes, or
Lusignan.
Here, then, was this poor princess a prisoner, and treated
not as a daughter of France or the great princess that she
was. But, at any rate, if her body was captive, her brave
heart was not, and it never failed her, but helped her well
and did not let her yield to her affliction. See what a great
heart can do, led by great beauty! For he who held her
prisoner became her prisoner in time, brave and valiant
though he was. Poor man ! what else could he expect ?
Did he think to hold subject and captive in his prison one
184 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
whose eyes and beauteous face could subject the whole
world to her bonds and chains like galley-slaves I
So here was the marquis ravished and taken by her
beauty ; but she, not dreaming of the delights of love, only
of her honour and her liberty, played her game so shrewdly
that slie soon became the stronger, seized the fort, and drove
away the marquis, much dumfounded at such surprise and
military tactics.
There she has now been six or seven years,^ not, however,
with all the pleasures of life, being despoiled of the county
of Auvergne by M. le Grand Prieur de France, whom the
king induced the queen-mother to institute count and heir in
her wiU ; regretting much that she could not leave the queen,
her good daughter, anything of her own, so great was the
hatred that the king bore her. Alas ! what mutation was
this from the time when, as I saw myself, they loved each
other much, and were one in body, soul, and will ! Ah ! how
often was it fine to see them discourse togethei ; for, whether
they were grave or gay, nothing could be finer than to see
and hear them, for both could say what they wished to say.
Ah ' how changed the times are since we saw them in that
great ball-room, dancing together in such beautiful accord oi
dance and will ! The king always led her to the dance at
the great balls. If one had a noble majesty the other had
none the less ; the eyes of all were never surfeited or de-
lighted enough by so agreeable a sight ; for the sets were so
well danced, the steps so correctly periormed, the stops so
finely made that we knew not which to admire most, their
beautiful fashion of dancing or their majesty in pausing ;
representing now a gay demeanour and next a noble, grave
1 Marguerite lived eighteen years in the castle of Usson, from 1587 to
1605. She died in Paris, March 27, 1G15, at the age of sixty-two, rathei
less than one year after Brantonie. (French editor.)
/ v/y //■/•,
J / /
MAKGUERITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 185
disdain ; for no one ever saw them in the dance that did not
say they had seen no dance so fine with grace and majesty
as this of the king-brother and the queen-sister. As for me,
I am of that opinion; and yet I have seen the Queen of
Spain and the Queen of Scotland dance most beautifully.
Also I have seen them dance the Itahan pazzemeno [the
minuet, menu 2^as], now advancing with grave port and
majesty, doing their steps so gravely and so well ; next glid-
ing only ; and anon making most fine and dainty and grave
passages, that none, princes or others, could approach, nor
ladies, because of the majesty that was not lacking. Where-
fore this queen took infinite pleasure in these grave dances
on account of her grace and dignity and majesty, which she
displayed the better in these than in others like bransles, and
volts, and courants. The latter she did not like, although she
danced them well, because they were not worthy of her
majesty, though very proper for the common graces of other
ladies.
I have seen her sometimes like to dance the hransle by
torchlight. I remember that once, being at Lyon, on the
return of the king from Poland, at the marriage of Besne
(one of her maids of honour) she danced the hransle before
many foreigners from Savoie, Piedmont, Italy, and elsewhere,
who declared they had never seen anything so fine as this
queen, a grave and noble lady, as indeed she is. One of
them there was who went about declaring that she needed
not, like other ladies, the torch she carried in her hand ; for
the light within her eyes, which could not be extinguished
like the other, was sufficient ; the which had other virtue
than leading men to dance, for it inflamed all those about
her, yet could not be put out like the one she had in hand,
but lit the night amid the darkness and the day beneath the
sun.
186 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
For this reason must we say that Fortune has been to us
as great an enemy as to her, in that we see no longer that
bright torch, or rather that fine sun which lighted us, now
hidden among those hills and mountains of Auver'^me. If
only that light had placed itself in some fine port or haven
near the sea, where passing mariners might be guided, safe
from wreck and peril, by its beacon, her dwelhng would be
nobler, more profitable, more honourable for herself and us.
Ah ! people of Provence, you ought to beg her to dwell upon
your seacoasts or within your ports ; then would she make
them more famous than they are, more inhabited and richer ;
from all sides men in galleys, ships, and vessels would fiock
to see this wonder of the world, as in old times to that of
Ehodes, that they might see its glorious and far-shining
pharos. Instead of which, begirt by barriers of mountains,
she is hidden and unknown to all our eyes, except tlrnt we
have still her lovely memory. Ah ! beautiful and ancient
town of jMarseille, happy would you be if your port were
honoured by the flame and beacon of her splendid eyes !
For the county of Provence belongs to her, as do several
other provinces in France. Cursed be the unhappy obstinacy
of this kingdom which does not seek to bring her hither with
the king, her husband, to be received, honoured and wel-
comed as they should be. (This I wrote at the very height
of the AVars of the League.)
'^^"e^e she a bad, malicious, miserly, or tyrannical princess
(as there have been a plenty in times past in France, and
will be, possibly, again), I should say nothiiig iu her favour;
but slie is good, most splendid, liberal, giving all to others,
keeping little for herself, most charitable, and giving freely
to the poor. The great she mode ashamed with liberalities;
for I have seen her make presents to all the Court on Xew
Year's Day such as the kings, her brotliers, could not equal
MARGUERITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 187
On one occasion she gave Queen Louise de Lorraine a fan
made of mother-of-pearl enriched with precious stones and
pearls of price, so beautiful and rich that it was called a
masterpiece and valued at more than fifteen thousand crowns.
The other, to return the present, sent her sister those long
airjuillettes which Spaniards call puntas, enriched with certain
stones and pearls, that might have cost a hundred crowns ;
and with these she paid for that fine New Year's gift, wiiich
was, certainly, most dissimilar.
In short, this queen is in all things royal and liberal,
honourable and magnificent, and, let it not displease the
empresses of long past days, their splendours described by
Suetonius, Pliny, and others, do not approach her own in
any way, either in Court or city, or in her journeys through
the open country ; witness her gilded litters so superbly
covered and painted with fine devices, her coaches and car-
riages the same, and her horses so fine and so richly
caparisoned.
Those who have seen, as I have, these splendid appurte-
nances know what I say. And must she now be deprived
of all this, so that for seven years she has not stirred from
that stern, unpleasant castle ? — in which, however, she takes
patience ; such virtue has she of self-command, one of the
greatest, as many wise philosophers have said !
To speak once more of her kindness : it is such, so noble,
so frank, that, as I believe, it has done her harm ; for though
she has had great grounds and great means to be revenged
upon her enemies and injure them, she has often withheld
her hand when, had she employed those means or caused
them to be employed, and commanded others, who were
ready enough, to chastise those enemies with her consent,
they would have done so wisely and discreetly ; but she
resigned all vengeances to God.
188 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
This is what M. du Gua said to her once when she
threatened him : " Madame, you are so kind and generous
that I never heard it said you did harm to any one ; and 1
do not think you will begin with me, who am your very
humble servitor." And, in fact, although he greatly injured
her, she never returned him the same in vengeance. It is
true that when he was killed and they came to tell her, she
merely said, being ill : "I am sorry I am not well enough
to celebrate his death with joy." She had also this other
kindness in her : that when others had humbled themselves
and asked her pardon and favour, she forgave and pardoned,
with the generosity of a lion which never does harm to those
who are humble to him.
I remember that when M. le Mardchal de Biron was
lieutenant of the king in Guyenne, war having broken out
around him (possibly with his knowledge and intent), he
went one day before Nerac, where the King and Queen of
Navarre were living at that time. The marshal prepared
his arquebusiers to attack, beginning with a skirmish. The
King of Navarre brought out his own in person, and, in
a doublet like any captain of adventurers, he held his ground
so well that, having the best marksmen, nothing could pre-
vail against him. By way of bravado the marshal let fly
some cannon against the town, so that the queen, who had
gone upon the ramparts to see the pastime, came near hav-
ing her share in it, for a ball flew right beside her ; which
incensed her greatly, as much for the little respect Mardchal
de Biron showed in braving her to her face, as because he
had a special command from the king not to approach the
war nearer than five hundred leagues to the Queen of Navarre,
wherever she might be. The which command he did not
observe on this occasion ; for which she felt resentment
and revenge acfaiust the marshal
MARGUERITE OF FRANCE A^D NAVARRE. 189
About a year and a half later she came to Court, where
was the marshal, whom the king had recalled from Guyenne,
fearing further disturbance ; for the King of Navarre had
threatened to make trouble if he were not recalled. The
Queen of Navarre, resentful to the said marshal, took no
notice of him, but disdained him, speaking everywhere very
ill of him and of the insult he had offered her. At last,
the marshal, dreading the hatred of the daughter and sister
of his masters, and knowing the nature of the princess, de-
termined to seek her pardon by making excuses and humbling
himself ; on which, generous as she was, she did not contra-
dict him, but took him into favour and friendship and
forgot the past. I knew a gentleman by acquaintance
who came to Court about this time, and seeing the good
cheer the queen bestowed upon the marshal was much as-
tonished; and so, as he sometimes had the honour of being
listened to by the queen, he said to her that he was much
amazed at the change and at her good welcome, in which
he could not have believed, in view of the affront and injury.
To which she answered that as the marshal had owned his
fault and made his excuses and sought her pardon humbly,
she had granted it for that reason, and did not desire further
talk about his bravado at N(drac. See how little vindictive
this good princess is, — not imitating in this respect her
grandmother. Queen Anne, towards the Marechal de Gi^, as
I have heretofore related.
I might give many other examples of her kindness in her
reconciliations and forgivenesses.
Eebours, one of her maids of honour, who died at Chenon-
ceaux, displeased her on one occasion very much. She did
not treat her harshly, but when she was very ill she went to
see her, and as she was about to die admonished her, and
then said : " This poor girl has done great harm, but she has
190 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
suffered much. May God pardon her as I have pardoned
her." That was the vengeance and the harm she did her.
Through her generosity she was slow to revenge, and in all
things kind.
Alfonso, the great King of Xaples, who was subtle in
loving the beauties of women, used to say that beauty is
the sign manual of kindness and gentle goodness, as the
beautiful flower is tliat of a good fruit. As to that it cannot
be doubted that if our queen had been ugly and not com-
posed of her great beauty, she would have been very bad
in view of the great causes to be so that were given her.
Thus said the late Queen Isabella of Castile, that wise and
virtuous and very Catholic princess: "The fruit of clem-
ency in a (jueeu of great beauty and lofty heart, covetous of
honour, is sweeter far than any vengeance v/hatever, even
though it be undertaken for just claims and reason."
This queen most sacredly observes that rule, striving to
conform to tlie commandments of her God, whom she has
always loved and feared and served devotedly. Now that
the world has abandoned her and made war upon her, she
takes her sole resource in God, whom she serves daily, as I
am told by those who have seen her in her affliction ; for
never does she miss a mass, taking the communion often and
reading much in Holy Scripture, finding there her peace and
consolation.
She is most eager to obtain the fine new books that are
composed, as much on sacred subjects as on human ; and
when she undertakes to read a book, however large and long
it be, she never stops or quits it until she sees the end, and
often loses sleep and food in doing so. She herself composes,
both in prose and verse. As to which no one can tliink
otherwise than that her compositions are learned, beautiful,
and jjleasing, for she knows the art ; and could we bring
MARGUERITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 191
tliem to the light, the world would draw great pleasure and
great profit from them. Often she makes very beautiful
verses and stanzas, that are sung to her by choir-boys whom
she keeps, and which she sings herself (for her voice is
beautiful and pleasant) to a lute, playing it charmingly.
And thus she spends her time and wears away her luckless
days, — offending none, and living that tranquil life she
chooses as the best.
She has done me the honour to write me often in her
adversity, I being so presumptuous as to send for news of
her. But is she not the daughter and sister of my kings,
and must I not wish to know her health, and be glad and
happy when I hear 't is good ? In her first letter she writes
thus : —
" By the remembrance you have of me, which is not less
new than } leasant to me, I see that you have well preserved
the affection you have always shown to our family and to
the few now left of its sad wreck, so that I, in whatever
state I be, shall ever be disposed to serve you ; feeling most
happy that ill fortune has not effaced my name from the
remembrance of my oldest friends, of whom you are, I
know that you have chosen, like myself, a tranquil life ; and
I count those happy who can maintain it, as God has given
me the grace to do these five years, He having brought me
to an ark of safety, where the storms of all these troubles
cannot, I thank God, hurt me ; so that if there remain to
me some means to serve my friends, and you particularly,
you will find me wholly so disposed with right good will"
Those are noble words ; and such was the state and resolu-
tion of our beautiful princess. That is what it is to be born
of a noble house, the greatest in the world, whence she drew
her courage by inheritance from many brave and valiant
kings, her father, grandfather, great-grandfather, and all their
192 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
ancestors. And be it, as she says, that from so great a ship-
wreck she alone remains, not recognized and reverenced as
she should be by her people, I believe this people of France
has suffered much misery for that reason, and will suffer
more for this war of the League. But to-day this is not
so;i for by the valour and wisdom and fine government of
our king never was France more flourishing, or more pacific,
or better ruled ; w^hich is the greatest miracle ever seen,
having issued from so vast an abyss of evils and corruptions ;
by which it seems that God has loved our queen, — He being
good and merciful
Oh ! how ill-advised is he who trusts in the people of
to-day ! Oh ! how differently did the Eomans recognize the
posterity of Augustus Caesar, who gave them wealth and
grandeurs, from the people of France, who received so much
from their later kings these hundred years, and even from
FranQois I. and Henri IL, so that without them France
would have been tumbled topsy-turvy by her enemies watch-
ing for that chance, and even by the Emperor Charles, that
hungry and ambitious man. And thus it is they are so
ungrateful, these people, toward Marguerite, sole and only
remaining daughter and princess of France ! It is easy
to foresee the wrath of God upon them, because nothing is
to Him so odious as ingratitude, especially to kings and
queens, who here below fulfil the place and state of God.
And thou, disloyal Fortune, how plainly dost thou show
that there are none, however loved by heaven and blessed
by nature, who can be sure of thee and of thy favours a
1 It is noticeable in the course of this "Discourse" that Brantome
wrote it at one period, namely, about 1593 or 1594, and reviewed it at an-
other, -when Henri IV. -was in full possession of the kingdom, but before
the end of the century and before the divorce. (French editor.)
The passage to which the foregoing is a note is evidently an addition to
the text. — Tr.
MARGUERITE OF FRANCE AND NAVAKRE. 193
single day ! Art thou not dishonoured in thus so cruelly
affronting her who is all beauty, sweetness, virtue, magna-
nimity and kindness ?
All this I wrote during those wars we had among us for
ten years. To make an end, did I not speak elsewhere of
this great queen in other discourses I would lengthen this
still more and all I could, for on so excellent a subject the
longest words are never wearisome ; but for a time I now
postpone them.
Live, princess, live in spite of Fortune ! Never can you
be other than immortal upon earth and in heaven, whither
your noble virtues bear you in their arms. If public voice and
fame had not made common praise of your great merits, or if
I were of those of noble speech, I would say further here ;
for never did there come into the world a figure so celestial.
This queen who should by good right order us
By laws and edicts and above us reign,
Till we behold a reign of pleasure under her,
As in her father's days, a Star of France,
Fortune hath hindered. Ha ! must rightful claim
Be wrongly lost because of Fortune's spite ?
Never did Nature make so fine a thing
As this great unique princess of our France !
Yet Fortune chooses to undo her wholly.
Behold how evil balances with good !
In the sixteenth century there were three Marguerites:
one, sister of Frangois I. and Queen of Navarre, celebrated
for her intellect, her Tales in the style of Boccaccio, and her
verses, which are less interesting ; another, Marguerite, niece
of the preceding, sister of Henri II., who became Duchesse
de Savoie, very witty, also a writer of verses, and, in her
youth, the patroness of the new poets at Court ; and lastly,
the third Marguerite, niece and great-niece of the first two,
13
194 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
daughter of Henri II. and Catherine de' Medici, first wife of
Henri IV., and sister of the last Valois. It is of her that
I speak to-day as having left behind her most agreeable
historical pages and opened in our literature that graceful
series of women's Memoirs which henceforth never ceases,
but is continued in later years and lively vein by Mesdames
de La Fayette, de Caylus and others. All of these Memoirs
are books made without intending it, and the better for that.
The following is the reason why Queen Marguerite took the
idea of writing those in which she describes herself with so
lightsome a pen.
Brantume, who was making a gallery of illustrious French
and foreign ladies, after bringing Marie Stuart into it, be-
thought him of placing Marguerite beside her as another
example of the injustice and cruelty of Fortune. Marguerite,
at the period when Brantome indited his impulsive, enthu-
siastic portrait of her, flinging upon his paper that eulogy
which may truly be called delirious, was confined at the
castle of Usson in Auvergne (1593), where she was not so
much a prisoner as mistress. Prisoner at first, she soon
seduced the man who held her so and took possession of
the place, where she passed the period of the League troubles,
and beyond it, in an impenetrable haven. The castle of Usson
had been fortified by Louis XL, well-versed in precautions,
who wanted it as a sure place in which to lodge his prisoners.
There Marguerite felt herself safe, not only from sudden
attack, but also from the trial of a long siege and repeated
assault. Writing to her husband, Henri IV., in October,
1594, she says to him, jokingly, that if he could see the
fortress and the way in which she had protected herself
within it he would see that God alone could reduce it, and
she has good reason to believe that "this hermitage was
built to be her ark of safety."
MAKGUERITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 195
The castle which she thus compares to ISToah's ark, and
which some of her panegyrists, convinced that she who lived
there was given to celestial contemplations, compare to
Mount Tabor, was regarded as a Caprea and an abominable
lair by enemies, who, from afar, plunged eyes of hatred into
it. It is very certain, however, that Queen Marguerite lost
nothing in that retreat of the delicate nicety of her mind,
for it was there that she undertook to write her Memoirs
in a few afternoons, in order to come to Brantome's assist-
ance and correct him on certain points. We will follow
her, using now and then some contemporary information,
without relying too much upon either, but endeavouring to
draw with simple truth a singular portrait in which there
enters much that was enchanting and, towards the end,
fantastic.
Marguerite, born at Saint-Germain-en-Laye, May 14, 1553,
was six years old when her father, Henri 11., was killed at
that fatal tournament which ruined the fortunes of the
house of Valois. She tells us several anecdotes of herself
and her childish repartees which prove a precocious mind.
She takes great pains to call attention to a matter which
in her is really a sign, a distinctive note through all ex-
cesses, namely : that as a child and when it was the fashion
at Court to be "Huguenot," and when all those who had
intelligence, or wished to pass for having it, had withdrawn
from what they called " bigotry," she resisted that influence.
In vain did her brother, d'Anjou, aftervv-ard Henri III., fling
her Hours into the fire and give her the Psalms and the
Huguenot prayers in place of it; she held firm and pre-
served herself from the mania of Huguenotism, which at
that date (1561) was a fancy at Court, a French and mun-
dane fashion, attractive for a time to even those who were
soon to turn against it and repress it. Marguerite, in the
196 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
midst of a life that was little exemplary, will always be
found to have kept with sincerity this corner of good Cath-
olicism which she derived from her race, and which made her
in this respect and to this degree more of an Italian than a
Frenchwoman ; however, that which imports us to notice is
that she had it.
Still a child when the first religious wars began, she was
sent to Amboise with her young brother, d'Aleugon. There
she found herself in company with several of Brantome's
female relations : Mme. de Dampien-e, his aunt, ]\Ime. de
Eetz, his cousin ; and she began with the elder of tliese
ladies a true friendship ; with the younger, the cousin, tlie
affection came later. Marguerite gives the reason for this
very prettily : —
" At that time the advanced age of your aunt and my
childish youthfulness had more agreement; for it is the
nature of old people to love cliildren ; and those who are
in tlie perfection of their age, like your cousin, despise and
dislike their annoying simplicity."
Childhood passed, and the first awakening to serious
things was given to Marguerite about the time of the battle
of Moncontour (1569). She was then sixteen. The Due
d'Anjou, afterwards Henri III., aged eighteen, handsome,
brave, and giving promise of a virtue and a prudence lie
never justified, took his sister aside one day in one of the
alleys of the park at Plessis-lez-Tours to tell lier of his de-
sire, on starting for the army, to leave her as his confidant
and support with their mother, Catherine de' Medici, during
his absence at the wars. He made her a long speech, which
she reports in full with some complacency : —
" Sister, the nourishment we have taken together obliges
us, not less than proximity, to love each other. . . . Until
now we have naturally been guided to this without design
MAEGUEEITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 197
and without tlie said union being of any utility beyond the
pleasure we have had in conversing together. That was
good for our childhood ; but now it is time to no longer
live like children."
He then points out to her the great and noble duties to
which God calls him, in which the queen, their mother,
brought him up, and which King Charles IX., their brother,
lays upon him. He fears that this king, courageous as he is,
may not always be satisfied with hunting, but will become
ambitious to put himself at the head of the armies, the com-
mand of wliich has been hitherto left to him. It is this that
he wishes to prevent.
" In this apprehension," he continues, " thinking of some
means of remedy, I believe that it is necessary to leave
some very faithful person behind me who will maintain my
side with the queen, my mother. I know no one as suitable
as you, whom I regard as a second myself. You have all
the qualities that can be desired, — intelligence, judgment,
and fidehty."
The Due d'Anjou then proposes to his sister to change
her manner of life, to be assiduous towards the queen, their
mother, at all hours, at her lever, in her cabinet during the
day, at her coucher, and so act that she be treated henceforth,
not as a child, but as a person who represents him during
his absence. " This language," she remarks, " was very new
to me, having lived until then without purpose, thinking of
nothing but dancing and hunting; and without much in-
terest even in dressing and in appearing beautiful, not hav-
ing yet reached the age of such ambitions." The fear she
always felt for the queen, her mother, and the respectful
silence she maintained in her presence, held her back still
further. " I came very near," she says, " replying to him as
Moses did to God in the vision of the bush: 'Who am I?
198 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
Send, I pray thee, by him whom thou shoiildest send.' "
Nevertheless, she felt within her at her brother's words a
new courage, and powers hitherto unknown to her, and she
soon consented to all, entering zealously into her brother's
design. From that moment she felt herself " transformed."
This fraternal and politic union thus created by the Due
d'Anjou did not last. On his return from the victory of
Moncontour she found him changed, distrustful, and ruled
by a favourite, du Gua, who possessed him as so many others
possessed him later. Henceforth his sister was out of favour
with him, and it was with her younger brother, the Due
d'Alen^on, that Marguerite renewed and continued as long
as she could a union of the same kind, which gave room for
all the feelings and all the ambitious activities of youth.
Did she at that time give some ground for the coolness
of her brother d'Anjou by her Haison with the young Due
de Guise ? An historian who knew Marguerite well and was
not hostile to her, says: " She had long loved Henri, Due de
Guise, who was killed at Blois, and had so fixed the afl'ec-
tions of her heart from her youth upon that prince of many
attractions that she never loved the King of Xavarre, after-
wards King of France of happy memory, but hated him
from the beginning, and was married to him in spite of her-
self, and against canonical law." ^ However this may be, the
1 The story goes that slie refused to answer at the marriage ceremony ;
on wliich her brother, Charles IX., put his hand behind her head and made
her nod, which was taken for consent. In after years, tlie ground given for
her divorce was that of being married against her will. The marriage took
place on a stage erected before the west front of the cathedral of Xotre-
Dame; tlie King of Navarre being a Protestant, the service could not be
performed in the church. It was liero, in view of tlie assembled multi-
tude, that Marguerite's nod was forcibly given wlien she residutely re-
fused to answer. Following Brantoiue's delight in describing fine clothes,
the wedding gown shonld be mentioned here. It was cloth of gold, the
body so closely covered with pearls as to look like a cuirass ; over this
was a blue velvet mantle embroidered with ^/Jeurs-de-li/s, nearly five yards
MARGUERITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE, 199
Due d'Anjou seized the pretext of the Due de Guise to break
with his sister, whose enemy he became insensibly, and he
succeeded in ahenating her from her mother.
Marguerite, in this flower of her youth, was, according to
all testimony, enchantingly beautiful. Her beauty was not
so much in the special features of her face as in the grace
and charm of her whole person, with its mingling of seduc-
tion and majesty. Her hair was dark, which was not thought
a beauty in those days ; blond hair reigned. " I have seen
her sometimes wearing her natural hair without any peruke
artifice," Brautome tells us, " and though it was black (hav-
ing inherited that colour from King Henri, her father), she
knew so well how to twist and curl and arrange it, in imita-
tion of her sister, the Queen of Spain, who never wore any
hair but her own, that such arrangement and coiffure be-
came her as well as, or better than, any other." Toward the
end of her life Marguerite, becoming in her turn antiquated,
with no brown hair to dress, made great display of blond
perukes. " For them she kept great, fair-haired footmen,
who were shaved from time to time ; " but in her youth,
when she dared to be dark-haired as nature made her, it
was not unbecoming to her; for she had a most dazzling
complexion and her " beautiful fair face resembled the sky
in its purest and greatest serenity " with its " noble forehead
of whitening ivory." ISTor must we forget her art of adorn-
ing and dressing herself to advantage, and the new inven-
tions of that kind she gave to women, she being then the
queen of the modes and fashion. As such she appeared on
all solemn occasions, and notably on that day when, at the
lonjT, which was borne by one hundred and twenty of the handsomest
women in France. ITcr dark hair was loose and flowing, and was studded
with diamond stars. The Due de Guise, le Balafrc, witli his family con-
nections and all his retainers, left Paris that morning, unable to bear the
spectacle of the marriage. — Tk,
200 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
Tuileries, the queen-motlier feted the Polish seigneurs who
came to offer the crown of Poland to the Due d'Anjou. and
Eonsard, who was present, confesses that the beautiful god-
dess Aurora was vanquished ; but more notably still on that
flowery Easter at Blois, when we see her in procession, her
dark hair starred with diamonds and precious stones, wear-
ing a gown of crinkled cloth of gold from Constantmople,
the weight of which would have crushed any other w^oman,
but which her beautiful, rich, strong figure supported firmly,
bearing the palm in lier hand, her consecrated branch, " with
regal majesty, and a grace half proud, half tender." Such
was the Marguerite of the lovely years before the disasters
and tlie flights, before tlie castle of Usson, where she aged
and stiffened.
This beauty, so real, so solid, which liad so little need of
borrowed charms, had, like all her being, its fantasticalities
and its superstition. I have said already that she frequently
disguised her rich, brown hair, preferring a blond wig, " more
or less charmingly fashioned."' Her beautiful face was pre-
sented to view " all painted and stained." She took such
care of her skin that she spoiled it with washes and recipes
of many kinds, which gave her erysipelas and pimples.
In fact, she w^as the model and eke the slave of the fashions
of her time ; and as she survived tliose days she became in
the end a species of preserved idol and curiosity, such as
may be seen in a show-case. Tlie great Sully, when he one
day reappeared at the Court of Louis XIII. with his ruff and
his costume of the time of Henri IV., gave that crowd of
young courtiers something to laugh at ; and so, when Queen
Marguerite, having returned from Usson to Paris, showed
herself at the remodelled Court of Henri lY. she produced
the same effect on that young century, wliicli smiled at
beholdinfr this solemn survival of the Valois.
MARGUERITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 201
Like all those Valois, a worthy granddaughter of Tran-
9ois I., she was learned. To the Poles who harangued in
Latin she showed that she understood them by replying on
the spot, eloquently and pertinently, without tlie help of
an interpreter. She loved poetry and wrote it, and had it
written for her by salaried poets whom she treated as friends.
When she had once begun to read a book she could not
leave it, or pause till she came to the end, " and very often
she would lose both her eating and drinking." But let us
not forestall the time. She herself tells us that this taste
for study and reading came to her for the first time during
a previous imprisonment in which Henri III. held her for
several months in 1575, and we are still concerned with her
cloudless years.
She was maiTied, in spite of her objections as a good
Catholic, to Llenri, King of Xavarre, six days before the
Saint-Bartholomew (August, 1572). She relates with much
naivete and in a simple tone the scenes of that night of horror,
of which she was ignorant until the last moment. We see in
her narrative that wounded and bleeding gentleman pursued
through the corridors of the Louvre, and taking refuge in
Marguerite's chamber, and flinging himself with the cry
" Navarre ! Navarre ! " upon her ; shielding his own body
from the murderers with that of his queen, she not know-
ing whether she had to do with a madman or an assailant.
When she did know what the danger was she saved the
poor man, keeping him in bed and dressing his wounds in
her cabinet until he was cured. Queen Marguerite, so little
scrupulous in morality, is better than her brothers ; of the
vanishing Valois she has all the good quahties and many of
their defects, but not their cruelty.
After this half-missed blow of the Saint-Bartholomew,
which did not touch the princes of the blood, an attempt
202 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
was made to unmarry her from the King of Navarre. On
a feast day when she was about to take the sacrament, her
mother asked her to tell her under oath, truly, whether the
king, her husband, had behaved to her as yet like a husband,
a man, and whether there was not still time to break the
union. To this Marguerite played the ingenue, so she asserts,
apparently not comprehending. " I begged her," she says,
" to believe that I knew nothing of what she was speaking.
I could then say with truth as the lioman lady said, when
her husband was angry because she had not warned him his
breath was bad, ' that she had supposed all men were alike,
never having been near to any one but him.' "
Here Marguerite wishes to have it understood that she
had never, so far, made comparison of any man with another
man ; she plays the innocent, and by her quotation from the
Ptoman lady she also plays the learned ; which is quite in
the line of her intelligence.
It would be a great error of literary judgment to consider
these graceful Memoirs as a work of nature and simplicity ;
it is rather one of discrimination and subtlety. Wit sparkles
throughout ; but study and learning are perceptible. In the
third line we come upon a Gr^ek word : " I would praise
your work more," she writes to Brantome, " if you had praised
me less ; not wishing that the praise I give should be attrib-
uted to philautia TSiiher than to reason;" hy i^liilautia she
means self-love. Marguerite (she will remind us of it if we
forget it) is by education and taste of the school of Eonsard,
and a little of that of Du Bartas. During her imprisonment
in 1575, giving herself up, as she tells us, to reading and
devotion, she shows us tlie study wliich led her back to
religion; she talks to us of the "universal pape of Xature;"
the " ladder of knowledge ; " the " cliain of Homer ; " and of
" that agreeable Encyclopedia which, starting from God,
MAKGUERITE OF TRANCE AND NAVARRE. 203
returns to God, the principle and the end of all things." All
that is learned, and even transcendental
She was called in her family Venus-Urania. She loved
fine discourses on elevated topics of philosophy or sentiment.
In her last years, during her dinners and suppers, she usually
had four learned men beside her, to whom she propounded
at the beginning of the meal some topic more or less sublime
or subtile, and when each had spoken for or against it and
given his reasons, she would intervene and renew the con-
test, provoking and attracting to herself at will their contra-
diction. Here Marguerite was essentially of her period, and
she bears the seal of it on her style. The language of her
Memoirs is not an exception to be counted against the man-
nerism and taste of her time ; it is only a more happy em-
ployment of it. She knows mythology and history; she
cites readily Burrhus, Pyrrhus, Timon, the centaur Chiron,
and the rest. Her language is by choice metaphorical and
lively with poesy. "When Catherine de' ]\Iedici, going to see
her son, the Due d'Anjou, travels from Paris to Tours in
three days and a half (very rapid in those times, and the
journey put that poor Cardinal de Bourbon, little accustomed
to such discomfort, entirely out of breath), it is because the
queen-mother is " borne," says Marguerite, " on the wings of
desire and maternal affection."
Marguerite likes and affects all comparisons borrowed
from fabulous natural history, and she varies them with
reminiscences of ancient history. When, in 1582, they recall
her to the Court of France, taking her from her husband
and from Xdrac, where she had then been three or four
years, she perceives a project of her enemies to blow up a
quarrel between herself and her husband during this ab-
sence. " They hoped," she says, " that separation would be
like the breaking of the ^Macedonian battalion." When tb*
204 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
famous Phalanx was once broken entrance was easy. This
style, so ornate and figurative, usually delicate and graceful,
has also its outspokenness and firmness of tone. Speaking
of the expedition projected by her brother, the Due d' Alen-
^on, in Flanders, she explains it in terms of energetic beauty,
representing to the king that "it is for the honour and
aggrandizement of France; it will prove an invention to
prevent civil war, all restless spirits desirous of novelty hav-
ing means to pass into Flanders and blow off their smoke
and surfeit themselves with war. This enterprise will also
serve, like Piedmont, as a school for the nobility in the
practice of arms ; we shall there revive the Montlucs and
Brissacs, the Termes and the Bellegardes, and all those great
marshals who, trained to war in Piedmont, have since then
so gloriously and successfully served their king and their
country."
One of the most agreeable parts of these Memoirs is the
journey in Flanders, Hainault, and the Lifege country which
Marguerite made in 1577 ; a journey undertaken ostensibly
to drink the waters of Spa, but in reality to gain partisans
for her brother d'Alengon, in his project of wrenching the
Low Countries from Spain. The details of her coquettish,
and ceremonial magnificence, so dear to ladies, are not
omitted : —
" I went," says ]\Iarguerite, " in a litter with columns cov-
ered with rose-coloured Spanish velvet, embroidered in gold
and shaded silks with a device ; this litter was enclosed in
glass, and each glass also bore a device, there being, whether
on the velvet or on the glass, forty different devices about
the sun and its effects, with the words in Spanish and
Italian."
Those forty devices and their explanation M'ere an ever
fresh subject of gallant conversation in the towns through
MARGUERITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 205
which she passed. Amid it all, Marguerite, then in the full
bloom of her twenty-fourth year, went her way, winning
all hearts, seducing the governors of citadels, and persuad-
ing them to useful treachery. On this journey she meets
with charming Flemish scenes which she pictures delight-
fully. Take, for example, the gala festival at Mons, where
the beautiful Comtesse de Lalain (Marguerite, Princesse de
Ligne), whose beauty and rich costume are described most
particularly, has her child brought to her in swaddling-
clothes and suckles it before the company ; " which," re-
marks Marguerite, " would have been an incivility in any
one else ; but she did it with such grace and simplicity, like
all the rest of her actions, that she received as much praise
as the company did pleasure."
Leaving Namur, we have at Lifege a touching and pathetic
story of a poor young girl. Mile, de Tournon, who dies of
grief for being slighted and betrayed by her lover, to whom
she was going in the utmost confidence ; and who himself,
coming to a better mind too late, rushes to console her, and
finds her coffin on arrival. We have here from Queen Mar-
guerite's pen the finished sketch of a tale in the style of
Mme. de La Fayette, just as above we had the drawing of
a perfect little Flemish picture. On her return from this
journey, the scenes Marguerite passes through at Dinant
prove her coolness and presence of mind, and present us
with another Flemish picture, but not so graceful as that of
Mons and the beautiful nursing countess ; this time it is
a scene of public drunkenness, grotesque burgher rioting,
and burgomasters in their cups. A painter need only
transfer and copy the very lines which ]\Iarguerite has so
happily traced, to make a faithful picture.
After these journeys, being now reunited at her house of
La F^re in Picardy with her dear brother d'Alen^on, she
206 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
realizes there for nearly two months, " which were to us,"
she says, "like two short days," one of those terrestrial
paradises which were at all times the desire of her imagi-
nation and of her heart. She loved beyond all things those
spheres of enchantment, those Fortunate Isles, alike of
Urania and of Calypso, and she was ever seeking to repro-
duce them in all places and under all forms, whether at her
Court at N^rac or amid the rocks of Usson, or, at the last,
in that beautiful garden on the banks of the Seine (which
to-day is the Piue des Petits-Augustins) where she strove to
cheat old age.
** my queen ! how good it is to be w^ith you ! " exclaims
continually her brother d'Alengon, enchanted with the tliou-
sand graceful imaginations with which she varied and em-
bellished this sojourn at La Ffere. And she adds naively,
mingling her Christian erudition with sentiment : " He
would gladly have said with Saint Peter : * Let us make our
tabernacle here,' if the regal courage he possessed and the
generosity of his soul had not called him to greater things."
As for her, we can conceive that she would gladly have re-
mained there, prolonging without weariness tlie enchant-
ment ; she would willingly have arranged her life like that
beautiful garden at Xdrac of which she constantly speaks,
" which has such charming alleys of laurel and cypress," or
like the park she had made tliere, " with paths three thou-
sand paces long beside the river;" the chapel being close
at hand for morning mass, and the violins at her orders for
the evening balL
AVhatever ability and shrewdness Queen Marguerite may
have shown in various political circumstances in tlie course
of her life, we nevertheless perceive plainly that she was not
a political woman ; she was too essentially of her sex for
that. There are verv few women who, like the Princess
MAKGUEKITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 207
Palatine [Anne de Gonzaga] or the illustrious Catherine of
Russia, know how to be libertine yet sure of themselves ;
able to establish an impenetrable partition between the alcove
and the cabinet of public affairs. Nearly all the women who
have mingled in the intrigues of politics have introduced
and confused with them their intrigues of heart or senses.
Consequently, whatever intelligence they may have, they
elude or escape at a certain moment, and unless there be
a man who holds the tiller and gives them with decision
their course, we find them unfaithful, treacherous, not to
be relied on, and capable at any moment of colloguing
through a secret window with an emissary of the opposite
side. Marguerite, with infinite intelligence and gTace, was
one of those women. Distinguished but not superior, and
wholly influenced by passions, she had wiles and artifices
of a passing kind, but no views, and still less stability.
One of the remarkable features of her Memoirs is that
she does not tell all, nor even the half of all, and in the very
midst of the odious and extravagant accusations made against
her she sits, pen in hand, a delicate and most discreet woman.
Nothing can be less like confession than her Memoirs. " We
find there," says Baylo, " many sins of omission ; but could
we expect that Queen Marguerite would acknowledge the
things that would blast her ? Such avowals are reserved for
tlie tribunal of confession; they are not meant for history."
At the most, when enlightened by history and by the pam-
phlets of the period, we can merely guess at certain feel-
ings of which she presents to us only the superficial and
specious side. "When she speaks of Bussy d'Amboise she
scarcely restrains her admiration for that gallant cavalier,
and we fancy we can see in the abundance of that praise
that her heart overflows.
Even the letters that we have from her say little more.
208 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
•
Among them are love letters addressed to him whom at one
time she loved the most, Harlay de Chanvalon. Here we
find no longer the charming, moderately ornate, and naturally
polished style of the Memoirs; this is all of the highest
metaphysics and purest fustian, nearly unintelligible and
most ridiculous. " Adieu, my beauteous sun ! adieu, my
noble angel ! fine miracle of nature ! " those are tlie most
commonplace and earthly of her expressions ; the rest mount
ever higher till lost in the Empyrean. It would really seem,
from reading these letters, as if Marguerite had never loved
with heart-love, only with the head and the imagination ; and
that, feeling truly no love but the physical, she felt herself
bound to refine it in expression and to petrarchize in words,
she, who was so practical in behaviour. She borrows from
the false poetry of her day its tinsel in order to persuade
herself that the fancy of the moment is an eternal worship.
A practical observation is quoted of her which tells us better
than her own letters the secret of her life. "Would you
cease to love ? " she said, " possess the thing beloved." It is
to escape this quick disenchantment, this sad and rapid
awakening, that she is so prodigal of her figurative, myth-
ological, impossible expressions ; she is trying to make her-
self a veil ; the heart counts for nothing. She seems to be
saying to love : " Thy base is so trivial, so passing a thing,
let us try to support it by words, and so prolong its image
and its play."
Her life well deduced and well related would make the
subject of a teeming and interesting volume. Having ob-
tained, after the persecutions and troubles, permission to
rejoin her husband in Gascogne (1578), she remained there
three and a half years, enjoying her liberty and leaving him
his. She counts these days at N(^rac, mingled, in spite of
the re-beginning wars, with balls, excursions, and " aU sorts
MAKGUERITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 209
of virtuous pleasures," as an epoch of happiness. Henri's
weaknesses and her own harmonized remarkably, and never
clashed. But Henri soon crossed the limit of license, and
she, on her side, equally. It is not for us to hold the balance
or enter here into details which would soon become indelicate
and shameful. Marguerite, who had gone to spend some
time in Paris at her brother's Court (1582, 1583) did not
return to her husband until after an odious scandal had made
public her frailty.
From that time forth her life did not retain its early,
smiling joyfulness. She was now past thirty ; civil wars
were lighted, never to be extinguished until after the des-
perate struggles and total defeat of the League. Marguerite,
becoming a queen-adventuress, changed her abode from time
to time, until she found herself in the castle of Usson, that
asylum of which I have spoken, where she passed no less
than eighteen years (1587-1605). What happened there ?
Doubtless many common frailties, but less odious than are
told by bitter and dishonourable chroniclers, the only
authorities for the tales they put forth.
During this time Queen Marguerite did not entirely cease
to correspond with her husband, now become King of France.
If the conduct of the royal pair leaves much to be desired
with regard to each other, and also with regard to the public,
let us at least recognize that their correspondence is that of
honourable persons, persons of good company, whose hearts
are much better than their morals. When reasons of State
determined Henri to unmarry himself, to break a union
which was not only sterile but scandalous, ]\Iarguerite
agreed without resistance, — seeming, however, to be fully
conscious of what she was losing. To accomplish the
formalities of divorce, the pope delegated certain bishops
and cardinals to interrogate separately the husband and
14
210 THE BOOK or THE LADIES.
wife. Marguerite expresses the desire, inasmuch as she
must be questioned, that this may be done " by more private
and familiar " persons, her courage not being able to endure
publicly so great a diminution ; " fearing that my tears,"
she writes, " may make these cardinals think I am acting
from force or constraint, which would injure the effect the
king desires" (Oct. 21, 1599). King Henri was touched by
the feelings she showed throughout this long negotiation.
" I am very satisfied," he writes, " at the ingenuousness
and candour of your procedure ; and I hope that God will
bless the remainder of our days with fraternal affection, ac-
companied by the public good, which will render them very
happy." He calls her henceforth his sister ; and she herself
says to him : " You are father, brother, and king to me."
If their marriage was one of the least noble and the most
bourgeois, their divorce, at any rate, was royal
[Here Sainte-Beuve does not keep strictly to history.
Henri lY. had long urged Marguerite to consent to a
divorce ; but she, aware that he was taking steps to divorce
Gabrielle d'Estr^es from her husband, in order to marr}^ her,
and feeling the indignity of such a marriage, firmly refused,
and continued to do so until the sudden death of Gabrielle
in Paris during Holy Y^eek of 1599 ; on which Marguerite
consented at once to the divorce, and Henri married Marie
de' Medici, December 17 of the same year.
Five years later (1605) Marguerite returned from the
castle of Usson and held her Court in Paris at the hotel
de Sens (which still exists) and at her various chateaux in
Languedoc ; no longer, alas ! the Peine Margot of our ill-
regulated affections, and somewhat open to the malicious
comments of Tallemant dos Peaux, but appearing at times
with all her wonted spirit and regal dignity. These were
MAEGUERITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 211
the days when she kept a brigade of golden-haired footmen
who were shorn for the wigs ; and the story goes that her
gowns were made with many pockets, in each of which she
kept the mummied heart of a lover. But such tales must
be taken for what they are worth, and a better chronicler
than the satirists of the Valois has given us ocular proof of
her last majestic presence at a public ceremony five years
before her death.
In 1610, Henri TV. preparing to leave France for the war
in Germany, and wishing to appoint Queen Marie de* Medici
regent, it became necessary to have the latter crowned. This
was done in the cathedral of Saint-Denis, May 13, 1610. The
Queen of oSTavarre, as Marguerite, daughter of France and
first princess of the blood, was required to be present at
the ceremony. Eubens' splendid picture (reproduced in this
volume) gives the scene. Marie de' Medici, kneeling before
the altar, is being crowned by Cardinal de Joyeuse, assisted
by his clergy and two other cardinals ; beside the queen are
the dauphin (Louis XIII.) and his sister, Ehsabeth, after-
wards Queen of Spain. The Princesse de Conti and the
Duchesse de Montpeusier carry the queen's train ; the Due
de Ventadour, his back to the spectator, bears the sceptre,
and the Chevalier de Vendome the sword of Justice. To
the left, leading the cortege of princesses and nobles, is the
Queen of Navarre, easily recognized by her small closed
crown, all the other princesses wearing coronets. In the
background, to right, in a gallery, sits Henri IV. viewing
the ceremony. As he did so he turned with a shudder
to the man behind him and said : " I am thinking how
this scene would appear if this were the Last Day and
the Judge were to summon us all before Him." Henri IV.
was killed by Eavaillac the following morning, while his
coach stood blocked in the streets by the crowds who
212 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
were collecting for the public entry of Marie de* Medici
into Paris.
The young Elisabeth, eldest daughter of the king and
Marie de' Medici, who appears at the coronation of her
mother, was afterwards wife of Philip IV. of Spain, and
mother of the Infanta Maria Theresa, wife of Louis XIV.,
also of Carlos II., at whose death Louis XIV. obtained the
crown of Spain for his grandson, the Due d'Anjou, Philip \.
This Elisabeth of France, Queen of Spain, is the original of
Piubens' magnificent portrait reproduced in this chapter. — Tii.]
Queen Marguerite returned from Usson to Paris in 1605;
and here we find her in her last estate, turned sli<zhtlv to
ridicule by Tallemant, the Qcho of the new century. Eigh-
teen years of confinement and solitude had given her singu-
larities, and even manias ; they now burst forth in open day.
She still had adventures both gallant and startling: an
equerry whom she loved was killed at her carriage door by
a jealous servant, and the poet Maynard, a young disciple
of ]\Ialherbe, one of Marguerite's heaux-esjjrits, wrote stanzas
and plaints about it. During the same period IMarguerite
had many sincere thoughts that were more than fits of
devotion. "With Maynard for secretary, slie had also Vincent
de Paul, young in those days, for her chaplain. She founded
and endowed convents, all the wdiile paying learned men to
instruct her in philosophy, and musicians to amuse her dur-
ing divine service and at hours more profane. She gave many
alms and gratuities and did not pay her debts. It was not
precisely good sense that presided over her life. Put amidst
it all she was loved. " On the 27th day of the month of
March " (1615), says a contemporary, " died in Paris Queen
Marguerite, sole remains of the race of Valois, — a princess
full of kindness and of ffood intentions for the good and the
MARGUERITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 213
peace of the State, ivlio did no harm to any hut herself. She
was greatly regretted. She died at the age of sixty -two."
Certain persons have attempted to compare her for beauty,
for misfortunes, for intellect, with Marie Stuart. Certainly,
at a point of departure there was much in common between
the two queens, the two sisters-in-law, but the comparison
cannot be maintained historically. Marie Stuart, who had
in herself the wit, grace, and manners of the Valois, who
was scarcely more moral as a woman than Marguerite, and
was implicated in acts that were far more monstrous, had,
or seemed to have, a certain elevation of heart, which she
acquired, or developed, in her long captivity crowned by
her sorrowful death. Of the two destinies, the one repre-
sents definitely a great cause, and ends in a pathetic legend
of victim and martyr ; the reputation of the other is spent
and scattered in tales and anecdotes half smutty, half de-
vout, into which there enters a grain of satire and of gayety.
From the end of one comes many a tearful tragedy ; from
that of the other nought can be made but a./ahliaiL
That which ought to be remembered to Marguerite's hon-
our is her intelligence, her talent for saying the right word ;
in short, that which is said of her in the ]Memoirs of Cardinal
de Richelieu : " She was the refuge of men of letters ; she
loved to hear them talk ; her table was always surrounded
by them, and she learned so much from their conversation
that she talked better than any other woman of her time, and
wrote more elegantly than the ordinary condition of her sex
would warrant." It is in that way, by certain exquisite
pages which form a date in our language, that she enters, in
her turn, into literary history, the noble refuge of so many
wrecks, and that a last and a lasting ray shines from her
name.
C.-A. Sainte-Beuve, Causeries du Luridi (1852).
DISCOUESE VI.
MESDAMES, THE DAUGHTERS OF THE NOBLE HOUSE
OF FRAXCE.i
1. Madame Yoland de France.
'T IS a thing that I have heard great personages, both men
and ladies of the Court, remark, that usually the daughters
of the house of France have been good, or witty, or gracious,
or generous, and in all things accomplished ; and to confirm
this opinion they do not go back to the olden time, but say
it of those of whom they have knowledge themselves, or
have heard their fathers and grandfathers who have been
at the Court talk of.
First, I shall name here Madame Yoland of France,
daughter of Charles YIL, and wife of the Due de Savoie
and Prince of Piedmont.
She was very clever ; true sister to her brother, Louis XT.
She leaned a little to the party of Due Charles de Bour-
gogne, her brother-in-law, he having married her elder sister
Catherhie, who scarcely lived after wedding her husband, so
that her virtues do not appear. Yoland, seeing that Due
Charles was her neighbour and might be feared, did what
she could to maintain his friendship, and he served her
much in the business of her State. But he dying, King
Louis XT. came down upon her grandeur and lier means, and
tho<e of Savoie. But ]\TndamG la duche:^se, clever lady 1 found
means of winning over her brother the king, and went to see
1 Meaninu- the dautrhters of the kings of T'ranee onlv. — Tu.
MESDAMES, THE DAUGHTERS OF FKANCE. 215
him at; Plessis-lez-Tours to settle their affairs. She having
arrived, the king went dovv^n to meet her in the courtyard
and welcome her ; and having howed and kissed her and
put his arm around her neck, half laughing, half pinching
her, he said : " Madame la Bourgognian, you are very wel-
come." She, making him a great curtsey, replied : " ]\Ion-
sieur, I am not Bourgognian ; you will pardon me if you
please. I am a very good Frenchwoman and your humble
servant." On which the king took her by the arm and led
her to her chamber with very good welcome ; but Madame
Yoland, who was shrewd and knew the kinsj's nature, was
determined not to remain long with him, but to settle her
affairs as fast as she could and get away.
The king, on the other hand, who knew the lady, did not
press her to stay very long ; so that if one was displeased
with the other, the other was displeased with the first;
wherefore without staying more than eight days she returned,
very little content with the king, her brother.
Philippe de Commines has told about this meeting more
at length ; but the old people of those days said that they
thought this princess a very able female, who owed nothing
to the king, her brother, who twitted her often about being
a Bourgognian ; but she tacked about as gently and modestly
as she could, for fear of affronting him, knowing full well,
and better than even her brother, how to dissimulate, being
a hundred times slyer than he in face, and speech, and ways,
though always very good and very wise.
2. Madame Jeanne de France.
Jeanne de France, daughter of the aforesaid king, Louis XI.,
was very witty, but so good that after her death she was
counted a saint, and even as doing miracles, because of the
sanctity of the life she led after her husband, Louis XII.,
216 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
repudiated her [to marry Anne de Bretagne] ; after which
she retired to Bourges, which was given her as a dovry for
the term of her natural life ; where all her time was spent
in prayer and orisons and in serving God and his poor, \vith-
out giving any sign of the wrong that was done her by such
repudiation. But the king protested that he had been forced
to marry her fearing the wrath of her father, Loais XL,
a master-man, and declared positively that he had never
known her as his wife. Thus the matter was allowed to
pass ; in which this princess showed her wisdom, not mak-
ing the reply of Eicharde of Scotland, wife of Charles le Gros,
King of France, when her husband repudiated her, affirming
that he had never lived with her as his wife. " That is
well," she said, " since by the oath of my husband I am maid
and virgin." By those words she scofTed at her husband's
oath and her own virginity.
But the king was seeliing to recover his first loves, namely ;
Queen Anne and her noble duchy, which gave great tempta-
tions to his soul ; and that was why he repudiated liis wife.
His oath was believed and accepted by the pope, who sent
him the dispensation, which was received by the Sorbonne
and the parliament of Paris. In all of which this princess
was wise and virtuous, and made no scandal, nor uproar,
nor appeal to justice, because a king can do much and just
what he will ; but feeling herself strong to contain herself
in continence and chastity, she retired towards God and
espoused herself to Him so truly that never another husband
nor a better could she have.
3. Madame Anne de France.
After her comes her sister, Anne de France, a shrewd
woman and a cunning if ever there was one, and the true
image of King Louis, iier fatlier. Tlie choice made of her
MESDAMES, THE DAUGHTERS OF FRANCE. 217
to be guardian and administrator of her brother, King
Charles [VIII.], proves this, for she governed him so wisely
and virtuously that he came to be one of the greatest of
the kings of France, who was proclaimed, by reason of his
valour, Emperor of the East. As to his kingdom she ad-
ministered that in like manner. True it is that because of
her ambition she was rather mischief-making, on account of
the hatred she bore to M. d'Orldans, afterwards King Louis
XII. I have heard say, however, that in the beginning she
loved him with love ; so that if M. d'Orldans had been will-
ing to hear to her, he might have had better luck, as I hold
on good authority. But he could not constrain himself, all
the more because he saw her so ambitious, and he wished
his wife to depend upon him as first and nearest prince to
the crown, and not upon herself ; while she desired the
contrary, for she wanted to hold the highest place and to
govern in all things.
She was very vindictive in temper like her father, and
always a sly dissembler, corrupt, full of deceit, and a great
hypocrite, who, for the sake of her ambition, could mask
and disguise herself in any way. So that the kingdom,
beginning to be angry at her humours, although she was
wise and virtuous, bore with them so impatiently that when
the king went to Naples she no longer had the title of regent,
but her husband, M. de Bourbon, received it. It is true,
however, that she made him do what she had in her head,
for she ruled him and knew how to guide him, all the
better because he was rather foolish, — indeed, very much
so ; but the Council opposed and controlled her. She en-
deavoured to use her prerogative and authority over Queen
Anne, but there she found the boot on the other foot, as
they say, for Queen Anne was a shrewd Bretonne, as I have
told already, who was very superb and haughty towards her
218 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
equals ; so that Madame Anne was forced to lower her
sails and leave the queen, her sister-in-law, to keep her rank
and maintain her grandeur and majesty, as was reasonable ;
which made Madame Anne very angry ; for she, being
virtually regent, held to her grandeur terribly.
I have read many letters from her to our family in the
days of her greatness ; but never did I see any of our kings
(and I have seen many) talk and write so bravely and im-
periously as she did, as much to the great as to the small.
Of a surety, she was a maitresse femmc, though quarrelsome,
and if M. d'Orl^ans had not been captured and his luck had
not served him ill, she would have thrown Franco into
turmoil; and all for her ambition, which so long as she
Hved she never could banish from her soul, — not even when
retired to her estates, where, nevertheless, she pretended to be
pleased and where she held her Court, which was always, as I
have heard my grandmother say, very fine and grand, she
being accompanied by great numbers of ladies and maids of
honour, whom she trained very wisely and virtuously. In
fact she gave such fine educations (as I know from my grand-
mother) that there were no ladies or daughters of great
houses in her time who did not receive lessons from her, the
house of Bourbon being one of the greatest and most
splendid in Christendom. And indeed it was she who made
it so brilliant, for though she was opulent in estates and
riches of her own, she played her liand so well in the
regency that she gained a great deal more ; all of v/hich
served to make the house of Bourbon more daz/ling. Be-
sides being splendid and magnificent by nature and unwilling
to diminish by ever so little her early grandeur, she also did
many great kindnesses to those whom she liked and took
in hand. To end all, this Anne de Franco was very clever
and sufficiently good. I have now said enougli about her.
MESDAMES, THE DAUGHTERS OF FRANCE. 219
4. Madame Claude de France.
I must now speak of Madame Claude de France, who was
very good, very charitable, and very gentle to all, never do-
ing any unkindness or harm to any one either at her Court
or in the kingdom. She was much beloved by King Louis
[XII.] and Queen Anne, her father and mother, being their
good and best-loved daughter, as they showed her plainly;
for after the king was peaceably Duke of Milan they de-
clared and proclaimed her, in the parliament of Paris with
open doors, duchess of the two finest duchies in Christen-
dom, to wit, Milan and Bretagne, the one coming from her
father, the other from her mother. What an heiress, if you
please ! These two duchies joined together made a noble
kingdom.
Queen Anne, her mother, desired to marry her to Charles
of Austria, afterwards emperor, and had she lived she would
have done so, for in that she influenced the king, her hus-
band, wishing always to have the sole charge and care of the
marriage of her daughters. Never did she call them other-
wise than by their names : " My daughter Claude," and " My
daughter Een^e." In these our days, estates and seigneuries
must be given to daughters of princesses, and even of ladies,
by which to call them ! If Queen Anne had lived, never
would Madame Claude have been married to King Frangois
[I.] for she foresaw the evil treatment she was certain to
receive ; the king, her husband, giving her a disease that
shortened her days. Also, Madame la regente treated her
harshly. But she strengthened her soul as much as she
could, by her sound mind and gentle patience and great
wisdom, to endure these troubles, and in spite of all, she
bore the king, her husband, a fine and generous progeny,
namely : three sons, Frangois, Henri, and Charles ; and four
daughters, Louise, Charlotte, Magdelaine, and Marguerite.
220 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
She was mucli beloved by her husband, King Frangois [I.],
and well treated by him and by all France, and much re-
gretted when she died for her admirable virtues and good-
ness. I have read in the " Chronique d'Anjou " that after
her death her body worked miracles ; for a great lady of her
family being tortured one day with a hot fever, and having
made her a vow, recovered her health suddenly.
5. Madame Rence de France.
Madame Een^e, her sister, was also a very good and able
princess ; for she had as sound and subtle mind as could be.
She had studied much, and I have heard her discoursing
learnedly and gravely of the sciences, even astrology, and
knowledge of the stars, about which I heard her talking
one day with the queen-mother, who said, after hearing lier,
that the greatest philosopher in the world could not have
spoken better.
She was promised in marriage to the Emperor Charles, by
King Franqois ; but the war interrupting that marriage, she
was given to the Due de Ferrara, who loved her much and
treated her honourably as the daughter of a king. True it
is they were for a time rather ill together because of the
Lutheran religion he suspected her of liking. Possibly ; for
resenting the ill-turns the popes had done to her father in
every way, she denied their power and refused obedience,
not being able to do worse, she being a woman. I hold on
good authority that she said this often. Her husband,
nevertheless, having regard to her illustrious blood, respected
her always and honoured her much. Like her sister, Queen
Claude, she was fortunate in her issue, for she bore to her
husband the finest that was, I believe, in Italy, although she
herself was much weakened in body.
She had the Due de Ferrara, who is to-day one of the
MESDAMES, THE DAUGHTERS OF FRANCE. 221
handsomest princes in Italy and very wise and generous;
the late Cardinal d'Est, the kindest, most magnificent and
liberal man in the world (of whom I hope to speak here-
after) ; and three daughters, the most beautiful women ever
born in Italy : Madame Anne d'Est, afterwards Mme. de
Guise ; Madame Lucrezia, Duchesse d'Urbino ; and Madame
Leonora, who died unmarried. The first two bore the names
of their grandmothers : one from Anne de Bretagne on her
mother's side ; the other, on the father's side, from Lucrezia
Borgia, daughter of Pope Alexander [VI.], both very different
in manners as in character, although the said lady Lucrezia
Borgia was a charming princess of Spanish extraction,
gifted with beauty and virtue (see Guicciardini). Madame
Leonora was named after Queen Leonora. These daughters
were very handsome, but their mother embellished them
still more by the noble education that she gave them, mak-
ing them study sciences and good letters, the which they
learned and retained perfectly, putting to shame the greatest
scholars. So that if they had beautiful bodies they had
souls that were beautiful also. I shall speak of them
elsewhere.
Kow, if Madame Een^e was clever, intelligent, wise, and
virtuous, she was also so kind and understood the subjects
of her husband so well that I never knew any one in
Ferrara who was not content or failed to say all the good
in the world of her. They felt above all her charity, which
she had in great abundance and principally for Frenchmen ;
for she had this good thing about her, that she never for-
got her nation ; and though she was thrust far away from
it, she always loved it deeply. No Frenchman passing
through Ferrara, being in necessity and addressing her, ever
left v/ithout an ample donation and good money to return
to his country and family,- and if he were ill, and could
222 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
not travel, she had him treated and cured carefully and
then gave him money to return to France.
I have heard persons who know it well, and an infinite
number of soldiers who had good experience of it say that
after the journey of M. de Guise into Italy, she saved the
lives of at least ten thousand poor Frenchmen, who would
have died of starvation and want without her : and amon<T
the number were many nobles of good family. I have heard
some of them say that never could they have reached France
without her, so great was her charity and liberality to those
of her nation. And I have also heard her maitre d'hotel as-
sert that their food had cost her more than ten thousand
crowns ; and when the stewards of her household remon-
strated and showed her this excessive expense, she only
said : " How can I help it ? These are poor Frenchmen of
my nation, who, if God had put a beard on my chin and
made me a man, would now be my subjects ; and truly they
would be so now if that wicked Salic law did not hold me
in check."
She is all the more to be praised because, without her, the
old proverb would be still more true, namely, that " Italy is
the grave of Frenchmen."
But if her charity was shown at that time in this direction,
I can assure you that in other places she did not fail to
practise it. I have heard several of her household say that
on her return to France, having retired to her town and
house of Montargis about the time the civil wars began to
stir, she gave a refuge as long as she lived to a number of
persons of the TIeligion [Eeformers] who were driven or
banishel from their bouses and estates ; she aided, succoured,
and fed as many as she could.
I myself, at the time of the second troubles, was with
the forces in Gascoigue, commanded by MM. de Terridfes
MESDAMES, THE DAUGHTERS OF FRANCE. 223
and de Montsalfes, amounting to eight thousand men, then
on their way to join the king. We passed through Mon-
targis and went, the leaders, chief captains, and gentlemen,
to pay our respects to Madame Ren^e, as our duty com-
manded. We saw in the castle, as I believe, more than
three hundred persons of the Religion, who had taken
refuge there from all parts of the country. An old maUre
d'hotel, a very honest man, whom I had known in Ferrara,
swore to me that she fed every day more than three hun-
dred mouths of these poor people.
In short, this princess was a true daughter of France in
kindness and charity. She had also a great and lofty heart.
I have seen her in Italy and at Court, hold her state as well
as possible; and though she did not have an external ap-
pearance of grandeur, her body being weakened, there was
so much majesty in her royal face and speech that she
showed plainly enough she was daughter of a king and of
France.
6. Mesdames Charlotte, Louise, Magdelaine, and Marguerite
de, France.
I have said that Madame Claude [wife of Frangois I.]
was fortunate in her fine progeny of daughters as well as of
sons. First she had Mesdames Charlotte and Louise, whom
death did not allow to reach the perfect age and noble fruit
their tender youth had promised in sweet flowers. Had
they come to the perfection of their years they would have
equalled their sisters in mind and goodness, for their promise
was great. Madame Louise was betrothed to the Emperor
when she died. Thus are lovely rosebuds swept away by
the wind, as well as full-blown flowers. Youth thus ravished
is more to be regretted than old age, which has had its day
and its loss is not great. Almost the same thing happened
224 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
to Madame Magdelaine, their sister, who had no great time
allowed her to enjoy the thing in all the world she most
desired ; which was, to he a queen, so proud and lofty was
her heart.
She was married to the King of Scotland ; and when they
wanted to dissuade her — not, certainly, that he was not
a brave and handsome prince, hut because she thus con-
demned herself to make her dwelling in a barbarous land
among a brutal people — she replied : " At least I shall be
queen so long as I live ; that is what I have always wished
for." But when she amved in Scotland she found that
country just what they had told her, and very different
from her sweet France. Still, without one sign of repent-
ance, she said nothing except these words : " Alas ! I would
be queen," — covering her sadness and the fire of her ambition
with the ashes of patience as best she could. M. de Ron-
sard, who went with her to Scotland, told me all this ; he
had been a page of M. d'Orleans, who allowed him to go
with her, to see the world.
She did not live long a queen before she died, regretted
by the king and all the country, for she was truly good, and
made herself beloved, having, moreover, a fine mind, and
being wise and virtuous.
Her sister, Madame IVIarguerite de France [the second of
the three Marguerites], afterwards Duchesse de Savoie, was
so wise, virtuous, and perfect in learning and knowledge
that she was called the Minerva, or the Pallas, of France,
and for device she bore an olive branch with two serpents
entwining it, and the words : Rerum S"pientia custos :
signifying that all things are ruled, or should be, by wisdom
— of which she had much, and knowledge also ; improving
them ever by continual study in the afternoons, and by
lessons which she received from learned men, whom she
^^ '^ /// / /v // r ^/V
MESDAMES, THE DAUGHTERS OF FRANCE. 225
loved above all other sorts of people. For which reason
they honoured her as their goddess and patron. The great
quantity of noble books which they wrote and dedicated to
her show this, and as they have said enough I shall say no
more about her learning.
Her heart was grand and lofty. King Henri wished to
marry her to M. de Vendome, first prince of the blood ; but
she made answer that never would she marry a subject of
the king, her brother. That is why she was so long with-
out a husband ; until, peace being made between the two
Christian and Catholic kings, she was married to M. de
Savoie, to whom she had aspired for a long time, ever since
the days of King Frangois, when Pope Paul III. and King
Prangois met at Nice, and the Queen of Navarre went, by
command of the king, to see the late Due de Savoie in the
castle of Nice, taking with her Madame Marguerite, her
niece, who was thought most agreeable by M. de Savoie,
and very suitable for his son. But the affair dragged on,
because of the great war, until the peace, when the mar-
riage was made and consummated at great cost to France ;
for all that we had conquered and held in Piedmont and
Savoie for the space of thirty years, was given back in one
hour ; so much did King Henri desire peace and love his
sister, not sparing anything to marry her well But all the
same, the greater part of France and Piedmont murmured
and said it was too much.
Others thought it very strange, and others very incredible,
until they had seen her ; and even foreigners mocked at us :
and those who loved France and her true good wept, and
lamented, especially those in Piedmont who did not wish to
return to their former masters.
As for the French soldiers, and the war companions who
had so long enjoyed the garrisons, charms, and fine living of
15
226 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
that beautiful country, there is no need to ask what they
said, nor how they grumbled and were desperate and be-
moaned themselves. Some, more Gascon than the rest, said :
"Hey! cay de JDcoul for the little bit of flesh of that
woman, must we give back that large and noble piece of
earth ? " Others : " A fine thing truly to call her Minerva,
goddess of chastity, and send her here to Piedmont to change
her name at our expense ! "
I have heard great captains say that if Piedmont had
been left to us, and only Savoie and Bresse given up, the
marriage would still have been very rich and very fine ; and
if we could have stayed in Piedmont that region would
have served as a school and an amusement to the French
soldiers, who would have stayed there and not been so
eager after civil wars, — it being the nature of Frenchmen to
busy themselves always with the toils of Mars, and to hate
idleness, rest, and peace.
But such was now the unhappy fate of France. It was
thus that peace was bought, and Madame de Savoie could
not help it ; although she never desired the ruin of France ;
on the contrary, she loved nothing so much as the people
of her nation ; and if she received benefits from them she
was not ungrateful, but served them and succoured them
all she could ; and as long as she lived she persuaded and
won her husband. Monsieur de Savoie, to keep the peace,
and not combine, he being a Spaniard for life, against France,
which he did as soon as she was dead. For then he stirred
up, supported, and strengthened secretly M. le ]\Iar(?chal de
Bellegarde to do what he did and to rebel against the king,
and seize upon the marquisate of Saluces (which I shall
speak of elsewhere) ; in which certainly his Highness did
great wrong, and ill returned the benefits received from the
Kings of France his relatives, especially our late King
MESDAMES, THE DAUGHTERS OF FRANCE. 227
Henri III., who, on his return from Poland, gave him so
liberally Pignerol and Savillan.
Many well-advised persons believe that if Madame de
Savoie had lived she would have died sooner than allow
that blow, so grateful did she feel to the land of her birth.
And I have heard a very great person say that he thought
that if Madame de Savoie were living and had seen her son
seize upon the marquisate of Saluces (as he did in the time
of the late king), she would have strangled him ; indeed*
the late king himself thought so and said so. That king,
Henri III., felt such wrath at that stroke that the morning
when the news reached him, as he was about to take the
sacrament, he put off that act and would not do it, so excited,
angry, and scrupulous was he, within as well as without ;
and he always said that if his aunt had lived it would never
have happened.
Such was the good opinion this good princess left in the
mxjnds of the king and of other persons. And to tell the
truth, as I know from high authority, if she had not been
so good never would the king or his council have portioned
her with such great wealth, which, surely, she never spared
for France and Frenchmen. No Frenchman could com-
plain, when addressing her for his necessities in going or
coming across the mountains, that she did not succour and
assist him and give him good money to help him on his
way. I know that when we returned from Malta, she did
great favours and gave much money to many Frenchmen
who addressed her and asked her for it ; and also, without
being asked, she offered it. I can say that, as knowing it
myself ; for Mme. de Pontcarlier, sister of M. de Eetz, who
was Madame de Savoie's favourite and lady of honour, asked
me to supper one evening in her room, and gave me, in a
purse, five hundred crowns on behalf of the said Madame,
228 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
who loved my aunt, Mme. de Dampierre, extremely and had
also loved my mother. But I can swear with truth and
security that I did not take a penny of it, for I had enough
with me to take me back to Court ; and had I not, I would
rather have gone on foot than be so shameless and impudent
as to beg of such a princess. I knew many who did not do
like that, but took very readily what they could get.
I have heard one of her stewards say that every year she
put away in a coffer a third of her revenue to give to poor
Frenchmen who passed through Savoie. That is the good
Frenchwoman that she was ; and no one should complain
of the wealth she took from France; and it was all her joy
when she heard good news from there, and all her grief
when it was bad.
When the first wars broke out she felt such woe she thought
to die of it; and when peace was made and she came to
Lyon to meet the king and the queen-mother, she could not
rejoice enough, begging the queen to tell her all ; and show-
incr anger to several Huguenots, telling them and writing
them that they stirred up strife, and urging them not to do
so again ; for they honoured her much and had faith in her,
because she gave pleasure to many ; indeed M. I'Arairal
[Coligny] would not have enjoyed his estates in Savoie had
it not been for her.
When the civil wars came on in Flanders she was the
first to tell us on our arrival from Malta ; and you may be
sure she was not sorry for them ; " for," said she, " those
Spaniards rejoiced and scoffed at us for our discords, but now
that they have their share they will scoff no longer."
She was so beloved in the lands and countries of her hus-
band that when she died tears flowed from the eyes of all,
both great and small, so that for long they did not dry nor
cease. She spoke for every one to her husband when they
MESDAMES. THE DAUGHTERS OF FRANCE. 229
"were in trouble and adversity, in pain or in fault, request-
ing favour or pardon, which without her intercessions they
would often not have had. Thus they called her their
patron-saint.
In short, she was the blessing of the world ; in all ways,
as I have said, charitable, munificent, liberal, wise, virtuous,
and so accessible and gentle as never was, principally to
those of her nation ; for when they went to do her reverence
she received them with such welcome they were shamed ;
the most unimportant gentlemen she honoured in the same
way, and often did not speak to them until they were cov-
ered. I know what I say, for, speaking with her on one
occasion, she did me this honour, and urged and commanded
me so much that I was constrained to say : " Madame, I
think you do not take me for a Frenchman, but for one v/ho
is ignorant who you are and the rank you hold ; but I must
honour you as belongs to me." She never spoke to any one
sitting down herself, but always standing ; unless they were
principal personages, and those I saw speaking to her she
obliged to sit beside her.
To conclude, one could never tell all the good of this
princess as it was ; it would need a worthier writer than I
to represent her virtues. I shall be silent, therefore, till
some future time, and begin to tell of the daughters of our
King Henri [II. and Catherine de' Medici], JMesdames
EHsabeth, Claude, and Marguerite de France.
7. Mesdames FlisahdJi, Claude, and 3Iarguerite de Fra.nce.
I begin by the eldest, Madame Elisabeth de France, or
rather I ought to call her the beautiful Elisabeth of the
world on account of her rare virtues and perfections, tlie
Queen of Spain, beloved and honoured by her people in her
lifetime, and deeply regretted and mourned by the sam^e after
230 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
death, as I have said already in the Discourse I made upon
her. Therefore 1 shall content myself for the present in
writing no more, but will speak of her sister, the second
daughter of King Henri, Madame Claude de Prance (the
name of her grandmother), Duchesse de Lorraine, who was
a beautiful, wise, virtuous, good, and gentle princess. So
that every one at Court said that she resembled her mother
and aunt and was their real image. She had a certain
gayety in her face which pleased all those who looked at
her. In her beauty she resembled her mother, in her
knowledge and kindness she resembled her aunt; and the
people of Lorraine found her ever kind as long as she lived,
as I myself have seen when I went to that country ; and
after her death they found much to say of her. In fact, by
her death that land was filled with regrets, and M. de
Lorraine mourned her so much that, though he was young
when widowed of her, he would not marry again, saying he
could never find her like, though could he do so he would
remarry, not being disinclined.
She left a noble progeny and died in childbed, through
the appetite of an old midwife of Paris, a drunkard, in
whom she had more faith than in any other.
The news of her death reached Eeims the day of the
king's coronation, and all the Court were in mourning and
extreme sadness, for her kindness was shown to all when
she came there. The last time .she came, the king, her
brother, made her a gift of the ransoms of Guyenno, which
came from the confiscations that took place there ; but the
ransoms were made so heavy that often they exceeded the
value of the confiscations.
Mme. de Dampierre asked her for one, one day when I
was present, for a gentleman whom T know. The princess
made answer : " Mme. de Dampierre, T give it to you with
MESDAMES, THE DAUGHTERS OF FRANCE. 231
all my heart, having merely accepted this gift from the
king, my brother, not having asked for it; he gave it to
me of his own good-will; not to injure France, for I am
French and love all those who are so like myself ; they will
have more courtesy from me than from another who might
have had that gift; therefore what they want of me and
ask of me I will give." And truly, those who had to do
with her found her all courtesy, gentleness, and goodness.
In short, she was a true daughter of France, having good
mind and ability, which she proved by seconding wisely and
ably her husband, M. de Lorraine, in the government of his
seigneuries and principalities.
After this Claude de France, comes that beautiful Mar-
guerite de France, Queen of Navarre, of whom I have
already spoken ; for which reason I am silent here, awaiting
another time ; for I think that April in its springtime never
produced such lovely flowers and verdure as this princess
of ours produced blooming at all seasons in noble and
diverse ways, so that all the good in the world could be
said of her.
8. Madame Diane de France.
Nor must I forget Madame Diane de France ; although
she was bastard and a natural child, we must place her in
the rank of the daughters of France, because she w^as ac-
kuowledLi'ed by the late King Henri [II.] and legitimatized
and afterwards dowered as daughter of France ; for she
was given the duchy of Chastellerault, which she quitted to
be Duehesse d'Angouleme, a title and estate she retains at
this day, with all the privileges of a daughter of France,
even to that of entering the cabinets and state business of
her brothers, King Charles and King Henri III. (where I
have often seen her), as though she were their own sister.
232 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
Indeed, they loved her as such. She had much resemblance
to King Henri, her father, as much in features of the face
as in habits and actions. She loved all the exercises that
he loved, whether arms, hunting, or horses. I think it is
not possible for any lady to look better on horseback than
she did, or to have better grace in riding,
I have heard say (and read) from certain old persons, that
little King Charles YIII. being in his kingdom of Naples,
Mme. la Princesse de Melfi, coming to do him reverence,
showed him her daughter, beautiful as an angel, mounted
on a noble courser, managing him so well, with all the airs
and paces of the ring, that no equerry could have done
better, and the king and all his Court were in great admira-
tion and astonishment to see such beauty so dexterous on
horseback, yet without doing shame to her sex.
Those who have seen Madame d'Angouleme on horse-
back were as much delighted and amazed ; for she was so
born to it and had such grace that she resembled in that
respect the beautiful Camilla, Queen of the Volsci ; she was
so grand in body and shape and face that it was hard to
find any one at Court as superb and graceful at that exercise ;
nor did she exceed in any way the proper modesty and gen-
tleness ; indeed, hke the Princesse Melfi, she outdid modesty ;
except when she rode through the country, when she showed
some pretty performances that were very agreeable to those
who beheld them.
I remember that M. le Mar^chal d'Amville, her brother-
in-law, gave her, once upon a time, a very fine horse, which
he named le Docteur, because he stepped so daintily and ad-
vanced curveting with such precision and nicety that a
doctor could not have been wiser in his actions ; and that
is why he called him so. I saw Madame d'Angouleme
make that horse go more than three hundred steps pacing
^
'' /'///// , //■ ■ '' /-f / // / r
MESDAMES, THE DAUGHTERS OF FRANCE. 233
in that way ; and often the whole Court was amused to see
it, and could not tell which to admire most, her firm seat,
or her beautiful grace. Always, to add to her lustre, she
was finely attired in a handsome and rich riding-dress, not
forgetting a hat well garnished with plumes, worn ^ la
Guelfe, Ah ! what a pity it is when old age comes to spoil
such beauties and blemish such virtues; for now she has
left all that, and quitted those exercises, and also the hunt-
ing which became her so much ; for nothing was ever unbe-
coming to her in her gestures and manners, like the king,
her father, — she taking pains and pleasure in what she did,
at a ball, in dancing; indeed in whatever dance it was,
whether grave or gay, she was very accomplished.
She sang well, and played well on the lute and other in-
struments. In fact, she is her father's daughter in that, as
she is in kindness, for indeed she is very kind, and never
gives pain to any one, although she has a grand and lofty
heart, but her soul is generous, wise, and virtuous, and she
has been much beloved by both her husbands.
She was first married to the Due de Castro, of the house
of Farnese, who was killed at the assault at Hesdin ; secondly,
to M. de Montmorency, who made some difficulty in the
beginning, having promised to marry Mile, de Pienne, one
of the queen's maids of honour, a beautiful and virtuous
girl ; but to obey a father who was angry and threatened
to disinherit him, he obtained his release from his first
premise and married Madame Diane. He lost nothing by
the change, though the said Pienne came from one of the
greatest families in France, and was one of the most beautiful,
virtuous, and wise ladies of the Court, whom Madame Diane
loved, and has always loved without any jealousy of her
past afTections with her husband. She knows how to con-
trol herself, for she is very intelligent and of good under-
234 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
standing. The kings, her brothers, and Monsieur loved her
much, and so did the queens and duchesses, her sisters, for
she never shamed them, being so perfect in all things.
King Charles loved her, because she went with him to his
hunts and other joyous amusements, and was always gay and
good-humoured.
King Henri [III.] loved her, because he knew that she
loved him and liked to be with him. When war arose so
cruelly on the death of M. de Guise, knowing the king, her
brother, to be in need, she started from her house at Isle-
Adam, in a diligence, not without running great risks, being
watched for on the road, and took him fifty thousand crowns,
which she had saved from her revenues, and gave them to
him. They arrived most h, propos and, as I believe, are still
owing to her ; for which the king felt such good-will that
had he lived he would have done great things for her, hav-
ing tested her fine nature in his utmost need. And since
his death she has had no heart for joy or profit, so much
did she regret and still regrets him, and longs for vengeance,
if her power were equal to her will, on those who killed him.
But never has our present king [Henri IV.] consented to it,
whatever prayer she makes, she holding Mme. de Montpen-
sier guilty of the death of the king, her brother, abhorring her
like the plague, and going so far as to tell her before IMadnme,
the king's sister, that neither Madame nor the king had any
honest reason to love her, except that through this murder
of the late king they held the rank they did liold. What
a hunt ! I hope to say more of this elsewhere ; therefore am
I silent now.
9. Marguerite de Valois, Queen of Navarre.
I must now speak somewhat of ]\rnro;nerite, Queen of
Navarre. Certainly she was not born daughter of a king of
MESDAMES, THE DAUGHTERS OF FRANCE. 235
France, nor did she bear the name, except that of Valois or
d'Orl^ans, because, as M. du Tillet says in his Memoirs, the
surname of France does not belong to any but the daughters
of France; and if they are born before their fathers are
kings they do not take it until after their said fathers'
accession to the crown. Nevertheless this Marguerite, as
the greatest persons of those days have said, was held to be
daughter of France for her great virtues, although there
was some WTong in putting her in that rank. That is why
we place her here among the Daughters of France.^
She was a princess of very great mind and ability, both
by nature and power of acquisition, for she gave herself to
letters in her early years and continued to do so as long as
she lived, liking and conversing with the most learned men
in her brother's kingdom in the days of her grandeur and
usually at Court. They all so honoured her that they
called her their Maecenas ; and most of tlieir books com-
posed at that period were dedicated eitlier to her brother,
the king, who was also learned, or to her.
She herself composed well, and made a book which she
entitled " La Marguerite des Marguerites " which is very
fine and can still be found in print.^ She often composed
comedies and moralities, which were called in those days
pastorals, and had them played and represented by the maids
of honour at lier Court.
She was fond of composing spiritual songs, for her heart
was much given to God ; and for that reason she bore as
her device a marigold, Avhich is the flower that has the most
affinity with the sun of any there is, whether in similitude
of its leaves to rays, or by reason of the fact that usually it
^ She was daughter of Cliarles, Due d'AngouIGuie, and Louise de Savoie,
great-granddaughter of Charles V., and sister of Fran9ois I. — Tr.
2 See Appendix.
236 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
turns to the sun wherever it goes from east to west, opening
and closing according to its rise and its setting. Also she
arranged this device with the words: Non inferiora secutun —
" It stops not for earthly things ; " meaning that she aimed
and directed all her actions, thoughts, will, and affections to
that great sun on high which is God ; and for that reason
was she suspected of being of Luther's religion. But out
of the respect and love she bore the king, her brother, wiio
loved her only and called her his darling [his mi'jnoiiiic~\
she never made any profession or semblance of that religion ;
and if she believed it she kept it in her soul very secretly,
because the king hated it much, saying that that, and all
other new sects, tended more to the destruction of kingdoms,
monarchies, and civil dominions than to the edification of
souls.
The great sultan, Solyman, said the same; declaring that
however much it upset many points of the Christian religion
and the pope, he could not like it, " because," he said, " the
monks of this new faith are only seditious mischief-
makers, who can never rest unless they are stirring up
trouble." That is why King Francois, a wise prince if ever
tliere was one, foreseeing the miseries that would come in
many ways to Cliristianity, hated these people and was
rather ritrorous in burninir alive the heretics of his dav.
Nevertheless, he favoured the Protestant princes of Ger-
many against the emperor. That is how these great kings
govern as they please.
I have lieard a trustworthy person relate hov/ the Con-
netable de Montmorency, in the days of his greatij^t favour,
discoursing of this with the king, made nc) ditiiculty or
scruple in telling him that if he wanted to exterminate the
heretics of his kingdom he would have to begin with his
Court and his nearest relations, namuig tlie queen, his
MESDAMES, THE DAUGHTERS OF FRANCE. 237
sister. To which the king replied : " Do not speak of her ;
she loves me too well. She will never believe except as I
believe, and never will she take any religion prejudicial to
my State." After which, hearing of it, she never liked M.
le conn^table, and helped much in his disfavour and banish-
ment from Court. Now it happened that the day on which
her daughter, the Princesse de Navarre, was married to the
Due de Clfeves at ChasteUerault, the bride was so weighted
with jewels and with her gown of gold and silver stuff that
her body was too weak to walk to church ; on which the
king commanded the conn^table to take his niece in his arms
and carry her to the church ; which amazed tlie Court very
much ; a duty like that being little suitable and honourable
for a connetable, and might have been given very well to
another. But the Queen of Navarre was in no wise displeased
and said : " The man who tried to ruin me with my brother
now serves to carry my daughter to church."
I have this story from the person I mentioned, who added
that M. le connetable was much displeased at this duty and
showed great vexation at being made such a spectacle, say-
ing : " It is all over with my favour, I bid it farewell." And
so it proved ; for after the fete and the wedding dinner, he
had his dismissal and departed immediately. I heard this
from my brother, who was then a page at Court and saw
the whole mystery and remembered it well, for he had a
good memory. Possibly I am wearisome in making this
digression; but as it came to my remembrance, may I be
forgiven.
To speak again of the learning of this queen : it was such
that the ambassadors who spoke with her were greatly
delighted, and made reports of it to their nations when
they returned ; in this she relieved the king, her brother,
for they always went to her after paying their chief embassy
238 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
to him ; and often when great aifairs were concerned they
intrusted them to her. While they awaited the final and
complete decision of the king she knew well how to enter-
tain and content them with fine discourse, in which she
was opulent, besides being very clever in pumpmg them ; so
that the king often said she assisted him mucli and re-
lieved him a great deal. Therefore w^as it discussed, as I
liave heard tell, which of the two sisters served their
brothers best, — one the Queen of Hungary, the emperor ;
the other, ]\Iarguerite, King Frangois ; the one by the effects
of war, the other by the efforts of her charming spirit and
gentleness.
"When King Francois was so ill in Spain, being a prisoner,
she went to him like a good sister and friend, under the
safe-conduct of the emperor ; and finding her brother in
so piteous a state that had she not come he would surely
have died, and knowing his nature and temperament far
better than all liis physicians, she treated him and caused
him to be treated so well, according to her knowledge of
him, that she cured him. Therefore the king often said
that without her he would have died, and that forever
would he recognize his obligation and love her for it ; as he
did, until his death. She returned him the same love, so
that I have heard say how, hearing of his last illness, she
said these words : " Whoever conies to my door an<l an-
nounces the cure of the king, my brother, whoever may be
that messenger, be he lazy, ill-humoured, dirty or unclean, I
will kiss him as the neatest prince and gentleman of France,
and if he needs; a bed to repose his laziness upon, T vv-ill give
him mine and lie myself on the hardest floor for the good
news he brings me." But when she heard of his death her
lamentations were so great, her regrets so keen, that never
after did she recover from them, nor was she ever as before.
MESDAMES, THE DAUGHTERS OF FRANCE. 239
When she was in Spain, as I have heard from my rela-
tions, she spoke to the emperor so bravely and so honestly
on the bad treatment he had given to the king, her brother,
that he was quite amazed ; for she showed him plainly the
ingratitude and felony he had practised, he, a vassal, to his
seigneur in relation to Flanders ; after which she reproached
him for his hardness of heart and want of pity to so great
and good a king ; saying that to use him in this way would
never win a heart so noble and royal and so sovereign as
that of her brother ; and that if he died of such treatment,
his death would not remain unpunished ; he having children
who would some day, when they grew up, take signal
vengeance.
Those words, pronounced so bravely and with such deep
anger, gave the emperor much to think of, — so much indeed
that he softened and visited the king and promised him
many fine things, which he did not, nevertheless, perform
at this time.
Xow^, if the queen spoke so well to the emperor, she
spoke still more strongly to his council, of whom she had
audience. There she triumphed in speaking and haranguing
nobly with that good grace she never was deprived of ; and
she did so well with her fine speech that she made herself
more pleasing than odious and vexatious, — all the more,
withal, that she was young, beautiful, the widow of M.
d'Alengon, and in the flower of her age ; which is very
suitable to move and bend such hard and cruel persons. In
short, she did so well that her reasons were thought good
and pertinent, and she was held in great esteem by the
emperor, his council, and the Court. Nevertheless he meant
to play her a trick, because, not reflecting on the expiration
of her safe-conduct and passport, she took no heed that the
time was elapsing. But getting wind that the emperor as
240 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
soon as her time had expired meant to arrest her, she, always
courageous, mounted her horse and rode in eight days a dis-
tance that should have taken fifteen; which effort so well
succeeded that she reached the frontier of France very late
on the evening of the day her passport expired, circumvent-
ing thus his Imperial Majesty [_Sa Cccsaree Majestc'] wlio
would no doubt have kept her had she overstayed her safe-
conduct by a single day. She sent him word and wrote liini
this, and quarrelled with him for it when he passed through
France. I heard this tale from Mme. la seneschale, my
grandmother, who was with her at that time as lady of
honour.
During the imprisonment of the king, her brother, she
greatly assisted Mme. la regente, her mother, in governing
the kingdom, contenting the princes, the grandees, and win-
ning over the nobihty ; because she was very accessible, and
so won the hearts of many persons by the fine quahties
she had in her.
In short, she was a princess worthy of a great empire ;
besides being very kind, gentle, gracious, charitable, a great
alms-giver and disdaining none. Therefore was she, after
her death, regretted and bemoaned by everybody. The most
learned persons vied with each other in making her epi-
taph in Greek, Latin, French, Italian ; so much so that there
is still a book of them extant, quite complete and very
beautiful.
This queen often said to this one and that one who dis-
coursed of death, and eternal happiness after it : " All that
is true, but we sliall stay a long time under ground before
we come to that." I have heard my mother, who was one
of her ladies, and my grandmother, who was her lady of
honour, say that when they told her in the extremity of her
illness that she must die, she thought those words most
MESDAMES, THE DAUGHTERS OF FRANCE. 241
bitter, and repeated what I have told above ; adding that she
was not so old but that she might live on for many years,
being only fifty-two or fifty-three years old. She was born
under the 10th degree of Aquarius, when Saturn was parted
from Venus by quaternary decumbiture, on the 10th of
April, 1492, at ten in the evening ; having been conceived
in the year 1491 at ten hours before mid-day and seventeen
minutes, on the 11th of July. Good astrologers can make
their computations upon that. She died in B^am, at the
castle of Audaus [Odos] in the month of December, 1549.
Her age can be reckoned from that. She was older than
the king, her brother, who was born at Cognac, September
12th, year 1494, at nine in the evening, under the 21st de-
gree of Gemini, having been conceived in the year 1493,
December 10th, at ten o'clock in the morning, became king
January 11th, 1514 [1515 new style], and died in 1547.
This queen took her illness by looking at a comet which
appeared at the death of Pope Paul III. ; slie herself thought
this, but possibly it only seemed so ; for suddenly her mouth
was drawn a little sideways ; which her physician, M. d'Es-
curanis, observing, he took her away, made her go to bed,
and treated her; for it was a chill [_caferre'], of which she
died in eight days, after having well prepared herself for
death. She died a good Christian and a Catliolic, against
the opinion of many ; but as for me, I can affirm, being a
little boy at her Court with my mother and my grandmother,
that we never saw any act to contradict it ; indeed, having
retired to a monastery of women in Angoumois, called
Tusson, on the death of the king, her brother, where she
made her retreat and stayed the whole summer, she built
a fine house there, and was often seen to do the office of
abbess, and chant masses and vespers with the nuns in the
choir.
16
242 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
I have heard tell of her that, one of her waitinjj-maids
whom she liked much bemg near to death, she wished to see
her die ; and when she was at the last gasp and rattle of
death, she never stirred from beside her, gazing so fixedly
upon her face that she never took her eyes away from it
until she died. Some of her most privileged ladies asked
her why she took such interest in seeing a human being
pass away ; to which she answered that, having heard so
many learned persons discourse and say that the soul and
spirit issued from the body at the moment of death, she
wished to see if any wind or noise could be perceived, or
the shghtest resonance, but she had noticed nothing. She
also gave a reason she had heard from the same learned
persons, when slie asked them why the swan sang so well
before its death ; to which they answered it was for love
of souls, that strove to issue through its long throat. In like
manner, she said, she had hoped to see issue or feel rt-sound
and hear that soul or spirit as it departed ; but she did not.
And she added that if she were not firm in her faith she
should not know what to think of this dislodgment and de-
parture of the soul from the body ; but she believed in God
and in what her Church commanded, without seeking further
in curiosity ; for, in truth, she was one of tho=e ladies as
devotional as could ever be seen ; who had God upon her
lips and feared Him also.
In her gay moments she wrote a book which is entitled
Lcs Nouvelles de la Reine de Navarre, in wliich we find a
style so sweet and fluent, so full of fine discourse and noble
sentences that I have heard tell how the queen- mother and
]\Iadame de Savoie, being young, wished to join in writing
tales themselves in imitation of the Queen of Xavarre ; for
they knew that she was writing them. But when they saw
hers, they felt such disgust that theirs could not approach
MESDAMES, THE DAUGHTERS OF FRANCE, 243
them that they put their writings in the fire, and would
not let them be seen ; a great pity, however, for both being
very witty, nothing that was not good and pleasant could
have come from such great ladies, who knew many good
stories.
Queen Marguerite composed these tales mostly in her
litter travelling through the country ; for she had many
other great occupations in her retirement. I have heard
this from my grandmother, who always went with her in
her litter as lady of honour, holding the inkstand while she
wrote, which she did most deftly and quickly, more quickly
than if she had dictated. There was no one in the world so
clever at making devices and mottoes in French, Latin, and
other languages, of which we have a quantity in our house,
on the beds and tapestries, composed by her. I have said
enough about her at this time ; elsewhere I shall speak of
her a^ain.
The Queen of Navarre, sister of Francois I., has of late
years frequently occupied the minds of literary and learned
men. Her Letters have been published with much care ; in
the edition given of the Poems of Frangois I. she is almost
as much concerned as her brother, for she contributes a
good share to the volume. At the present time [1853] the
Soci(^td des Bibliophiles, considering that there was no cor-
rect edition of the tales and Nouvelles of this princess, —
because, from the first, the early editors have treated tlie
royal author with great freedom, so that it was difficult to
find the true text of that curious work, more famous than
read, — have assumed the task of filling this literary vacuum.
The Society has trusted one of its most conscientious members,
M. Le Roux de Lincy, with compiling an edition from the
original manuscripts ; and, moreover, wishing to give to
244 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
this publication a stamp of solidity, that air of good old
quality so pleasing to amateurs, they have sought for old
type, obtaining some from Nuremberg dating back to the
first half of the eighteenth century, and have caused to be
cast the necessary quantity, which has been used in printing
the present work, and will serve in futui'e for other pubhca-
tions of this Society. The Xouvelles cle la Eeine de Navarre
are presented, with a portrait of the author and a fac-simile
of her signature, in a grave, neat, and elegant manner. Let
us therefore thank this Society, composed of lovers of fine
books, for having thus applied their good taste and muuiii-
cence, and let us come to the study of the personage whom
they have aided us to know.
Marguerite de Yalois, the first of the three Marguerites
of the sixteenth century, does not altogether resemble the
reputation made of her from afar. Born at the ca-tle of
Angouleme, April 11, 1492, two years before her brother,
who will in future be Frangois I., she received from her
mother, Louise de Savoie, early a widow, a virtuous and
severe education. She learned Spanish, Italian, Latin, and
later, Hebrew and Greek. All these studies were not made
at once, nor in her earliest youth. Contemporary of the great
movement of the Eenaissance, she shared in it gradually :
she endeavoured to comprehend it fully, and to follow it in
all its branches, as became a person of lofty and serious
spirit, with a full and facile understanding and more leisure
than if she had been born upon the throne. Brantome pre-
sents her to us as " a princess of ver}' great mind and ability,
both by nature and power of acquisition." She continued to
acquire as long as she lived ; she protected with all her heart
and with all her influence the learned and literary men of
all orders and kinds ; profiting by them and their intercourse
for her own advantage, — a woman who could cope witb
MESDAMES, THE DAUGHTERS OF PRANCE. 245
Marot in the play of verses as well as she could answer
Erasmus on nobler studies.
We must not exaggerate, however ; and the writings of
Marguerite are sutiiciently numerous to allow us to justly
estimate in her the two distinct parts of originality and
simple intelligence. As poet and writer her originahty is
of small account, or, to speak more precisely, she has none at
alL Her intelligence, on the contrary, is great, active, eager,
generous. There was in her day an immense movement of
the human spirit, a Cause essentially literary and liberal,
which hlled all minds and hearts with enthusiasm as public
policy did much later. Marguerite, young, open to all good
and noble sentiments, to virtue under all its forms, grew pas-
sionate for this cause ; and w^hen her brother Francois came
to the throne she told herself that it was her mission to be
its good genius and interpreter beside him, and to show her-
self openly the patron and protectress of men who were ex-
citing against themselves by their learned innovations much
pedantic rancour and ill-wilL It was thus that she allowed
herself to be caught and won insensibly to the doctrines of
the Reformers, which appealed to her, in the first instance,
under a learned and literary form. Translators of Scripture,
they only sought, it seemed to her, to propagate its spirit
and make it better understood by pious souls ; she enjoyed
and favoured them in the light of learned men, and wel-
comed them as loviiig at the same time " good letters and
Christ ; " never suspecting any factious after-thought. And
even after she appeared to be undeceived in the main, she
continued to the last to plead for individuals to the king,
her brother, with zeal and humanity.
The passion that Marguerite had for that brother domi-
nated all else. Slie was his elder by two years and a half.
Louise de Savoie, the young widow, was only fifteen or six-
246 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
teen years older than her daughter. These two women had,
the one for her son the other i'or her brother, a love that
amounted to worship ; they saw m him, who was really to
be the honour and crown of their house, a dauphin who
would soon, when his reign was uiautrurated at Marifj-nano
become a glorious and triumphant Caesar.
" The day of the Conversion of Saint Paul, January 2b,
1515," says Madame Louise in her Journal, " my son was
anointed and crowned in the church at Pieims. For this 1
am very grateful to the Divine mercy, by which I am amply
compensated for all the adversities and annoyances which
came to uie in my early years and in the flower of my youth.
Humility has kept me company, and Patience has never
abandoned me."
And a few months later, noting down with pride the day
of Marignano [victory of Frangois I. over the Swiss and the
Duke of Milan, making the French masters of Lombardy],
she writes in the transport of her heart : —
"September 13, which was Thursday, 1515, my son van-
quished and destroyed the Swiss near Milan ; beginning tlie
combat at five hours after mid-day, which lasted all tlie niglit
and the morrow till eleven o'clock before mid-day; and that
very day I started from Amboise to go on foot to Xotre-
Dame-de-Fontaines, to commend to her what I love better
than myself, my son, glorious and triumphant Citsar, su])ju-
gator of the Helvetians.
" Item. That same day, September 13, 1515, between seven
and eight in the evening, was seen in various parts of I'landers
a flame of fire as long as a lance, which seemed as though it
would fall u]ion the houses, but was so bright that a hundred
torches could not have cast so great a light."
^Marguerite, learned and enlightened as she was, must
iiave believed the presage, for she writes the same words as
MESDAMES, THE DAUGHTERS OF FRANCE. 247
her mother. Married at seventeen years of age to the Due
d'Alengon, an insignificant prince, she gave all her devotion
and all her soul to her brother ; therefore when, in the tenth
year of his reign, tlie disaster of Pavia took place (February
25, 1525), and Marguerite learned the destruction of the
French army and the captivity of their king, we can con-
ceive the blow it was to her and to her mother. While
Madame Louise, appointed regent of the kingdom, showed
strength and courage in that position, we can follow the
thoughts of Marguerite in the series of letters she wrote to
her brother, which M. Genin has published. Her first word
is written to console the captive and reassure him : "Madame
(Louise de Savoie) has felt such doubling of strength that
night and day there is not a moment lost for your affairs ;
therefore you need have no anxiety or pain about your
kingdom or your children." She congratulates herself on
knowing that he has fallen into the hands of so kind and
generous a victor as the A^iceroy of Xaples, Charles de Lan-
noy ; she entreats him, for the sake of his mother, to take
care of his health : " I have heard that you mean to do this
Lent without eating fiesh or eggs, and sometimes fast alto-
gether for the honour of God. Monseigneur, as much as
a very humble sister can implore you, I entreat you not to
do this, but consider how fish goes against you ; also believe
that if you do it Madame has sworn to do so too ; and I shall
have the sorrow to see you both give way."
Marguerite, about this time, sees her husband, who es-
caped from Pavia, die at Lyon. She mourns him ; but after
the first two days she surmounts her grief and conceals it
from her mother the regent, because, not being able to
render services herself, she should think she was most unfor-
tunate, she says, to hinder and shake the spirit of her who
can do such great things. When Marguerite is selected to
248 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
go to her brother in Spain (September, 1525) and work for
his deliverance, her joy is great. At last she can be useful
to this brother, whom she considers " as him whom God has
left her in this world ; father, brother, and husband." She
mingles and varies in many ways those names of master,
brother, king, which she accumulates upon him, without
their sufficing to express her affection, so full and sincere is
it : " Whatever it may be, eve/i to casting to the winds the
ashes of my hones to do you service, nothing can seem to me
strange, or difficult, or painful, but always consolation,
repose, honour." Such expressions, exaggerated in others,
are true on Marguerite's lips.
She succeeded but little in her mission to Spain ; there,
where she sought to move generous hearts and make their
fibre of honour vibrate, she found crafty dissimulation and
policy. She was allowed to see her brother for a short time
only ; he himself exacted that she should shorten her stay,
thinking her more useful to his interests in France. She
tears herself from him in grief, above ail at leaving him ill,
and as low as possible in health. Oh ! how she longed to
return, to stay beside him, and to take the " place of lacquey
beside his cot." It is her opinion that he should buy his
Hberty at any price ; let him return, no matter on what con-
ditions ; no terms can be bad provided she sees him back in
France, and none can be good if he is still in Spain. As
soon as she sets foot in France she is received, she tells liim,
as a forerunner, " as the Baptist of Jesus Christ." Arriving
at B^ziers, she is surrounded by crowds. " I assure you,
Monseigneur," she writes, " that when I tried to speak of
you to two or three, the moment I named the king every-
body pressed round to listen to me ; in short, I am con-
strained to talk of you, and I never close my speech v*-ithout
an accompaniment of tears from persons of all classes."
MESDAMES, THE DAUGHTERS OF FRANCE. 249
Such was at that time the true grief of France for the loss
of her king.
As Marguerite advances farther into the country she
observes more and more the absence of the master; the
kingdom is " hke a body without a head, Hving to recover
you, dying in the sense that you are absent." As for herself,
seemg this, she thinks that her toils in Spain were more
Ci durable than this stillness in France, " where fancies
torment me more than efforts."
In general, all Marguerite's letters do the greatest honour
to her soul, to her generous, solid qualities, filled with affec-
tion and heartiness. Eomance and drama have many a
time expended themselves, as was indeed their right, on this
captivity in Madrid and on those interviews of Frangois I,
and his sister, which lend themselves to the imagination ;
but the reading of these simple, devoted letters, laying bare
their feelings, tells more than all. Here is a charming pas-
sage in which she smiles to him and tries, on her return, to
brighten the captive with news of his children. Francois I.
at this date had five, all of whom, with one exception, were
recovering from the measles.
" And now," says Marguerite, " they are all entirely cured
and very healthy; M. le dauphin does marv^els in study-
ing, mingflin" with his studies a hundred other exercises :
and there is no question now of temper, but of all the
virtues. M. d'Orldans is nailed to his book and says he
wants to be wise ; but M. d'AngoulSme knows more than
the others, and does things that may be thought prophetic
as well as childish ; which, Monseigneur, you would be
amazed to hear of. Little Margot is like me, and will not
be ill ; they tell me here she has very good grace, and is
growing much handsomer than Mademoiselle d'Angoulem©
ever was."
250 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
Mademoiselle d'Angouleme is herself; and the little Margot
who promises to be prettier than her aunt and godmother,
is the second of the Marguerites, who is presently to be
Duchesse de Savoie.
As a word has now been said about the beauty of ]\Iar-
guerite de Navan-e, what are we to think about it? Her
actual portrait lessens the exaggerated idea we might form
of it from the eulogies of that day. j\Iarguerite resembles
her brother. She has his slightly aquiline and very long
nose, the long, soft, and shrewd eye, the lips equally long,
refined and smiling. The expression of her countenance is
that of shrewdness on a basis of kindness. Her dress is
sinjple ; her cotte or gown is made rather high and flat, with-
out any frippery, and is trimmed with fur ; her rnoh-cap,
low upon her head, encircles the forehead and upper part of
the face, scarcely allowing any hair to be seen. She holds
a little dog in her arms. The last of the Marguerites, tliat
other Queen of Navarre, first wife of Henri IV., was the
queen of modes and fashions in her youth ; she gave the
tone. Our Marguerite did nothing of all that ; she left tliat
role to the Duchesse d'fitampes and her like. Marot him-
self, when praising her, insists particularly on her character-
istic of gentleness, " which effaces the beauty of the most
beautiful," on her chaste glance and that franl: spccrJi, iritk-
out disguise., vAtlwiU artifice. She was sincere, "joyous,
laughing readily," fond of all honest gayety, and when hhe
wanted to say a lively word, too risky in French, slie said it
in Italian or in Spanish. In other respects, full of religion,
morality, and sound training ; justifying the magnificent
eulogy bestowed upon her by Erasmus. That wise monarch
of literature, that true emperor of the Latinity of his period,
consoling ]Mar<::uerite at the moment when she was under
the blow of the disaster of Pavia, writes to lier : " I have
MESDAMES, THE DAUGHTERS OF FRANCE. 251
long admired and loved in you many eminent gifts of God :
prudence wortliy of a philosopher, chastity, moderation,
piety, invincible strength of soul, and a wonderful contempt
for all perishable things. Who would not consider with
admiration, in the sister of a great king, qualities which we
can scarcely find in priests and monks ? " In this last stroke
upon the monks we catch the slightly satirical tone of the
Voltaire of those times. Eemark that in this letter addressed
to Marguerite in 1525, and in another letter which closely
followed the first, Erasmus thanks and congratulates her on
the services she never ceases to render to the common cause
of literature and tolerance.
These services rendered by Marguerite were real ; but that
which is a subject of eulogy on the part of some is a source
of blame on the part of others. Her brother having mar-
ried her for the second time, in 1527, to Henri d'Albret,
King of Navarre, she held her little Court at Pau w^hich
thenceforth became the refuge and haven of all persecuted
persons and innovators. " She favoured Calvinism, which
she abandoned in the end," says President H^nault, "and
was the cause of the rapid progress of that dawning sect."
It is very true that Marguerite, open to all the literary and
generous sentiments of her time, behaved as, later, a person
on the verge of '89 might have favoured liberty with all
her strength without wishing or even perceiving the ap-
proaching revolution. She did at this period as did the
whole Court of France, which, merely following fashion,
the progress of Letters, the pleasure of understanding Holy
Scripture and of chanting the Psalms in French, came near
to being Lutheran or Calvinistic without knowinfj it. Their
first awakening was on a morning (October 19, 1534) when
they read, affixed to every wall in Paris, those bloody
placards against the Catholic faith. The imprudent ones
252 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
of the party had fired the train before the appointed time.
Marguerite, good and loyal, knowing nothing of parties and
judging only by honourable persons and the men of letters
of her acquaintance, leaned to the belief that those infamous
placards were the act, not of Protestants, but of those who
sought a pretext to compromise and persecute them. Char-
itable and humane, she never ceased to act upon her brother
in the direction of clemency.
It was thus that on two or three occasions she tried to
save the unfortunate Berquin, who persisted in dogmatizing,
and was, in spite of all the princess's efforts with the king,
her brother, burned on the Gr^ve, April 24, 1529. To read
the passages of the letters in which she commends Eerquin,
one would think she espoused his opinions and his beliefs ;
but we must not ask too much rigour and precision of Mar-
guerite in her ideas and their expression. There are mo-
ments, no doubt, in reading her verse or her prose, when
we might think that she had fully accepted the Eefonna-
tion ; she reproduces its language, even its jargon. Then,
side by side, we see her become once more, or rather continue
to be, a believer after the manner of the best Catholics of her
age, given to all their practices, and not fearing to couple
with them her inconsistencies. Montaigne, who had great
esteem for her, could not prevent himself from noting, for
example, her singular reflection about a young and very great
prince, whose history slie relates in her JS^ouvellcs, and wlio
has all the look of being Frangois I. ; she shows him on
his way to a rendezvous that is not edifying, and, to shorten
his way, lie obtains permission of the porter of a monastery
to cross its enclosure. On his return, being no longer so
hurried, the prince stops to pray in the church of the
cloister ; " for," she says, " although he led the life of which
I tell you, he was a yii'ince who loved and feared God."
MESDAMES, THE DAUGHTERS OF FRANCE. 253
Montaigne takes up that remark, and asks what good she
found at such a moment in that idea of divine protection
and favour. "This is not the only proof to be adduced,"
he adds, " that women are not fitted to treat of matters of
theology."
And, in truth. Marguerite was no theologian ; she was a
person of real piety, heart, knowledge, and humanity, who
mingled with her serious life a happy, enjoying tempera-
ment, making a most sincere harmony of it all ; which sur-
prises us a little in the present day. Brantome relates (in
his " Lives of Illustrious Captains ") an anecdote of Marguerite
which paints her very well in this connection and measure.
A hrotlier of BrantSme, the Capitaine de Bourdeille, had
known at Ferrara in the household of the duchess of that
country (daughter of Louis XII.) a French lady. Mile, de La
Eoche, by whom he had made himself beloved. He brought
her back with him to France, and she went to the Court of
the Queen of Navarre, where she died, he no longer caring
for her. One day, three months after this death, Capitaine
de Bourdeille passed through Pau, and having gone to pay
his respects to the Queen of Navarre as she returned from
vespers, was well received by her ; and talking from topic tc
topic as they walked, the princess led him quietly through the
church to the spot where the tomb of the lady he had lovetl
and deserted was placed. " Cousin," she said, " do you not
feel something moving beneath your feet?" " No, madame,"
he replied. "But reflect a moment, cousin," she said.
" Madame, I do reflect," he answered, " but I feel no move-
ment, for I am walking on solid stone." " Then I inform
you," said the queen, without keeping him further in sus-
pense, " that you stand upon the grave and body of that poor
Mile, de La Eoche, who is buried beneath you, whom you
loved so much ; and, since souls have feelings after death, it
254 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
cannot be doubted that so honest a being, dying of coldness,
felt your step above her ; and though you felt nothing, be-
cause of the thickness of tliat stone, she was moved, and
conscious of your presence. Now, inasmuch as it is a pious
deed to remember the dead, I request you to give her a
Pater nostcr, an Ave JIaria, and a De F7'ofundis, and t(J
sprinkle her with holy water; you will thus obtain the
name of a faithful lover and a good Christian." She left
him and went away, that he might fulfil with a collected
mind the pious ceremonies that were due to the dead. I
do not know why Brantome adds the remark that, in his
opinion, the princess said and did all this more from g'jcd
grace and by way of conversation than from conviction ; it
seems to me, on the contrary, that there was belief as well
as grace, the conviction of a woman of delicacy and a pious
soul, and that all is there harmonized.
In Marguerite's own time there were not lacking tliose
who blamed her for the protection she gave to the lettered
friends of the Eeformation ; she found denunciators in the
Sorbonne ; she found them equally at Court. The Conne-
table de ^Montmorency, speaking to the king of the necessity
of purging the kingdom of heretics, added that he must liegin
with the Court and his nearest relations, naming the Queen
of Xavarre. " Do not speak of her," said the king, " .'-die
loves me too well ; she will believe only what I believe ; slie
will never be of any religion prejudicial to my State." Idiat
saying sums up tlie truth : ]\Iarguerite could be of no other
religion than that of her brother ; and Bayle has very well
remarked, in a fine page of his criticism, that the more we
show that ^Marguerite was not united in doctrine with the
Protestants, the more we are forced to recognize her ^gener-
osity, her loftiness of soul, and her pure humanity. By her
womanly instinct she comprehended tolerance, like L'Hopital,
MESDAMES, THE DAUGHTERS OF FRANCE. 255
like Henri lY., like Bayle himself. From the point of view
of the State there may have been some danger in the direc-
tion of this tolerance, too confiding and too complete ; it so
appeared, in Marguerite's time, at this critical moment when
the religion of the State, and with it the constitution of those
days, was in danger of overthrow. Nevertheless, it is good
that there should be such souls, — in love, before all else, with
humanity ; who insinuate, in the long run, gentleness into
public morals and into laws and justice hitherto cruel ; it is
good because later, in epochs when severity begins again,
repression, while it may be commanded by reasons of policy,
is still forced to reckon with that sj^irit of humanity intro-
duced into customs, and with acquired tolerance. Thus the
rigour of present ages, softened and tempered as it now is by
general manners and morals, would have been a blessing in
past centuries ; these are points gained in civil life which are
never lost afterv/ards.
The Contes et Nonvelles of the Queen of Xavarre have
nothing, as we can readily believe, tliat is much out of keep-
ing or contradictory with her life and the habitual character
of her thoughts. M. Genin has already made that judicious
remark, and an attentive reading will only justify it. Those
Tales are neither the gayeties nor the sins of youth; she
wrote them at a ripe age, for the most part in her litter while
travelling, and by way of amusement — but the amusement
had its serious side. Death prevented her from concluding
them ; instead of the seven Days which we actually have,
she intended to make ten, like Boccaccio; she wished to
give, not an Heptameron, but a French Decameron. In her
prologue she supposes that several persons of condition,
French and Spanish, having met, in the month of September,
at the baths of Cauterets, in the Pyrenees, separate after a
few weeks ; the Spaniards returning as best they can across
256 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
the mountains, the French delayed on their way by floods
caused by the heavy rains. A certain number of these trav-
ellers, men and women, after divers adventures more extraor-
dinary than agreeable, find themselves again in company at
the Abbey of iN'otre-Dame-de-Serrance, and there, as the
river Gave is not fordable, they decide to build a bridge.
"The abbd," says the narrator, "who was very glad they
should make this outlay, because the number of pilgrims
would thus be increased, furnished the workmen, but not a
penny to the costs, such was his avarice. The workmen
declaring that they could not build the bridge under ten or a
dozen days, the company, half men, half women, began to
get very weary." It became necessary to find some " pleasant
and virtuous " occupation for those ten days, and for this
they consulted a certain Dame Oisille, the oldest of the
company.
Dame Oisille responded in a manner most edifying : " ]\Iy
children, you ask me a thing that I find very difficult,
namely : to teach you a pastime which shall deliver you
from ennui. Having searched for this remedy all my life, I
have found but one, and that is the reading of Holy Epistles,
in which will be found the true and perfect joy of the soul,
from which proceeds the repose and health of the body." But
the joyous company cannot keep wholly to so austere a sys-
tem, and it is agreed that the time shall be divided between
the sacred and the profane. Early in the morning the com-
pany assembled in the chamber of Dame Oisille to share in
her moral readings, and from there they went to mass.
They dined at ten o'clock, after which, having retired each to
his or her chamber for private affairs, they met again about
mid-day on the meadow : " And, if it please you, every day,
from mid-day till four o'clock, we went through the beautiful
meadow, on the banks of the river du Gave, where the trees
MESDAMES, THE DAUGHTERS OF FRAXCE. 257
are so leafy that the sun cannot pierce the shadows, or heat
the coolness ; and there, seated at our ease, each told some
story he had known, or else heard from a trustworthy per-
son." For it was well understood that nothing should be
told that was not true; narrators must be content to dis-
guise, if necessary, the names of both persons and places.
The company numbered ten ; as many men as women, and
each told a story daily ; so it followed that in ten days the
hundred tales would be completed. Every afternoon, at four
o'clock, a bell was rung, giving notice that it was time to go
to vespers ; the company went, — not, however, without some-
times obliging the monks to wait for them ; to which delay
the latter lent themselves with very good grace. Thus
rolled the time away, no one believing that he or she had
passed the limits of sanctioned gayety or committed any sin.
The Tales of the Queen of Navarre have nothing abso-
lutely out of keeping with this framework and design.
Each story has a moral, a precept, either well or ill de-
duced ; each is related to support some maxim, some theory,
on the pre-eminence of one or other of the sexes, on the
nature and essence of love, with examples or proofs (often
very contestable) of what is advanced. Prudery apart, there
is not much in these tales that is really charming. The
subjects are tliose of the time. At moments we exclaim
with Dame Oisille : " Good God ! shall we never get out of
these stories of monks ? " We are made aware that even the
honourable men and well-bred women of those days were
contemporaries of Rabelais. However, it all turns to a good
end. There is wit and subtlety in the discussions which
serve as epilogue or prologue to the different tales. Most
of the histories, being true, are without art, composition, or
denouement. The Queen of Navarre has been very little
imitated in the tales and verses made since her day ; in
17
258 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES
fact, she lends herself poorly to imitation. Only once does
La Fontaine put her under contribution, but then in what
is, as I think, the most piquant of her writings, namely :
the tale of La Servante justifih. In IMarguerite's story a
merchant, a carpet-dealer, emancipates himself with another
than his wife, and is discovered by a female neighbour.
Fearing that the latter will gabble, the merchant, " who knew
how to give any colour to carpets," arranges matters in such
a way that his wife is induced of her own accord to walk to
the same place ; so that when the gossiping neighbour
comes to tell the wife what slie has seen, the latter replies,
" Hey ! my crony, but that was I." This " that was I " re-
peated many times and in varying tones, becomes comical,
like the sayings of the farce called Patelin, or a scene of
Eegnard ; there are, however, not many such sayings in
Marguerite's Tales.
A question which arises on the reading of these Nouvclks,
the image and faithful reproduction of the good societ}' of
that day, is on the singularity that the tone of conversation
should have varied so much among honourable persons at
different epochs before it settled down upon the basis of
true delicacy and decency. Elegant conversation dates
much farther back than we suppose ; polished society began
much earlier than we think. The character of conversation
as we now understand it in society, and that which specially
distinguishes it amontr moderns, is that women are admitted
to it ; and this it was that led, during the finest period of
the middle ages, to charming conversations in certain
Courts of the South, and also in Xormandy, in France, and
in England. In those ca=tles of the South wliere trouba-
dours disported, and wlienee the echo of their sweet
songs comes to us, where exquisite and ravishing stories
were composed (like tliat of Avxassiii et Xkoh'tte), there
MESDAMES, THE DAUGHTERS OF FRANCE. 259
must have been all the dehcacy, all the graces one could
wish for in conversation. But taking matters as they ap-
pear to us at the end of the loth century, we notice a
mixture, a very perceptible struggle between purity and
license, between coarseness and refinement. The pretty little
romance Jehan de Sainti^e, in which the chivalric ideal is
pictured from the start in the daintiest manner, and which
assumes to give us a little code in action of politeness,
courtesy and gallantry, — in a word, the complete education
of a young equerry of the day, — this pretty romance is also
full of pedantic precepts, essays on minute ceremonial, and
towards the end it suddenly turns into gross sensuality and
the triumph of the monk, after Eabelais.
The vein of license and w^anton language never ceased
its flow from the time it originated, disguising itself in bril-
liant moments and noble companies only to again unmask
at the beginning of the sixteenth century, when it seems
to borrow still further audacity from the Latin Renaissance.
This was the time when virtuous women told and openly
discoursed of tales cu la Eoquelaure. Such is the tone of
the society which the Nouvelles of Marguerite of Navarre
represent to us, all the more naively because their intention
is in no way indecent. Nearly a century was needed to
reform this vice of taste ; it was necessary that Mme. de
Eambouillet and her daughter should come to reprimand
and school the Court, that professors of good taste and polite
language, like Mile, de Scud(^ry and the Chevalier de M(^rd,
should apply themselves for years to preach decorum ; and
even then we shall find many backslidings and vestiges of
coarseness in the midst of even their refinement and
formalism.
The noble moment is that when, by some sudden change
of season, intellects and minds are spread, all of a sudden,
260 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
in a richer and more equal manner over a whole generation
of vigorous souls who then return eagerly to that which is
natural, and give themselves up to it without restraint. That
noble moment came in the middle of the seventeenth century,
and nothing can be imagined comparable to the conversa-
tions of the youth of the Condes, the La Eochefoucaulds,
the Eetzes, the Saint-Evremonds, the S^vign^s, the Turennes.
What perfect hours were those when Mme. de La Fayette
talked with Madame Henriette, lying after dinner on the
cushions ! Thus we come, across the greatest of centuries,
to Mme. de Caylus, the smiling niece of Mme. de Maiiite-
non, to that airy perfection where the mind without reflect-
ing about it, denies itself nothing and observes all.
In the second half of the seventeenth century no one but
Mme. Cornuel was allowed to use coarse language and be
forgiven because of the spicy wit with which she seasoned it.
At all times virtuous women must have heard and listened to
more than they repeated; but the decisive moment (which
needs to be noted) is that when they ceased to say unseemly
things and fix them in writing without perceiving that they
themselves were lacking in a virtue. This moment is what
Queen Marguerite, as a romance-writer and maker of Nou-
velles, had not the art to divine.
As a poet she has nothing more than facility. She imi-
tates and reproduces the various forms of poesy in use at
that date. It is told how she often employed two secretaries,
one to write down the French verses she composed im-
promptu, the other to transcribe her letters.
Marguerite died at the Castle of Odos in Bigorre, December
21, 1549, in her fifty-eighth year ; in yielding her last breath
she cried out three times : " Jesus ! " She was the mother
of Jeanne d'Albret.
Such as I have shown her as a whole, endeavouring not to
MESDAMES, THE DAUGHTERS OF FRANCE. 261
force her features and to avoid all exaggeration, she deserves
that name of gentil esprit [charming spirit] which has been
so universally awarded to her ; she was the worthy sister of
Francois I., the worthy patron of the Kenaissance, the worthy
grandmother of Henri IV., as much for her mercy as for her
joyousness, and one likes to address her, in the halo that
surrounds her, these verses which her memory calls forth
and which blend themselves so well with our thought of
her : —
" Spirits, charming and lightsome, who have been, from all
time, the grace and the honour of this land of France — ye
who were born and played in those iron ages issuing from bar-
baric horrors ; who, passing through cloisters, were welcomed
there ; the joyous soul of burgher vigils and the gracious
fetes of castles ; ye who have blossomed often beside the
throne, dispersing the weariness of pomps, giving to victory
politeness, and recovering your smiles on the morrow of
reverses ; ye who have taken many forms, tricksorae, mock-
ing, elegant, or tender, facile ever ; ye who have never failed
to be born again at the moment you were said to have van-
ished — the ages for us have grown stern, reason is more and
more accredited, leisure has fled ; even our pleasures eager-
ness has turned into business, peace is without repose, so
busy is she with the useful ; to days serene come after-
thoughts and cares to many a soul ; — ^ 't is now the hour, or
nevermore, for awakening ; the hour to once more grasp the
world and again delight it, as, throughout all time, ye have
known the way, eternally fresh and novel. Abandon not for-
ever this land of Franco, spirits glad and lightsome ! "
Saint-Beuve, Causeries du Lundi (1852).
DISCOUESE YII.
OF VAKIOUS ILLUSTRIOUS LADIES.i
1. Isabelle d^Autriche, wife of Charles IX., King of France
[daughter of the Emperor Maximilian //.],
We have had our Queen of France, Isabelle d'Autriche,
who was married to King Charles IX., of whom it is every-
where said she was one of the best, the gentlest, the wisest,
and most virtuous queens who reigned since kings and queens
began to reign. I can say this, and every man who has
ever seen or heard of her will say it with me, and not do
wrong to others, but with the greatest truth. She was very
beautiful, having the complexion of her face as fine and deli-
cate as any lady of her Court, and very agreeable. Her
figure was beautiful also, though it was of only medium
height. She was extremely wise, and very virtuous and
kind, never giving pain to others, no matter who, nor offend-
ing any by a single word ; and as to that, she was very sober,
speaking little, and then in Spanish.
She was most devout, but in no way bigoted, not showing
her devotion by external acts too visible and too extreme,
such as I have seen in some of our paternosterers ; but,
without failing in her ordinary hours of praying to God, she
used them well, so that she did not need to borrow extraordi-
nary ones. It is true, as I have heard her ladies tell, that
when she was in bed and hidden, her curtains well-drawn,
she would kneel on her knees, in her shift, and pray to God
^ See Appendix.
//'/// /
VAEIOUS ILLUSTRIOUS LADIES. 263
an hour and a half, beating her breast and macerating it in
her great devotion. Which they did not see by her consent,
and then not till her husband, King Charles, was dead ; at
which time, she haviag gone to bed and all her women with-
drawn, one of them remained to sleep in her chamber ; and
this lady, hearing her sigh one night, bethought her of look-
ing through the curtains and saw her in that state, and pray-
ing to God in that manner, and so continuing every night ;
until at last the waiting-woman, who was familiar with her,
began to remonstrate, and told her she did harm to her
health. On which the queen was angry at being dis-
covered and advised, and wished to conceal what she did,
commanding her to say no word of it, and, for that night,
desisted ; but the night after she made up for it, thinking
that her women did not perceive what she did, whereas they
saw and perceived her by her shadow thrown by the night-
lamp filled with wax which she kept lighted on her bed to
read and pray to God ; though other queens and princesses
kept theirs upon their sideboards. Such ways of prayer are
not like those of hypocrites, who, wishing to make an ap-
pearance before the world, say their prayers and devotions
publicly, mumbling them aloud, that others may think them
devout and saintly.
Thus prayed our queen for the soul of the king, her hus-
band, whom she regretted deeply, — making her plaints and
regrets, not as a crazed and despairing woman, with loud
outcries, wounding her face, tearing her hair, and playing
the woman who is praised for weeping; but mourning
gently, shedding her beautiful and precious tears so tenderly,
sighing so softly and lowly, that we knew she restrained
her grief, not to make pretence to the world of brave ap-
pearance (as I have seen some ladies do), but keeping in
her soul her greatest anguish. Thus a torrent of water if
264 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
arrested is more violent than one that runs its ordinary
course.
Here I am reminded to tell how, during the illness of
the king, her lord and husband, he dying on his bed, and
she going to visit him ; suddenly she sat down beside him,
not by his pillow as the custom is, but a little apart and
facing him where he lay ; not speaking to him, as her habit
was, she held her eyes upon him so fixedly as she sat there
you would have said she brooded over him in her heart with
the love she bore him ; and then she was seen to shed tears
so quietly and tenderly that those who did not look at her
would not have known it, drying her eyes while making
semblance to blow her nose, causing pity to one (for I saw
her) in seeing her so tortured without yielcl,ing to her grief
or her love, and without the king perceiving it. Then she
rose, and went to pray God for his cure ; for she loved and
honoured him extremely, although she knew his amorous
complexion, and the mistresses that he had both for honour
and for pleasure. But she never for that gave him worse
welcome, nor said to him any harsh words ; bearing patiently
her little jealousy, and the robbery he did to her. She was
very proper and dignified with him ; indeed it was fire and
water meeting together, for as much as the king was quick,
eager, fiery, she was cold and very temperate.
I have been told by those who know that after her widow-
hood, among her most privileged ladies who tried to give
her consolation, there was one (for you know among a large
number tliere is always a clumsy one) who, tliinking to
gratify her said : " Ah, niadame, if God instead of a daughter
had given you a sou, you would now be queen-mother of
the king, and your grandeur would be increased and
strengthened." " Alas ! " she replied, " do not say to me such
grievous things. As if France had not troubles enough
VARIOUS ILLUSTRIOUS LADIES. 265
without my producing her one which would complete her
ruin ! For, had I a son, there would be more divisions,
troubles, seditions to gain the government during his
minority ; from that would come more wars than ever ; and
each would be trying to get his profit in despoiling the
poor child, as they would have done to the late king, my
husband, when he was little, if the queen-mother and her
good servitors had not opposed it. If I had a son, I should
be miserable to think I had conceived him and so caused
a thousand maledictions from the people, whose voice is
that of God. That is why I praise my God, and take with
gratitude the fruit he gives me, whether it be to me myself
for better or for worse."
Such was the goodness of this good princess towards the
country and people to which she had been brought by
marriage. I have heard related how, at the massacre of
Saint-Bartholomew, she, knowing nothing of it nor even
hearing the slightest breath of it, went to bed as usual, and
did not wake till morning, at which time they told her of
the fine drama that was playing [le lean mystere qui sejouoit].
" Alas ! " she said quickly, " the king, my husband, does he
know of it ? " " Yes, madame," they answered her ; " it was
he himself who ordered it." " my God ! " she cried,
" what is this ? What counsellors are those who gave him
such advice ? My God ! I implore thee, I beg thee to pardon
him ; for if thou dost not pity him, I fear that this offence
is unforgivable." Then she asked for her prayer-book and
began her orisons, imploring God with tears in her eyes.
Consider, I beg of you, the goodness and wisdom of this
queen in not approving such a festival nor the deed then
performed, although she had reasons to desire the total
extermination of M. I'amiral and those of his religion, not
only because they were contrary to hers, which she adored
266 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
and honoured before all else in the world, but because she
saw how they troubled the States of the king, her husband ;
and also because the emperor, her father, had said to her
when she parted from him to come to France : " My
daughter, you will be queen of the finest, most powerful
and greatest kingdom in the world, and for that I hold
you to be very happy ; but happier would you be if you
could find that kingdom as flourishing as it once was ; but
instead you will find it torn, divided, weakened ; for though
the kmg, your husband, holds a good part of it, the princes
and seigneurs of the Eeligion hold on their side the other
part of it." And as he said to her, so she found it.
This queen having become a widow, many persons, men
and women of the Court, the most cluar-sighted that I know,
were of opinion that the king, on his return from Poland,
would marry her although she was his sister-in-law ; for he
could have done so by dispensation of the pope, who can do
much in such matters, and above all for great personages
because of the public good that comes of it. There were
many reasons why this marriage should be made ; I leave
them to be deduced by high discoursers, without alleging
them myself. But among others was that of recognizing by
this marriage the great oblicjations the kins; had received from
the emperor on his return from Poland and departure thence;
for it cannot be doubted that if the emperor had placed the
smallest obstacle in his way, he could never have left Poland
or reached France safely. The Poles would have kejot him
had he not departed without bidding them farewell ; and the
Germans lay in wait for him on all sides to catch him (as
they did that brave King Pdchard of England of whom we read
in the chronicles) ; they would surely have taken him prisoner
and held him for ransom, and perhaps worse ; for they were
bitter against him for the Saint-Bartholoiuew ; or, at least,
VARIOUS ILLUSTRIOUS LADIES. 267
the Protestant princes were. But, voluntarily and without
ceremony, he threw himself in good faith upon the em-
peror, who received him very graciously and amiably, and
with much honour and privilege as though they w^ere
brothers, and feasted him nobly ; then, after having kept
him several days, he conducted him himself for a day
or two, giving him safe passage through his territory ; so
that King Henri, by his favour, reached Carinthia, the land
of the Venetians, Venice, and then his own kingdom.
This was the obligation the king was under to the em-
peror ; so that many persons, as I have said, were of opinion
tliat King Henri III. would meet it by drawing closer their
alliance. But at the time he went to Poland he saw at
Blamont, in Lorraine, Mademoiselle de Vaudemont, Louise
de Lorraine, one of the handsomest, best, and most accom-
plished princesses in Christendom, on whom he cast his
eyes so ardently that he was soon in love, and in such a
manner that (nursing his flame during the whole of his
absence) on his return to France he despatched from Lyon
M. du Gua, one of his prime favourites, to Lorraine, where
he arranged and concluded the marriage between him and
her very easily, and without altercation, as I leave you to
think ; because by the father and tlie daughter no such luck
was expected, the one to be father-in-law of a king of
France, and the daughter to be queen. Of her I shall speak
elsewhere.
To return now to our little queen, who, disliking to remain
in France for several reasons, especially because she was not
recognized and endowed as she sliould have been, resolved
to go and finish the remainder of her noble days with the
emperor and empress, her father and mother. When there,
the Catholic king being widowed of Queen Anne of Austria,
own sister to Queen Isabelle, he desired to espouse the latter,
268 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
and sent to beg the empress, his own sister, to lay his pro-
posals before her. But she would not listen to them, not
the first, nor the second, nor the third time her mother the
empress spoke of them ; excusing herself on the honourable
ashes of the king, her husband, which she would not insult
by a second marriage, and also on the ground of too great
consanguinity and close parentage between them, which
might greatly anger God; on which the empress and her
brother the king urged her to lay the matter before a very
learned and eloquent Jesuit, who exhorted and preached to
her as much as he could, not forgetting to quote all the
passages of Holy and other Scripture, which might serve his
purpose. But the queen confounded him quickly by other
quotations as fine and more truthful, for, since her widow-
hood, she had given herself to the study of God's word ;
besides which, she told him her determined resolution, which
was her most sacred defence, namely, not to forget her hus-
band in a second marriage. On which the Jesuit was forced
to leave her without gaining anything. But, being urged to
return by a letter from the King of Spain, who would not
accept the resolute answer of the princess, he treated her
with rigorous words and even threats, so that she, not willing
to lose her time contesting against him, cut him short ])y
saying that if he meddled with her again she would make
liiui repent it, and even went so far as to threaten to have
liim whipped in her kitchen. I have also heard, but I do
not know if it be true, that this Jesuit having returned for
the third time, she turned away and had him chastised for
his presumption. I do not believe this ; for she loved persons
of holy lives, as those men are.
Such was the great constancy and noble firmness of this
virtuous queen, which she kept to the end of her days, towards
the venerated bones of the king her husl)and, which she
VARIOUS ILLUSTRIOUS LADIES. . 269
honoured incessantly with regrets and tears ; and not being
able to furnish more (for a fountain must in the end dry up)
she succumbed, and died so young that she was only thirty-
five years old at the time of her deatL Loss most inesti-
mable ! for she might long have served as a mirror of virtue
to the honest ladies of all Christendom.
If, of a surety, she manifested love to the king her husband,
by her constancy, her virtuous continence, and her con-
tinual grief, she showed it still more in her behaviour to the
Queen of Navarre, her sister-in-law ; for, knowing her to be
in a great extremity of famine in the castle of Usson in
Auvergne, abandoned by most of her relations and by so
many others whom she had obliged, she sent to her and
offered her all her means, and so provided that she gave her
half the revenue she received in France, sharing with her
as if she had been her own sister ; and they say Queen Mar-
guerite would indeed have suffered severely without this
great liberality of her good and beautiful sister. Wherefore
she deferred to lier much, and honoured and loved her so
that scarcely could she bear her death patiently, as people
do in the world, but took to her bed for twenty days, weep-
ing continually with constant moans, and ever since has not
ceased to regret and deplore her ; expending on her memory
most beautiful words, which she needed not to borrow from
others, in order to praise her and to give her immortality.
I have been told that Queen Isabelle composed and printed
a beautiful book which touched on the word of God, and
also another concerning histories of what happened in France
during the time she was there. I know not if this be true,
but I am assured of it, and also that persons have seen that
book in the hands of the Queen of Navarre, to whom she
sent it before she died, and who set great store by it, calling
it a fine thing ; and if so divine an oracle said so, we must
believe it.
270 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES
This is a summary of what I have to say of our good
Queen Isabelle, of her goodness, her virtue, her continence,
her constancy, and of her loyal love to the king her husband.
And were it not her nature to be good and virtuous (I
heard M. de Langeac, who was in Spain when she died, tell
how the empress said to him : " That which was best among
us is no more "), we might suppose that in all her actions
Queen Isabelle sought to imitate her mother and her aunts.
2. Jeanne d'Autriche, wife of Jean, Infante of Portugal, and
mother of the king, Don Sebastian.
This princess of Spain was of great beauty and very
majestic, or she would not have been a Spanish princess ;
for a fine carriage and good grace always accompany the
majesty of a Spanish woman. I had the honour of seeing
her and talking with her rather privately, being in Spain on
my way back from Portugal. I had gone to pay my respects
to our Queen of Spain, Elisabeth of France, and was talking
with her, she asking news both of France and Portugal,
when they came to tell her that Madame la Princesse Jeanne
was arriving. On which the queen said to me, "Do not
stir, M. de Bourdeille. You will see a beautiful and hon-
ourable princess. It will please you to see her, and she
will be very glad to see you and ask you news of the king
her son, since you have lately seen him." Whereupon, the
princess arrived, and I thought her ver}^ beautiful according
to my taste, very well attired, and wearing on her head a
Spanish toque of white crepe coming low in a point upon
her nose, and dressed as a Spanish widow, who wears silk
usually. I admired and gazed upon her so fixedly that I
was on the point of feeling ravished when the queen called
me and said that Madame la princesse wished to hear from
me news of her son the king ; I had overheard her telling
VAKIOUS ILLUSTEIOUS LADIES. 271
the princess that she was talking with a gentleman of her
brother's Court who had just come from Portugal.
On which I approached the princess, and kissed her gown
in the Spanish manner. She received me very gently and
intimately ; and then began to ask me news of the king, her
son, his behaviour, and what I thought of him ; for at that
time they were thinking to make a marriage between him
and Madame Marguerite de France, sister of the king, and in
these days Queen of Navarre. I told her everything ; for at
that time I spoke Spanish as well as, or better than French.
Among her other questions she asked me this : " Was her
son handsome, and whom did he resemble ? " I told her he
was certainly one of the handsomest princes of Christendom
and resembled her in everything and was, in fact, the very
image of her beauty ; at which she gave a little smile and
the colour came into her face, which showed much gladness
at what I said. After talking with her some time they came
to call the queen to supper, and the two princesses separated ;
the queen saying to me with a smile : " You have given her
a great pleasure in what you said of the resemblance of her
son."
And afterwards she asked me what I thought of her;
whether I did not think her an honourable woman and such
as she had described her to me, adding : " I think she would
like much to marry the king, my brother [Charles IX.], and
I should like it, too." She knew I should repeat this to the
queen-mother on my return to Court, which was then at Aries
in Provence ; and I did so ; but she said she was too old for
him, old enough to be his mother. I told the queen-mother,
however, what had been said to me in Spain, on good author-
ity, namely : that the princess had said she was firmly re-
solved not to marry again unless with the King of France,
and failing that to retire from the world. In fact, she had
272 THE BOOK or THE LADIES.
SO set her fancy on this high match and station, for her heart
was very lofty, that she fully believed in attaining her end
and contentment; otherwise she meant to end her days, as
I have said, in a monastery, where she was already building
a house for her retreat. Accordingly she kept this hope and
belief very long in her mind, managing her widowhood sagely,
until she heard of the marriage of the king to her niece [Isa-
belle], and then, all hope being lost, she said these words, or
something like them, as I have heard tell : " Thougli the
niece be more in her springtime and less weighed with
years than the aunt, the beauty of the aunt, now in its
summer, all made and formed by charming years, and bear-
ing fruit, is worth far more than the fruit her youthful
blooms give promise of ; for the slightest misadventure will
undo them, make them fall and perish, no more no less
than the trees of spring, which with their lovely blooms
promise fine fruits in summer ; but an evil wind may blow
and beat them down and nought be left but leaves. But
let it be done to the will of God, with whom I now shall
marry for all time, and not with others."
As she said, so she did, and led so good and holy a life
apart from the world that she left to ladies, both great and
small, a noble example to imitate. There may be some who
have said : " Thank God she could not marry King Charles,
for if she had done so she would have left behind the hard
conditions of widowhood and resumed all the sweetness of
marriage." That may be presumed. But may we not, on
the other hand, presume that the great desire she showed the
world to marry that great king was a form and maimer of
ostentation and Spanish pride, manifesting her lofty aspira-
tions which she would not lower ? — for seeing her sister Marie
Empress of Austria and wishing to equal her she aspired to
be Queen of France which is worth an empire — or more.
VARIOUS ILLUSTRIOUS LADIES. 273
To conclude : slie was, to my thinking, one of the most
accomplished foreign princesses I have ever seen, though she
may be blamed for retreating from the world more from vex-
ation than devotion ; but the fact remains that she did it ;
and her good and saintly end has shown in her I know not
what of sanctity.
3. Marie cV Autriche, wife of Louis, King of Hungary
[sister of the Emperor Charles V.~\.
Her aunt, Queen Marie of Hungary, did the same, although
at a more advanced age, as irmch to retire from the world as
to help the emperor, her brother, to serve God well in his
retreat. This queen became a widow early, having lost
King Louis, her husband, who was killed, very young, in a
battle against the Turks, which he fought, not for good reason,
but by persuasion and pertinacity of a cardinal who governed
him much, assuring him that he must not distrust God and
His just cause, for if there were but ten thousand Hungarians,
they, being good Christians and fighting for God's quarrel,
could make an end of a hundred thousand Turks ; and that
cardinal so urged and pushed him to the point that he fought
and lost the battle, and in trying to retreat he fell into a
marsh and was smothered. Such are the blunders of men
who want to manage armies and do not know the business.
That was why the great Due de Guise, after he was so
greatly deceived on his journey to Italy, said frequently :
" I love the Church of God, but I will never undertake an
enterprise of war on the word or faith of a priest," — meanin^'j
by that to lay blame on Pope Paul IV., who had not kept
the promises he made him with great and solemn words,
and also on M. le Cardinal, his brother, who had sounded
the ford as far as Eome, and lightly pushed his brother
into it.
18
274 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
To return to our great Queen Marie ; after this misfor-
tune to her husband she was left a widow very young, very
beautiful, as I have heard said by many persons who knew
her, and as I judge myself from the portraits I have seen,
which represent her without anything ugly to find fault with,
unless it be her large, projecting mouth like that of the house
of Austria ; though it does not really come from the house of
Austria, but from that of Bourgogne ; for I have heard a
lady of the Court of those times relate as follows : once
when Queen El^onore, passing through Dijon, went to make
her devotions at the Chartreux monastery of that town, she
visited the venerable sepulchres of her ancestors, the Dues
de Bourgogne, and was curious enough to have them opened,
as many of our kings have done with theirs. She found
them so well preserved that she recognized some by various
signs, among others by their mouths, on which she suddenly
cried out : " Ha ! I thought we got our mouths from Austria,
but I see we get them from Marie de Bourgogne and the
Dues de Bourgogne our ancestors. If I see my brother the
emperor again, I shall tell him so, or else I shall send him
word." The lady who was present told me that she heard
this, and also that the queen spoke as if taking pleasure in
it ; as indeed she had reason to do ; for the house of Bour-
gogne was fully worth that of Austria, since it came from
a son of France, Philippe the Bold, and had gained much
property and great generosities of valour and courage from
him ; for I believe there never were four greater dukes com-
ing one after the other than those four Dues de Bourgogne.
People may blame me sometimes for exaggerating ; but I
ought to be readily pardoned, because I do not know the art
of writing.
Our Queen Marie of Hungary was very beautiful and
agreeable, though she was always a trifle masculine ; but in
VARIOUS ILLUSTRIOUS LADIES. 275
love she was none the worse for that, nor in war, which she
took as her principal exercise. The emperor, her brother,
knowing how fitted for war and very able she v/as, sent for
her to come to him, and there invested her with the office
which had belonged to her Aunt Marguerite of Flanders,
who had governed the Low Countries with as much mild-
ness as her successor now showed rigour. Indeed, so long
as Madame Marguerite lived King rran9ois never turned
his wars in that direction, though the King of England
urged it on him ; for he said that he did not wish to annoy
that honest princess, who had shown herself so good to
France and was so wise and virtuous, and yet so unfortunate
in her marriages ; the first of which was with King Charles
VIIL, by whom she was sent back very young to her father's
house ; another with the son of the King of Arragon named
Jean, by whom she had a posthumous child who died as
soon as he was born, and the third was with that handsome
Due Philibert of Savoie, by whom she had no issue ; and
for this reason she bore for her device the words Fortune
inforhtne, fors une. She lies with her husband in that
beautiful convent at Brou, which is so sumptuous, near the
town of Bourg in Bresse, where I liave seen it.^
Queen Marie of Hungary was of great assistance to the
emperor, for he stood alone. It is true he had Ferdinand,
king of the Eomans, his brother ; but he was forced to
show front against that great Sultan Solyman ; also he
had upon his hands the affairs of Italy, which were then in
combustion ; of Germany, which were little better because
of the Grand Turk ; of Hungary ; of Spain, which had
revolted under M. de Chifevres ; besides the Indies, the Low
1 The tomb of Marguerite and Philibert is still to be seen in the beauti-
ful church, and the above motto, which is carved upon it, has been the
theme of much antiquarian discussioa — Tb.
276 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
Countries, Barbary, and France, the greatest burden of all
In short, I may say the whole world almost.
He made this sister Marie, whom he loved above every-
thing, governor-general of all his Low Countries, where for tlie
space of twenty-two or three years she served him so well
that I know not how he could have done without her.
For this he trusted her with all the affairs of the govern-
ment, so that he himself, being in Flanders, left aU to her,
and the Coimcil was held by her in her own house. It is
true that she, being very wise and clever, deferred to him,
and reported to him all that was done at the Council when
he was not there, in which he took much pleasure.
She made great wars, sometimes by her lieutenants, some-
times in person, — always on horseback like a generrms
amazon. She was the first to light fires and conflagrations
in France, — some in very noble houses and chateaux like
that of FoUembray, a beautiful and charming house built
by our kings for their comfort and pleasure in liunting.
The king took this with such wrath and displeasure that
before long he returned her the change for it, and revenged
it on her beautiful mansion of Bains, held to be a miracle
of the world, shaming (if I may say so from what I
have heard those say who saw it in its perfection) the
seven wonders of the world renowned in antiquity. She
feted there the Emperor Charles and his whole Court, when
his son, King Philip, came from Spain to Flanders to see
him ; on which occasion its magnificences were seen in such
excellence and perfection that nothing was talked of at
that time but las fiestas de Bains, as the Spaniards say. I
remember myself that on the journey to Bayonne [where
Catherine de' ]\redici met her daughter Ehsabeth Queen
of Spain], however great was the magnificence there pre-
sented, in tourneys, combats, masquerades, and money ex-
VARIOUS ILLUSTRIOUS LADIES. 277
pended, nothing came up to las fiestas de Bains ; so said
certain old Spanish gentlemen who had seen them, and also
as I saw it stated in a Spanish book written expressly about
them ; so that one could well say that nothing finer was
ever seen, not even, begging pardon of Koman magnificence,
the games of ancient times, barring the combats of gladiators
and wild beasts. Except for them, the fetes of Bains were
finer and more agreeable, more varied, more general.
I would describe them here, according as I could borrow
them from that Spanish book and as I heard of them from
some who were present, even from Mme. de Fontaine, born
Torcy, maid of honour at the time to Queen Eldonore ; but I
might be blamed for being too digressive. I will keep it for
a honne hoiicJie another time, for the thing is worth it.
Among some of the finest magnificences was this : Queen
Marie had a great fortress built of brick, which was assaulted,
defended, and succoured by six thousand foot-soldiers ; can-
nonaded by thirty pieces of cannon, whether in the batteries
or the defences, with the same ceremonies and doings as
in real war ; which siege lasted three days, and never was
anything seen so fine, the emperor taking great pleasure
in it.
You may be sure that if this queen played the sumptuous
it was because she wanted to show her brother that if she
held her States, pensions, benefits, even her conquests, through
him, all were devoted to his glory and pleasure. In fact, the
said emperor was greatly pleased and praised her much ; and
reckoned the cost very high ; especially that of his chamber
which was hung with tapestry of splendid w^arp, of silver
and gold and silk, on which were figured and represented,
the size of life, all his fine conquests, great enterprises, expe-
ditions of war, and the battles he had fought, given, and won,
above all, not forgetting the flight of Solyman before Vienna,
278 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
and the capture of King Francois. In short, there was
nothing in it that was not exquisite.
But the noble house lost its lustre soon after, being totally
pillaged, ruined, and razed to the ground. I have heard say
that its mistress, when she heard of its ruin, fell into such
distress, anger, and rage that for long she could not be paci-
hed. Passing near there some time later she wished to see
the ruins, and gazing at them very piteously with tears in
her eyes, she swore that all France should repent of the deed,
for never should she be at her ease until that fine Fontaine-
bleau, of which they thought so much, was razed to tlie
ground with not one stone left upon another. In fact,
she vomited her rage upon poor Picardy, which felt it in
flames. And we may believe that if peace had not inter-
vened, her vengeance would have been greater still ; for she
had a stem, hard heart, not easily appeased, and was thought
to be, on her side as much as on ours, too cruel. But such is
the nature of women, even the greatest, who are very quick
to vengeance when offended. The emperor, it was said, loved
her the better for it.
I have heard it related how, w^hen at Brussels, the emperor,
in the great haU where he had called together the general
Assembly, in order to give up and despoil himself of his
States, after making an harangue and saying all he wished
to say to the Assembly and to his son, humbly thanked
Queen Marie, his sister, who was seated beside him. On
which she rose from her seat and, with a grand curtsey made
to her brother with great and grave majesty and composed
grace, she said, addressing her speech to the people : " Mes-
sieurs, since for twenty-three years it has pleased the em-
peror, my brother, to give me the charge and government of
all his Low Countries, I have employed and used therein all
that Crod, nature, and fortune have given me of means and
VARIOUS ILLUSTRIOUS LADIES. 279
graces to acquit myself as well as possible. And if in any-
thing I have been in fault, I am excusable, thinking I have
never forgotten what I should remember, nor spared what
was proper. Nevertheless, if I have been lacking in any way
I beg you to pardon me. But if, in spite of this, some of you
will not do so, and remain discontented with me, it is the
least thing I care for, inasmuch as the emperor, my brother,
is content; for to please him alone has been my greatest
desire and solicitude." So saying, and having made another
grand curtsey to the emperor, she resumed her seat. I have
heard it said that this speech was thought too haughty and
defiant, both as relating to her office, and as bidding adieu to
a people whom she ought to have left with a good word and
in grief at her departure. But what did she care, — inasmuch
as she had no other object than to please and content her
brother and, from that moment, to quit the world and keep
company with that brother in his retreat and his prayers
[1556] ?
I heard all this related by a gentleman of my brother who
was then in Brussels, having gone there to negotiate the ran-
som of my said brother who was taken prisoner at Hesdin
and confined five years at Lisle in Flanders. The said gen-
tleman witnessed this Assembly and all these sad acts of the
emperor; and he told me that many persons were rather
scandalized under their breaths at this proud speech of the
queen ; though they dared say nothing, nor let it be seen,
for they knew they had to do with a maitresse-femme who
would, if irritated, deal them some blow as a parting gift.
But here she was, relieved of her office, so that she accom-
panied her brother to Spain and never left him again, she,
and her sister, Queen El^onore, until he lay in his tomb ; the
three surviving exactly a year one after the other. The
emperor died first, the Queen of France, being the elder, next,
280 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
and the Queen of Hungary last, — both sisters having very
virtuously governed their widowhood. It is true that the
Queen of Hungary was longer a widow than her sister with-
out remarrjang ; for her sister married twice, as much to be
Queen of France, which was a fine morsel, as by prayer and
persuasion of the emperor, in order that she might serve as a
seal to secure peace and public tranquillity ; though, indeed,
this seal did not last long, for war broke out again soon after,
more cruel than ever ; but the poor princess could not help
that, for she had brought to Trance all she could; though
the king, her husband, treated her no better for that, but
cursed his marriage, as I have heard say.
4. Louise de Lorraine, icife of Henri LLL., King of France.
We can and should praise this princess who, in her mar-
riage, behaved to the king, her husband, so wisely, chastely,
and loyally that the tie wliich bound her to him remained
indissoluble and was never loosened or undone, although the
king her husband, loving change, went after others, as the
fashion is with these great persons, who have a liberty of
their own apart from other men. Moreover, within the first
ten days of their marriage he gave her cause for discontent-
ment, for he took away her waitiug-maids and the ladies
who had been with her and brought her up from childhood,
whom she regretted much ; and more especially the sting
went deep into her heart on account of Mile, de Changy, a
beautiful and very honourable young lady, who should never
have been banished from the company of her mistress, or
from Court. It is a great vexation to lose a good companion
and a confidante.
I know that one of the said queen's most intimate ladies
vras so presumptuous as t(j say to her one day, laiigliing and
joking, that since she had no children by the king and could
//v/' . /'. //<///-/ ///
VARIOUS ILLUSTRIOUS LADIES. 281
never have them, for reasons that were talked of in those
days, she would do well to borrow a third and secret means
to have them, in order not to be left without authority when
the king should die, but rather be mother to a king and
hold the rank and grandeur of the present queen-mother, her
mother-in-law. But she rejected this bouffonesque advice,
taking it in very bad part and nevermore liking the good
lady-counsellor. She preferred to rest her grandeur on her
chastity and virtue than upon a lineage issuing from vice :
counsel of the world ! which, according to the doctrine of
Macchiavelli, ought not to be rejected.
But our Queen Louise, so wise and chaste and virtuous,
did not desire, either by true or false means, to become
queen-mother; though, had she been willing to play such
a game, things would have been other than they are; for
no one would have taken notice, and many would have been
confounded. For this reason the present king [Henri IV.]
owes much to her, and should have loved and honoured her ;
for had she played the trick and produced the child, he
would only have been regent of France, and perhaps not
that, and such weak title would not have guaranteed us from
more wars and evils than we have so far had. Still, I have
heard many, religious as well as worldly people, say and hold
to this conclusion, namely : that Queen Louise would have
done better to play that game, for then France would not
have had the ruin and misery she has had, and will have,
and that Christianity would have been the better for it. I
make this question over to worthy and inquiring discoursers
to give their opinion on it ; it is a brave subject and an ample
one for the State ; but not for God, methinks, to whom our
queen was so inclined, loving and adoring Him so truly that
to serve Him she forgot herself and her high condition. For,
1)eing a very beautiful princess (in fact the king took her for
2S2 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
her beauty and virtue), and young, delicate, and very lovable,
she devoted herself to no other purpose than serving God,
going to prayers, visiting the hospitals continually nursing
the sick, burying the dead, and omitting nothing of all the
good and saintly works performed by saintly and devoted
good women, princesses, and queens in the times past of the
primitive Church. After the death of the king, her husband,
she did the same, employing her time in mourning and
regretting him, and in praying to God for his soul ; so that
her widowed life was much the same as her married hfe.
She was suspected during the lifetime of her husband of
leaning a little to the party of the Union [League] because,
good Christian and Catholic that she was, she loved all who
fought and combated for her faith and her rehgion ; but she
never loved these and left them wholly after they killed her
husband ; demanding no other vengeance or punishment than
what it pleased God to send them, asking the same of men
and, above all, of our present king ; who should, however, have
done justice on that monstrous deed done to a sacred person.
Thus lived this princess in marriage and died in widovr-
hood. She died in a reputation most beautiful and worthy
of her, having linsrered and languished lonj?, without taking;
care of herself and giving way too much to her sadness.
She made a noble and religious end. Before she died she
ordered her crown to be placed on the pillow beside her, and
would not have it moved as long as she lived ; and after her
death she was crowned with it, and remained so.
5. Marguerite de Lorraine, wife of Anne, Dilc de Joyeusc}
Queen Louise left a sister, Madame de Joyeuse, who has
imitated her modest and chaste life, having made great
1 The picture of the Ball at Court, unrlcr Henri HI., attributed to Fran-
cois Clouet (see chapter ii. of this volume), was given in celebration of her
VARIOUS ILLUSTRIOUS LADIES. 283
mourning and lamentation for her husband, a brave, valiant,
and accomplished seigneur. And I have heard say that
when the present king was so tightly pressed in Brest, where
M. du Maine with forty thousand men held him besieged and
tied up in a sack, that if she had been in the place of the
Due de Chartres, who commanded within, she would have
revenged the death of her husband far better than did the
said duke, who on account of the obligations he owed the
Due de Joyeuse, should have done better. Since when, she
has never liked him, but hated him more than the plague,
not being able to excuse such a fault; though there are
some who say that he kept the faith and loyalty he had
promised.
But a woman justly or unjustly offended does not listen
to excuses ; nor did this one, who never again loved our
present king ; but she greatly regretted the late one [Henri
III.] although she belonged to the League ; but she always
said that she and her husband were under extreme obliga-
tions to him. To conclude : she was a good and virtuous
princess, who deserves honour for the grief she gave to the
ashes of her husband for some time, although she remarried
in the end with M. de Luxembourg. Being a woman, why
should she languish ?
6. Christine of Denmark, niece of the Emperor Charles V.
Duchcsse de ZorraAne.
After the departure of the Queen of Hungary no great
princess remained near King Philip II. [to whom Charles
V. resigned the Low Countries, Naples, and Sicily 1555]
marriage. She advances, with lier sweet and modest face (evidently a
portrait) in the centre of the picture. Henri III. is seated under a red
dais; next him is Catherine de' Medici, his mother, and next to her is
Louise de Lorraine, liis wife ; leanins on the king's chair is Henri Due de
Guise, le Balafr6, murdered by Henri IIJ. at Blois in 1588. — Tb.
284 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
except the Duchesse de Lorraine, Christine of Denmark,
his cousin-german, since called her Highness, who kept
him good company so long as he stayed in Flanders, and
made his Court shine ; for the Court of every king, prince,
emperor, or monarch, however grand it be, is of little
account if it be not accompanied and made desirable by
the Court of queen, empress, or great princess with numer-
ous ladies and damoiselles ; as I have well perceived myself
and heard discoursed of and said by the greatest personages.
This princess, to my thinking, was one of the most beauti-
ful and accomplished princesses I have ever seen. Her face
was very agreeable, her figure tall, and her carriage fine;
especially did she dress herself well, — so well that, in her
time, she gave to our ladies of France and to her own a
pattern and model for dressing the head with a coiffure and
veil, called tt la Lorraine; and a fine sight it was on our
Court ladies, who wore it only for fetes or great magnifi-
cences, in order to adorn and display themselves, as did all
Lorraine, in honour of her Highness. Above all, she had
one of the prettiest hands that were ever seen ; indeed 1
have heard our queen-mother praise it and compare it with
her own. She held herself finely on horseback with vei-y
good grace, and always rode with stirrup and pommel, as
she had learned from her aunt, Queen Mary of Hungary.
I have heard say tliat the queen-mother learned tliis fashion
from her, for up to that time she rode on tlie plank, which
certainly does not show the grace or the fine action with the
stirrup. She liked to imitate in riding the queen, her aunt,
and never mounted any but Spanish or Turkish horses,
barbs, or very fine jennets which went at an amble ; I
have known her have at one time a dozen very fine ones,
of which it would bo hard to say wliich was the finest.
Her aunt, the queen, Ir)^■ed her much, finding her suited to
VARIOUS ILLUSTRIOUS LADIES. 285
her humour, whether in the exercises, hunting and other, that
she loved, or in. the virtues that she knew she possessed.
While her husband lived she often went to Flanders to sec
her aunt, as Mme. de Fontaine told me; but after she
became a widow, and especially after they took her son
away from her, she left Lorraine in anger, for her heart was
very lofty, and made her abode with the emperor her uncle,
and the queens her aunts, who gladly received her.
She bore very impatiently the parting from this son,
though King Henri made every excuse to her, and declared
he intended to adopt him as a son. But not being pacified,
and seeing that they were giving the old fellow M. de la
Brousse to her son as governor, taking away from him M. de
Montbardon, a very wise and honourable gentleman whom
the emperor had appointed, having known him for a very
long time, this princess, finding how desperate the matter
was, came to see King Henri on a Holy Thursday in the
great gallery at Nancy, where the Court then was ; and with
very composed grace and that great beauty which made her
so admired, and without being awed or abating in any way
her grandeur, she made him a great curtsey, entreating him,
and explaining with tears in her eyes (which only made her
the more beautiful) the wrong he did in taking her son from
her, — an object so dear to her heart and all she had in the
world ; also that she did not merit such treatment, in view
of the great family from which she came; besides which
she believed she had never done anything against his service.
She said these things so well, with such good grace and
reasoning, and made her complaint so gently that the king,
who was always courteous to ladies, had great compassion
for her, — not only he, but all the princes and the great and
the little people who saw that sight.
The king, who was the most respectful king to ladies
286 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
that was ever in France, answered lier most civilly ; not
with a flourish of words or a great harangue, as Paradin in
his History of France represents, for of himself and by
nature he was not at all prolix, nor copious in words nor
a great haranguer. Moreover, there is no need nor would
it be becoming that a king should imitate in his speech a
philosopher or an orator; so that the shortest words and
briefest answers are best for a king ; as I have heard M.
de Pibrac say, whose instruction was very sound on account
of the learning that was in him. Therefore, whoever reads
that harangue of Paradin, made, or presumed to be made
by King Henri, should believe none of it, for I have heard
several great persons who were present declare that he could
not have heard that answer or that discourse as he says
he did. Very true it is that the king consoled her civilly
and modestly on the desolation she expressed, and told her
she had no reason to be troubled, because to secure his
safety, and not from enmity, did he wish to keep her son
beside him, and put him with his own eldest son to have
the same education, same manner of life, same fortune ; and
since he was of French extraction, and himself Frencli, he
could be better brought up at the Court of France, among
the French, where he had relations and friends. Kor did he
forget to remind her that the house of Lorraine was more
obliged to France than any house in Christendom, remind-
ing her of the obligation of the Due de Lorraine in respect
to Due Charles de Bourfjome, who was killed at Xanov.
But all these fine words and reasons could not console
her or make her bear her sorrow patiently. So that, hav-
ing made her curtsey, still shedding many precious tears,
she retired to her chamber, to the door of which the king
conducted her ; and the next day, before hi'^ departure, she
went to see him in hi? chamber to take leave of him, but
VARIOUS ILLUSTRIOUS LADIES. 287
could not obtain her request. Therefore, seeing her dear
son taken before her eyes and departing for France, she
resolved, on her side, to leave Lorraine and retire to Flanders,
to her uncle, the emperor (how fine a word !), and to her
cousin King Philip and the queens, her aunts (what
alliance ! what titles !), which she did ; and never stirred
thence till after the peace made between the two kings,
when he of Spain crossed the seas and went away.
She did much for this peace, I might say all ; for the
deputies, as much on one side as on the other, as I have
heard tell, after much pains and time consumed at Cercan
[Cateau-Cambr^sis] without doing or concluding anything,
were all at fault and off the scent, like huntsmen, when
she, being either instinct with the divine spirit, or moved
by good Christian zeal and her natural good sense, under-
took this great negotiation and conducted it so well that
the end was fortunate throughout all Christendom. Also it
was said that no one could have been found more proper
to move and place that great rock ; for she was a very
clever and judicious lady if ever there was one, and of fine
and grand authority ; and certainly small and low persons
are not so proper for that as the great. On the other hand
the kmg, her cousin [PhiHp II.], believed and trusted her
greatly, esteeming her much, and loving her with a great
affection and love ; as indeed he should, for she gave his
Court great value and made it shine, when otherwise it
would have been obscure. Though afterwards, as I have
been told, he did not treat her too well in the matter of her
estates which came to her as dowry in the duchy of Milan ;
she having been married first to Due Sforza, for, as I have
heard say, he took and curtailed her of some.
I was told that after the death of her son she remained
^n very ill terms with M. de Guise and his brother, the
288 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
Cardinal, accusing them of having persuaded the king to
keep her son on account of their ambition to see and have
their near cousin adopted son and married to the house of
France ; besides which, she had refused some time before
to take M. de Guise in marriage, he having asked her to
do so. She, who was haughty to the very extreme, rephed
that she would never marry the younger of a house whose
eldest had been her husband ; and for that refusal M. de
Guise bore her a grudge ever after, — though indeed he lost
nothing by the change to Madame his wife, whom he mar-
ried soon after, for she was of very illustrious birth and grand-
daughter of Louis XII., one of the bravest and best kings
that ever wore the crown of France ; and, what is more, she
was the handsomest woman in Christendom.
I have heard tell that the first time these two handsome
princesses saw each other, they were each so contemplative
the one of the other, turning their eyes sometimes cross-
ways, sometimes sideways, that neither could look enough,
so fixed and attentive were they to watch each other. I
leave you to think what thoughts they were turning in
their fine souls ; not more nor less than those we read of
just before the great battle in Africa between Scipio and
Hannibal (which was the final settlement of the war be-
tween Eome and Carthage), when those two great captains
met together during a truce of two hours, and, having ap-
proached each other, they stood for a little space of time, lost
in contemplation the one of the other, each ravished by the
valour of his companion, both renowned for their noble
deeds, so well represented in their faces, their bodies, and
their fine and warlike ways and gestures. And then, hav-
ing stood for some time thus wrapt in meditation of each
other, they began to negotiate in the manner that Titus
Livius describes so well. That is what virtue is, which
VARIOUS ILLUSTRIOUS LADIES. 289
makes itself admired amid hatreds and enmities, as beaiitj
among jealousies, like that of the two ladies and princesses
I have just been speaking of.
Certainly their beauty and grace may be reckoned equal,
though Mme. de Guise could slightly have carried the day ;
but she was content without it, — being not at all vain or
superb, but the sweetest, best, humblest, and most affable
princess that could ever be seen. In her way, however, she
was brave and proud, for nature had made her such, as much
by beauty and form as by her grave bearing and noble
majesty; so much so that on seeing her one feared to
approach her; but having approached her one found only
sweetness, candour, gayety ; getting it all from her grand-
father, that good father of his people, and the sweet air of
France. True it is, she knew well how to keep her grandeur
and glory when need was.
Her Highness of Lorraine was, on the contrary, very
vain-glorious, and rather too presumptuous. I saw that
sometimes in relation to Queen Marie Stuart of Scotland,
who, being a widow, made a journey to Lorraine, on which
I went ; and you would have said that very often her said
Highness was determined to equal the majesty of the said
queen. But the latter, being very clever and of great cour-
age, never let her pass the line, or make any advance ;
although Queen Marie was always gentle, because her uncle,
the Cardinal, had warned and instructed her as to the tem-
per of her said Highness. Then she, being unable to be rid
of her pride, thought to soothe it a little on the queen-mother
when they met. But that indeed was pride to pride and a
half ; for the queen-mother was the proudest woman on earth
when she chose to be. I have heard her called so by many
great personages ; for when it was necessary to repress the
vainglory of some one who wanted to seem of importance
19
290 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
she knew how to abase him to the centre of the earth. How-
ever, she bore herself civilly to her Highness, deferring to
her much and honouring her ; but always holding the bridle
in hand, sometimes high, sometimes low, for fear she should
get away ; and I heard her myself say, two or three times :
" That is the most vainglorious woman I ever saw."
The same thing happened when her Highness came to the
coronation of the late King Charles IX. at Eeims, to which
she was invited. When she arrived, she would not enter the
town on horseback, fearing she could not thus show her
grandeur and high estate ; but she put herself into a most
superb carriage, entirely covered with black velvet, on account
of her widowhood, which was drawn by four Turk horses,
the finest that could be chosen, and harnessed all four abreast
after the manner of a triumphal car. She sat by the door,
very well dressed, but all in black, in a gown of velvet; but
her head was white and very handsomely and superbly
coiffed and adorned. At the other door of her carriage was
one of her daughters, afterwards Mme. la Duchesse de
Bavifere, and within was the Princesse de Mac^doine, her
lady of honour.
The queen-mother, wishing to see her enter the courtyard
in this triumphal manner, placed herself at a window and
said, quite low, " There 's a proud woman ! " Then her High-
ness having descended from her carriage and come upstairs,
the queen advanced to receive her at the middle of the room,
not a step beyond, and rather nearer the door than farther
from it. There she received her very well ; because at that
time she governed everything. King Charles being so young ;
and did all she wished, which was certainly a great honour
to her Highness. All the Court, from the highest to the
lowest, esteemed and admired her much and thought her
very handsome, although she was declining in years, being
VARIOUS ILLUSTRIOUS LADIES. 291
at that time rather more than forty: but nothing as yet
showed it, her autumn surpassing the summer of others.
She died one year after hearing the news that she was
Queen of Denmark, from which she came, and that the king-
dom had fallen to her ; so that before her death she was able
to change the title of Highness, she had borne so long, to
that of Majesty. And yet, for all that, as I have heard, she
was resolved not to go to her kingdom, but to end her days
in her dower-house at Tortonia in Italy, where the country-
side called her only Madame de Tortonia ; she having retired
there some time before her death, as much because of cer-
tain vows she had made to the saints of those parts as to
be near the baths of Tortonia, she being feeble in health
and very gouty.
Her practices were fine, saintly, and honourable, to wit :
praying God, giving alms, and doing great charity to the poor,
above all to widows. This is a summary of what I have
heard of this great princess, who, though a widow and very
beautiful, conducted herself virtuously. It is true that one
might say she was married twice : first with Due Sforza, but
he died at once ; they did not live a year together before she
was a widow at fifteen. Then her uncle, the Emperor
Charles V., remarried her to the Due de Lorraine, to
strengthen his alliance with him ; but there again she was a
widow in the flower of her age, having enjoyed that fine
marriage but a very few years j and those that remained to
her, which were her finest and most precious in usefulness,
she kept and consumed in a chaste widowhood.
7. Marie d'Autriche, wife of the JEmperor Maximilian II.
This empress, though she was left a widow quite young
and very beautiful, would never marry again, but contained
herself and continued in widowhood very virtuously, having
292 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
left Austria and Germany, the scene of her empire, after
the death of her husband. She returned to her brother,
Philip II. in Spain ; he having sent for her, and begged
her to come and assist him with the heavy burden of his
affairs, which she did ; being a very wise and judicious
princess. I have heard the late King Henri III. say, — and
he was a better judge of people than any man in his king-
dom, — that to his mind she was one of the ablest and most
honourable princesses in the world.
On her way to Spain, after crossing the Germanys, she
came to Italy and Genoa, where she embarked ; and as it was
winter and the month of December when she set sail, bad
weather overtook her near Marseille, where she was forced
to put in and anchor. But still, for all that, she would not
enter the port, neither her own galley nor the others, for
fear of causing suspicion or offence. Only once did she
enter the town, just to see it. She remained there eight
days awaiting fair weather. Her best exercise was in the
mornings, when she left her galley (where she slept) and
went to hear mass and service at the church of Saint- Victor,
with very ardent devotion. Then her dinner was brought
and prepared in the abbey, where she dined; and after
dinner she talked with her women or with certain gentle-
men from Marseille, who paid her all the honour and
reverence that were due to so great a princess ; for King
Henri had commanded them to receive her as they would
himself, in return for the good greeting and cheer she had
given him in Vienna. So soon as she perceived this she
showed herself most friendly, and spoke to them very freely
both in German and in French ; so that they were well con-
tent with her and she with them, selecting twenty especially ;
among them M. Castellan, called the Seigneur Altivity, cap-
tain of the galleys, who was distinguished for having mar-
VAKIOUS ILLUSTRIOUS LADIES. 293
ried tlie beautiful Chateauneuf at Court, and also for having
killed the Grand-prior, as I shall relate elsewhere.
It was his wife who told me all that I now relate, and
discoursed to me about the perfections of this great princess ;
and how she admired Marseille, thinking it very fine, and
went about with her on her promenades. At night she re-
turned to her galley, so that if the fine weather and the
good wind came, she might quickly set sail. I was at our
Court when news was brought to the king of this passing
visit ; and I saw him very uneasy lest she should not be
received as she ought to be, and as he wished. This princess
still lives, and continues in all her fine virtues. She greatly
helped and served her brother, as I have been told. Since
then she has retired to a convent of women called the " bare-
footed " [CarmeHtes], because they wear neither shoes nor
stockings. Her sister, the Princess of Spain, founded them.
8. BlancJi4 de Montferrat, Duchesse de Savoie.
While I am on this subject of noble widows I must say
two words of one of past times, namely: that honourable
widow, Madame Blanche de Montferrat, one of the most
ancient houses in Italy, who was Duchesse de Savoie and
thought to be the handsomest and most perfect princess of
her time ; also very virtuous and judicious, for she governed
wisely the minority of her son and his estates ; she being
left a widow at the age of twenty-three.
It was she who received so honourably our young King
Charles ^T^II. when he went to his kingdom of Naples,
through all her lands and principally her city of Turin,
where she gave him a pompous entry, and met him in per-
son, very sumptuously accoutred. She showed she felt
herself a great lady ; for she appeared that day in magnifi-
cent state, dressed in a grand gown of crinkled cloth of
294 THE BOOK OP THE LADIES.
gold, edged with large diamonds, rubies, sapphires, emeralds,
and other precious stones. Round her throat she wore a
necklace of very large oriental pearls, the value of which
none could estimate, with bracelets of the same. She was
mounted on a beautiful white ambling mare, harnessed most
superbly and led by six lacqueys dressed in figured cloth of
gold. A great band of damoiselles followed her, very richly,
daintily, and neatly dressed in the Piedmont fashion, which
was fine to see ; and after them came a very long troop of
noblemen and knights of the country. Then there entered
and marched King Charles, beneath a rich canopy, and went
to the castle, where he lodged, and where Madame de Savoie
presented to him her son, who was very young. After which
she made the king a fine harangue, offering her lands and
means, both hers and her son's ; which the king received
with very good heart, and thanked her much, feeUng greatly
obliged to her. Throughout the town were everywhere seen
the arms of France and those of Savoie interlaced in a great
lover's-knot, which bound together the two escutcheons and
the two orders, with these words : Sanguinis arctus amor ;
as may be read in the " Chronicles of Savoie."
I have heard several of our fathers and mothers, who got
it from their parents, and also Mademoiselle the Sdn^chale
de Poitou, my grandmother, then a damoiselle at Court, affirm
that nothing was talked of but the beauty, wisdom, and
wit of this princess, when the courtiers and gallants returned
from their journey ; and, above all, by the king, who seemed,
from appearance, to be wounded in his heart.
At any rate, even without her beauty, he had good reason
to love her ; for she aided him with all the means in her
power, and gave up her jewels and pearls and precious stones
to send them to him that he might use them and pledge
them as he pleased ; which was indeed a very great obliga-
VARIOUS ILLUSTRIOUS LADIES. 295
tion, for ladies bear a great affection to their precious stones
and rings and jewels, and would sooner give and pledge
some precious piece of their person than their wealth of
jewels — I speak of some, not all. Certainly this obligation
was great; for without this courtesy, and that also of the
Marquise de Montferrat, a very virtuous lady and very hand-
some, he would have met in the long run a short shame, and
must have returned from the semi-journey he had under-
taken without money ; having done worse than that bishop
of France who went to the Council of Trent without money
and without Latin. "What an embarkation without biscuit !
However, there is a difference between the two ; for what
one did was out of noble generosity and fine ambition, which
closed his eyes to all inconveniency, thinking nothing im-
possible to his brave heart ; while as for the other, he lacked
wit and ability, sinning in that through ignorance and
stupidity — if it was not that he trusted to beg them when
he got there.
In this discourse that I have made of that fine entry,
there is to be noted the superbness of the accoutrements
of this princess, which seem to be more those of a married
woman than a widow. Upon which the ladies said that for
so great a king she could dispense with mourning ; and also
that great people, men and women, gave the law to them-
selves ; and besides, that in those times the widows, so it
was said, were not so restricted nor so reformed in their
clothes as they have been since for the last forty years ;
like a certain lady whom I know, who, being in the good
graces and delights of a king [probably Diane de Poitiers]
dressed herself much d, la modest (though always in silk), the
better to cover and hide her game ; and in that respect, the
widows of the Court, wishing to imitate her, did the same.
But this lady did not reform herself so much, nor to such
296 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
austerity, that she ceased to dress prettily and pompously,
though always in black and white ; indeed there seemed
more of worldliness than of widow's reformation about it :
for especially did she always show her beautiful bosom. I
have heard the queen, mother of King Henri, say the same
thing at the coronation and wedding of King Henri III.,
namely : that the widows in times past did not have such
great regard to their clothes and to modesty of actions as
they have to-day ; the which she said she saw in the times
of King FranQois, who wanted his Court to be free in every
way ; and even the widows danced, and the partners took
them as readily as if they were girls or married women.
She said on this point that she commanded and begged
M. de Vaudemont to honour the fete by taking out Madame
la Prmcesse de Condd, the dowager, to dance ; which he did
to obey her ; and he took the princess to the grand ball ;
those who were at the coronation, like myself, saw it, and
remember it welL These were the liberties that widows
had in the olden time. To-day such things are forbidden
them like sacrilege ; and as for colours, tliey dare not wear
them, or dress in anything but black and white ; though
their skirts and petticoats and also their stockings they may
wear of a tan-gray, violet, or blue. Some that I see emanci-
pate themselves in flesh-coloured red and chamois colour, as
in times past, when, as I have heard said, all colours could
be worn in petticoats and stockings, but not in gowns.
So this duchess, about whom we have been speaking,
could very well wear this gown of cloth of gold, that being
her ducal garment and her robe of grandeur, the whicli was
becoming and permissible in her to show her sovereignty
and dignity of duchess. Our widows of to-day dare not wear
precious stones, except on their fingers, on some miiTors, on
some " Hours," and on their belts ; but never on their heads
VARIOUS ILLUSTRIOUS LADIES. 297
or bodies, unless a few pearls on their neck and arms. But
I swear to you I have seen widows as dainty as could be
in their black and white gowns, who attracted quite as
many and as much as the bedizened brides and maidens of
France. There is enough said now of this foreign widow.
9. Catherine de CUves, wife of Henri I. de Lorraine,
Due de Guise.
Madame de Guise, Catherine de Cloves, one of the three
daughters of Nevers (three princesses who cannot be lauded
enough either for their beauty or their virtues, and of whom
I hope to make a chapter), has celebrated and celebrates
daily the eternal absence of her husband [Le Balafr^, killed
at Blois 1588]. But oh ! what a husband he was ! The
none-such of the world ! That is what she called him in
several letters which she wrote to certain ladies of her in-
timacy whom she held in esteem, after her misfortune ;
manifesting in sad and grievous words the regrets of her
wounded soul.
10. Madame de Bourdeille.
Madame de Bourdeille, issuing from the illustrious and
ancient house of Montb^ron, and from the Comtes de P^ri-
gord and the Vicomtes d'Aunay, became a widow at the
age of thirty-seven or thirty-eight, very beautiful (in Guyenne,
where she lived, it was believed that none surpassed her in
her day for beauty, grace, and noble appearance) ; and being
thus in fine estate and widowed, she was sought in marriage
and pursued by three very great and rich seigneurs, to whom
she answered : —
" I shall not say as many ladies do, who declare they will
never marry, and give their word in such a way that they
must be believed, after which nothing comes of it ; but I
298 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES.
do say that, if God and flesh do not give me any other
wishes than I have at present, it is a very certain thing that
I have bade farewell to marriage forever."
And then, as some one said to her, " But, madame, would
you burn of love in the flower of your age ? " she answered :
" I know not what you mean. For up to this hour I have
never been even warmed, but widowed and cold as ice. Still,
I do not say that, being in company with a second husband
and approaching his fire, I might not bum, as you think.
But because cold is easier to bear than heat, I am resolved
to remain in my present quality and to abstain from a second
marriage."
And just as she said then, so she has remained to the
present day, a widow these twelve years, without the least
losing her beauty, but always nourishing it and taking care
of it, so that it has not a single spot. Which is a great
respect to the ashes of her husband, and a proof that she
loved him well ; also an injunction on her children to
honour her always. The late M. Strozzi was one of those
who courted her and asked her in marriage ; but great as
he was and allied to the queen-mother, she refused him and
excused herself kindly. But what a humour was this !
to be beautiful, virtuous, a very rich heiress, and yet to end
her days on a solitary feather-bed and blanket, desolate and
cold as ice, and thus to pass so many widowed nights ! Oh !
how many there be unlike this lady — but some are like her,
too.
APPENDIX.
(See page 30.)
Under Louis XII. the French fleet and the English fleet
met, August 10, 1513, off the heights of Saint-Mach^ in
Lower Bretagne. The Enghsh fleet, eighty vessels strong,
attacked that of France, which had but twenty. The French
made up for numbers by courage and ability. They seized
the advantage of the wind, fouled the enemy's ships and
shattered them, and sent more than half to the bottom.
The Breton Primauguet was captain of " La Cordehfere ;" the
vessel constructed after the orders of Queen Anne ; it could
carry twelve hundred soldiers besides the crew. He was
attacked by twelve English vessels, defended himself with
a courage that amounted to fury, sunk a number of the
enemy's vessels, and drove off the rest. One captain alone
dared approach him again, flinging rockets on board of him,
and so setting fire to the vessel. Primauguet might have
saved himself in the long-boat, as did some of the officers
and soldiers ; but that valiant sailor would not survive the
loss of his ship ; he only thought of selling his life dearly
and taking from the Enghsh the pleasure of enjoying the
defeat of the French. Though all a-fire, he sailed upon the
flag-ship of the enemy, the " Regent of England," grappled
her, set fire to her, and blew up with her an instant later.
More than three thousand men perished in this action by
300 APPENDIX.
cannon, fire, and water. It is one of the most glorious pages
in our maritime annals.
French editor of " Vie des Dames Illustres,"
Garniei>Frferes. Paris.
IL
(See page 44.)
This is doubtless the Discours merveilleux de la, vie, actions,
et cUportemens de la reine Catherine de Medicis, attributed to
Theodore de Bfeze, also to de Serres, but with more proba-
bility to Henri Etienne ; coming certainly from the hand of
a master. It was printed and spread about publicly in
1574 with the date of 1575 ; inserted soon after in the
Memoires d'etat sous Charles IX., printed in 1577 in three
volumes, 8vo, and subsequently in the various editions of
the Beceuil de diverses jpieces jpour servir d, Vhistoire du
rlgne de Henri III.
French editor.
III.
(See page 91.)
M. de Maison-Fleur was a gentleman of the Bordeaux
region, a Huguenot, and a somewhat celebrated poet in his
day, whose principal work, Les Divins Cantiques, was printed
for the first time at Antwerp in 1580, and several times
reprinted in succeeding years. For details on this poet, see
the Bihliotheque Frangaise of the Abb^ Goujet.
French editor.
lY.
(See page 92.)
We see, 'neath white attire,
In mourning great and sadness,
Passing, -with many a charm
Of beauty, this fair goddess,
Holding the shaft in hand
Of her son, heartless.
APPENDIX. 301
And Love, without his frontlet,
Fluttering round her,
Hiding his bandaged eyes
With veil of mourning
On which these words are writ :
DiK OR BE CAPTURED.
V.
(See page 94.)
Translation as nearly literal as possible.
In my sad, sweet song,
In tones most lamentable
I cast my cutting grief
Of loss incomparable ;
And in poignant sighs
I pass my best of years.
Was ever such an ill
Of hard destiny.
Or so sad a sorrow
Of a happy lady.
That my heart and eye
Should gaze on bier and coffin?
That I, in my sweet springtide,
In the flower of youth,
All these pains should feel
Of excessive sadness,
With naught to give me pleasure
Except regret and yearning ?
That which to me was pleasant
Now is hard and painful ;
The brightest light of day
Is darkness black and dismal ;
Nothing is now delight
In that of me required.
I have, in heart and eye,
A portrait and an image
302 APPENDIX.
That mark my mourning life
And my pale visage
With violet tones that are
The tint of grieving lovers.
For my restless sorrow
I can rest nowhere ;
Why should I change in place
Since sorrow will not efface?
My worst and yet my best
Are in the loneliest places.
■\Vhen in some still sojourn
In forest or in field,
Be it by dawn of day,
Or in the vesper hour,
Unceasing feels my heart
Regret for one departed.
If sometimes toward the skies
My glance uplifts itself,
The gentle iris of his eyes
I see in clouds ; or else
I see it in the water,
As in a gTave.
If I lie at rest
Slumbering on my couch,
I hear him speak to me,
I feel his touch ;
In labour, in repose,
He is ever near me.
I see no other object.
Though beauteous it may be
In many a subject,
To which my heart consents.
Since its perfection lacks
In this affection.
End here, my song,
Thy sad complaint.
APPENDIX. 303
Of which be this the burden :
True love, not feigned,
Because of separation
Shall have no diminution.
VL
(See page 235.)
This book, entitled Les Marguerites de la Marguerite des
princesses, is a collection of the poems of this princess, made
by Simon de La Haie, surnamed Sylvius, her valet de cham-
hre, and printed at Lyon, by Jean de Tournes, 1547, 8vo.
The Nouvelles of the Queen of Navarre appeared for the
first time without the name of the author, under the title :
Histoire des Amants fortunes, dediee h Villustre ^^^incesse,
Madame Marguerite de Bourbon, Duchesse de Nivernois, by
Pierre Boaistuau, called Launay. Paris, 1558 4to. This edi-
tion contains only sixty-seven tales, and the text has been
garbled by Boaistuau. The second edition is entitled :
Heptameron des Nouvelles de tres-illustre et tres-excellente
princesse Marguerite de Valois, reine de Navarre, remis en son
vrai ordre, by Charles Gruget, Paris, 1559, 4to.
French editor.
In 1841 M. Genin published a volume of Queen Margue-
rite's letters, and in the following year a volume of her letters
addressed to Frangois I.
Since then Comte H. de La Ferrifere-Percy has made her
the subject of an interesting " Study." This careful investi-
gator having discovered her book of expenses, kept by Frott^,
Marguerite's secretary, has developed from it a daily proof of
the beneficent spirit and inexhaustible liberality of the good
queen. The title of the book is : Marguerite d'Angouleme,
sceur de Francois F^. Aubry : Paris, 1862.
304 APPENDIX.
The poems of Frangois I., with other verses by his sister and
mother, were published in 1847 by M. Aim^ Champollion.
Notes to Sainte-Beuve's Essay.
VIL
(See page 262.)
The Ladies given in Discourse VII. appear under the head
of " The Widows " in the volume of Les Dames Galantes, a
very different book from the Zivre des Dames, which is their
rightful place. As Brantome placed them under the title of
Widows, he has naturally enlarged chiefly upon the period
of their widowhood.
French editor.
INDEX.
Anne de Bretagne, Queen of France,
wife of Charles VIII. and of Louis
XII., her inheritance, lovers, and
first marriage, 25, 26 ; her beauty,
wisdom, and goodness, 26 ; spirit of
revenge, 27, 28 ; second marriage,
29 ; the first queen to hold a great
court, a noble school for ladies, 29,
30; how King Louis honoured her,
30-32 ; her death and burial, 32-34 ;
her noble record, 34, 35, 37 ; her tomb
at Saint-Denis, 39 ; the founder of a
school of manners and perfection for
her sex, 42, 43; Sainte-Beuve's re-
marks upon her, 40-43, 219.
Anne de France (Madame), daughter
of Louis XL, 216-218.
Blanche de Montferrat, Duchesse
de Savoie, 293-297.
Book of the Ladies (The), Bran-
tome's own name for this volume, 1.
BouRDEiLLE (Madame de), 297, 298.
Bourdeille (Pierre de), Abbe de
Brant6m.e, his name for the present
volume, 1 ; origin and arms of his
family, 3, 4 ; general sketch of his
life and career, 4-19; his retirement,
20 ; his books, his will, 21 ; titles of
his books, when first printed, 22,
23.
Caste LNAUD (Pierre de), his account
of Brantome, 1- 3.
Catherine de Cloves, wife of Henri
de Lorraine, Due de Guise, " le
Balafre," 297.
Catherine de' Medici, Queen of
France, wife of Henri II., 44 ; sketch
of the Medici, 45-48; her marriage
to the dauphin, 48-50; personal ap-
pearance and tastes, 51-54; her mind,
54 ; conduct as regent and queen-
mother, Brantome's defence of it,
57-72 ; her liberality and public
works, 74 ; her accomplishments and
majesty, 75-77 ; her court, 77-80,
81, 82 ; Henri IV. 's opinion of it, 83 ;
her death at Blois, 83 ; Sainte-Beuve's
estimate of her, 85-88 ; H. de Balzac's
novel upon her, 86 ; Mezeray's opinion
of her, 85 ; her daughter Elisabeth's
fear of her, 145, 146; 164, 165, 167,
289, 290, 300.
Charles IX., King of France, his
funeral attended by Brantome, 35-
37; 198, 264, 265, 271, 272.
Charlotte de France (Madame),
daughter of Francois I. and Queen
Claude, died young, 223.
Chastellard (Seigneur de), his jour-
ney with Brantome in attendance on
Marie Stuart to Scotland, 99 ; his
story and death, 117-120.
Christine of Denmark, wife of the
Due de Lorraine, 283-291.
Claude de France (Madame), daugh-
ter of Louis XII. and Anne de
Bretagne, wife of Francois I., died
young, 223.
Claude de France (Madame), daugh-
ter of Henri II. and Catherine de'
Medici, wife of the Due de Lorraine,
229-231.
CoRDELii:RE (La), man-o'-war built
by Anne de Bretagne, which fought
the " Regent of England," both shipa
destroyed, 30, 299.
20
306
INDEX.
Daegattd (M.), his impulsive history
of Marie Stuart, 122.
Diane de Feance (Madame), Du-
chesse d'Angouleme, illegitimate
daughter of Henri II., 231-234.
^feLisABETH DB France, Queeu of
Spain, daughter of Henri II. and
Catherine de' Medici, second wife of
Philip II. of Spain, 137-151, 229,
230, 270, 271.
fiLiSABETH DE France, Queeu of
Spain, daughter of Henri IV. and
Marie de' Medici, her portraits by
Kubens, 212.
Fleur-de-lis, how connected with the
Florentine lily, 45.
Francois I., King of France, 219, 220,
236, 237, 238, 241, 245-249, 254.
Germai\e de Foix, wife of King
Ferdinand of Spain, 142, 143.
Guise (Henri I., Due de), le Balafre,
117, 198, 199, 273, 283, 288.
Guise (Catherine de Cleves, Duchesse
de), 288, 289.
Henri II., King of France, 231, 232.
Henri III., King of France, 177, 178,
180, 184, 196-198, 234, 267, 280, 283,
285, 286, 292.
Henri IV., Kin g of Fr ance, opinion
of Catherine"de' Medici, 83, 87, 88 ;
176, 180, 181, 201, 209; remark at
the coronation of Marie de' Medici,
210; 234.
IsABELLE d'Autriche, Quccn of
France, daughter of Maximilian II.,
wife of Charles IX. of France, 262-
270.
Isabella of Bavaria, wife of Charles
VI. of France, first brought the pomps
and fashions of dress to France, 157.
Jeanne d'Autriche, wife of Jean,
Infante of Portugal, 270-273,
Jeanne db France (Madame), daugh-
ter of Louis XI., married to and di-
vorced by Louis XII., 215, 216.
Labanoff (Prince Alexander), his
careful research into the history of
Marie Stuart, 121.
L'HopiTAL (Michel de), chancellor of
France, epithalamium on the mar-
riage of Marie Stuart and Fran9ois II.,
124; his changed feeling, 131, 132.
Louis_XII., King of France, 25, 29, 30,
31, 32, 39, 41-43.
Louise db France (Madame), daugh-
ter of Fran9ois I. and Queen Claude,
died young, 223.
Louise de Lorraine, Queen of
France, wife of Henri III., 280-282,
283.
Magdelaine de France (Madame),
daughter of Francois I. and Queen
Claude, wife of James V. of Scot-
land, 223, 224.
Maintenon (Madame de), a pendant
to Anne de Bretagne, 43.
Maison-Fleur (M. de), 91, 97, 300.
Marguerite de Valois, Queen of
Navarre, sister of Francois I., wife
of Henri d'Albret, King of Navarre,
grandmother of Henri IV., 234 ; her
poems, 235 ; her devotion to her
brother, 237-240, 245, 249; interest
in the phenomenon of death, 242 ;
her "Nouvelles," 242, 243, 244;
Sainte-Beuve's essay on her, 243-
261 ; her learning and comprehension
of the Renaissance, 244, 245 ; her
letters, 249 ; Erasmus' opinion of her,
250, 251 ; favours, but does not be-
long to, the Religion, 251-255 ; her
writings, the Heptameron, 255-260 ;
the patron of the Renaissance, 261 ;
her works, 303.
Marguerite de France (Madame),
daughter of Francois I. and Queen
Claude, wife of the Due de Savoie,
224-229.
Marguerite, Queen of France and of
Navarre, daughter of Henri II. and
Catherine de' Medici, wife of Henri
r
INDEX.
307
rv,, Brantome visits her at the Castle
of Usson and dedicates his work to her,
19; mention of her in his will, 22;
his discourse, 152-193; her beauty
and style of dress, 153-163 ; her mind
and education, 164-166; marriage to
Henri IV., 167 ; Brantome's argu-
ment in favour of the Salic law, 168-
175; difficulty of religion between
herself and her husband, 176; her
dignity and sense of honour, 178-
180; retirement in the Castle of
Usson, 183; on ill terms with her
brother Henri III., 184; her beauti-
ful dancing, 185 ; her liberality and
generosity, 186-190; love of reading,
191 ; corresponds with Brantome,
191; Sainte-Beuve's essay on her,
1 93 ; reasons why she began her
Memoirs, 1 95 ; faithfulness to the
Catholic religion, 195 ; intimacy with
her brother d'Anjou, Henri III.,
196, 197; her love for Henri Due de
Guise, le Balafre, her marriage to
Henri IV., 198; the Saint-Bartholo-
mew, 201 ; her Memoirs, 202, etc. ;
anecdote of a Princesse de Ligne,
205 ; friendship with her brother,
Due d'Alen9on, 206 ; her letters,
208; her life at Ugson, 209 ; divorce
from Henri IV., 209, 210; return to
Paris, eccentricities, appearance at
the coronation of Marie de' Medici,
210-212 ; comparison with Marie
Stuart, 213; her real merit, 213,
231.
Marguerite be Lorraine, wife of
the Due de Joyense, 282, 283.
Marie b'Actriche, wife of the Em-
peror Maximilian II., 291-293.
Marib d'Autrichb, sister of the Em-
peror Charles V. and wife of Louis,
King of Hungary, 273-280.
Marie Stuart, Queen of France and
Scotland, her parentage, 89 ; youth-
ful accomplishments and beauty, 90-
93 ; marriage to Fran9ois II., and
widowhood, 93, 94 ; her poem on her
widowhood, 94-96, 294 ; Charles IX.'s
love for her, 96 ; returns to Scotland,
Brantome accompanies her, 97-lGl *
marriage to Darnley, 101 ; Bran-
tome's defence of her, 102 ; her
disasters, 103; her imprisonment in
England, 104; her death, as related
to Brantome by one of her ladies
there present, 105-115; Sainte-
Beuve's essay on Marie Stuart and
summing up of her life, 121-136, 289 ;
her poem on her widowhood, transla-
tion, 301.
Mezerat (Fran9oi3 Eudes de), his
History of France, his picture of
Catherine de' Medici, 85.
MiGNET (Francois Auguste), his in-
valuable History of Marie Stuart,
121, 122, 136.
MoLAND (M. Henri), his essay on
Brantome used in the introduction
to this volume, 1.
NiEi, (M.), librarian to Ministry of the
Interior, his collection of original
portraits and crayons of celebrated
persons of the 16th century, 86, 87.
Patin (Gui), his feelings in Saint.
Denis before the tomb of Louis XIL
and Anne de Bretagne, 40, 41.
Philip IL of Spain, 138, 139, 142.
Kenee de France (Madame), daugh-
ter of Louis XII. and Anne de Bre-
tagne, wife of the Duke of Ferrara,
220-223.
RcEDEREK (Comte), his Memoirs on
Polite Society, study of Louis XII.
and Anne de Bretagne, 41-43.
RoNSARD (Pierre de), 91, 124, 156,
157, 160, 185, 224.
Sainte-Beuve (Charles- Augustin), his
remarks on Anne de Bretagne, 40-
43 ; his estimate of Catherine de'
Medici, 85-88 ; his essay on Marie
Stuart, 121-136; on Marguerite de
Navarre, 193-213; oa Marguerite de
Valois, 243-261.
Salic Law (the), Brantome's argument
about it, 168-175.
308
INDEX.
Tavannes (Vicomte de). Memoirs, 136,
■ViGNAUD (M. H.), his introduction
to Brantome's "Vie des Dames
ninstres " used in the introduc-
tion to this volume, 1.
Vincent de Paul (Saint), chaplain to
Queen Marguerite de Kavarre, 212.
YoLAND DE Fkancb (Madame), daugh-
ter of Charles VII. and wife of the
Due de Savoie, 214, 215.
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