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THE COMEDY OF HUMAN LIFE 
 By H. DE BALZAC 
 
 PHILOSOPHICAL STUDIES 
 
 CATHERINE DE' MEDICI 
 
BALZAC'S NOVELS. 
 
 Translated by Miss K. P. Wormeley. 
 
 Already l*ublished: 
 PERE GORIOT. 
 DUCHESSE DE LANGEAIS. 
 RISE AND FALL OF CESAR BIROTTEAU. 
 EUGENIE GRANDET. 
 COUSIN PONS. 
 THE COUNTRY DOCTOR. 
 THE TMTO BROTHERS. 
 THE ALKAHEST. 
 MODESTE MIGNON. 
 THE MAGIC SKIN (Peau de Chagrin). 
 COUSIN BETTE. 
 LOUIS LAMBERT. 
 BUREAUCRACY (Les Employes). 
 SERAPHITA. 
 SONS OF THE SOIL. 
 FAME AND SORROW^. 
 THE LILY OF THE VALLEY. 
 URSULA. 
 
 AN HISTORICAL MYSTERY. 
 ALBERT SAVARUS. 
 BALZAC : A MEMOIR. 
 PIERRETTE. 
 THE CHOUANS. 
 LOST ILLUSIONS. 
 A GREAT MAN OF THE PROVINCES IN 
 
 PARIS. 
 THE BROTHERHOOD OF CONSOLATION. 
 THE VILLAGE RECTOR. 
 MEMOIRS OF TAVO YOUNG MARRIED 
 
 WOMEN. 
 CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers, 
 BOSTON. 
 
HONORE DL RALZA 
 
 TRAr SLATKO PY 
 
 KATHARINE PRESCOTT WOr^MEi-EY 
 
 
 Catherine de' Medici 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS 
 
 3 SOMERSET STREET 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 1894 
 

 GIFT OF 
 
 Copyrig?U, 1894^ 
 By Roberts Brothers. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 SEni6ersi'ta ^«ss: 
 John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U.S.A. 
 
To Monsieur le Marquis de Pastoret, Member of the 
 
 ACADEMIE DES BeAUX-ArTS. 
 
 When we think of the enormous number of volumes that 
 have been published on the question as to where Hannibal 
 crossed the Alps, without our being able to decide to-day 
 whether it was (according to Whittaker and Rivaz) by Lyon, 
 Geneva, the Great Saint-Bernard, and the valley of Aosta ; 
 or (according to Letronne, Follard, Saint-Simon, and Fortia 
 d'Urbano) by the Isere, Grenoble, Saint-Bonnet, Monte Gen- 
 evra, Fenestrella, and the Susa passage ; or (according to 
 Larauza) by the Mont Cenis and the Susa ; or (according to 
 Strabo, Polybius, and Lucanus) by the Rhone, Vienne, Yenue, 
 and the Dent du Chat; or (according to some intelligent 
 minds) by Genoa, La Bochetta, and La Scrivia, — an opinion 
 which I share and which Napoleon adopted, — not to speak 
 of the verjuice with which the Alpine rocks have been be- 
 spattered by various other learned men, — is it surprising, 
 ^Monsieur le marquis, to see modern history so bemuddled 
 that many important points are still obscure, and the 
 most odious calumnies still rest on names that ought to be 
 respected ? 
 
 And let me remark, in passing, that Hannibars crossing 
 has been made almost problematical by these very elucida- 
 tions. For instance, Pere Menestrier thinks that the Scoras 
 mentioned by Polybius is the Saone ; Letronne, Larauza and 
 Schweighauser think it the Isere ; Cochard, a learned Lyon- 
 nais, calls it the Drome, and for all who have eyes to see 
 there are between Scoras and Scrivia great geographical and 
 linguistical resemblances, — to say nothing of the probability, 
 amounting almost to certainty, that the Carthaginian fleet 
 
Yl 
 
 was moored in the Gulf of Spezzia or the roadstead of 
 Genoa. 1 could understand these patient researches if there 
 were any doubt as to the battle of Canna ; but inasmuch as 
 the results of that battle are known, why blacken paper with 
 all these suppositions (which are, as it were, the arabesques 
 of hypothesis) while the history most important to the present 
 day, that of the Reformation, is full of such obscurities that 
 we are ignorant of the real name of the man who navigated 
 a vessel by steam to Barcelona at the period when Luther 
 and Calvin were inaugurating the insurrection of thought.^ 
 
 You and I hold, I think, the same opinion, after having 
 made, each in his own way, close researches as to the grand 
 and splendid figure of Catherine de' Medici. Consequently, 
 I have thought that my historical studies upon that queen 
 might properly be dedicated to an author who has written 
 so much on the history of the Reformation; while at the 
 same time I offer to the character and fidelity of a monarch- 
 ical writer a public homage which may, perhaps, be valuable 
 on account of its rarity. 
 
 * The name of the man who tried this experiment at Barcelona 
 should be given as Salomon de Caux, not Caus. That great man 
 has always been unfortunate; even after his death his name is 
 mangled. Salomon, whose portrait taken at the age of forty-six 
 was discovered by the author of the " Comedy of Human Life " at 
 Heidelberg, was born at Caux in Normandy. He was the author 
 of a book entitled " The Causes of moving Forces," in which he 
 gave the theory of the expansion and condensation of steam. He 
 died in 1635. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Introduction 1 
 
 PART FIRST. 
 
 I. The Calvinist 61 
 
 II. The Burghers 77 
 
 III. The Chateau de Blois 93 
 
 IV. The Queen-Mother 107 
 
 V. The Court 123 
 
 VI. The Little Lever of Francois IL . . . 144 
 
 VII. A Drama in a Surcoat 160 
 
 VIII. Martyrdom 172 
 
 IX. The Tumult at Amboise 189 
 
 X. Cosmo Ruggiero 207 
 
 XI. Ambroise Pare 224 
 
 XII. Death of Francois II 237 
 
 XriL Calvin 250 
 
 XIV. Catherine in Power 272 
 
 XV. Compensation 289 
 
viii Contents, 
 
 PART SECOND. 
 THE SECRETS OF THE RUGGIERI. 
 
 FAG£ 
 
 I. The Court under Charles IX 306 
 
 II. Schemes against Schemes 320 
 
 III. Marie Touchet 352 
 
 IV. The King's Tale 367 
 
 V. The Alchemists 378 
 
 PART THIRD. 
 I. Two Dreams 402 
 
CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 There is a general cry of paradox when scholars, 
 struck by some historical error, attempt to correct it ; 
 but, for whoever studies modern history to its'deptlis, 
 it is plain that historians are privileged liars, who lend 
 their pen to popular beliefs precisely as the newspapers 
 of the day, or most of them, express the opinions of 
 their readers. 
 
 Historical independence has shown itself much less 
 amonoj lav writers than amonsj those of the Church. 
 It is from the Benedictines, one of the glories of 
 France, that the purest light has come to us in the mat- 
 ter of history, — so long, of course, as the interests of 
 the order were not involved. About the middle of the 
 eighteenth century great and learned controversialists, 
 struck by the necessit}' of correcting popular errors 
 endorsed by historians, made and published to the 
 world very remarkable works. Thus Monsieur de 
 Launo}', nicknamed the " Expeller of Saints," made 
 cruel war upon the saints surreptitiously smuggled into 
 the Church. Thus the emulators of the Benedictines, 
 the members (too little recognized) of the Academic 
 
 1 
 
2 iTitroditction, 
 
 de& Jaiscriptiohsj'et Belks-lettres, began on many ob- 
 scure historical points a series of monographs, which are 
 admirable for patience, erudition, and logical consis- 
 tencj'. Thus Voltaire, for a mistaken purpose and with 
 ill-judged passion, frequent!}' cast the light of his 
 mind on historical prejudices. Diderot undertook in 
 this direction a book (much too long) on the era of 
 imperial Rome. If it had not been for the French 
 Revolution, criticism applied to history might then 
 have prepared the elements of a good and true history 
 of Franco, the proofs for which had long been gathered 
 bj' the Benedictines. Louis XVI., a just mind, himself 
 translated the English work in which Walpole endeav- 
 ored to explain Richard III., — a work much talked of 
 in the last century. 
 
 Wh}" do personages so celebrated as kings and 
 queens, so important as the generals of armies, be- 
 come objects of horror or derision? Half the world 
 hesitates between the famous song on Marlborough and 
 the history of England, and it also hesitates between 
 histor}' and popular tradition as to Charles IX. At all 
 epochs when great struggles take place between the 
 masses and anthorit}', the populace creates for itself an 
 ogre-esque personage — if it is allowable to coin a word 
 to conve}' a just idea. Thus, to take an example in 
 our own time, if it had not been for the " Memorial of 
 Saint Helena," and the controversies between the 
 Royalists and the Bonapartists, there was ever}' prob- 
 ability that the character of Napoleon would have been 
 misunderstood. A few more Abbe de Pradts, a few 
 more newspaper articles, and from being an emperor, 
 Napoleon would have turned into an ogre. 
 
Introduction. 3 
 
 How does error propagate itself? The m3'ster3' is 
 accomplished under our very eyes without our perceiv- 
 ing it. No one suspects how much solidit}' the art of 
 printing has given both to the envy which pursues great- 
 ness, and to the popular ridicule which fastens a con- 
 trary sense on a grand historical act. Thus, the name 
 of the Prince de Polignac is given throughout the- length 
 and breadth of France to all bad horses that require 
 whipping ; and who knows how that will affect the opin- 
 ion of the future as to the coup d'Etat of the Prince de 
 Polignac himself? In consequence of a whim of Shake- 
 speare — or perhaps it maj' have been a revenge, like that 
 of Beaumarchais on Bergasse (Bergearss) — Falstaff is, 
 in England, a type of the ridiculous ; his y^x^ name 
 provokes laughter ; he is the king of clowns. Now, in- 
 stead of being enormously pot-bellied, absurd!}' amorous, 
 vain, drunken, old, and corrupted, Falstaff was one of 
 the most distinguished men of his time, a Knight of tlie 
 Garter, holding a high command in the army. At the 
 accession of Henry V. Sir John Falstaff was only thirty- 
 four years old. This general, who distinguished him- 
 self at the battle of Agincourt, and there took prisoner 
 the Due d'Alenqon, captured, in 1420, the town of 
 Montereau, which was vigorously defended. Moreover, 
 under Henry VI. he defeated ten thousand French 
 troops with fifteen hundred wear}- and famished men. 
 
 So much for war. Now let us pass to literature, and 
 see our own Rabelais, a sober man who drank nothing 
 but water, but is held to be, nevertheless, an extrava- 
 gant lover of good cheer and a resolute drinker. A 
 thousand ridiculous stories are told about the author of 
 one of the finest books in French literature, — '' Panta* 
 
4 Introduction. 
 
 gruel." Aretino, the friend of Titian, and the Voltaire 
 of his centiiiy, lias, in our da}', a reputation the exact 
 opposite of his works and of his character ; a reputation 
 which he owes to a grossness of wit in keeping with the 
 writings of his age, w ju broad farce was held in honor, 
 and queens and cardinals wrote tales which would be 
 called, in these days, licentious. One might go on mul- 
 tipl3ing such instances indefinitely. 
 
 In France, and that, too, during the most serious 
 epoch of modern history, no woman, unless it be Brune- 
 haut or Fredegonde, has suffered from popular error so 
 much as Catherine de' Medici ; whereas Marie de' Me- 
 dici, all of whose actions were prejudicial to France, 
 has escaped the shame which ought to cover her name. 
 Marie de' Medici wasted the wealth amassed by Henry 
 IV. ; she never purged herself of the charge of having 
 known of the king's assassination ; her intimate was 
 d'Epernon, who did not ward off Ravaillac's blow, and 
 who w^as proved to have known the murderer personall}'' 
 for a long time. Marie's conduct was such that she forced 
 her son to banish her from P>ance, where she was en- 
 couraging her other son, Gaston, to rebel ; and the vic- 
 tory Richelieu at last w^on over her (on the Day of the 
 Dupes) was due solely to the discovery the cardinal 
 made, and imparted to Louis XIII., of secret documents 
 relating to the death of Henri IV. 
 
 Catherine de' Medici, on the contrary, saved the crown 
 of France ; she maintained the roj^al authority in the 
 midst of circumstances under which more than one 
 great prince would have succumbed. Having to make 
 head against factions and ambitions like those of the 
 Guises and the house of Bourbon, against men such as 
 
Introditction. 
 
 the two Cardinals of Lorraine, the two Balafres, and 
 the two Condes, against the queen Jeanne d'Albret, 
 Henri IV., the Connetable de Montmorenc}', Calvin, the 
 three Colignys, Theodore de Beze, she needed to pos- 
 sess and to display the rare quav/;les and precious gifts 
 of a statesman under the mocking fire of the Calvinist 
 press. 
 
 Tliose facts are incontestable. Therefore, to whoso- 
 ever burrows into the history' of the sixteenth centur}" 
 in France, the figure of Catherine de' Medici will seem 
 like that of a great king. When calumnj' is once dissi- 
 pated by facts, recovered with difficulty from among the 
 contradictions of pamphlets and false anecdotes, all ex- 
 plains itself to the fame of this extraordinar}' woman, 
 who had none of the weaknesses of her sex, who lived 
 chaste amid the license of the most dissolute court in 
 Europe, and who, in spite of her lack of mone}*, erected 
 noble public buildings, as if to repair the loss caused 
 by the iconoclasms of the Calvinists, who did as much 
 harm to art as to the body politic. Hemmed in between 
 the Guises who claimed to be the heirs of Charlemagne 
 and the factious younger branch who sought to screen^ 
 the treachery of the Connetable de Bourbon behind the ^ 
 throne, Catherine, forced to combat heresy which was 
 seeking to annihilate the monarch}', without friends, 
 aware of treachery- among the leaders of the Catholic 
 party, foreseeing a republic in the Calvinist part}', \ 
 Catherine employed the most dangerous but the surest 
 weapon of public policy, — craft. She resolved to trick 
 and so defeat, successively, the Guises who were seek- 
 ing the ruin of the house of Valois, the Bourbons \s\\o 
 sought the crown, and the Reformers (the Radicals of 
 
6 Introduction. 
 
 those days) who dreamed of an impossible repubUc — 
 like those of our time ; who have, however, nothing to 
 reform. Consequently, so long as she lived, the Valois 
 kept the throne of France. The great historian of that 
 time, de Thou, knew well the value of this woman 
 when, on hearing of her death, he exclaimed : " It is 
 not a woman, it is monarch^^ itself that has died!" 
 
 Catherine had, in the highest degree, the sense of 
 royalty-, and she defended it with admirable courage 
 and persistency-. The reproaches which Calvinist 
 writers have cast upon her are to her glorj' ; she in- 
 curred them b}' reason onh' of her triumphs. Could 
 she, placed as she was, triumph otherwise than by 
 craft? The whole question lies there. 
 
 As for violence, that means is one of the most dis- 
 puted questions of public policj' ; in our time it has been 
 answered on the Place Louis XV., where the}' have now 
 set up an Egj'ptian stone, as if to obliterate regicide 
 and offer a symbol of the S3'stem of materialistic policy 
 which governs us ; it was answered at the Carmes and 
 at the Abbaye ; answered on the steps of Saint-Roch ; 
 answered once more by the people against the king 
 before the Louvre in 1830, as it has since been 
 answered b}- Lafayette's best of all possible republics 
 against the republican insurrection at Saint-Merri and 
 the rue Transnonnain. All power, legitimate or ille- 
 gitimate, must defend itself when attacked ; but the 
 strange thing is that where the people are held heroic 
 in their victory over the nobilit}', power is called mur- 
 derous in its duel with the people. If it succumbs 
 after its appeal to force, power is then called imbecile. 
 Tiie present government is attempting to save itself b}' 
 
Introduction, 7 
 
 two laws from the same evil Charles X. tried to es- 
 cape by two ordinances; is it not a bitter derision? 
 Is craft permissible in the hands of power against 
 craft? may it kill those who seek to kill it? The 
 massacres of the Revolution have replied to the mas- 
 sacres of Saint-Bartholomew. The people, become king, 
 have done against the king and the nobility what the 
 king and the nobility did against the insurgents of the 
 sixteenth century. Therefore the popular historians, 
 who know very well that in a like case the people will 
 do the same thing over again, have no excuse for blam- 
 ing Catherine de' Medici and Charles IX. 
 
 *' All power," said Casimir Perier, on learning what 
 power ought to be, '^ is a permanent conspiracy." We 
 admire the anti-social maxims put forth by daring 
 writers ; why, then, this disapproval which, in France, 
 attaches to all social truths when boldl}' proclaimed? 
 This question will explain, in itself alone, historical 
 errors. Apply the answer to the destructive doctrines 
 which flatter popular passions, and to the conservative 
 doctrines which repress the mad efforts of the people, 
 and you will find the reason of the unpopularity and 
 also the popularity' of certain personages. Laubarde- 
 mont and Laffemas were, like some men of to-day, 
 devoted to the defence of power in which they believed. 
 Soldiers or judges, thej' all obeyed royalty. In these 
 days d'Orth(^z would be dismissed for having misunder- 
 stood the orders of the ministry, but Charles X. left 
 him governor of a province. The power of the man}' 
 is accountable to no one ; the power of one is compelled 
 to render account to its subjects, to the great as well as 
 to the small. 
 
8 Introduction, 
 
 Catherine, like Philip the Second and the Duke of 
 Alba, like the Guises and Cardinal Granvelle, saw 
 plainly the future that the Reformation was bringing 
 upon Europe. She and the}^ saw monarchies, religion, 
 authority shaken. Catherine wrote, from the cabinet of 
 the kings of France, a sentence of death to that spirit of 
 inquiry which then began to threaten modern society- ; 
 a sentence which Louis XIV. ended by executing. The 
 revocation of the Edict of Nantes was an unfortunate 
 measure only so far as it caused the irritation of all 
 Europe against Louis XIV. At another period England, 
 Holland, and the Holy Roman Empire would not have 
 welcomed banished Frenclimen and encouraged revolt 
 in France. 
 
 .Wh}' refuse, in these days, to the majestic adversary 
 of the most barren of heresies the grandeur she derived 
 from the struggle itself? Calvinists have written much 
 against the "craftiness" of Charles IX.; but travel 
 through France, see the ruins of noble churches, esti- 
 mate the fearful wounds given by the religionists to the 
 social bod^', learn what vengeance they inflicted, and 
 you will ask yourself, as you deplore the evils of indi- 
 vidualism (the disease of our present France, the germ 
 of which was in the questions of libert}^ of conscience 
 then agitated), — you will ask yourself, I say, on which 
 side were the executioners. There are, unfortunatel}', 
 as Catherine herself says in the third division of this 
 Study of her career, ''in all ages hypocritical writers 
 always ready to weep over the fate of two hundred 
 scoundrels killed necessarily.'* Caesar, who tried to 
 move the senate to pity the attempt of Catiline, might 
 perhaps have got the better of Cicero could he have 
 had an Opposition and its newspapers at his command. 
 
Introduction. 9 
 
 Another consideration explains the historical and 
 popular disfavor in which Catherine is held. The Oppo- 
 sition in France has always been Protestant, because it 
 has had no policy but that of negation ; it inherits the 
 theories of Lutherans, Calvinists, and Protestants on 
 the terrible words "liberty," ''tolerance," *' progress," 
 and " philosophy." Two centuries have been einplo3'ed 
 by the opponents of power in establishing the doubtful 
 doctrine of the libre arhitre, — liberty of will. Two 
 other centuries were employed in developing the first 
 coroUar}' of liberty of will, namely, liberty of conscience. 
 Our centur}^ is endeavoring to establish the second, 
 namely, political liberty. 
 
 Placed between the ground already lost and the 
 ground still to be defended, Catherine and the Church 
 proclaimed the salutar}' principle of modern societies, 
 imajides^ imus domi7ius^ using their power of life and 
 death upon the innovators. Though Catherine was 
 vanquished, succeeding centuries have proved her justi- 
 fication. The product of liberty of will, religious 
 liberty, and political liberty (not, observe this, to be 
 confounded with civil liberty) is the France of to-da}'. 
 What is the France of 1840? A country' occupied 
 exclusivel}' with material interests, — without patriotism, 
 without conscience ; where power has no vigor ; where 
 election, the fruit of liberty of will and political libert}*, 
 lifts to the surface none but commonplace men ; where 
 brute force has now become a necessit}' against popu- 
 lar violence; where discussion, spreading into ever}'- 
 thing, stifles the action of legislative bodies ; where 
 mone}' rules all questions; where individualism — the 
 dreadful product of the division of property ad wfini- 
 
10 Introduction, 
 
 turn — will suppress the famil}- and devour all, even 
 the nation, which egoism will some da}^ deliver over to 
 invasion. Men will say, "Win' not the Czar?" just 
 as they said, "Why not the Due d'Orleans? We 
 don't cUng to many things even now ; but fift}' years 
 hence we shall cling to nothing. 
 
 Thus, according to Catherine de' Medici and accord- 
 ing to all those who believe in a well-ordered society, 
 in social rtian^ the subject cannot have libert}^ of will, 
 ought not to teach the dogma of liberty of conscience, 
 or demand political liberty. But, as no societ}' can 
 exist without guarantees granted to the subject against 
 the sovereign, there results for the subject liberties 
 subject to restriction. Libert}', no ; liberties, yes, — 
 precise and well-defined liberties. That is in harmony 
 with the nature of things. 
 
 It is, assuredly', be^'ond the reach of human power to 
 prevent the liberty of thought ; and no sovereign can 
 interfere with mone}'. The great statesmen who were 
 vanquished in the long struggle (it lasted five centuries) 
 recognized the right of subjects to great liberties ; but 
 they did not admit their right to publish anti-social 
 thoughts, nor did they admit the indefinite liberty of the 
 subject. To them the words " subject" and " liberty " 
 were terms that contradicted each other ; just as the 
 theory of citizens being all equal constitutes an absurd- 
 ity which nature contradicts at every moment. To 
 recognize the necessit}- of a religion, the necessit}' of 
 authority, and then to leave to subjects the right to 
 deny religion, attack its worship, oppose the exercise 
 of power by public expression communicable and com- 
 municated b}' thought, was an impossibility which the 
 Catholics of the sixteenth century would not hear of. 
 
Introduction. 11 
 
 Alas I the victor}' of Calvinism will cost France more 
 in the future than it has yet cost her ; for religious sects 
 and humanitarian, equalitj-levelling politics are, to-day, 
 the tail of Calvinism ; and, judging by the mistakes of 
 the present power, its contempt for intellect, its love 
 for material interests, in which it seeks the basis of its 
 support (though material interests are the most treach- 
 erous of all supports), we may predict that unless some 
 providence intervenes, the genius of destruction will 
 again carry the day over the genius of preservation. 
 'I'he assailants, who have nothing to lose and all to gain, 
 understand each other thoroughly ; whereas their rich 
 adversaries will not make any sacrifice either of money 
 or self-love to draw to themselves supporters. 
 
 The art of printing came in aid of the opposition 
 begun by the Vaudois and the Albigenses. As soon as 
 human thought, instead of condensing itself, as it was 
 formerly forced to do to remain in communicable form, 
 took on a multitude of garments and became, as it 
 were, the people itself, instead of remaining a sort of 
 axiomatic divinitv, there were two multitudes to combat, 
 — the multitude of ideas, and the multitude of men. 
 The royal power succumbed in that warfare, and we 
 are now assisting, in France, at its last combination 
 with elements which render its existence difficult, not 
 to saj' impossible. Power is action, and the elective 
 principle is discussion. There is no polic}', no states- 
 manship possible where discussion is permanent. 
 
 Therefore we ought to recognize the grandeur of the 
 woman who had the eves to see this future and fouo^jit 
 it bravely. That the house of Bourbon was able to 
 succeed to the house of Valois, that it found a crown 
 
12 Introduction. 
 
 preserved to it, was due solely to Catherine de' Medici. 
 Suppose the second Balafre had lived? No matter how 
 strong the Bearnais was, it is doubtful whether he could 
 have seized the crown, seeing how dearl}- the Due de 
 Mayenne and the remains of the Guise party sold it to 
 him. The means employed by Catherine, who certainly 
 had to reproach herself with the deaths of Francois II. 
 and Charles IX., whose lives might both have been 
 saved in time, were never, it is observable, made the sub- 
 ^ject of accusations by either the Calvinists or modern 
 historians. Though there was no poisoning, as some 
 grave writers have said, there was other conduct almost 
 as criminal ; there is no doubt she hindered Pare from 
 saving one, and allowed the other to accomplish his own 
 doom by moral assassination. But the sudden death 
 of Frangois II., and that of Charles IX., were no injury 
 to the Calvinists, and therefore the causes of these two 
 events remained in their secret sphere, and were never 
 suspected either by the writers or the people of that 
 da}' ; they were not divined except by de Thou, I'Hopi- 
 tal, and minds of that calibre, or hj the leaders of the 
 two parties who were coveting or defending the throne, 
 and believed such means necessary to their end. 
 
 Popular songs attacked, strangel}' enough, Catherine's 
 morals. Every one knows the anecdote of the soldier 
 who was roasting a goose in the court3'ard of the chateau 
 de Tours during the conference between Catherine and 
 Henri IV., singing, as he did so,, a song in which the 
 queen was grossly insulted. Henri IV., drew his sword 
 to go out and kill the man ; but Catherine stopped him 
 and contented herself with caUing from the window to 
 her insulter: '• — 
 
Introduction. 13 
 
 ^' Eh ! but it was Catherine who gave 3'ou the goose." 
 
 Thouo:h the executions at Amboise were attributed to 
 Catherine, and though the Calvinists made her responsi- 
 ble for all the inevitable evils of that struggle, it was 
 with her as it was, later, with Robespierre, who is still 
 waiting to be justly judged. Catherine was, moreover, 
 riglitl}' punished for her preference for the Due d*Anjou, 
 to whose interests the two elder brothers were sacri- 
 ficed. Henri III., like all spoilt children, ended in 
 becoming absolutely indifferent to his mother, and he 
 plunged voluntarily into the life of debauchery- which 
 made of him what his mother had made of Charles IX., 
 a husband without sons, a king without heirs. Un- 
 happily the Due d'Alenqon, Catherine's last male child, 
 had alread}' died, a natural death. 
 
 The last words of the great queen were like a sum- 
 ming up of her lifelong polic}', which was, moreover, so 
 plain in its common-sense that all cabinets are seen 
 under similar circumstances to put it in practice. 
 
 ''Enough cut off, my son," she said when Henri III. 
 came to her death-bed to tell her that the great enemy 
 of the crown was dead, " now piece together. ^^ 
 
 By which she meant that the throne should at once 
 reconcile itself with the house of Lorraine and make use 
 of it, as the only means of preventing evil results from 
 the hatred of the Guises, — b}' holding out to them the 
 hope of surrounding the king. But the persistent craft 
 and dissimulation of the woman and the Italian, which 
 she had never failed to emplo}', was incompatible with 
 the debauched life of her son. Catherine de' Medici 
 once dead, the polic}- of the Valois died also. 
 
 Before undertaking to write the history of the man- 
 
14 Introduction. 
 
 ners and morals of this period in action, the author of 
 this Study has patiently and minutel}' examined the 
 principal reigns in the historj^ of France, the quarrel 
 of the Burgundians and the Armagnacs, that of the 
 Guises and the Valois, each of which covers a centur}'. 
 His first intention was to write a picturesque history of 
 France. Three women — Isabella of Bavaria, Cathe- 
 rine and Marie de' Medici — hold an enormous place 
 in it, their sway reacliing from the fourteenth to the 
 seventeenth century, ending in Louis XIV. Of these 
 three queens, Catherine is the finer and more inter- 
 esting. Hers was virile power, dishonored neither 
 by the terrible amours of Isabella nor hy those, even 
 more terrible, though less known, of Marie de* Medici. 
 Isabella summoned the English into France against 
 her son, and loved her brother-in-law, the Due d'Or- 
 leans. The record of Marie de* Medici is heavier still. 
 Neither had political genius. 
 
 It was in the course of these studies that the writer 
 acquired the conviction of Catherine's greatness ; as he 
 became initiated into the constantly' renewed diflficulties 
 of her position, he saw with what injustice historians — 
 all influenced by Protestants — had treated this queen. 
 Out of this conviction grew the three sketches which 
 here follow ; in which some erroneous opinions formed 
 upon Catherine, also upon the persons who surrounded 
 her, and on the events of her time, are refuted. If this 
 book is placed among the Philosophical Studies, it is 
 because it shows the Spirit of a Time, and because we 
 may clearly see in it the influence of thought. 
 
 But before entering the political arena, where Cathe- 
 rine will be seen facing the two great difficulties of her 
 
Introduction, 15 
 
 career, it is necessary tx) give a succinct account of 
 her preceding life, from tlie point of view of impartial 
 criticism, in order to take in as much as possible of this 
 vast and regal existence up to the moment when the 
 first part of the present Stud}* begins. 
 
 Never was there at any period, in an}' land, in any 
 sovereign family, a greater contempt for legitimacy 
 tiian in the famous house of the Medici. On the 
 subject of power the}" held the same doctrine now 
 professed by Russia, namely : to whichever head the 
 crown goes, he is the true, the legitimate sovereign, 
 ^lirabeau had reason to say: "There has been but one 
 mesalliance in my family, — that of the Medici ; " for in 
 spite of the paid efforts of genealogists, it is certain 
 that the Medici, before Everardo de* Medici, gonfalon- 
 iero of Florence in 1314, were simple Florentine mer- 
 chants who became vei-y rich. The first personage in 
 this family who occupies an important place in the his- 
 tory of the famous Tuscan republic is Silvestro de* 
 Medici, gonfaloniero in 1378. This Silvestro had two 
 sons, Cosmo and Lorenzo de' Medici. 
 
 From Cosmo are descended Lorenzo the Magnificent, 
 the Due de Nemours, the Due d'Urbino, father of 
 Catherine, Pope Leo X., Vo\^ Clement VII., and Ales- 
 sandro, not Duke of Florence^ as historians call him, 
 but Duke della citta di Penna^ a title given by Pope 
 Clement VII., as a half-way station to that of Grand- 
 duke of Tuscany. 
 
 From Lorenzo are descended the Florentine Brutus 
 Lorenzino, who killed Alessandro, Cosmo, the first 
 grand duke, and all the sovereigns of Tuscany till 1737, 
 at which period the house became extinct. 
 
16 Introduction, 
 
 But neither of the two branches — the branch Cosmo 
 and the branch Lorenzo — reigned through their direct 
 and legitimate lines until the close of the sixteenth 
 century, when the grand-dukes of Tuscan}' began to 
 succeed each other peacefully. Alessandro de' Medici, 
 he to whom the title of Duke della citta di Penna was 
 given, was the son of the Duke d'Urbino, Catherine's 
 father, by a Moorish slave. For this reason Lorenzino 
 claimed a double right to kill Alessandro, — as a 
 usurper in his house, as well as an opi)ressor of the 
 city. Some historians believe that Alessandro was 
 the son of Clement VII. The fact that led to the 
 recognition of this bastard as chief of the republic 
 and head of the house of the Medici was his mar- 
 riage with Margaret of Austria, natural daughter of 
 Charles V. 
 
 Francesco de' Medici, husband of Bianca Capello, 
 accepted as his son a child of poor parents bought by 
 the celebrated Venetian ; and, strange to say, Ferdi- 
 nando, on succeeding Francesco, maintained the sub- 
 stituted child in all his rights. That child, called 
 Antonio de' Medici, was considered during four reigns 
 as belonging to the family ; he won the affection of 
 every bod}', rendered important services to the famil}-, 
 and died universally regretted. 
 
 Nearl}' all the first Medici had natural children, whose 
 careers were invariable' brilliant. For instance, the 
 Cardinal Giulio de' Medici, afterwards pope under the 
 name of Clement VII., was the illegitimate son of 
 Giuliano I. Cardinal Ippolito de' Medici was also a 
 bastard, and came ver}' near being pope and the head 
 of the family. 
 
Introduction. 17 
 
 Lorenzo II., the father of Catherine, married in 1518, 
 for his second wife, Madeleine de la Tour de Boulogne, 
 in Auvergne, and died April 25, 1519, a few days after 
 his wife, who died in giving birth to Catherine. Cathe- 
 rine was therefore orphaned of father and mother as 
 soon as she drew breath. Hence the strange adven- 
 tures of her childhood, mixed up as they were with the 
 bloody efforts of the Florentines, then seeking to recover 
 their liberty from the Medici. The latter, desirous of 
 continuing to reign in Florence, behaved with such cir- 
 cumspection that Lorenzo, Catherine's father, had taken 
 the name of Duke d'Urbino. 
 
 At Lorenzo's death, the head of the house of the 
 Medici was Pope Leo X., who sent the illegitimate son 
 of Giuliano, Giulio de' Medici, then cardinal, to govern 
 Florence. Leo X. was great-uncle to Catherine, and 
 this Cardinal Giulio, afterward Clement VII., was her 
 uncle by the left hand. 
 
 It was during the siege of Florence, undertaken by 
 the Medici to force their return there, that the Repub- 
 lican part}', not content with having shut Catherine, 
 then nine years old, into a convent, after robbing her 
 of all her propert}', actualh' proposed, on the suggestion 
 of one named Batista Cei, to expose her between two 
 battlements on the walls to the artillery of the Medici. 
 Bernardo Castiglione went further in a council held to 
 determine how matters should be ended : he was of 
 opinion that, so far from returning her to the pope as 
 the latter requested, she ought to be given to the sol- 
 diers for dishonor. This will show how all popular 
 revolutions resemble each other. Catherine's subse- 
 quent policy, which upheld so firmly the royal power, 
 
 2 
 
18 Introduction, 
 
 may well have been instigated in part by such scenes, 
 of which an Italian ghi of nine years of age was 
 assuredl}' not ignorant. 
 
 The rise of Alessandro de' Medici, to wiiich the 
 bastard Pope Clement VII. powerfully contributed, was 
 no doubt chief!}' caused b}' the affection of Charles V. 
 for his famous illegitimate daughter Margaret. Thus 
 pope and emperor were prompted by the same senti- 
 ment. At this epoch Venice had the commerce of the 
 world ; Rome had its moral government ; Italy still 
 reigned supreme through the poets, the generals, the 
 statesmen born to her. At no period of the world's 
 histor}', in any land, was there ever seen so remark- 
 able, so abundant a collection of men of genius. There 
 were so man}', in fact, that even the lesser princes 
 were superior men. Italy was crammed with talent, 
 enterprise, knowledge, science, poesy, wealth, and gal- 
 lantry, all the while torn by intestinal warfare and 
 overrun with conquerors struggling for possession of 
 her finest provinces. When men are so strong, they 
 do not fear to admit their weaknesses. Hence, no 
 doubt, this golden age for bastards. We must, more- 
 over, do the illegitimate children of the house of the 
 Medici the justice to say that they were ardently de- 
 voted to the glory, power, and increase of wealth of 
 that famous family. Thus as soon as the Duca delta 
 cittb di Penna, son of the Moorish woman, was in- 
 stalled as tyrant of Florence, he espoused the interest 
 Pope Clement VII., and gave a home to the daughter 
 of Lorenzo II., then eleven years of age. 
 
 When we study the march of events and that of men 
 in this curious sixteenth century, we ought never to 
 
Introduction. 19 
 
 forget that public polic}' had for its element a perpetual 
 craftiness, and a dissimulation which destroyed, in all 
 characters, the straightforward, upright bearing our 
 imaginations demand of eminent personages. In this, 
 above all, is Catherine's absolution. It disposes of the 
 vulgar and foolish accusations of treachery launched 
 against her by the writers of the Reformation. This 
 was the great age of that statesmanship the code 
 of which was written by Macchiavelli as well as by 
 Spinosa, by Hobbes as well as by Montesquieu, — for 
 the dialosfue between Sylla and Eucrates contains Mon- 
 tesquieu's true thought, which his connection with the 
 Encyclopedists did not permit him to develop otherwise 
 than as he did. 
 
 These principles are to-day the secret law of all 
 cabinets in which plans for the conquest and main- 
 tenance of great power are laid. In France we blamed 
 Napoleon when he made use of that Italian genius 
 for craft which was bred in his bone, — though in his 
 case it did not always succeed. But Charles V., 
 Catherine, Philip II., and Pope Julius would not have 
 acted otherwise than as he did in the affair of Spain. 
 History, in the days when Catherine was born, if 
 judged from the point of view of honesty, would seem 
 an impossible tale. Charles V., obliged to sustain 
 Catholicism against the attacks of Luther, who threat- 
 ened the Throne in threatening the Tiara, allowed the 
 siege of Rome and held Pope Clement VII. in prison ! 
 This same Clement, who had no bitterer enemy than 
 Charles V., courted him in order to make Alessandro 
 de' Medici ruler of Florence, and obtained his favorite 
 daughter for that bastard. No sooner was Alessandro 
 
20 Introduction. 
 
 established than he, conjointl}' with Clement VII., en- 
 deavored to injure Charles V. by allying himself with 
 Franqois I., king of France, by means of Catherine 
 de' Medici ; and both of them promised to assist 
 Francois in reconquering Itah'. Lorenzino de' Medici 
 made himself the companion of Alessandro's debauch- 
 eries for the express purpose of finding an opportunity 
 to kill him. Filippo Strozzi, one of the great minds of 
 that day, held this murder in such respect that he 
 swore that his sons should each marry a dauorhter of 
 the murderer ; and each son religiousl}' fulfilled his 
 father's oath when the}' might all have made, under 
 Catherine's protection, brilliant marriages ; for one was 
 the rival of Doria, the other a marshal of France. 
 Cosmo de' Medici, successor of Alessandro, with whom 
 be had no relationship, avenged the death of that tyrant 
 in the cruellest manner, with a persistency lasting 
 twelve 3'ears ; during w^hich time his hatred continued 
 keen against the persons who had, as a matter of fact, 
 given him the power. He was eighteen years old w^hen 
 called to the sovereignt}' ; his first act was to declare 
 the rights of Alessandro's legitimate sons null and 
 void, — all the while avenging their father's death ! 
 Charles V. confirmed the disinheriting of his grandsons, 
 and recoonized Cosmo instead of the son of Alessandro 
 and his daughter Margaret. Cosmo, placed on the 
 throne by Cardinal Cibo, instantly exiled the latter; 
 and the cardinal revenged himself by accusing Cosmo 
 (who was the first grand-duke) of murdering Ales- 
 sandro's son. Cosmo, as jealous of his power as 
 Charles V. was of his, abdicated in favor of his son 
 Fi-ancesco, after causing the death of his other son, 
 
( 
 Introduction. 21 
 
 Garcia, to avenge the death of Cardinal Giovanni de' 
 Medici, whom Garcia had assassinated. Cosmo the 
 First and his son Francesco, who ought to have been 
 devoted, body and soul, to the liouse of France, the 
 onl}^ power on which they might really have relied, made 
 themselves the lacqueys of Charles V. and Philip II., 
 and were consequently the secret, base, and perfidious 
 enemies of Catherine de' Medici, one of the glories of 
 their house. 
 
 Such were the leading contradictory and illogical 
 traits, the treacher}', knaver}^ and black intrigues of a 
 single house, that of the Medici. From this sketch, we 
 may judge of the other princes of Italy and Europe. All 
 the envoj's of Cosmo I. to the court of France had, in 
 their secret instructions, an order to poison Strozzi, 
 Catherine's relation, when he arrived. Charles V. 
 had already assassinated three of the ambassadors of 
 Francois I. 
 
 It was earl}' in the month of October, 1533, that the 
 Duca delta citta di Penna started from Florence for 
 Livorno, accompanied by the sole heiress of Lorenzo 
 II., namely, Catherine de' Medici. The duke and the 
 Princess of Florence, for that was the title b}' which the 
 young girl, then fourteen years of age, was known, left 
 the city surrounded by a large retinue of servants, 
 officers, and secretaries, preceded by armed men, and 
 followed by an escort of cavalrj'. The young princess 
 knew nothing as yet of what her fate was to be, except 
 that the pope was to have an interview at Livorno with 
 the Duke Alessandro ; but her uncle, Filippo Strozzi, 
 ver}^ soon informed her of the future before her. 
 
 Filippo Strozzi had married Clarice de' Medici, half- 
 
22 Introduction, 
 
 sister on the father's side of Lorenzo de' Medici, Dnke 
 of Urbino, father of Catherine ; but this marriage, which 
 was brought about as mucli to convert one of the firm- 
 est supporters of the popular party to the cause of the 
 Medici as to facilitate the recall of that family', then 
 banished from Florence, never shook the stern champion 
 from his course, though he was persecuted bj' his own 
 party for making it. In spite of all apparent changes 
 in his conduct (for this alliance naturalh' affected it 
 somewhat) he remained faithful to the popular part}', 
 and declared himself openl}' against the Medici as soon 
 as he foresaw their intention to enslave Florence. This 
 great man even refused the offer of a principality made 
 to him by Leo X. 
 
 At the time of which we are now writing Filippo 
 Strozzi was a victim to the policy of the Medici, so 
 vacillating in its means, so fixed and inflexible in its ob- 
 ject. After sharing the misfortunes and the captivity of 
 Clement VII. when the latter, surprised by theColonna, 
 took refuge in the Castle of Saint-Angelo, Strozzi 
 was delivered up hy Clement as a hostage and taken to 
 Naples. As the pope, when he got his liberty, turned 
 savagely on his enemies, Strozzi came ver}' near losing 
 his life, and was forced to pa}' an enormous sum to be 
 released from a prison where he was closely confined. 
 When he found himself at libert}' he had, with an 
 instinct of kindUness natural to an honest man, the 
 simplicit}' to present himself before Clement VII., who 
 had perhaps congratulated himself on being well rid of 
 him. The pope had such good cause to blush for his 
 own conduct that he received Strozzi extremely ill. 
 
 Strozzi thus began, earlj' in life, his apprenticeship 
 
I retrod nction, 23 
 
 to the misfortunes of an honest man in politics, — a man 
 whose conscience cannot lend itself to the capricious- 
 ness of events ; whose actions are acceptable onl^' to 
 the virtuous ; and who is therefore persecuted by the 
 world, — b}' the people, for opposing their blind pas- 
 sions ; by power for opposing its usurpations. The 
 life of such great citizens is a martyrdom, in which they 
 are sustained onh' b}' the voice of their conscience and 
 an heroic sense of social dutv, which dictates their 
 course in all things. There were many such men in the 
 republic of Florence, all as great as Strozzi, and as 
 able as their adversaries the Medici, though vanquished 
 by the superior craft and wiliness of the latter. What 
 could be more worthy of admiration than the conduct 
 of the chief of the Pazzi at the time of the conspiracy 
 of his house, when, his commerce being at that time 
 enormous, he settled all his accounts with Asia, the 
 Levant, and Europe before beginning that great at- 
 tempt ; so that, if it failed, his correspondents should 
 lose nothing. 
 
 The histor}' of the establishment of the house of the 
 Medici in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries is a mag:- 
 nificent tale which still remains to be written, thoujih 
 men of genius have already put their hands to it. It 
 is not the history of a republic, nor of a society, nor of 
 an\^ special civilization ; it is the history of statesmen, 
 the eternal history of Politics, — that of usurpers, that 
 of conquerors. 
 
 As soon as Filippo Strozzi returned to Florence he 
 re-established the preceding form of government and 
 ousted Ippolito de' Medici, another bastard, and the 
 very Alessandro with whom, at the later period of 
 
24 Introduction, 
 
 which we are now writing, he was travelling to Livorno. 
 Having effected this change of government, he became 
 alarmed at the evident inconstancy of the people of 
 Florence, and, fearing the vengeance of Clement VII., he 
 went to Lyon to superintend a vast house of business 
 he owned there, which corresponded with other banking- 
 houses of his own in Venice, Rome, France, and Spain. 
 Here we find a strange thing. These men who bore 
 the weight of public affairs and of such a struggle as 
 that with the Medici (not to speak of contentions with 
 their own party) found time and strength to bear 
 the burden of a vast business and all its speculations, 
 also of banks and their complications, which the multi- 
 plicity of coinages and their falsification rendered even 
 more difficult than it is in our da}'. The name '-'- banker " 
 comes from the banc (Anglice, bench) upon which the 
 banker sat, and on which he rang the gold and silver 
 pieces to tr}^ their quality. After a time Filippo found 
 in the death of his wife, whom he adored, a pretext for 
 renewing his relations with the Republican party, whose 
 secret police becomes the more terrible in all republics, 
 because every one makes himself a spy in the name of 
 a libert}' which justifies everything. 
 
 Filippo returned to Florence at the ver}' moment 
 when that city was compelled to accept the 3'oke of 
 Alessandro ; but he had previousl}' gone to Rome and 
 seen Pope Clement VII., whose affairs were now so 
 prosperous that his disposition toward Strozzi was 
 much changed. In the hour of triumph the Medici 
 were so much in need of a man like Filippo — were it 
 only to smooth the return of Alessandro — that Clement 
 urged him to take a seat at the Council of the bastard 
 
Introduction. 25 
 
 who was about to oppress the cit3' ; and Strozzi con- 
 sented to accept the diploma of a senator. 
 
 But, for the last two 3'ears and more, he had seen, 
 like Seneca and Burrhus, the beginnings of tyranny in 
 his Nero. He felt himself, at the moment of which we 
 write, an object of so much distrust on the part of the 
 people and so suspected by the Medici whom he was 
 constantly resisting, that he was confident of some ap- 
 proaching catastrophe. Consequently, as soon as he 
 heard from Alessandro of the negotiation for Cath- 
 erine's marriage with the son of Frangois I., the final 
 arrangements for which were to be made at Livorno, 
 where the negotiators had appointed to meet, he formed 
 the plan of going to France, and attaching himself to 
 the fortunes of his niece, who needed a guardian. 
 
 Alessandro, delighted to rid himself of a man so un- 
 accommodating in the affairs of Florence, furthered a 
 plan which relieved him of one murder at least, and 
 advised Strozzi to put himself at the head of Catherine's 
 household. In order to dazzle the eyes of France the 
 Medici had selected a brilliant suite for her whom they 
 styled, very unwarrantably, the Princess of Florence, 
 and who also went by the name of the little Duchess 
 d'Urbino. The cortege, at the head of which rode 
 Alessandro, Catherine, and Strozzi, was composed of 
 more than a thousand persons, not including the escort 
 and servants. When the last of it issued from the gates 
 of Florence the head had passed that first village be- 
 yond the city where they now braid the Tuscan straw 
 hats. It was beginning to be rumored among the 
 people that Catherine was to marry a son of Francois I. ; 
 but the rumor did not obtain much belief until the 
 
26 Introduction, 
 
 Tuscans beheld with their own e3'es this triumphal pro- 
 cession from Florence to Livorno. 
 
 Catherine herself, judging hy all the preparations she 
 beheld, began to suspect that her marriage was in ques- 
 tion, and her uncle then revealed to her the fact that 
 the first ambitious project of his house had aborted, and 
 that the hand of the dauphin had been refused to her. 
 Alessandro still hoped tliat the Duke of Alban}^ would 
 succeed in changing this decision of the king of France 
 who, willing as he was to bu}- the support of the 
 Medici in Italy, would only grant them his second son, 
 the Due d'Orleans. This petty blunder lost Italy to 
 France, and did not prevent Catherine from becoming 
 queen. 
 
 The Duke of Albany, son of Alexander Stuart, 
 )rother of James III. king of Scotland, had married 
 Anne de la Tour de Boulogne, sister of Madeleine de la 
 Tour de Bologne, Catherine's mother ; he was therefore 
 her maternal uncle. It was through her mother that 
 Catherine was so rich and alUed to so man}^ great 
 families ; for, strangely enough, her rival, Diane de 
 Poitiers, was also her cousin. Jean de Poitiers, father 
 of Diane, was son of Jeanne de Boulogne, aunt of the 
 Duchess d'Urbino. " Catherine was also a cousin of 
 Mar}^ Stuai't, her daughter-in-law. 
 
 Catherine now learned that her dowry in mone}' was 
 a hundred thousand ducats. A ducat was a gold piece 
 of the size of an old French louis, though less thick. 
 (The old louis was worth twentj^-four francs — the 
 present one is worth twent}'.) The Comtes of Au- 
 vergne and Lauraguais were also made a part of the 
 dowry, and Pope Clement added one hundred thousand 
 
Introduction. 27 
 
 ducats in jewels, precious stones, and other wedding 
 gifts ; to which Alessandro likewise contributed his 
 share. 
 
 On arriving at Livorno, Catherine, still so 3'oung, 
 must have been flattered by the extreme magnificence 
 displayed^ by Pope Clement ('' her uncle in Notre- 
 Dame," then head of the house of the Medici), in order 
 to outdo the court of France. He had already arrived 
 at Livorno in one of his gallej's, which was lined with 
 crimson satin fringed with gold, and covered with a 
 tent-like awning in cloth of gold. This galle}', the 
 decoration of which cost twenty thousand ducats, con- 
 tained several apartments destined for the bride of 
 Henri of France, all of which were furnished with the 
 richest treasures of art the Medici could collect. The 
 rowers, magnificently apparelled, and the crew were 
 under the command of a prior of the order of the 
 Knights of Rhodes. The household of the pope were 
 in three other galleys. The galle3's of the Duke of Al- 
 bany, anchored near those of Clement VII., added to 
 the size and dignity of the flotilla. 
 
 Duke Alessandro presented the ofl3cers of Catherine's 
 household to the pope, with whom he had a secret con- 
 ference, in which, it would appear, he presented to his 
 Holiness Count Sebastiano Montecuculi, who had just 
 left, somewhat abruptly, the service of Charles V. and 
 that of his two generals, Antonio di Leyva and Ferdi- 
 nando di Gonzago. Was there between the two bastards, 
 Giulio and Alessandro, a premeditated intention of 
 making the Due d'Orleans dauphin? What reward 
 was promised to Sebastiano Montecuculi, who, before 
 entering the service of Charles V. had studied medicine ? 
 
28 Introduction. 
 
 Histor}' is silent on that point. We shall see presently 
 what clouds hang round that fact. The obscurit}' is 
 so great that, quite recentlj^, grave and conscientious 
 historians have admitted Montecuculi's innocence. 
 
 Catherine then heard officially from the pope's own 
 lips of the alhance reserved for her. The Duke of 
 Albany had been able to do no more than hold the 
 king of P'rance, and that with difficulty, to his promise 
 of giving Catherine the hand of his second son, the Due 
 d'Orleans. The pope's impatience was so great, and he 
 was so afraid that his plans would be thwarted either by 
 some intrigue of the emperor, or by the refusal of 
 France, or by the grandees of the kingdom looking 
 with evil eye upon the marriage, that he gave orders to 
 embark at once, and sailed for Marseille, where he 
 arrived toward the end of October, 1533. 
 
 Notwithstanding its wealth, the house of the Medici 
 was eclipsed on this occasion by the court of France. 
 To show the lengths to which the Medici pushed their 
 magnificence, it is enough to saj' that the " dozen " put 
 into the bride's purse hy the pope were twelve gold 
 medals of priceless historical value, which were then 
 unique. But Francois I., who loved the display of fes- 
 tivals, distinguished himself on this occasion. The 
 wedding festivities of Henri de Valois and Catherine 
 de' Medici lasted thirty-four da3's. 
 
 It is useless to repeat the details, which have been 
 given in all the histories of Provence and Marseille, as 
 to this celebrated interview between the Pope and the 
 king of France, which was opened b}' a jest of the Duke 
 of Albany as to the dutj of keeping fasts, — a jest men- 
 tioned by Brantome and much enjo^'ed by the court, 
 which shows the tone of the manners of that day. 
 
Introduction. 29 
 
 Many conjectures have been made as to Catherine's 
 barrenness, which lasted ten 3'ears. Strange calumnies 
 still rest upon this queen, all of whose actions were fated 
 to be misjudged. It is sufficient to say that the cause 
 was solely in Henri II. After the difficulty was re- 
 moved, Catherine had ten children. The delay was, in 
 one respect, fortunate for France. If Henri II. had 
 had children b}^ Diane de Poitiers the politics of the 
 kingdom would have been dangerously complicated. 
 When the difficulty was removed the Duchesse de Val- 
 entinois had reached the period of a woman's second 
 youth. This matter alone will show that the true life 
 of Catherine de' Medici is still to be written, and also 
 — as Napoleon said with profound wisdom — that the 
 histor}^ of France should be either in one volume onlj^, 
 or one thousand. 
 
 Here is a contemporaneous and succinct account of 
 the meeting of Clement VII. and the king of France : 
 
 "His Holiness the pope, having been conducted to the 
 palace, which was, as I have said, prepared beyond the port, 
 every one retired to their own quarters till the morrow, when 
 his Holiness was to make his entry ; the which w^as made 
 with great sumptuousness and magnificence, he being seated 
 in a chair carried on the shoulders of two men and wearing 
 his pontifical robes, but not the tiara. Pacing before him 
 was a white hackney, bearing the sacrament of the altar, — 
 the said hackney being led by reins of white silk held by 
 two footmen finely equipped. Next came all the cardinals 
 in their robes, on pontifical mules, and Madame la Duchesse 
 d* Urbino in great magnificence, accompanied by a vast 
 number of ladies and gentlemen, both French and Italian. 
 
 " The Holy Father having arrived in the midst of this 
 company at the place appointed for his lodging, every one 
 
30 Introduction. 
 
 retired; and all this, being well-ordered, took place without 
 disorder or tumult. While the pope was thus making his 
 entry, the king crossed the water in a frigate and went to 
 the lodging the pope had just quitted, in order to go the 
 next day and make obeisance to the Holy Father as a Most 
 Christian king. 
 
 " The next day the king being prepared set forth for the 
 palace where was the pope, accompanied by the princes 
 of the blood, such as Monseigneur le Due de Vendomois 
 (father of the Vidame de Chartres), the Comtede Sainct-Pol, 
 Messieurs de Montpensier and la Roche-sur-Yon, the Due de 
 Nemours (brother of the Due de Savoie) who died in this 
 said place, the Duke of Albany, and many others, whether 
 counts, barons, or seigneurs ; nearest to the king was the 
 Seigneur de Montmorency, his Grand-master. 
 
 " The king, being arrived at the palace, was received by 
 the pope and all the college of cardinals, assembled in con- 
 sistory, most civilly. This done, each retired to the place 
 ordained for him, the king taking with him several car- 
 dinals to feast them, — among them Cardinal de' Medici, 
 nephew of the pope, a very splendid man with a fine retinue. 
 
 " On the morrow those persons chosen by his Holiness and 
 by the king began to assemble to discuss the matters for 
 which the meeting was made. First, the matter of the 
 Faith was treated of, and a bull was put forth repressing 
 heresy and preventing that things come to greater combus- 
 tion than they now are. 
 
 "After this, was concluded the marriage of the Due 
 d'Orl^ans, second son of the king, with Catherine de' Medici, 
 Duchesse d'Urbino, niece of his Holiness, under the con- 
 ditions such, or like to those, as were proposed formerly by 
 the Duke of Albany. The said espousals were celebrated 
 with great magnificence, and our Holy Father himself 
 wedded the pair. The marriage thus consummated, the 
 Holy Father held a consistory at which he created four car- 
 dinals and devoted them to the king, — to wit : Cardinal 
 
Introduction. ' 31 
 
 Le Veneur, formerly bishop of Lisieux and grand almoner ; 
 the Cardinal de Boulogne of the family of la Chambre, 
 brother on the mother's side of the Duke of Albany ; the 
 Cardinal de Chatillon of the house of Coligny, nephew of 
 the Sire de Montmorency, and the Cardinal de Givry." 
 
 When Strozzi delivered the dowry in presence of the 
 court he noticed some surprise on the part of the French 
 seigneurs ; they even said aloud that it Was little enough 
 for such a mesalliance (what would the}^ have said in 
 these daj's?). Cardinal Ippolito replied, sa3'ing : — 
 
 '' You must be ill-informed as to the secrets of your 
 king. His Holiness has bound himself to give to France 
 three pearls of inestimable value, namel}' : Genoa, 
 Milan, and Naples." 
 
 The pope left Sebastiano Montecuculi to present him- 
 self to the court of France, to which the count offered 
 his services, complaining of his treatment b}' Antonio 
 di Leyva and Ferdinando di Gonzago, for which reason 
 his services were accepted. Montecuculi was not made 
 a part of Catherine's household, which was whollj' com- 
 posed of French men and women, for, by a law of the 
 monarchy, the execution of which the pope saw with 
 great satisfaction, Catherine was naturalized bj' letters- 
 patent as a Frenchwoman before the marriage. Monte- 
 cuculi was appointed in the first instance to the house- 
 hold of the queen, the sister of Charles V. After a 
 while he passed into the service of the dauphin as cup- 
 bearer. 
 
 The new Duchesse d'Orleans soon found herself a 
 nullity at the court of Francois I. Her young husband 
 was in love with Diane de Poitiers, who certainh', in the 
 matter of birth, could rival Catherine, and was far more 
 
32 Introduction. 
 
 t)f a great lady than the little Florentine. The daugh- 
 ter of the Medici was also outdone by Queen Eleonore, 
 sister of Charles V., and by Madame d'Etampes. whose 
 marriage with tlie head of the house of Brosse made 
 her one of tlie most powerful and best titled women in 
 France. Catherine's aunt the Duchess of Albany, the 
 Queen of Navarre, the Duchesse de Guise, the Duchesse 
 de Vendome, Madame la Connetable de Montmorency, 
 and other women of like importance, eclipsed by birth 
 and b}^ their riglits, as well as by their power at the 
 most sumptuous court of France (not excepting that 
 of Louis XIV.), the daughter of the Florentine grocers, 
 who was richer and more illustrious through the house 
 of the Tour de Boulogne than by her own family of 
 Medici. 
 
 The position of his niece was so bad and difficult that 
 the republican Filippo Strozzi, wholl}^ incapable of 
 guiding her in the midst of such conflicting interests, 
 left her after the first year, being recalled to Ital}' hy 
 the death of Clement VII. Catherine's conduct, when 
 w^e remember that she was scarcely fifteen years old, 
 was a model of prudence. She attached herself closely 
 to the king, her father-in-law ; she left him as little as 
 she could, following him on horseback both in hunting 
 and in war. Her idolatrj' for FranQois I. saved the 
 house of the Medici from all suspicion when the dauphin 
 was poisoned. Catherine was then, and so was her 
 husband, at the headquarters of the king in Provence ; 
 for Charles V. had speedil}' invaded France, and the 
 late scene of the marriage festivities had become the 
 theatre of a cruel war. 
 
 At the moment when Charles V. was put to flight, 
 
Introduction. 33 
 
 leaving the bones of his army in Provence, the dauphin 
 was returning to L3on by the Rhone. He stopped to 
 sleep at Tournon, and, by way of pastime, practised 
 some violent physical exercises, — which were nearly 
 all the education his brother and he, in consequence of 
 their detention as hostages, had ever received. The 
 prince had the imprudence — it being the month of 
 August, and the weather very hot — to ask for a glass 
 of water, which Montecuculi, as his cup-bearer, gave to 
 him, with ice in it. The dauphin died almost immedi- 
 ately. Franqois I. adored his son. The dauphin was, 
 according to all accounts, a charming young man. His 
 father, in despair, gave the utmost publicity to the 
 proceedings against Montecuculi, which he placed in 
 the hands of the most able magistrates of that daj'. 
 The count, after heroicall}^ enduring the first tortures 
 without confessing anything, finally made admissions 
 by which he implicated Charles V. and his two generals, 
 Antonio di Leyva and Ferdinando di Gonzago. No 
 affair was ever more solemnly' debated. Here is what 
 the king did, in the woi'ds of an ocular witness : — 
 
 " The king called an assembly at Lyon of all the princes 
 of his blood, all the knights of his order, and other great 
 personages of the kingdom; also the legate and papal 
 nuncio, the cardinals who were at his court, together with 
 the ambassadors of England, Scotland, Portugal, Venice, 
 Ferrara, and others ; also all the princes and noble stran- 
 gers, both Italian and German, who were then residing at 
 his court in great numbers. These all being assembled, 
 he caused to be read to them, in presence of each other, 
 from beginning to end, the trial of the unhappy man who 
 poisoned Monseigneur the late dauphin, — with all the inter- 
 
 3 
 
34 Introduction, 
 
 rogatories, confessions, confrontings, and other ceremonies 
 usual in criminal trials ; he, the king, not being willing thai 
 the sentence should be executed until all present had giveu 
 their opinion on this heinous and miserable case." 
 
 The fidelit}', devotion, and cautious skill of the Comte 
 de Montecuculi may seem extraordinary in our time, 
 when all the world, even ministers of State, tell ever}-- 
 Ihing about the least little event with which they 
 have to do ; but in those days princes could find de- 
 voted servants, or knew how to choose them. Monar- 
 chical Moreys existed because in those days there 
 was faith. Never ask devotion of self-interest^ be- 
 cause such interest may change ; but expect all from 
 sentiments, religious faith, monarchical faith, patriotic 
 faith. Those three beliefs produced such men as the 
 Berthereaus of Geneva, the S^'dneys and Straffords 
 of England, the murderers of Thomas a Becket, the 
 Jacques Coeurs, the Jeanne d'Arcs, the Richelieus, 
 Dantons, Bonchamps, Talmonts, and also the Clem- 
 ents, Chabots, and others. 
 
 The dauphin was poisoned in the same manner, and 
 possiblj^ bj' the same drug which afterwards served 
 Madame under Louis XIV. Pope Clement VII. had 
 been dead two years ; Duke Alessandro, plunged 
 in debauchery, seemed to have no interest in the eleva- 
 tion of the Due d'Orleans ; Catherine, then seventeen, 
 and full of admiration for her father-in-law, was with 
 him at the time ; Charles V. alone appeared to have an 
 interest in this death, for Fran9ois I. was negotiating 
 for his son an alliance which would assuredly have 
 aggrandized France. The count's confession was 
 therefore very skilfully' based on the passions and poli- 
 
Introduction. 35 
 
 tics of the moment ; Charles V. was then frying from 
 France, leaving his armies buried in Provence with his 
 happiness, his reputation, and his hopes of dominion. 
 It is to be remarked that if torture had forced admis- 
 sions from an innocent man, Francois I. gave Monte- 
 cuculi full liberty to speak in presence of an imposing 
 assembly, and before persons in whose eyes innocence 
 had some chance to triumph. The king, who wanted 
 the truth, sought it in good faith. 
 
 In spite of her now brilHant future, Catherine's sit- 
 uation at court was not changed by the death of the 
 dauphin. Her barrenness gave reason to fear a divorce 
 in case her husband should ascend the throne. The 
 dauphin was under the spell of Diane de Poitiers, 
 who assumed to rival Madame d'Etampes, the king's 
 mistress. Catherine redoubled in care and cajolery 
 of her father-in-law, being well aware that her sole 
 support was in him. The first ten years of Catherine's 
 married life were years of ever-renewed grief, caused 
 by the failure, one by one, of her hopes of pregnancy, 
 and the vexations of her rivalry with Diane. Imagine 
 what must have been the life of a young princess, 
 watched by a jealous mistress who was supported by a 
 powerful part}', — the Catholic party, — and by the two 
 powerful alUances Diane had made in marrying one 
 daughter to Robert de la Mark, Due de Bouillon, Prince 
 of Sedan, and the other to Claude de Lorraine, Due 
 d'Aumale. 
 
 Catherine, helpless between the part}' of Madame 
 d'Etampes and the party of the Senechale (such was 
 Diane's title during the reign of Francois I.), which 
 divided the court and politics into factions for these mor- 
 
36 Introduction. 
 
 tal enemies, endeavored to make herself the friend of 
 both Diane de Foitieis and Madame d'fitampes. She, 
 who was destined to become so great a queen, played 
 the part of a servant. Thus she served her apprentice- 
 ship in that double-faced policy which was ever the 
 secret motor of her life. Later, the queen was to 
 stand between Catholics and Calvinists, just as the 
 woman had stood for ten 3xars between Madame 
 d'Etampes and Madame de Poitiers. She studied the 
 contradictions of French politics ; she saw Francois I. 
 sustaining Calvin and the Lutherans in order to em- 
 barrass Charles V., and then, after secretl}' and pa- 
 tiently protecting the Reformation in Germany, and 
 tolerating the residence of Calvin at the court of 
 Navarre, he suddenly turned against it with exces- 
 sive rigor. Catherine beheld on the one hand the 
 court, and the women of the court, playing with the 
 fire of heres}', and on the other, Diane at the head 
 of the Catholic part}' with the Guises, solely because 
 the Duchesse d'Etampes supported Calvin and the 
 Protestants. 
 
 Such was the political education of this queen, who 
 saw in the cabinet of the king of France the same 
 errors committed as in the house of the Medici. The 
 dauphin opposed his father in everything ; he was a 
 bad son. He forgot the cruel but most vital maxim of 
 royalt}', namely, that thrones need solidarity ; and that 
 a son who creates opposition during the lifetime of his 
 father must follow that father's policj' when he mounts 
 the throne. Spinosa, who was as great a statesman as 
 he was a philosopher, said — in the case of one king 
 succeeding another b}' insurrection or crime, — 
 
\w 
 
 Introduction. 37 
 
 <* K the new king desires to secure the safety of his 
 throne and of his own life he must show such ardor in 
 venging the death of his predecessor that no one shall feel 
 a desire to commit the same crime. But to avenge it wor- 
 thily it is not enough to shed the blood of his subjects, he 
 must approve the axioms of the king he replaces, and take 
 
 »the same course in governing." 
 It was the application of this maxim which gave 
 Florence to the Medici. Cosmo I. caused to be assas- 
 sinated at Venice, after eleven years' sway, the Floren- 
 tine Brutus, and, as we have ah'eadj' said, persecuted 
 the Strozzi. It was forgetfulness of this maxim which 
 ruined Louis XVI. That king was false to every prin- 
 ciple of ro3'al government when he re-established the 
 parliaments suppressed by his grandfather. Louis XV. 
 saw the matter clearly. The parliaments, and notably 
 that of Paris, counted for full}' half in the troubles which 
 necessitated the convocation of the States-general. The 
 fault of Louis XV. was, that in breaking down that 
 barrier which separated the throne from the people he 
 did not erect a stronger ; in other words, that he did 
 not substitute for parliament a strong constitution of 
 the provinces. There lay the remed}* for the evils of 
 the monarch}' ; thence should have come the voting on 
 taxes, the regulation of them, and a slow approval of 
 
 -—reforms that were necessary to the system of monarchy. 
 
 " The first act of Henry II. was to give his confidence 
 to the Connetable de Montmorenc}', whom his father 
 had enjoined him to leave in disgrace. The Connetable 
 do Montmorency was, with Diane de Poitiers, to whom 
 he was closely bound, the master of the State. Cath- 
 erine was therefore less happy and less powerful after 
 
38 Introduction, 
 
 she became queen of France than while she was dau- 
 phiness. From 1 543 she had a child ever}' year for ten 
 years, and was occupied with maternal cares during the 
 period covered by the last three j'ears of the reign of 
 Francois I. and nearly the whole of the reign of Henri II. 
 We may see in this recurring fecundity the influence of 
 a rival, who was able thus to rid herself of the legitimate 
 wife, — a barbarity of feminine policy which must have 
 been one of Catherine's grievances against Diane. 
 
 Thus set aside from public life, this superior woman 
 passed her time in observing the self-interests of the 
 court people and of the various parties which were 
 formed about her. All the Italians who had followed 
 her were objects of violent suspicion. After the 
 execution of Montecuculi the Connetable de Mont- 
 morenc3% Diane, and many of the keenest politicians 
 of the court were filled with suspicion of the Medici ; 
 though Fran9ois I. alwa3's repelled it. Consequently, 
 the Gondi, Strozzi, Ruggieri, Sardini, etc., — in short, 
 all those who were called distinctively "the Italians,'' — 
 were compelled to emplo}" great resources of mind, 
 shrewd policy, and courage, to maintain themselves at 
 court against the weight of disfavor which pressed upon 
 them. 
 
 During her husband's reign Catherine's amiability 
 to Diane de Poitiers went to such lengths that intelli- 
 gent persons must regard it as proof of that profound 
 dissimulation which men, events, and the conduct of 
 Henri II. compelled Catherine de' Medici to emploj'. 
 But they go too far when they declare that she never 
 claimed her rights as wife and queen. In the first 
 place, the sense of dignity which Catherme possessed 
 
Introduction, 39 
 
 in the highest degree forbade her claiming what his- 
 torians call her rights as a wife. The ten children of 
 the marriage explain Henri's conduct ; and his wife's 
 maternal occupations left him free to pass his time with 
 Diane de Poitiers. But the king was never lacking 
 in anything that was due to himself; and he gave 
 Catherine an '•'entry'* into Paris, to be crowned as 
 queen, which was worthy of all such pageants that had 
 ever taken place. The archives of the Parhament, and 
 those of the Cour des Comptes, show that those two 
 great bodies went to meet her outside of Paris as far 
 as Saint Lazare. Here is an extract from du Tillet's 
 account of it : — 
 
 " A platform had been erected at Saint-Lazare, on which 
 was a throne (du Tillet calls it a chair de parement) . Cath- 
 erine took her seat upon it, wearing a surcoat, or species of 
 ermine short-cloak covered with precious stones, a bodice 
 beneath it with the royal mantle, and on her head a crown 
 enriched with pearls and diamonds, and held in place by the 
 Marechale de la Mark, her lady of honor. Around her stood 
 the princes of the blood, and other princes and seigneurs, 
 richly apparelled, also the chancellor of France in a robe of 
 gold damask on a background of crimson-red. Before the 
 queen, and on the same platform, were seated, in two rows, 
 twelve duchesses or countesses, wearing ermine surcoats, 
 bodices, robes, and circlets,- — that is to say, the coronets 
 of duchesses and countesses. These were the Duchesses 
 d'Estouteville, Montpensier (elder and younger) ; the Prin- 
 cesses de la Roche-sur-Yon; the Duchesses de Guise, de Niver- 
 nois, d'Aumale, de Valentinois (Diane de Poitiers), Mademoi- 
 selle la batarde legitimee de France (the title of the king's 
 daughter, Diane, who was Duchesse de Castro-Farnese and 
 afterwards Duchesse de Montmorency-Damville), Madame 
 la Connetable, and Mademoiselle de Nemours ; without men- 
 
40 Introduction. 
 
 tioning other demoiselles who were not seated. The four 
 presidents of the courts of justice, wearing their caps, several 
 other members of the court, and the clerk du Tillet, mounted 
 the platform, made reverent bows, and the chief judge, Lizet, 
 kneeling down, harangued the queen. The chancellor then 
 knelt down and answered. The queen made her entry at 
 half-past three o'clock in an open litter, having Madame 
 Marguerite de France sitting opposite to her, and on either 
 side of the litter the Cardinals of Amboise, Chatillon. 
 Boulogne, and de Lenoncourt in their episcopal robes. She 
 left her litter at the church of Notre-Dame, where she was 
 received by the clergy. After offering her prayer she was 
 conducted by the rue de la Calandre to the palace, where 
 the royal supper was served in the great hall. She there 
 appeared, seated at the middle of the marble table, beneath 
 a velvet dais strewn with golden fleur-de-lis.'* 
 
 We may here put an end to one of those popular 
 beliefs which are repeated by many writers from 
 Sauval down. It has been said that Henri II. pushed 
 his neglect of the proprieties so far as to put the 
 initials of his mistress on the buildings which Catherine 
 advised him to continue or to begin with so much mag- 
 nificence. But the double monogram which can be 
 seen at the Louvre offers a daily denial to those who 
 are so little clear-sighted as to believe in sill}' nonsense 
 which gratuitous!}' insults our kings and queens. The 
 H of Henri and the two C's of Catherine which back 
 it, appear to represent the two D's of Diane. The 
 coincidence may have pleased Henri II., but it is none 
 the less true that the roj'al monogram contained ofti- 
 cially the initial of the king and that of the queen. 
 This is so true that the monogram can still be seen 
 on the column of the Halle au Ble, which was built by 
 
I 
 
 Catherine alone. It can also be seen in the crypt of 
 Saint-Denis, on the tomb which Catherine erected for 
 herself in her lifetime beside that of Henri II., where 
 her figure is modelled from nature by the sculptor to 
 whom she sat for it. 
 
 On a solemn occasion, when he was starting, March 
 25, 1552, for his expedition into German}^, Henri II. 
 declared Catherine regent during his absence, and also 
 in case of his death. Catherine's most cruel enemy, 
 the author of '' Marvellous Discourses on Catherine 
 the Second's Behavior " admits that she carried on the 
 government with universal approval and that the king 
 was satisfied with her administration. Henri received 
 both mone}" and men at the time he wanted them ; and 
 finally, after the fatal da}' of Saint-Quentin, Catherine 
 obtained considerable sums of mone}' from the people 
 of Paris, which she sent to Compiegne, where the king 
 then was. 
 
 In politics, Catherine made immense efforts to ob- 
 tain a little influence. She was clever enough to bring 
 the Connetable de Montmorency, all-powerful under 
 Henri II., to her interests. We all know the terrible 
 answer that the king made, on being harassed by 
 Montmorenc\' in her favor. This answer was the re- 
 sult of an attempt by Catherine to give the king good 
 advice, in the few moments she was ever alone with 
 him, when she explained the Florentine policy of pit- 
 ting the grandees of the kingdom one against another 
 and establishing the royal authority on their ruins. 
 But Henri II., who saw things only through the eyes 
 of Diane and the Connetable, was a trul}' feudal king 
 and the friend of all the great families of his kingdom. 
 
\ 
 
 42 Litroduction. 
 
 After the futile attempt of the Connetable in her 
 favor, which must have been made in the year 1556, 
 Catherine began to cajole the Guises for the purpose of 
 detaching them from Diane and opposing them to the 
 Connetable. Unfortunately, Diane and Montmorency 
 were as vehement against the Protestants as the Guises. 
 There was therefore not the same animosity in their 
 struggle as there might have been had the religious 
 question entered it. Moreover, Diane boldly entered 
 the lists against the queen's project by coquetting with 
 the Guises and giving her daughter to the Due 
 d'Aumale. She even went so far that certain authors 
 declared she gave more than mere good-will to the 
 gallant Cardinal de Lorraine ; and the lampooners of 
 the time made the following quatrain on Henri II : 
 
 " Sire, if you 're weak and let your will relax 
 Till Diane and Lorraine do govern you, 
 Pound, knead and mould, re-melt and model you, 
 Sire, you are nothing — nothing else than wax." 
 
 It is impossible to regard as sincere the signs of 
 grief and the ostentation of mourning which Catherine 
 showed on the death of Henri II. The fact that the 
 king was attached by an unalterable passion to Diane 
 de Poitiers naturall}' made Catherine play the part of 
 a neglected wife who adores her husband ; but, like all 
 women who act by their head, she persisted in this dis- 
 simulation and never ceased to speak tenderly of 
 Henri II. In like manner Diane, as we know, wore 
 mourning all her life for her husband the Senechal de 
 Breze. Her colors were black and white, and the 
 king was wearing them at the tournament when he was 
 
Introduction, 43 
 
 killed. Catherine, no doubt in imitation of her rival, 
 wore mourning for Henri II. for the rest of her life. 
 She showed a consummate perfidy toward Diane de 
 Poitiers, to which historians have not given due atten- 
 tion. At the king's death the Duchesse de Valentinois 
 was completel}^ disgraced and shamefully abandoned 
 by the Connetable, a man who was always below his 
 reputation. Diane offered her estate and chdteau of > 
 Chenonceaux to the queen. Catherine then said, in y 
 presence of witnesses : — / 
 
 '' I can never forget that she made the happiness 
 of my dear Henri. I am ashamed to accept her gift ; \ 
 I wish to give her a domain in place of it, and I shall 
 offer her that of Chaumont-sur-Loire.'' 
 
 Accordingly, the deed of exchange was signed at 
 Blois in 1559. Diane, whose sons-in-law were the Due 
 d'Aumale and the Due de Bouillon (then a sovereign 
 prince), kept her wealth, and died in 1566 aged sixty-six. 
 She was therefore nineteen years older than Henri IT. 
 These dates, taken from her epitaph which was copied 
 from her tomb by the historian who concerned himself 
 so much about her at the close of the last century, 
 clear up quite a number of historical difficulties. Some 
 historians have declared she was forty, others that she 
 was sixteen at the time of her father's condemnation in 
 1523 ; in point of fact she was then twenty -four. After 
 reading everything for and against her conduct towards 
 Fran9ois I. we are unable to affirm or to deny anything. 
 This is one of the passages of history that will ever 
 remain obscure. We may see by what happens in our 
 own day how history is falsified at the yery moment 
 when events happen. 
 
44 Introduction, 
 
 Catlicrinc, who had founded great hopes on the age 
 of her rival, tried more than once to overthrow her. It 
 was a dumb, underliand, terrible struggle. The day 
 came when Catherine believed herself for a moment on 
 the verge of success. In 1554, Diane, who w^as ill, 
 begged the king to go to Saint-Germain and leave her 
 for a short time until she recovered. This stately 
 coquette did not choose to be seen in the midst of 
 medical appliances and without the splendors of ap- 
 parel. Catherine arranged, as a welcome to her hus- 
 band, a magnificent ballet, in which six beautiful young 
 girls were to recite a poem in his honor. She chose 
 for this function Miss Fleming, a relation of her uncle 
 the Duke of Alban}^, the handsomest young woman, 
 some say, that was ever seen, white and ver^- fair; 
 also one of her own relations, Clarice Strozzi, a mag- 
 nificent Italian with superb black hair, and hands that 
 were of rare beauty ; Miss Lewiston, maid of honor 
 to Mary Stuart; Mary Stuart herself; Madame Eliza- 
 beth of France (who was afterwards that unfortunate 
 Queen of Spain) ; and Madame Claude. Elizabeth and 
 Claude were eight and nine years old, Marj' Stuart 
 twelve ; evidently the queen intended to bring forward 
 Miss Fleming and Clarice Strozzi and present them 
 without rivals to the king. The king fell in love wMth 
 Miss Fleming, by whom he had a natural son, Henri 
 de Valois, Comte d'Angoulerae, grand-prior of France. 
 But the power and influence of Diane were not shaken. 
 Like Madame de Pompadour with Louis XV., the 
 Duchesse de Valentinois forgave all. But what sort of 
 love did this attempt show in Catherine? Was it love 
 to her husband or love of power? Women may decide. 
 
Introduction. 45 
 
 A great deal is said in these days of the license of the 
 press ; but it is difficult to imagine the lengths to which 
 it went when printing was first invented. We know 
 that Aretino, the Voltaire of his time, made kings and 
 emperors tremble, more especially Charles V. ; but the 
 world does not know so well the audacity and license of 
 pamphlets. The chateau de Chenonceaux, which we 
 have just mentioned, was given to Diane, or rather not 
 given, she was implored to accept it to make her forget 
 one of the most horrible publications ever levelled 
 asainst a woman, and which shows the violence of the 
 warfare between herself and Madame d'Etampes. In 
 1537, when she was thirty-eight years of age, a rhyme- 
 ster of Champagne named Jean Votlte, published a 
 collection of Latin verses in which were three epigrams 
 upon her. It is to be supposed that the poet was sure 
 of protection in high places, for the pamphlet has a pre- 
 face in praise of itself, signed by Salmon Macrin, first 
 valet-de-chambre to the king. Only one passage is 
 quotable from these epigrams, which are entitled : In 
 
 PiCTAVIAM, ANAM AULIGAM. 
 
 " A painted trap catches no game,'* sa3's the ^oet. 
 after telling Diane that she painted her face and bought 
 her teeth and her hair. " You may buy all that super- 
 ficially makes a woman, but you can't buy that your 
 lover wants ; for he wants life, and you are dead." 
 
 This collection, printed b}' Simon de Colines, is dedi- 
 cated to a bishop ! — to Fran9ois Bohier, the brother of 
 the man who, to save his credit at court and redeem his 
 offence, offered to Diane, on the accession of Henry II., 
 the chateau de Chenonceaux, built by his father, Thomas 
 Bohier, a councillor of state under four kings : Louis XL, 
 
46 Introduction. 
 
 Charles VIII., Louis XII., and Francois I. What 
 were the pamphlets published against Madame de Pom- 
 padour and against Marie-Antoinette compared to these 
 verses, which might have been written bj' Martial? 
 Voute must have made a bad end. The estate and 
 chateau cost Diane nothing more than the forgiveness 
 enjoined by the gospel. After all, the penalties in- 
 flicted on the press, though not decreed hy juries, were 
 somewhat more severe than those of to-dav. 
 7 The queens of France, on becoming widows, were 
 / required to remain in the king's chamber forty days 
 
 Ij i without other light than that of wax tapers ; they did not 
 I leave the room until after the burial of the king. This 
 
 1 1 1 inviolable custom was a great annoyance to Catherine, 
 \\ who feared cabals ; and, by chance, she found a means 
 ^^ to evade it, thus: Cardinal de Lorraine, leaving, very 
 earl}' in the morning, the house of the helle Romaine^ a 
 celebrated courtesan of the period, who lived in the rue 
 Culture-Sainte-Catherine, was set upon and maltreated 
 by a part}' of libertines. ^' On which his holiness, being 
 much astonished " (says Henri Estienne), '' gave out that 
 the Beretics were preparing ambushes against him." 
 The court at once removed from Paris to Saint-Ger- 
 main, and the queen-mother, declaring that she would 
 not abandon the king her son, went with him. 
 
 The accession of Francois II., the period at which 
 Catherine confidently believed she could get possession 
 of the regal power, was a moment of cruel disappoint- 
 ment, after the twent3'-six years of miser}' she had lived 
 through at the court of France. The Guises laid hands 
 on power with incredible audacity. The Due de Guise 
 was placed in command of the army ; the Connetable 
 
Introduction. 47 
 
 was dismissed ; the cardinal took charge of the treasury 
 and the clergy. 
 
 Catherine now began her political career by a drama 
 which, though it did not have the dreadful fame of 
 those of later 3'ears, was, nevertheless, most horrible ; 
 and it must, undoubted!}', have accustomed her to the 
 terrible after emotions of her life. While appearing to be 
 in harmony with the Guises, she endeavored to pave the 
 waj' for her ultimate triumph b}' seeking a support in the 
 house of Bourbon, and the means she took were as fol- 
 lows : AVhether it was that (before the death of Henri IL), 
 and after fruitlessly attempting violent measures, she 
 wished to awaken jealousy in order to bring the king 
 back to her ; or whether as she approached middle-age it 
 seemed to her cruel that she had never known love, cer- 
 tain it is that she showed a strong interest in a seigneur 
 of the royal blood, Francois de Vendome, son of Louis de 
 Vetidome (the house from which that of the Bourbons 
 sprang), and Vidame de Chartres, the name under 
 which he is known in history. The secret hatred which 
 Catherine bore to Diane was revealed in man}' ways, to 
 which historians, preoccupied b}" political interests, have 
 paid no attention. Catherine's attachment to the 
 vidame proceeded from the fact that the young man had 
 offered an insult to the favorite. Diane's greatest am- 
 bition was for the honor of an alliance with the ro3'al 
 famil}' of France. The hand of her second daughter 
 (afterwards Duchesse d'Aumale) was offered on her be-, 
 half to the Vidame de Chartres, who was kept poor by 
 the far-sighted polic}' of FranQois 1. In fact, when the 
 Vidame de Chartres and the Prince de Conde first came 
 to court, Fran9ois I. gave them — what? The office of 
 
48 Introduction, 
 
 chamberlain, with a paltry salar}- of twelve hundred 
 crowns a year, the same that he gave to the simplest 
 gentlemen. Though Diane de Poitiers offered an im- 
 mense dowr3% a fine office under the crown, and the 
 favor of the king, the vidame refused. After which, 
 this Bourbon, already factious, married Jeanne, daugh- 
 ter of the Baron d' Estissac, by whom he had no chil- 
 dren. This act of pride naturally commended him to 
 Catherine, who greeted him after that with marked 
 favor and made a devoted friend of him. 
 
 Historians have compared the last Due de Mont- 
 niorenc}', beheaded at Toulouse, to the Vidame de 
 Chartres, in the art of pleasing, in attainments, ac- 
 complishments, and talent. Henri II. showed no jeal- 
 ousy ; he seemed not even to suppose that a queen of 
 France could fail in her dut}', or a Medici forget the 
 honor done to her by a Valois. But during this time 
 when the queen was, it is said, coquetting with the 
 Vidame de Chartres, the king, after the birth of her last 
 child, had virtually abandoned her. This attempt at 
 making him jealous was to no purpose, for Henri died 
 wearing the colors of Diane de Poitiers. 
 
 At the time of the king's death Catherine was, there- 
 fore, on terms of gallantr}^ with the vidame, — a situation 
 which was quite in conformity with the manners and 
 morals of a time when love was both so chivalrous and 
 so licentious that the noblest actions were as natural as 
 the most blamable ; although historians, as usual, have 
 committed the mistake in tliis case of taking the excep- 
 tion for the rule. 
 
 The four sons of Henri II. of course rendered null 
 the position of the Bourbons, who were all extremely 
 
Introduction. 49 
 
 poor and were now crushed down by the contempt 
 which the Connetable de Montmorency's treachery 
 brought upon them, in spite of the fact that the latter 
 had thought best to fly the kingdom. 
 
 The Vidame de Chartres — who was to the first 
 Prince de Conde what Richeheu was to Mazarin, his 
 ffither in polic}", his model, and, above all, his master 
 in orallantry — concealed the excessive ambition of his 
 house beneath an external appearance of light-hearted 
 gayet}'. Unable during the reign of Henri II. to make 
 head asfainst the Guises, the Montmorencvs, the Scot- 
 tish princes, the cardinals, and the Bouillons, he distin- 
 guished himself by his graceful bearing, his manners, 
 his wit, which won him the favor of many charming 
 women and the heart of some for whom he cared noth- 
 ing. He was one of those privileged beings whose se- 
 ductions are irresistible, and who owe to love the power 
 of maintaining themselves according to thpir rank. 
 The Bourbons would not have resented, as did Jarnac, 
 the slander of la Chataigneraie ; they were willing 
 enough to accept the lands and castles of their mis- 
 tresses, — witness the Prince de Conde, who accepted 
 the estate of Saint-Valery from Madame la Marechale 
 de Saint- Andre. 
 
 During the first twent}^ days of mourning after the 
 death of Henri II. the situation of the vidame suddenly 
 changed. As the object of the queen-mother's regard, 
 and permitted to pa}" his court to her as court is paid to 
 a queen, very secretl}', he seemed destined to play an 
 important role, and Catherine did, in fact, resolve to 
 use him. The vidame received letters from her for the 
 Prince de Conde, in which she pointed out to the latter 
 
 4 
 
50 Introduction, 
 
 the necessity' of an alliance against the Guises. In- 
 formed of this intrigue, the Guises entered the queen's 
 chamber for the purpose of compeUing her to issue an 
 order consigning the vidame to the Bastille, and Cathe- 
 rine, to save herself, was under the hard necessity of 
 obeying them. After a captivit}' of some months, the 
 vidame died on the very da}' he left prison, which was 
 shortl}' before the conspirac}' of Amboise. Such was 
 the conclusion of the first and only amour of Catherine 
 de' Medici. Protestant historians have said that the 
 queen caused the vidame to be poisoned, to la}' the 
 secret of her gallantries in a tomb ! 
 
 We have now shown what was the apprenticeship of 
 this woman for the exercise of her royal power. 
 
Catherine de^ Medici, 51 
 
 PART FIRST. 
 
 THE CALVINIST MARTYR. 
 I. 
 
 A HOUSE WHICH NO LONGER EXISTS AT THE CORNER OF 
 A STREET WHICH NO LONGER EXISTS IN A PARIS WHICH 
 NO LONGER EXISTS. 
 
 Few persons in the present day know how plain and 
 unpretentious were the dwellings of the burghers of 
 Paris in the sixteenth centurj', and how simple their 
 lives. Perhaps this simplicit}' of habits and of thought 
 was the cause of the grandeur of that old bourgeoisie 
 which was certainly- grand, free, and noble, — more so, 
 perhaps, than the bourgeoisie of the present day. Its 
 history is still to be written ; it requires and it awaits a 
 man of genius. This reflection will doubtless rise to 
 the lips of ever\' one after reading the almost unknown 
 incident which forms the basis of this Stud}' and is one 
 of the most remarkable facts in the history of that 
 bourgeoisie. It will not be the first time in history 
 that conclusion has preceded facts. 
 
 In 1560, the houses of the rue de la Vieille-Pelleterie 
 skirted the left bank of the Seine, between the pont 
 Notre-Dame and the pont au Change. A public foot- 
 path and the houses then occupied the space covered by 
 
52 Catherine de Medici, 
 
 the present roadway. Each house, standing almost in 
 the river, allowed its dwellers to get down to the water 
 by stone or wooden stairways, closed and protected by 
 strong iron railings or wooden gates, clamped with iron. 
 The houses, like those in Venice, had an entrance on 
 te7'ra firma and a water entrance. At the moment 
 when the present sketch is published, only one of these 
 houses remains to recall the old Paris of which we 
 speak, and that is soon to disappear ; it stands at the 
 corner of the Petit- Pont, directly opposite to the guard- 
 bouse of the H6tel-Dieu. 
 
 Formerly each dwelling presented on the river-side 
 the fantastic appearance given either by the trade of 
 its occupant and his habits, or by the originality of the 
 exterior constructions invented by the proprietors to 
 use or abuse the Seine. The bridges being encumbered 
 with more mills than the necessities of navigation could 
 allow, the Seine formed as many enclosed basins as 
 there were bridges. Some of these basins in the heart 
 of old Paris would have offered precious scenes and 
 tones of color to painters. What a forest of cross- 
 beams supported the mills with their huge sails and 
 their wheels ! What strange effects were produced by 
 the piles or props driven into the water to project the 
 upper floors of the houses above the stream ! Unfor- 
 tunately, the art of genre painting did not exist in those 
 days, and that of engraving was in its infanc}'. We 
 have therefore lost that curious spectacle, still offered, 
 though in miniature, by certain provincial towns, where 
 the rivers are overhung with wooden houses, and where, 
 as at Vendome, the basins, full of water grasses, are 
 enclosed by immense iron railings, to isolate each pro- 
 
1^ 
 
 Catherine de' Medici. 53 
 
 prietor's share of the stream, which extends from bank 
 to bank. 
 1^ The name of this street, which has now disappeared 
 from the map, sufficiently indicates tlie trade that was 
 carried on in it. In those dajs the merchants of each 
 class of commerce, instead of dispersing themselves 
 about the cit}', kept together in the same neighbor- 
 hood and protected themselves mutualh'. Associated 
 in corporations which limited their number, they were 
 still further united into guilds b}' the Church. In this 
 way prices were maintained. Also, the masters were 
 not at the mercy of their workmen, and did not obe}^ 
 their whims as the}" do to-da}' ; on the contrary, they 
 made them their children, their apprentices, took care 
 of them, and taught them the intricacies of the trade. 
 In order to become a master, a workman had to pro- 
 duce a masterpiece, which was alwa3S dedicated to the 
 saint of his guild. Will any one dare to say that the 
 absence of competition destroyed the desire for perfec- 
 tion, or lessened the beauty of products? What sa}'' 
 you, you whose admiration for the masterpieces of past 
 ages has created the modern trade of the sellers of 
 bric-a-brac ? 
 
 In the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries the trade of 
 the furrier was one of the most flourishing industries. 
 The difficult}' of obtaining furs, which, being all brought 
 from the north, required long and perilous journeys, 
 gave a very high price and value to those products. 
 Then, as now, high prices led to consumption ; for 
 vanity likes to override obstacles. In France, as in 
 other kingdoms, not only did royal ordinances restrict 
 the use of furs to the nobility (proved by the part 
 
54 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 which ermine plays in the old blazons), but also cer- 
 tain rare furs, such as vair (which was undoubtedly 
 Siberian sable), could not be worn b}' any but kings, 
 dukes, and certain lords clothed with official powers. 
 A distinction was made between the greater and lesser 
 vair. The very name has been so long disused, that 
 in a vast number of editions of Perrault's famous tale, 
 Cinderella's slipper, which was no doubt of vair (the 
 fur), is said to have been made of verre (glass). 
 Latel}' one of our most distinguished poets was obliged 
 to establish the true orthograph}' of the word for the 
 instruction of his brother-feuilletonists in giving an 
 account of the opera of the " Cenerentola," where the 
 symbolic slipper has been replaced b}^ a ring, which 
 symbolizes nothing at all. 
 
 Naturally the sumptuary laws about the wearing of 
 fur were perpetually infringed upon, to the great satis- 
 faction of the furriers. The costliness of stuffs and 
 furs made a garment in those da^'s a durable thing, — 
 as lasting as the furniture, the armor, and other items 
 of that strong life of the fifteenth centur3\ A woman 
 of rank, a seigneur, all rich men, also all the burghers, 
 possessed at the most two garments for each season, 
 which lasted their lifetime and beyond it. These gar- 
 ments were bequeathed to their children. Consequently 
 the clause in the marriage-contract relating to arms 
 and clothes, which in these davs is almost a dead 
 letter because of the small value of wardrobes that 
 need constant renewing, was then of much importance. 
 Great costs brought with them solidity. The toilet of 
 a woman constituted a large capital ; it was reckoned 
 among the family possessions^ and was kept in those 
 
Catherine de' Medici. 55 
 
 enormous chests which threaten to break through the 
 floors of our modern houses. The jewels of a wom.an 
 of 1840 would have been the undress ornaments of a 
 great lady in 1540. 
 1^ To-day, the discovery of America, the facilities of 
 transportation, the ruin of social distinctions which has 
 paved the way for the ruin of apparent distinctions, has 
 reduced the trade of the furrier to what it now is, — 
 next to nothing. The article which a furrier sells to- 
 day, as in former days, for twenty livres has followed 
 the depreciation of money : formerly the llvre, which is 
 now worth one franc and is usually so called, was 
 worth twenty francs. To-day, the lesser bourgeoisie 
 and the courtesans who edge their capes with sable, are 
 ignorant that in 1440 an ill-disposed police-officer would 
 have incontinently arrested them and marched them 
 before the justice at the Chatelet. Englishwomen, who 
 are so fond of ermine, do not know that in former times 
 none but queens, duchesses, and chancellors were 
 allowed to wear that royal fur. There are to-day in 
 France several ennobled families whose true name is 
 Pelletier or Lepelletier, the origin of which is evidently 
 derived from some rich furrier's counter, for most of 
 our burghers* names began in some such yf^y. 
 
 This digression will explain, not only the long feud as 
 to precedence which the guild of drapers maintained 
 for two centuries against the guild of furriers and also 
 of mercers (each claiming the right to walk first, as 
 being the most important guild in Paris), but it will also 
 serve to explain the importance of the Sieur Lecamus, 
 a furrier honored with the custom of two queens, 
 Catherine de' Medici and Mar}^ Stuart, also the custom 
 
56 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 of the parliamenf, — a man who for twent}" 3'ears was 
 the syndic of his corporation, and who lived in the street 
 we have just described. 
 
 The liouse of Lecamus was one of three which formed 
 the three angles of the open space at the end of the 
 pont au Change, where nothing now remains but the 
 tower of the Palais de Justice, which made the fourth 
 angle. On the corner of this house, which stood at the 
 angle of the pont au Change and the quai now called the 
 quai aux Fleurs, the architect had constructed a little 
 shrine for a Madonna, which was alwa3's lighted b}' wax- 
 tapers and decked with real flowers in summer and arti- 
 ficial ones in winter. On the side of the house toward the 
 rue du Pont, as on the side toward the rue de la Vieille- 
 Pelleterie, the upper stor\" of the house was supported by 
 wooden pillars. All the houses in this mercantile quar- 
 ter had an arcade behind these pillars, where the passers 
 in the street walked under cover on a ground of trod- 
 den mud which kept the place always dirty. In all 
 French towns these arcades or galleries are called 
 les piliersy a generic term to which was added the name 
 of the business transacted under them, — as ''piliers 
 des Halles" (markets), " piliers de la Boucherie " 
 (butchers). 
 
 These galleries, a necessity in the Parisian climate, 
 which is so changeable and so rain}', gave this part of 
 the cit\' a peculiar character of its own ; but they have 
 now disappeared. Not a single house on the river bank 
 remains, and not more than about a hundred feet of the 
 old " piliers des Halles '' the last that have resisted the 
 action of time, are left ; and before long even that relic 
 of the sombre labyrinth of old Paris will be demolished. 
 

 Catherine de* Medici. 57 
 
 ertainl}', the existence of such old ruins of the middle- 
 ages is incompatible with the grandeurs of modern 
 Paris. These observations are meant not so much to 
 regret the destruction of the old town, as to preserve 
 in wordsj and b}^ the history of those who lived there, 
 the memory of a place now turned to dust, and to 
 excuse the following description, which may be precious 
 to a future age now treading on the heels of our own. 
 
 The walls of this house were of wood covered with 
 slate. The spaces between the uprights had been filled 
 in, as we may still see in some provincial towns, with 
 brick, so placed, by reversing their thickness, as to 
 make a pattern called " Hungarian point." The win- 
 dow-casings and lintels, also in wood, were richly 
 carved, and so was the corner pillar where it rose above 
 the shrine of the Madonna, and all the other pillars in 
 front of the house. Each window, and each main beam 
 which separated the different storeys, was covered with 
 arabesques of fantastic personages and animals wreathed 
 with conventional foliage. On the street side, as on 
 the river side, the house was capped with a roof looking 
 as if two cards were set up one against the other, — thus 
 presenting a gable to the street and a gable to the 
 water. Tiiis roof, like the roof of a Swiss chalet, over- 
 hung the building so far that on the second floor there 
 was an outside gallery with a balustrade, on which the 
 owners of the house could walk under cover and sur- 
 vey the street, also the river basin between the bridges 
 and the two lines of houses. 
 IP These houses on the river bank were ver}' valuable. 
 In those days a system of drains and fountains was still 
 to be invented ; nothing of the kind as j'et existed 
 
58 Catherine de' MedicL 
 
 except the circuit sewer, constructed by Aubriot, pro- 
 vost of Paris under Charles the Wise, who also built the 
 Bastille, the pont Saint-Michel and other bridges, and 
 was the first man of genius who ever thought of the 
 sanitary improvement of Paris. The houses situated 
 like that of Lecamus took from the river the water 
 necessarj' for the purposes of life, and also made the 
 river serve as a natural drain for rain-w^ater and house- 
 hold refuse. The great works that the " merchants' 
 provosts'' did in this direction are fast disappearing. 
 Middle-aged persons alone can remember to have seen 
 the great holes in the rue Montmartre, rue du Temple, 
 etc., down which the waters poured. Those terrible 
 open jaws were in the olden time of immense benefit to 
 Paris. Their place will probably be forever marked by 
 the sudden rise of the paved roadways at the spots 
 where the}' opened, — another archaeological detail which 
 will be quite inexplicable to the historian two centuries 
 hence. One day, about 1816, a little girl who was 
 carrying a case of diamonds to an actress at the Am- 
 bigu, for her part as queen, was overtaken by a shower 
 and so nearly- washed down the great drainhole in the 
 rue du Temple that she would have disappeared had it 
 not been for a passer who heard her cries. Unluckil}', 
 she had let go the diamonds, which were, however, 
 recovered later at a man-hole. This event made a 
 great noise, and gave rise to many petitions against 
 these engulfers of water and little girls. They^ were 
 singular constructions about five feet high, furnished 
 with iron railings, more or less movable, which often 
 caused the inundation of the neighboring cellars, 
 whenever the ju'tificial river produced by sudden rains 
 
Catherine de' Medici. 59 
 
 was arrested in its course by the filth and refuse col- 
 lected about these railings, which the owners of the 
 abutting houses sometimes forgot to open. 
 
 The front of this shop of the Sieur Lecamus was all 
 window, formed of sashes of leaded panes, which made 
 the interior very dark. The furs were taken for selec- 
 tion to the houses of rich customers. As for those who 
 came to the shop to bu}', the goods were shown to them 
 outside, between the pillars, — the arcade being, let us 
 remark, encumbered during the day-time with tables, 
 and clerks sitting on stools, such as we all remember 
 seeing some fifteen years ago under the '• piliers des 
 Halles." From these outposts, the clerks and appren- 
 tices talked, questioned, answered each other, and 
 called to the passers, — customs which the great Walter 
 Scott has made use of in his '^Fortunes of Nigel." 
 
 The sign, which represented an ermine, hung out- 
 side, as we still see in some village hostelries, from a 
 rich bracket of gilded iron filagree. Above the ermine, 
 on one side of the sign, were the words : — 
 
 LECAMVS 
 
 Furrier 
 To Madame la Royne et du Roy nostre Sire. 
 
 n the other side of the sign were the words : — 
 To Madame la Royxe-mere 
 And Messieurs dv Parlement. 
 
 The words '* Madame la Royne-m^re *' had been 
 lately added. The gilding was fresh. This addition 
 
60 Catherine de' Medici, 
 
 showed the recent changes produced b}- the sudden and 
 violent death of Henri II., which overturned many for- 
 tunes at court and began that of tlie Guises. 
 
 The back-shop opened on tiie river. In this room 
 usually sat the respectable proprietor himself and 
 Mademoiselle Lecamus. In those days the wife of a 
 man who was not noble had no right to the title of 
 dame, " madame ; " but the wives of the burghers of 
 Paris were allowed to use that of ^* mademoiselle,'* in 
 virtue of privileges granted and confirmed to their hus- 
 bands by the several kings to whom they had done ser- 
 vice. Between this back-shop and the main shop was 
 the well of a corkcrew-staircase which gave access to 
 the upper stor}', where were the great ware-room and 
 the dwelling -rooms of the old couple, and the garrets 
 lighted by skylights, where slept the children, the ser- 
 vant-woman, the apprentices, and the clerks. 
 
 This crowding of families, servants, and apprentices, 
 the little space which each took up in the building 
 where the apprentices all slept in one large chamber 
 under the roof, explains the enormous population of 
 Paris then agglomerated on one-tenth of the surface of 
 the present city ; also the queer details of private life in 
 the middle ages ; also, the contrivances of love which, 
 with all due deference to historians, are found only in 
 the pages of the romance-writers, without whom they 
 would be lost to the world. At this period \evy great 
 seigneurs, such, for instance, as Admiral de Colignj', 
 occupied three rooms, and their suites lived at some 
 neighboring inn. There were not, in those days, more 
 than fifty private mansions in Paris, and those were 
 fifty palaces belonging to sovereign princes, or to great 
 
t Catherine de' Medici. 61 
 
 vassals, whose wa}' of living was superior to that of the 
 greatest German rulers, such as the Duke of Bavaria 
 H and the Elector of Saxon}'. 
 H The kitchen of the Lecamus famil}' was beneath the 
 " back-shop and looked out upon the river. It had a 
 glass door opening upon a sort of iron balcony, from 
 which the cook drew up water in a bucket, and where 
 the household washing was done. The back-shop was 
 made the dining-room, office, and salon of the mer- 
 chant. In this important room (in all such houses 
 richly panelled and adorned with some special work of 
 art, and also a carved chest) the life of the merchant 
 owner was passed ; there the joyous suppers after the 
 work of the da}^ was over, there the secret conferences 
 on the political interests of the burghers and of royalty 
 took place. The formidable corporations of Paris were 
 at that time able to arm a hundred thousand men. 
 Therefore the opinions of the merchants were backed 
 b}' their servants, their clerks, their apprentices, their 
 workmen. The burghers had a chief in the " provost 
 of the merchants" who commanded them, and in the 
 H6tel de Ville, a palace where they possessed the right 
 to assemble. In the famous '' burghers' parlor " their 
 solemn deliberations took place. Had it not been for 
 the continual sacrifices which by that time made war 
 intolerable to the corporations, who were weary of their 
 losses and of the famine, Henry IV., that factionist who 
 became king, might never perhaps have entered Paris. 
 
 Ever}' one can now picture to himself the appearance 
 of this corner of old Paris, where the bridge and quai 
 still are, where the trees of the quai aux Fleurs now 
 stand, but where no trace remains of the period of 
 
62 Catherine de' Medici, 
 
 which we write except the tall and famous tower of 
 the Palais de Justice, from which the signal was given 
 for the Saint Bartholomew. Strange circumstance ! one 
 of the houses standing at the foot of that tower then 
 surrounded b}' wooden shops, that, namelj-, of Lecamus, 
 was about to witness the birth of facts which were des» 
 tined to prepare for that night of massacre, which was, 
 unhappilj', more favorable than fatal to Calvinism. 
 
 At the moment when our histor}' begins, the audacit}' 
 of the new religious doctrines was putting all Paris in 
 a ferment. A Scotchman named Stuart had just assas- 
 sinated President Minard, the member of the Parliament 
 to whom public opinion attributed the largest share in 
 the execution of Councillor Anne du Bourg ; who was 
 burned on the place de Gr6ve after the king's tailor — 
 to whom Henri II. and Diane de Poitiers had caused 
 the torture of the " question " to be applied in their 
 very presence. Paris was so closely watched that the 
 archers compelled all passers along the street to pray 
 before the shrines of the Madonna so as to discover 
 heretics by their unwillins^ness or even refusal to do an 
 act contrary to their beliefs. 
 
 The two archers who were stationed at the corner of 
 the Lecamus house had departed, and Christophe, son 
 of the furrier, vehementh' suspected of deserting Cathol- 
 icism, was able to leave the shop without fear of being 
 made to adore the Virgin. B\" seven in the evening, 
 in April, 1560, darkness was already falling, and the 
 apprentices, seeing no signs of customers on either side 
 of the arcade, were beginning to take in the merchan- 
 dise exposed as samples beneath the pillars, in order 
 to close the shop. Christopher Lecamus, an ardent 
 
F 
 
 Catherine de' Medici. 63 
 
 3'oung man about twenty-two 3'ears old, was standing 
 on the sill of the shop-door, apparently watching the 
 apprentices. 
 
 " Monsieur,'* said one of them, addressing Christophe 
 and pointing to a man who was walking to and fro 
 under the gallery with an air of indecision, " perhaps 
 that 's a thief or a spy ; anyhow, the shabby wretch 
 can't be an honest man ; if he wanted to speak to us he 
 would come over frankl}', instead of sidling along as he 
 does — and what a face ! " continued the apprentice, 
 mimicking the man, ''with his nose in his cloak, his 
 yellow eyes, and that famished look ! " 
 
 When the stranger thus described caught sight of 
 Christophe alone on the door-sill, he suddenly left the 
 opposite gallery where he was then walking, crossed 
 the street rapidh', and came under the arcade in front 
 oftheLecamus house. There he passed slowl}^ along 
 in front of the shop, and before the apprentices re- 
 turned to close tlie outer shutters he said to Christophe 
 in a low voice : — 
 
 " I am Chaudieu." 
 
 Hearing the name of one of the most illustrious 
 ministers and devoted actors in the terrible drama 
 called ^' The Reformation," Christophe quivered as a 
 faithful peasant might have quivered on recognizing 
 his disguised king. 
 
 " Perhaps you would like to see some furs? Though 
 it is almost dark I will show 3'ou some myself," said 
 Christophe, washing to throw the apprentices, whom he 
 heard behind him, off the scent. 
 
 With a wave of his hand he invited the minister 
 to enter the shop, but the latter replied that he pre- 
 
64 Catherine de* Medici. 
 
 ferred to converse outside. Christophe then fetched 
 his cap and followed the disciple of Calvin. 
 
 Though banished by an edict, Chaudieu, the secret 
 envo}' of Theodore de Beze and Calvin (who were 
 directing the French Reformation from Geneva), went 
 and came, risking the cruel punishment to which tlie 
 Parliament, in unison with the Church and Royalt}', 
 had condemned one of their number, the celebrated 
 Anne du Bourg, in order to make a terrible example. 
 Chaudieu, whose brother was a captain and one of 
 Admiral Coligny's best soldiers, was a powerful auxil- 
 iar}^ by whose arm Calvin shook France at the begin- 
 ning of the twenty-two 3'ears of religious warfare now 
 on the point of breaking out. This minister was one 
 of the hidden wheels whose movements can best exhibit 
 the wide-spread action of the Reform. 
 
 Chaudieu led Christophe to the water's edge through 
 an underground passage, which was like that of the 
 Marion tunnel filled up by the authorities about ten 
 3'ears ago. This passage, which was situated between 
 the Lecamus house and the one adjoining it, ran under 
 the rue de la Vieille-Pelleterie, and was called the 
 Pont-aux-Fourreurs. It was used by the d3'ers of the 
 City to go to the river and wash their flax and 
 silks, and other stuffs. A little boat was at the en- 
 trance of it, rowed b3' a single sailor. In the bow was 
 a man unknown to Christophe, a juan of low stature 
 and ver3' simpl3' dressed. Chaudieu and Christophe 
 entered the boat, which in a moment was in the middle 
 of the Seine ; the sailor then directed its course beneath 
 one of the wooden arches of the pont au Change, where 
 he tied up quickl3' to an iron ring. As 3xt, no one had 
 said a word. 
 
r 
 
 Catherine cle' Medici, 65 
 
 ' Here we can speak without fear ; there are no 
 traitors or spies here," said Chaudieu, looking at the 
 two as 3'et unnamed men. Then, turning an ardent 
 face to Christophe, '' Are you," he said, '' full of that 
 devotion that should animate a martyr? Are vou 
 read}' to endure all for our sacred cause? Do you 
 fear the tortures applied to the Councillor du Bourg, to 
 the king's tailor, — tortures which await the majority 
 of us?" 
 
 "'I shall confess the gospel," replied Lecamus, 
 simply, looking at the windows of his father's back- 
 shop. 
 
 The family lamp, standing on the table where his 
 father was making up his books for the da}^ spoke to 
 him, no doubt, of the joys of famil3' and the peaceful 
 existence which he now renounced. The vision was 
 rapid, but complete. His mind took in, at a glance, 
 the burgher quarter full of its own harmonies, where his 
 happj'' childhood had been spent, where lived his prom- 
 ised bride, Babette Lallier, where all things promised 
 him a sweet and full existence ; he saw the past ; he 
 saw the future, and he sacrificed it, or, at any rate, he 
 staked it all. Such were the men of that da}-. 
 
 '' We need ask no more," said the impetuous sailor ; 
 *' we know him for one of our saints. If the Scotch- 
 man had not done the deed he would kill us that infa- 
 mous Minard." 
 
 *' Yes," said Lecamus, " mv life belonofs to the 
 Church ; I shall give it with joy for the triumph of the 
 Reformation, on which I have seriously reflected. I 
 know that what we do is for the happiness of the 
 peoples. In two words ; poperj' drives to celibacy ; the 
 
 5 
 
66 Catherine de Medici. 
 
 Reformation establishes the famih'. It is time to rid 
 France of her monks, to restore their lands to the 
 Crown, who will, sooner or later, sell them to the 
 burghers. Let us learn to die for our children, and 
 make our families some da}' free and prosperous." 
 
 The face of the young enthusiast, that of Chaudieu, 
 that of the sailor, that of the stranger seated in the 
 bow, lighted b}' the last gleams of the twilight, formed 
 a picture which ought the more to be described because 
 the description contains in itself the whole history of 
 the times — if it is, indeed, true that to certain men it 
 is given to sum up in their own persons the spirit of 
 their age. 
 
 The religious reform undertaken by Luther in Ger- 
 many, John Knox in Scotland, Calvin in France, took 
 hold especiall}' of those minds in the lower classes into 
 which thought had penetrated. The great lords sus- 
 tained the movement onlv to serve interests that were 
 foreign to the religious cause. To these two classes 
 were added adventurers, ruined noblemen, 3'ounger 
 sons, to whom all troubles were equally acceptable. 
 But among the artisan and merchant classes the new 
 faith was sincere and based on calculation. The masses 
 of the poorer people adhered at once to a religion which 
 gave the ecclesiastical propert}' to the State, and de- 
 prived the dignitaries of the Church of their enormous 
 revenues. Commerce ever3'where reckoned up the 
 profits of this religious operation, and devoted itself 
 bod}', soul, and purse, to the cause. 
 
 But among the 3'oung men of the French bourgeoisie 
 the Protestant movement found that noble inclination 
 to sacrifices of all kinds which inspires 3'outh, to which 
 
Catherine de' Medici, 67 
 
 selfishness is, as 3'et, unknown. Eminent men, saga- 
 cious minds, discerned the Republic in the Reforma- 
 tion ; they desired to establish throughout Europe the 
 government of the United Provinces, which ended by 
 triumphing over the greatest Power of those times, 
 — Spain, under Philip the Second, represented in the 
 Low Countries by the Duke of Alva. Jean Hotoman 
 was then meditating his famous book, in which this 
 project is put forth, — a book which spread throughout 
 France the leaven of these ideas, which were stirred 
 up anew b}^ the Ligue, repressed by Richelieu, then by 
 Louis XIV., always protected by the younger branches, 
 by the house of Orleans in 1789, as by the house of 
 Bourbon in 1589. Whoso saj's "Investigate" says 
 '' Revolt." All revolt is either the cloak that hides 
 a prince, or the swaddling-clothes of a new mastery. 
 The house of Bourbon, the younger sons of the Valois, 
 were at work beneath the surface of the Reformation. 
 
 At the moment when the little boat floated beneath 
 the arch of the pout au Change the question was 
 strangel}" complicated by the ambition of the Guises, 
 who were rivalling the Bourbons. Thus the Crown, 
 represented by Catherine de' Medici, was able to sus- 
 tain the struggle for thirty years by pitting the one 
 house against the other house ; whereas later, the 
 Crown, instead of standing between various jealous am- 
 bitions, found itself without a barrier, face to face with 
 the people : Richelieu and Louis XIV. had broken 
 down the barrier of the Nobilit}' ; Louis XV. had 
 broken down that of the Parliaments. Alone before 
 the people, as Louis XVI. was, a king must inevitably 
 succumb. 
 
68 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 Christophe Lecamus was a fine representative of the 
 ardent and devoted portion of the people. His wan 
 face had the sharp hectic tones which distinguish cer- 
 tain fair complexions ; his hair was yellow, of a cop- 
 pery shade ; his gray-blue eyes were sparkling. In 
 them alone was his fine soul visible ; for his ill-pro- 
 portioned face did not atone for its triangular shape 
 by the noble mien of an elevated mind, and his low 
 forehead indicated only extreme energy. Life seemed 
 to centre in his chest, which was rather hollow. More 
 nervous than sanguine, Christophe's bodily appearance 
 was thin and threadlike, but wir}-. His pointed nose 
 expressed the shrewdness of the people, and his coun- 
 tenance revealed an intelligence capable of conducting 
 itself well on a single point of the circumference, with- 
 out having the facult}^ of seeing all around it. His 
 eyes, the arching brows of which, scarcely covered with 
 a whitish down, projected like an awning, were strongly 
 circled bj- a pale-blue band, the skin being white and 
 shining at the spring of the nose, — a sign which almost 
 always denotes excessive enthusiasm. Christophe was 
 of the people, — the people who devote themselves, who 
 fight for their devotions, who let themselves be in- 
 veigled and betrayed ; intelligent enough to compre- 
 hend and serve an idea, too upright to turn it to his 
 own account, too noble to sell himself. 
 
 Contrasting with this son of Lecamus, Chaudieu, the 
 ardent minister, with brown hair thinned by vigils, 
 a 3'ellow skin, an eloquent mouth, a militant brow, 
 with flaming brown eyes, and a short and prominent 
 chin, embodied well the Christian faith which brought 
 to the Reformation so many sincere and fanatical pas- 
 
Catherine de Medici, 69 
 
 tors, whose courage and spirit aroused tlie populations. 
 The aide-de-camp of* Calvin and Theodore de Beze 
 contrasted admirably with the son of the furrier. He 
 represented the fiery cause of which the effect was seen 
 in Christophe. 
 
 The sailor, an impetuous being, tanned by the open 
 air, accustomed to dewy nights and burning da3's, with 
 closed lips, hasty gestures, orange eyes, ravenous as 
 those of a vulture, and black, frizzled hair, was the 
 embodiment of the adventurer who risks all in a ven- 
 ture, as a gambler stakes all on a card. His whole 
 appearance revealed terrific passions, and an audacity 
 that flinched at nothing. His vigorous muscles were 
 made to be quiescent as well as to act. His manner 
 was more audacious than noble. His nose, though 
 thin, turned up and snuffed battle. He seemed agile 
 and capable. You would have known him in all ages 
 for the leader of a part}*. If he were not of the Refor- 
 mation, he might have been Pizarro, Fernando Cortez, 
 or Morgan the Exterminator, — a man of violent action 
 of some kind. 
 
 The fourth man, sitting on a thwart wrapped in his 
 cloak, belonged, evidently, to the highest portion of 
 societ}'. The fineness of his linen, its cut, the material 
 and scent of his clothing, the style and skin of his 
 gloves, showed him to be a man of courts, just as his 
 bearing, his haughtiness, his composure and his all- 
 embracing glance proved him to be a man of war. 
 The aspect of this personage made a spectator uneasy 
 in the first place, and then inclined him to respect. 
 We respect a man who respects himself Though 
 short and deformed, his manners instantly redeemed 
 
70 Catherine de Medici. 
 
 the disadvantage of his figure. The ice once broken, 
 he showed a lively rapidity of decision, with an indefin- 
 able dash and fire which made him seem aflfable and 
 winning. He had the blue e^xs and the curved nose 
 of the house of Navarre, and the Spanish cut of the 
 marked features which were in after days the type of 
 the Bourbon kings. 
 
 In a word, the scene now assumed a startling interest. 
 
 "Well," said Chaudieu, as 3'oung Lecamus ended 
 his speech, '' this boatman is La Renaudie. And here 
 is Monseigneur the Prince de Conde," he added, motion- 
 ing to the deformed little man. 
 
 Thus these four men represented the faith of the 
 people, the spirit of the Scriptures, the mailed hand 
 of the soldier, and royalty itself hidden in that dark 
 shadow of the bridge. 
 
 '^ You shall now know what we expect of 3'ou," re- 
 sumed the minister, after allowing a short pause for 
 Christophe's astonishment. '' In order that you may 
 make no mistake, we feel obliged to initiate 3*ou into 
 the most important secrets of the Reformation. ** 
 
 The prince and La Renaudie emphasized the minis- 
 ter's speech by a gesture, the latter having paused to 
 allow the prince to speak. If he so wished. Like all 
 great men engaged in plotting, whose system it is to 
 conceal their hand until the decisive moment, the 
 prince kept silence — but not from cowardice. In these 
 crises he was alwa3's the soul of the conspiracy ; recoil- 
 ing before no danger and read3^ to risk his own head ; 
 but from a sort of royal dignit3' he left the explanation 
 of the enterprise to his minister, and contented himself 
 with studying the new instrument he was about to use. 
 
■T^ 
 
 Catherine de* Medici, 71 
 
 " My child," said Chaudieu, in the Huguenot style of 
 address, "we are about to do battle for the first time 
 with the Roman prostitute. In a few daj's either our 
 legions will be dying on the scaffold, or the Guises will 
 be dead. This is the first call to arms on behalf of our 
 relio:ion in France, and France will not lav down those 
 arms till they have conquered. The question, mark you 
 this, concerns the nation, not the kingdom. The ma- 
 jorit}^ of the nobles of the kingdom see plainly what the 
 Cardinal de Lorraine and his brother are seeking. 
 Under pretext of defending the Catholic religiou, the 
 house of Lorraine means to claim the crown of France 
 as its patrimony. Relying on the Church, it has made 
 the Church a formidable ally ; the monks are its sup- 
 port, its acolytes, its spies. It has assumed the post of 
 guardian to the throne it is seeking to usurp ; it protects 
 the house of Valois which it means to destroy. We 
 have decided to take up arras because the liberties of 
 the people and the interests of the nobles are equally 
 threatened. Let us smother at its birth a faction as 
 odious as that of the Burgundians who formerly put 
 Paris and all France to fire and sword. It required a 
 Louis XI. to put a stop to the quarrel between the Bur- 
 gundians and the Crown ; and to-daj' a Prince de Conde 
 is needed to prevent the house of Lorraine from re- 
 attempting that struggle. This is not a civil war ; it is 
 a duel between the Guises and the Reformation, — a 
 duel to the death ! We will make their heads fall, or 
 they shall have ours." 
 
 '' Well said ! " cried the prince. 
 
 " In this crisis, Christophe," said La Renaudie, " we 
 mean to neglect nothing which shall strengthen our party 
 
72 Catherine de' Medici, 
 
 — for there is a party in the Reformation, the party of 
 thwarted interests, of nobles sacrificed to the Lorrains, 
 of old captains shamefully treated at Fontainebleau, 
 from which the cardinal has banished them by setting 
 up gibbets on which to hang those who ask the king for 
 the cost of their equipment and their back-pa3\" 
 
 '' This, my child," resumed Chaudieu, observing a 
 sort of terror in Christophe, "this it is which compels 
 us to conquer b}' arms instead of conquering by convic- 
 tion and by martyrdom. The queen-mother is on the 
 point of entering into our views. Not that she means 
 to abjure ; she has not reached that decision as yet ; but 
 she may be forced to it b}' our triumph. However that 
 may be, Queen Catherine, humiliated and in despair at 
 seeing the power she expected to wield on the death of 
 the king passing into the hands of the Guises, alarmed 
 at the empire of the young queen, Marj', niece of the 
 Lorrains and their auxiliar}*, Queen Catherine is doubt- 
 less inclined to lend her support to the princes and lords 
 who are now about to make an attempt which will de- 
 liver her from the Guises. At this moment, devoted as 
 she may seem to them, she hates them ; she desires 
 their overthrow, and will tr}' to make use of us against 
 them ; but Monseigneur the Prince de Conde intends 
 to make use of her against all. The queen-mother 
 will, undoubtedl}', consent to all our plans. We shall 
 have the Connetable on our side ; Monseigneur has 
 just been to see him at Chantllly ; but he does not wish 
 to move without an order from his masters. Being 
 the uncle of Monseigneur, he will not leave him in the 
 lurch ; and this generous prince does not hesitate to 
 fling himself into danger to force Anne de Montmorency 
 
Catherine de' Medici. 73 
 
 to a decision. All is prepared, and we have cast our 
 eyes on you as the means of communicating to Queen 
 Catherine our treaty of alliance, the drafts of edicts, 
 and the bases of the new government. The court is at 
 Blois. Many of our friends are with it; but the}^ are to 
 be our future chiefs, and, Uke Monseigneur," he added, 
 motioning to the prince, '' they must not be suspected. 
 The queen-mother and our friends are so closely watched 
 that it is impossible to emplo}' as intermediary any 
 known person of importance ; they would instantly be 
 suspected and kept from communicating with Madame 
 Catherine. God sends us at this crisis the shepherd 
 David and his sling to do battle with Goliath of Guise. 
 Your father, unfortunately for him a good Catholic, is 
 furrier to the two queens. He is constantly supphing 
 them with garments. Get him to send 3'ou on some 
 errand to the court. You will excite no suspicion, and 
 you cannot compromise Queen Catherine in an}' way. 
 All our leaders would lose their heads if a single im- 
 prudent act allowed their connivance with the queen- 
 mother to be seen. Where a great lord, if discovered, 
 would give the alarm and destroy our chances, an insig- 
 nificant man like you will pass unnoticed. See ! The 
 Guises keep the town so full of spies that we have only 
 the river where we can talk without fear. You are now, 
 my son, like a sentinel who must die at his post. Re- 
 member this : if vou are discovered, we shall all abandon 
 you ; we shall even cast, if necessar}', opprobrium and 
 infam}' upon 3'ou. We shall say that you are a creature 
 of the Guises, made to pla}' this part to ruin us. You 
 see therefore that we ask of you a total sacrifice." 
 "If you perish,'* said the Prince de Conde, "I 
 
74 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 pledge ray honor as a noble that j'our famil}' shall be 
 sacred for the house of Navarre ; I will bear it on my 
 heart and serve it in all things.'' 
 
 '^ Those words, m3^ prince, suffice," replied Christophe, 
 without reflecting that the conspirator was a Gascon. 
 '^We live in times when each man, prince or burgher, 
 must do his dut3\" 
 
 " There speaks the true Huguenot. If all our men 
 were like that," said La Renaudie, laying his hand 
 on Christophe's shoulder, " we should be conquerors 
 to-morrow.'* 
 
 ''Young man," resumed the prince, "I desire to 
 show 3'ou that if Chaudieu preaches, if the nobleman 
 goes armed, the prince fights. Therefore, in this hot 
 game all stakes are pla3'ed." 
 
 "Now listen to me," said La Renaudie. "I will 
 not give you the papers until you reach Beaugency, 
 for they must not be risked during the whole of your 
 journey. You will find me waiting for you there on the 
 wharf; my face, voice, and clothes will be so changed 
 3'ou cannot recognize me, but I shall sa3^ to you, ' Are 
 3'ou a guepin? * and 3'ou will answer, ' Read3' to serve.' 
 As to the performance of 3'our mission, these are the 
 means: You will find a horse at the " Pinte Fleurie," 
 close to Saint-Germain I'Auxerrois. You will there 
 ask for Jean le Breton, who will take you to the stable 
 and give 3'ou one of my ponies which is known to do 
 thirty leagues in eight hours. Leave b3^ the gate of 
 Bussy. Breton has a pass for me ; use it yourself, and 
 make your way b3' skirting the towns. You can thus 
 reach Orleans by daybreak." 
 
 " But the horse? " said young Lecamus. 
 
Catherine de* Medici, 75 
 
 "He will not give out till you reach Orle'ans," replied 
 La Renaudie. " Leave him at the entrance of the 
 faubourg Bannier ; for the gates are well guarded, and 
 you must not excite suspicion. It is for you, friend, to 
 play your part intelligently. You must invent what- 
 IB ever fable seems to you best to reach the third house 
 to the left on entering Orleans ; it belongs to a certain 
 Tourillon, glove-maker. Strike three blows on the 
 door, and call out : ' On service from Messieurs de 
 Guise!' The man will appear to be a rabid Guisist; 
 no one knows but our four selves that he is one of us. 
 He will give you a faithful boatman, — another Guisist 
 of his own cut. Go down at once to the wharf, and 
 embark in a boat painted green and edged with white. 
 You will doubtless land at Beaugency to-morrow about 
 mid-day. There I will arrange to find you a boat which 
 will take you to Blois without running any risk. Our 
 enemies the Guises do not watch the rivers, only the 
 landings. Thus 3'ou will be able to see the queen- 
 mother to-morrow or the day after.*' 
 
 *'Your words are written there/' said Christophe, 
 touching his forehead. 
 
 Chaudieu embraced his child with singular religious 
 effusion ; he was proud of him. 
 
 ''God keep thee !" he said, pointing to the rudd^^ 
 light of the sinking sun, which was touching the old 
 roofs covered with shingles and sending its gleams 
 slantwise through the forest of piles among which the 
 water was rippling. 
 
 "You belong to the race of the Jacques Bonhomme," 
 said La Renaudie, pressing Christophe's hand. 
 
 " We shall meet again, monsieur^'' said the prince, 
 
 I 
 
76 Catherine de^ Medici, 
 
 with a gesture of infinite grace, in which there was 
 something that seemed almost friendship. 
 
 With a stroke of his oars La Renaudie put the boat 
 at the lower step of the stairway which led to the 
 house. Christophe landed, and the boat disappeared 
 instantly beneath the arches of the pont au Change. 
 
Catherine de' Medici, 77 
 
 11. 
 
 THE BURGHERS. 
 
 Christophe shook the iron railing which closed the 
 stairwa}' on the river, and called. His mother heard 
 him, opened one of the windows of the back shop, and 
 asked what he was doing there. Christophe answered 
 that he was cold and wanted to get in. 
 
 " Ha ! my master," said the Burgundian maid, " you 
 went out b}^ the street-door, and you return by the 
 water-gate. Your father will be fine and angr}*." 
 
 Christophe, bewildered by a confidence which had 
 just brought him into communication with the Prince 
 de Conde, La Renaudie, and Chaudieu, and still more 
 moved at the prospect of impending civil war, made no 
 answer ; he ran hastilj^ up from the kitchen to the back 
 shop ; but his mother, a rabid Catholic, could not con- 
 trol her anger. 
 
 " I *11 wager those three men I saw you talking with 
 are Ref— " 
 
 ''Hold your tongue, wife!" said the cautious old 
 man with white hair who was turning over a thick 
 ledger. " You dawdling fellows," he went on, address- 
 ing three journeymen, who had long finished their sup- 
 pers, " why don't 3'ou go to bed? It is eight o'clock, 
 and you have to be up at five ; besides, you must carry 
 home to-night President de Thon's cap and mantle. 
 
78 Catherine de^ Medici. 
 
 All three of 3'ou had better go, and take 3'our sticks 
 and rapiers; and then, if you meet scamps like jour- 
 selves, at least you '11 be in force." 
 
 "Are we also to take the ermine surcoat the 3'oung 
 queen has ordered to be sent to the hotel des Soissons? 
 there's an express going from there to Blois for the 
 queen-mother," said one of the clerks. 
 
 "No," said his master, "the queen-mother's bill 
 amounts to three thousand crowns ; it is time to get the 
 mone}', and I am going to Blois myself verj' soon." 
 
 " Father, I do not think it is right at your age and 
 in these dangerous times to expose 3'ourself on the 
 high-roads. J am twent3'-two years old, and you ought 
 to employ me on such errands," said Christophe, ej^eing 
 the box which he supposed contained the surcoat. 
 
 " Are you glued to your seats ? " cried the old man to 
 his apprentices, who at once jumped up and seized their 
 rapiers, cloaks, and Monsieur de Thou's furs. 
 
 The next day the Parliament was to receive in state, 
 as its president, this illustrious judge, who, after signing 
 the death warrant of Councillor du Bourg, was destined 
 before the close of the j'ear to sit in judgment on the 
 Prince de Conde I 
 
 "Here ! " said the old man, calling to the maid, " go 
 and ask friend Lallier if he will come and sup with us 
 and bring the wine ; we '11 furnish the victuals. Tell 
 him, above all, to bring his daughter." 
 
 Lecamus, the syndic of the guild of furriers, was a 
 handsome old man of sixt\^, with white hair, and a 
 broad, open brow. As court furrier for the last forty 
 3'ears, he had witnessed all the revolutions of the reign 
 of Frangois I. He had seen the arrival at the French 
 
i 
 
 Catherine de' Medici, 79 
 
 court of the young girl Catherine de' Medici, then 
 scarcely fifteen years of age. He had observed her 
 giving way before the Duchesse d'Etampes, her father- 
 in-law's mistress ; giving wa}^ before the Duchesse de 
 Valentinois, the mistress of her husband the late king. 
 But the furrier had brought himself safely through all the 
 chances and changes bv which court merchants were often 
 involved in the dissfrace and overthrow of mistresses. 
 His caution led to his good luck. He maintained an 
 attitude of extreme humility. Pride had never caught him 
 in its toils. He made himself so small, so gentle, so 
 compliant, of so little account at court and before the 
 queens and princesses and favorites, that this modesty, 
 combined with good-humor, had kept the royal sign 
 above his door. 
 
 Such a policy was, of course, indicative of a shrewd 
 and perspicacious mind. Humble as Lecamus seemed to 
 the outer w^orld, he was despotic in his own home ; there 
 he was an autocrat. INIuch respected and honored b}^ his 
 brother craftsmen, he owed to his long possession of 
 the first place in the trade much of the consideration 
 that was shown to him. He was, besides, very willing 
 to do kindnesses to others, and among the many ser- 
 vices he had rendered, none was more striking than the 
 assistance he had long given to the greatest surgeon of 
 the sixteenth centur}', Ambroise Pare, who owed to him 
 the possibility of studying for his profession. In 
 all the difl^culties which came up among the merchants 
 Lecamus was always conciliating. Thus a general 
 good opinion of him consolidated his position among 
 his equals ; while his borrowed characteristics kept him 
 steadilv in favor with the court. 
 
80 Catherine dd Medici. 
 
 Not only this, but having intrigued for the honor of 
 being on the vestry of his parish church, he did what 
 was necessary to bring him into the odor of sanctit}' 
 with the rector of Saint-Pierre aux Boeufs, who looked 
 upon him as one of the men most devoted to the 
 Catholic religion in Paris. Consequentl3', at the time 
 of the convocation of the States-General he was unani- 
 mously elected to represent the tiers etat through the 
 influence of the clergy of Paris, — an influence which at 
 that period was immense. This old man was, in short, 
 one of those secretly ambitious souls who will bend for 
 fifty years before all the world, gliding from office to 
 oflSce, no one exactl}^ knowing how it came about that 
 he was found securely and peacefully seated at last 
 where no man, even the boldest, would have had the 
 ambition at the beginning of life to fancy himself; so 
 great was the distance, so many the gulfs and the preci- 
 pices to cross ! Lecamus, who had immense concealed 
 wealth, would not run an}' risks, and was silentl}' pre- 
 paring a brilliant future for his son. Instead of having 
 the personal ambition which sacrifices the future to the 
 present, he had famil}' ambition, — a lost sentiment in our 
 time, a sentiment suppressed by the folly of our laws of 
 inheritance. Lecamus saw himself first president of the 
 Parliament of Paris in the person of his grandson. 
 
 Christophe, godson of the famous historian de Thou, 
 was given a most solid education ; but it had led him 
 to doubt and to the spirit of examination which was 
 then affecting both the Faculties and the students of 
 the universities. Christophe was, at the period of which 
 we are now writing, pursuing his studies for the bar, 
 that first step toward the magistracy. The old furrier 
 
Catherine de Medici. 81 
 
 was pretending to some hesitation as to his son. 
 Sometimes he seemed to wish to make Christophe his 
 successor ; then again he spoke of him as a lawyer ; but 
 in his heart he was ambitious of a place for this son as 
 Councillor of the Parliament. He wanted to put the 
 Lecamus family on a level with those old and celebrated 
 burgher families from which came the Pasquiers, the 
 Moles, the Mirons, the Seguiers, Lamoignon, du Tillet, 
 Lecoigneux, Lescalopier, Goix, Arnauld, those famous 
 sheriffs and grand-provosts of the merchants, among 
 whom the throne found such strong defenders. 
 \ Therefore, in order that Christophe might in due 
 course of time maintain his rank, he wished to marry 
 him to the daughter of the richest jeweller in the city, 
 his friend Lallier, whose nephew was destined to pre- 
 sent to Henri IV. the kevs of Paris. The strongest 
 desire rooted in the heart of the worth}^ burgher was 
 to emplo}" half of his fortune and half of that of the 
 jeweller in the purchase of a large and beautiful seigno- 
 rial estate, which, in those days, was a long and very 
 difficult affair. But his shrewd mind knew the a«re in 
 which he lived too well to be isjnorant of the srreat move- 
 ments which were now in preparation. He saw clearly, 
 and he saw justly, and knew that the kingdom w^as about 
 to be divided into two camps. The useless executions in 
 the Place de L'Estrapade, that of the king's tailor and 
 the more recent one of the Councillor Anne du Bourg:, 
 the actual connivance of the great lords, and that of the 
 favorite of Fran9ois I. with the Reformers, were 
 terrible indications. The furrier resolved to remain, 
 whatever happened. Catholic, royalist, and parliamenta- 
 rian; but it suited him, privately, that Christophe should 
 
 L 
 
82 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 belong to the Reformation. He knew he was rich enough 
 to ransom his son if Christophe was too much compro- 
 mised ; and, on the other hand if France became Cal- 
 vinist his son could save the family in the event of one 
 of those furious Parisian riots, the memory of which 
 was ever-living with the bourgeoisie, — riots they were 
 destined to see renewed through four reigns. 
 
 But these thoughts the old furrier, like Louis XI., 
 did not even say to himself; his wariness went so far 
 as to deceive his wife and son. This grave person- 
 age had long been the chief man of the richest and 
 most populous quarter of Paris, that of the centre, 
 under the title of quartenier^ — the title and office 
 which became so celebrated some fifteen months later. 
 Clothed in cloth like all the prudent burghers who 
 obej'ed the sumptuar}' laws, Sieur Lecamus (he was 
 tenacious of that title which Charles V. granted to the 
 burghers of Paris, permitting them also to bu}" baro- 
 nial estates and call their wives by the fine name of 
 demoiselle^ but not by that of madame) wore neither 
 gold chains nor silk, but always a good doublet with 
 large tarnished silver buttons, cloth gaiters mounting 
 to the knee, and leather shoes with clasps. His shirty 
 of fine linen, showed, according to the fashion of the 
 time, in great puffs between his half-opened jacket and 
 his breeches. Though his large and handsome face 
 received the full light of the lamp standing on the 
 table, Christophe had no conception of the thoughts 
 that lay buried beneath the rich and florid Dutch skin 
 of the old man ; but he understood well enough the 
 advantage he himself had expected to obtain from his 
 affection for prett}' Babette Lallier. So Christophe, 
 
Catherine de' Medici, 83 
 
 ith the air of a man who has come to a decision, 
 smiled bitterly as he heard of the invitation to his 
 promised bride. 
 
 When the Burgundian cook and the apprentices had 
 departed on their several errands, old Lecamus looked 
 at his wife with a glance which showed the firmness 
 .and resolution of his character. 
 
 IP '' You will not be satisfied till you have got that bo}^ 
 hanged with your damned tongue," he said, in a stern 
 voice. 
 
 W " I would rather see him hanged and saved than living 
 and a Huguenot,'' she answered, gloomily. " To think 
 that a child whom I carried nine months in my womb 
 should be a bad Catholic, and be doomed to hell for all 
 eternit}' ! " 
 
 »She began to weep. 
 "Old silk,'* said the furrier; "let him live, if only 
 to convert him. You said, before the apprentices, a 
 word which may set fire to our house, and roast us all, 
 like fleas in a straw bed." 
 
 The mother crossed herself, and sat down silentl}'. 
 
 "Now, then, you,'' said the old man, with a judicial 
 glance at his son, " explain to me what you were doing 
 on the river with — come closer, that I ma}' speak 
 to you," he added, grasping his son by the arm, and 
 drawing him to him — "with the Prince de Conde." 
 he whispered. Christophe trembled. "Do you sup- 
 pose the court furrier does not know everv face that 
 frequents the palace? Think you I am ignorant of 
 what is going on? Monseigneur the Grand Master 
 has been giving orders to send troops to Amboise. 
 Withdrawing troops from Paris to send them to Am- 
 
 I 
 
84 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 boise when the king is at Blois, and making them 
 inarch through Chartres and Vendome, instead of going 
 by Orleans — isn't the meaning of that clear enough? 
 There '11 be troubles. If the queens want their sur- 
 coats, they must send for them. The Prince de Cond^ 
 has perhaps made up his mind to kill Messieurs de 
 Guise ; who, on their side, expect to rid themselves of 
 him. The prince will use the Huguenots to protect 
 himself. Why should the son of a furrier get himself 
 into that fray? When 3'ou are married, and when you 
 are councillor to the Parliament, you will be as prudent 
 as your father. Before belonging to the new religion, 
 the son of a furrier ought to wait till the rest of the 
 world belongs to it. I don't condemn the Reformers ; 
 it is not my business to do so ; but the court is Cath- 
 olic, the two queens are Catholic, the Parliament is 
 Catholic ; we supply them with furs, and therefore we 
 must be Catholic ourselves. You shall not go out 
 from here, Christophe ; if you do, I will send 30U to 
 your godfather. President de Thou, who will keep you 
 night and day blackening paper, instead of blackening 
 your soul in company with those damned Genevese." 
 
 " Father," said Christophe, leaning upon the back of 
 the old man's chair, "send me to Blois to carrj' that 
 surcoat to Queen Mary and get our money from the 
 queen-mother. If you do not, I am lost ; and 3'ou care 
 for your son." 
 
 " Lost? " repeated the old man, without showing the 
 least surprise. '' If you stay here 3'ou can't be lost j I 
 shall have m}' eye upon you all the time." 
 
 *' The3" will kill me here." 
 
 ^' Why?" 
 
Catherine de' Medici, 85 
 
 *•' The most powerful among the Huguenots have east 
 their ej^es on me to serve them in a certain matter; if I 
 fail to do what I have just promised to do, they will 
 kill me in open day, here in the street, as they killed 
 Minard. But if you send me to court on your affairs, 
 perhaps I can justify myself equally well to botli sides. 
 Either I shall succeed without having run any danger 
 at all, and shall then win a fine position in the party ; 
 or, if the danger turns out very great, I shall be there 
 simpl}' on your business." 
 
 The father rose as if his chair was of red-hot iron. 
 
 *' Wife," he said, '' leave us; and watch that we are 
 left quite alone, Christophe and I." 
 
 When Mademoiselle Lecamus had left them the fur- 
 rier took his son by a button and led him to the corner 
 of the room which made the angle of the bridge. 
 
 " Christophe," he said, whispering in his ear as he 
 had done when he mentioned the name of the Prince 
 of Conde, '' be a Huguenot, if 3'ou have that vice; but 
 be so cautiously, in the depths of 3'our soul, and not 
 in a way to be pointed at as a heretic throughout the 
 quarter. What 3'ou have just confessed to me shows 
 that the leaders have confidence in you. What are 3'ou 
 going to do for them at court?" 
 
 '^ I cannot tell you that," replied Christophe ; " for I 
 do not know myself." 
 
 '* Hum ! hum ! " muttered the old man, looking at his 
 son, "the scamp means to hoodwink his father; he'll 
 go far. You are not going to court," he went on in a 
 low tone, '' to cany remittances to Messieurs de Guise 
 or to the little king our master, or to the little Queen 
 Marie. All those hearts are Catholic ; but I would 
 
86 Catherine de' 3Iedici. 
 
 take m}^ oath the Italian woman has some spite against 
 the Scotch girl and against the Lorrains. I know her. 
 She had a desperate desire to put her hand into the 
 dough. The late king was so afraid of her that he did 
 as the jewellers do, he cut diamond by diamond, he 
 pitted one woman against another. That caused Queen 
 Catherine's hatred to the poor Duchesse de Valentinois, 
 from whom she took the beautiful chateau of Chenon- 
 ceaux. If it hadn't been for the Connetable, the 
 duchess might have been strangled. Back, back, my 
 son ; don't put yourself in the hands of that Italian, who 
 has no passion except in her brain ; and that 's a bad 
 kind of woman ! Yes, what the}' are sending you to do 
 at court ma}' give you a very bad headache," cried the 
 father, seeing that Christophe was about to reply. 
 " My son, I have plans for your future which 3'ou will 
 not upset by making yourself useful to Queen Catherine ; 
 but, heavens and earth I don't risk your head. Mes- 
 sieurs de Guise would cut it off as easily as the Bur- 
 gundian cuts a turnip, and then those persons who are 
 now employing you will disown you utterlj'." 
 
 '^ I know that, father," said Christophe. 
 
 "What! are 3'ou really so strong, my son? You 
 know it, and are willing to risk all?" 
 
 " Yes, father." 
 
 " By the powers above us ! " cried the father, press- 
 ing his son in his arms, " we can understand each 
 other ; 3'ou are worth}' of 3'our father. M3' child, 3"ou'll 
 be the honor of the family, and I see that 3'our old 
 father can speak plainl}- with 3'ou. But do not be more 
 Huguenot than Messieurs de Colign3'. Never draw 
 3'Our sword ; be a pen man ; keep to 3'our future role of 
 
CatMrine de' Medici. 87 
 
 lawyer. Now, then, tell me nothing until after you 
 have succeeded. If I do not hear from you by the 
 fourth day after you reach Blois, that silence will tell 
 me that you are in some danger. The old man will go 
 to save the younoj one. I have not sold furs for 
 thirtj'-two years without a good knowledge of the 
 wrono: side of court robes. I have the means of mak- 
 ing my way through many doors." 
 
 Christophe opened his ej'es very wide as he heard 
 his father talking thus ; but he thought there might be 
 some parental trap in it, and he made no reply further 
 than to sa}' : — 
 
 '' Well, make out the bill, and write a letter to the 
 queen ; I must start at once, or the greatest misfortunes 
 ma}^ happen." 
 
 ''Start? How?" 
 
 *' I shall buy a horse. Write at once, in God's 
 name." 
 
 ''Hey! mother! give your son some money," cried 
 the furrier to his wife. 
 
 The mother returned, went to her chest, took out a 
 purse of gold, and gave it to Christophe, who kissed 
 her with emotion. 
 
 " The bill was all ready," said his father ; " here it 
 is. I will write the letter at once." 
 
 Christophe took the bill and put it in his pocket. 
 • " But you will sup with us, at an}' rate," said the old 
 man. " In such a crisis you ought to exchange rings 
 with Lallier's daughter." 
 
 " Very well, I will go and fetch her," said Christophe. 
 
 The young man was distrustful of his father's stability 
 in the matter. The old man's character was not yet 
 
88 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 fully known to him. He ran up to his room, dressed 
 himself, took a valise, came downstairs softly and laid 
 it on a counter in the shop, together with his rapier and 
 cloak. 
 
 "What the devil are you doing?" asked his father, 
 hearing him. 
 
 Christophe came up to the old man and kissed him on 
 both cheeks. 
 
 " I don*t want an}^ one to see my preparations for 
 departure, and I have put them on a counter in the 
 shop," he whispered. 
 
 '' Here is the letter,'* said his father. 
 
 Christophe took the paper and went out as if to fetch 
 his young neighbor. 
 
 A few moments after his departure the goodman Lal- 
 lier and his daughter arrived, preceded by a servant- 
 woman, bearing three bottles of old wine. 
 
 " Well, where is Christophe?" said old Lecamus. 
 
 ''Christophe!" exclaimed Babette. " We have not 
 seen him." 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! m}^ son is a bold scamp ! He tricks me 
 as if I had no beard. My dear crony, what think you 
 he will turn out to be ? AVe live in days when the chil- 
 dren have more sense than their fathers." 
 
 " Wh}^, the quarter has long been saying he is in some 
 mischief," said Lallier. 
 
 " Excuse him on that point, cron}'," said the furrier. 
 " Youth is foolish ; it runs after new things ; but Ba- 
 bette will keep him quiet : she is newer than Calvin." 
 
 ''Babette smiled; she loved Christophe, and was 
 angr}' when anything was said against him. She was 
 one of those daughters of the old bourgeoisie brought 
 
Catherine cle Medici. 89 
 
 up under the eyes of a mother who never left her. Her 
 bearing was gentle and correct as her face ; she alwa3s 
 wore woollen stuffs of gray, harmonious in tone ; her che- 
 misette, simply pleated, contrasted its whiteness against 
 the gown. Her cap of brown velvet was like an infant's 
 coif, but it was trimmed with a ruche and lappets of 
 tanned gauze, that is, of a tan color, which came down 
 on each side of her face. Though fair and white as a 
 true blonde, she seemed to be shrewd and roguish, all 
 the while trying to hide her roguishness under the air 
 and manner of a well-trained girl. While the two 
 servant-women went and came, laying the cloth and 
 placing the jugs, the great pewter dishes, and the knives 
 and forks, the jeweller and his daughter, the furrier and 
 his wife, sat before the tall chimney-piece draped with 
 lambrequins of red serge and black fringes, and were 
 talking of trifles. Babette asked once or twice where 
 Christophe could be, and the father and mother of the 
 young Huguenot gave evasive answers ; but when the 
 two families were seated at table, and the two servants 
 had retired to the kitchen, Lecamus said to his future 
 daughter-in-law : — 
 
 ** Christophe has gone to court." 
 
 " To Blois ! Such a journey as that without bidding 
 me good-bye ! " she said. 
 
 **The matter was pressing," said the old mother. 
 
 '^Cron}'," said the fiirrier, resuming a suspended 
 conversation. " We are going to have troublous 
 times in France. The Reformers are bestirrinor them- 
 selves." 
 
 " If they triumph, it will only be after a long war, 
 during which business will be at a standstill,'* said 
 
90 Catherine cW Medici. 
 
 Lallier, incapable of rising higher than the commercial 
 sphere. 
 
 " My father, who saw the wars between the Burgun- 
 dians and the Armagnacs told me that our family would 
 never have come out safe!}' if one of his grandfathers — 
 his mother's father — had not been a Goix, one of 
 those famous butchers in the Market who stood by the 
 Burgundians ; whereas the other, the Lecamus, was for 
 the Armagnacs ; the}' seemed readj' to flay each other 
 alive before the world, but the}" were excellent friends 
 in the familj'. So, let us both try to save Christophe ; 
 perhaps the time ma}' come when he will save us.'* 
 
 '^ You are a shrewd one," said the jeweller. 
 
 " No," replied Lecamus. '' The burghers ought 
 to think of themselves ; the populace and the nobility 
 are both against them. The Parisian bourgeoisie 
 alarms everybody except the king, who knows it is his 
 friend. 
 
 *' You who are so wise and have seen so many 
 things," said Babette, timidly, " explain to me what the 
 Reformers really want." 
 
 "Yes, tell us that, crony," cried the jeweller. "I 
 knew the late king's tailor, and I held him to be a man 
 of simple life, without great talent; be was something 
 like you ; a man to whom they 'd give the sacrament 
 without confession ; and behold ! he plunged to the 
 depths of this new religion, — he ! a man whose two ears 
 were worth all of a hundred thousand crowns apiece. 
 He must have had secrets to reveal to induce the king 
 and the Duchesse de Valentinois to be present at his 
 torture. '^ 
 
 *' And terrible secrets, too!'* said the furrier, *^The 
 
I 
 
 Catherine de Medici 91 
 
 l^leformation, m}^ friends," he continued in a low voice, 
 
 1™^' will o'ive back to the bourgeoisie the estates of the 
 Church. AVhen the ecclesiastical privileges are sup- 
 pressed the Reformers intend to ask that the vilain 
 tax shall be imposed on nobles as well as on burghers, 
 and thev mean to insist that the kin^ alone shall be 
 above others — if indeed, they allow the State to have 
 a king." 
 
 Ill " Suppress the Throne ! '' ejaculated Lallier. 
 
 " Hey ! crony," said Lecamus, ** in the Low Countries 
 the burghers srovern themselves with burgomasters of 
 their own, who elect their own temporary head." 
 
 ^ '' God bless me, crony ; we ought to do these fine 
 things and 3'et stay Catholics," cried the jeweller. 
 
 ^ "We are too old, you and I, to see the triumph of 
 the Parisian bourgeoisie, but it will triumph, I tell you, 
 in times to come as it did of vore. Ha ! the king must 
 rest upon it in order to resist, and we have always sold 
 him our help dear. The last time, all the burghers were 
 ennobled, and he gave them permission to buy seigno- 
 rial estates and take titles from the land without 
 special letters from the king. You and I, grandsons 
 of the Goix through our mothers, are not we as good 
 as an}' lord?" 
 
 These words were so alarming to the jeweller and the 
 two women that they were followed by a dead silence. 
 The ferments of 1789 were already' tingling in the veins 
 of Lecamus, who was not vet so old but what he could 
 live to see the bold burghers of the Ligue. 
 
 "Are you selling well in spite of these troubles?'' 
 said Lallier to Mademoiselle Lecamus. 
 '^ Troubles always do harm," she replied. 
 
92 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 " That 's one reason why I am so set on making ray 
 son a law3'er," said Lecamus ; *' for squabbles and law 
 go on forever." 
 
 The conversation then turned to commonplace topics, 
 to the great satisfaction of the jeweller, who was not 
 fond of either political troubles or audacity of thought. 
 
Catherine d^ Medici, 93 
 
 III. 
 
 THE CHATEAU DE BLOTS. 
 
 The banks of the Loire, from Blois to Angers, were 
 the favorite resort of the last two branches of tlie royal 
 race which occupied the throne before the house of 
 Bourbon. That beautiful valle}' plain so well deserves 
 the honor bestowed upon it by kings that we must 
 here repeat what was said of it by one of our most 
 eloquent writers : — 
 
 " There is one province in France which is never sufficiently 
 admired. Fragrant as Italy, flowery as the banks of the 
 Guadalquivir, beautiful especially in its own characteristics, 
 wholly French, having always been French, — unlike in that 
 respect to our northern provinces, which have degenerated 
 by contact with Germany, and to our southern provinces, 
 which have lived in concubinage with Moors, Spaniards, 
 and all other nationalities that adjoined them. This pure, 
 chaste, brave, and loyal province is Touraine. Historic 
 France is there ! Auvergne is Auvergne, Languedoc is only 
 Languedoc ; but Touraine is France ; the most national river 
 for Frenchmen is the Loire, which waters Touraine. For 
 this reason we ought not to be surprised at the great num- 
 ber of historically noble buildings possessed by those de- 
 partments which have taken the name, or deiivations of 
 the name, of the Loire. At every step we take in this land 
 of enchantment we discover a new picture, bordered, it may 
 be, by a river, or a tranquil lake reflecting in its liquid depths 
 a castle with towers, and woods and sparkling waterfalls. 
 
94 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 It is quite natural that in a region chosen by Royalty for its 
 sojourn, where the court was long established, great families 
 and fortunes and distinguished men should have settled and 
 built palaces as grand as themselves." 
 
 But is it not incomprehensible that Royalty did not 
 follow the advice indirectly' given by Louis XI. to 
 place the capital of the kingdom at Tours? There, 
 without great expense, the Loire might have been 
 made accessible for the merchant service, and also for 
 vessels-of-war of light draught. There, too, the seat 
 of government would have been safe from the dangers 
 of invasion. Had this been done, the northern cities 
 would not have required such vast sums of money 
 spent to fortify them, — sums as vast as were those 
 expended on the sumptuous glories of Versailles. If 
 Louis XIV. had listened to Vauban, who wished to 
 build his great palace at Mont Louis, between the 
 Loire and the Cher, perhaps the revolution of 1789 
 might never have taken place. 
 
 These beautiful shores still bear the marks of royal 
 tenderness. The chfiteaus of Chambord, Amboise, Blois, 
 Chenonceaux, Chaumont, Plessis-les-Tours, all those 
 which the mistresses of kings, financiers, and nobles built 
 at Veretz, Azay-le-Rideau, Usse, Villandri, Valenqa}', 
 Chanteloup, Duretal, some of which have disappeared, 
 though most of them still remain, are admirable relics 
 which remind us of the marvels of a period that is 
 little understood by the literar}' sect of the Middle- 
 agists. 
 
 Among all these ch^teaus, that of Blois, where the 
 court was then staying, is one on which the magnifi- 
 cence of the houses of Orleans and of Valois has placed 
 
Catherine de' Medici, 95 
 
 y 
 
 its brilliant sign-manual, — making it the most interest- 
 ing of all for historians, archaeologists, and Catholics. 
 It was at the time of which we write completely iso- 
 lated. The tow^n, inclosed b}^ massive walls supported 
 by towers, lay below the fortress, — for the chateau 
 served, in fact, as fort and pleasure-house. Above 
 the town, with its blue-tiled, crowded roofs extending 
 then, as now, from the river to the crest of the hill 
 which commands the right bank, lies a triangular pla- 
 teau, bounded to the west by a streamlet, which in 
 these days is of no importance, for it flows beneath the 
 town ; but in the fifteenth centur}', so sa}' historians, it 
 formed quite a deep ravine, of which there still remains 
 a sunken road, almost an abyss, between the suburbs 
 of the town and the chateau. 
 
 It was on this plateau, with a double exposure to the 
 north and south, that the counts of Blois built, in 
 the architecture of the twelfth century, a castle where 
 the famous Thibault le Tricheur, Thibault le Vieux, 
 and others held a celebrated court. In those da3*s of 
 pure feudality, in which the king w^as merely priinifs 
 inter pares (to use the fine expression of a king of 
 Poland), the counts of Champagne, the counts of Blois, 
 tiiose ofAnjou, the simple barons of Normandie, the 
 dukes of Bretagne, lived with the splendor of sovereign 
 princes and gave kings to the proudest kingdoms. The 
 Plantagenets of Anjou, the Lusignans of Poitou, the 
 Roberts of Normandie, maintained with a bold hand 
 the royal races, and sometimes simple knights like 
 du Glaicquin refused the purple, preferring the sword 
 of a conn 8 table. 
 
 AVhen the Crown annexed the count}' of Blois to its 
 
9G Catherine de' Medici, 
 
 domain, Louis XII., who had a liking for this resi- 
 dence (perhaps to escape Plessis of sinister memory), 
 built at the back of the first building another building, 
 facing east and west, which connected the chateau of 
 the counts of Blois with the rest of the old structures, 
 of which nothing now remains but the vast hall in 
 which the States-general were held under Henri III. 
 
 Before he became enamoured of Chambord, Fran- 
 qois 1. wished to complete the chateau of Blois by 
 adding two other wings, which would have made the 
 structure a perfect square. But Chambord weaned 
 him from Blois, where he built only one wing, which 
 in his time and that of his grandchildren was the only 
 inhabited part of the chateau. This third building 
 erected b}' Francois I. is more vast and far more deco- 
 rated than the Louvre, the chtUeau of Henri II. It 
 is in the style of architecture now called Renaissance, 
 and presents the most fantastic features of that st3'le. 
 Therefore, at a period when a strict and jealous archi- 
 tecture ruled construction, when the Middle Ages were 
 not even considered, at a time when literature was not 
 as clearly wedded to art as it is now, La Fontaine said 
 of the chateau de Blois, in his hearty, good-humored way: 
 *' The part that Frangois I. built, if looked at from the 
 outside, pleased me better than all the rest ; there I saw 
 numbers of little galleries, little windows, little balco- 
 nies, little ornamentations without order or regularity, 
 and thej^ make up a grand whole which I like." 
 
 The chateau of Blois had, therefore, the merit of 
 representing three orders of architecture, three epochs, 
 three systems, three dominions. Perhaps there is no 
 other royal residence that can compare with it in that 
 
Catherine cle^ Medici. 97 
 
 respect. This immense structure presents to the eye 
 in one inclosure, round one courtyard, a complete and 
 perfect image of that grand presentation of the man- 
 ners and customs and Ufe of nations which is called 
 Architecture. At the moment when Christophe was to 
 visit the court, that part of the adjacent land which in 
 our day is covered by a fourth palace, built seventy 
 years later (by Gaston, the rebellious brother of Louis 
 XIII., then exiled to Blois), was an open space contain- 
 ing pleasure-grounds and hanging gardens, pictur- 
 esquely placed among the battlements and unfinished 
 turrets of Francois l.'s chateau. 
 
 These gardens communicated, by a bridge of a fine, 
 bold construction (which the old men of Blois may still 
 remember to have seen demolished) with a pleasure- 
 ground on the other side of the chateau, which, by the 
 lay of the land, was on the same level. The nobles 
 attached to the Court of Anne de Bretagne, or those 
 of that province who came to solicit favors, or to con- 
 fer with the queen as to the fate and condition of Brit- 
 tany, awaited in this pleasure-ground the opportunit}^ 
 for an audience, either at the queen's rising, or at her 
 coming out to walk. Consequentl}^ history has given 
 the name of ''Perchoir aux Bretons'' to this piece of 
 ground, which, in our day, is the fruit-garden of a 
 worthy bourgeois, and forms a projection into the place 
 Des Jesuites. The latter place was included in the 
 gardens of this beautiful royal residence, which had, as 
 we have said, its upper and its lower gardens. Not 
 far from the place des Jesuites may still be seen a 
 pavilion built by Catherine de' Medici, where, accord- 
 ing to the historians of Blois, warm mineral baths were 
 
 7 
 
08 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 placed for her use. This detail enables us to trace the 
 very irregular disposition of the gardens, which went 
 up or down according to the undulations of the ground, 
 becoming extremely intricate around the chateau, — a 
 fact which helped to give it strength, and caused, as we 
 shall see, the discomfiture of the Due de Guise. 
 
 The gardens were reached from the chdteau through 
 external and internal galleries, the most important of 
 which was called the " Galerie des Cerfs"on account 
 of its decoration. This gallerj' led to the magnificent 
 staircase which, no doubt, inspired the famous double 
 staircase of Chambord. It led, from floor to floor, to 
 all the apartments of the castle. 
 
 Though La Fontaine preferred the chateau of Fran- 
 cois I. to that of Louis XIL, perhaps the naivete of 
 that of the good king will give true artists more 
 pleasure, while at the same time thej' admire the mag- 
 nificent structure of the knighth' king. The elegance 
 of the two staircases which are placed at each end of 
 the chateau of Louis XII., the delicate carving and 
 sculpture, so original in design, which abound every- 
 where, the remains of which, though time has done its 
 worst, still charm the antiquary-, all, even to the semi- 
 cloistral distribution of the apartments, reveals a great 
 simplicity of manners. Evidently, the court did not 
 yet exist ; it had not developed, as it did under Fran- 
 cois I. and Catherine de' Medici, to the great detriment 
 of feudal customs. As we admire the galleries, or 
 most of them, the capitals of the columns, and certain 
 figurines of exquisite delicacy, it is impossible not to 
 imagine that Michel Columb, that great sculptor, the 
 Michel-Angelo of Brittany, passed that way for the 
 
Catherine d^ Medici, 99 
 
 pleasure of Queen Anne, whom he afterwards im- 
 mortalized on the tomb of her father, the last duke of 
 Brittan}'. 
 
 Whatever La Fontaine may choose to sa}' about the 
 *^ little galleries " and the *' little ornamentations/' nothing 
 can be more grandiose than the dwelling of the splen- 
 did Francois. Thanks to I know not what indifference, 
 to forgetfulness perhaps, the apartments occupied by 
 Catherine de' Medici and her son Frau9ois II. present 
 to us to-dav the leading features of that time. The 
 historian can there restore the tragic scenes of the 
 drama of the Reformation, — a drama in which the dual 
 struggle of the Guises and of the Bourbons against the 
 Valois was a series of most complicated acts, the plot 
 of which was here unravelled. 
 » The chateau of Frangois I. completel}^ crushes the 
 artless habitation of Louis XII. by its imposing masses. 
 On the side of the gardens, that is, toward the modern 
 place des Jesuites, the castle presents an elevation 
 nearl}" double that which it shows on the side of the 
 courtyard. The ground-floor on this side forms the 
 second floor on the side of the gardens, where are 
 placed the celebrated galleries. Thus the first floor 
 above the ground-floor toward the courtyard (where 
 Queen Catherine was lodged) is the third floor on the 
 garden side, and the king's apartments w^ere four 
 storey's above the garden, which at the time of which we 
 write was separated from the base of the castle bj- a 
 deep moat. The chateau, already colossal as viewed 
 from the courtyard, appears gigantic when seen from 
 below, as La Fontaine saw it. He mentions particu- 
 larly that he did not enter either the courtyard or the 
 
100 Catherine cle' Medici, 
 
 apartments, and it is to be remarked that from the 
 place des Jesuites all the details seem small. The bal- 
 conies on which the courtiers promenaded ; the gal- 
 leries, marvellously executed ; the sculptured windows, 
 whose embrasures are so deep as to form boudoirs — 
 for which indeed they served — resemble at that great 
 height the fantastic decorations which scene-painters 
 give to a fairy palace at the opera. 
 
 But in the courtyard, although the three storeys 
 above the ground-floor rise as high as the clock-tower 
 of the Tuileries, the infinite delicac}" of the architecture 
 reveals itself to the rapture of our astonished eyes. 
 This wing of the great building, in which the two 
 queens, Catherine de' Medici and Mary Stuart, held 
 tlieir sumptuous court, is divided in the centre by a 
 hexagon tower, in the empty well of which winds up a 
 spiral staircase, — a Moorish caprice, designed by giants, 
 made by dwarfs, which gives to this wonderful facade 
 the effect of a dream. The baluster of this staircase 
 forms a spiral connecting itself b}^ a square landing to 
 five of the six sides of the tower, requiring at each 
 landing transversal corbels which are decorated with 
 arabesque carvings without and within. This bewilder- 
 ing creation of ingenious and delicate details, of mar- 
 vels which give speech to stones, can be compared 
 onl}' to the deeply worked and crowded carving of the 
 Chinese ivories. Stone is made to look like lace-work. 
 The flowers, the figures of men and animals clinging to 
 the structure of the stairway, are multiplied, step by 
 step, until the}' crown the tower with a keN'-stone on 
 which the chisels of the art of the sixteenth century 
 have contended against the naive cutters of images who 
 
Catherine^ d^'- 'MedicL 101 
 
 fiftv years earlier had tiarvGcl the^ fev-!§tohes* of Lbuis 
 XII.'s two stairways. 
 
 However dazzled we ma}' be by these recurring forms 
 of indefatigable labor, we cannot fail to see that money 
 was lacking to Francois I. for Blois, as it was to Lonis 
 XIV. for Versailles. More than one fiofurine hfts its 
 delicate head from a block of rough stone behind it ; 
 more than one fantastic flower is merely' indicated by 
 chiselled touches on the abandoned stone, though damp- 
 ness has since laid its blossoms of mouldy orreenery 
 upon it. On the fagade, side by side with the tracery 
 of one window, another window presents its masses of 
 jagged stone caryed only by the hand of time. Here, 
 to the least artistic and the least trained eye, is a ray- 
 ishing contrast between this frontage, where maryels 
 throng, and the interior frontage of the chateau of 
 Louis XII., which is composed of a ground-floor of 
 arcades of fairy lightness supported by tin}' columns 
 resting at their base on a graceful platform, and of two 
 storeys above it, the windows of which are carved with 
 delightful sobriet}'. Beneath the arcade is a gallery, the 
 walls of which are painted in fresco, the ceiling also 
 being painted ; traces can still be found of this mag- 
 nificence, derived from Italy, and testifying to the expe- 
 ditions of our kings, to which the principality of Milan 
 then belonged. 
 
 Opposite to Francois I.'s wing was the chapel of the 
 •counts of Blois, the facade of which is almost in har- 
 mony with the architecture of the later dwelling of 
 Louis XII. No words can picture the majestic solidity 
 of these three distinct masses of building. In spite of 
 their nonconformity of style, Royalty, powerful and firm, 
 
102 -Oatherine.de* Medici, 
 
 demonstraiiiig its clangors b}^ the greatness of its precau- 
 tions, was a bond, uniting these three edifices, so different 
 in character, two of wliich rested against the vast hall 
 of the States-general, towering high like a church. 
 
 Certainlj', neither the simplicitj' nor the strength of 
 the burgher existence (which were depicted at the be- 
 ginning of this history) in which Art was always repre- 
 sented, were lacking to this royal habitation. Blois 
 was the fruitful and brilliant example to which the 
 Bourgeoisie and Feudality, Wealth and Nobilit}', gave 
 such splendid replies in the towns and in the rural 
 "regions. Imagination could not desire any other sort 
 of dwelling for the prince who reigned over France in 
 the sixteenth centurj'. The richness of seignorial gar- 
 ments, the luxury of female adornment, must have har- 
 monized delightfully with the lace-work of these stones 
 so wonderful!}' manipulated. From floor to floor, as the 
 king of France went up the marvellous staircase of his 
 chateau of Blois, he could see the broad expanse of the 
 beautiful Loire, which brought him news of all his king- 
 dom as it lay on either side of the great river, two 
 halves of a State facing each other, and semi-rivals. If, 
 instead of building Chambord in a barren, gloomy plain 
 two leagues awa}', Fran9ois I. had placed it where, 
 seventy years later, Gaston built his palace, Versailles 
 would never have existed, and Blois would have become, 
 necessarily, the capital of France. 
 
 Four Valois and Catherine de' Medici lavished their 
 wealth on the wing built b}^ Fran9ois I. at Blois. Who 
 can look at those massive partition- walls, the spinal 
 column of the castle, in which are sunken deep alcoves, 
 secret staircases, cabinets, while they themselves inclose 
 
Catherine do Medici, 103 
 
 halls as vast as that great council-room, the guardroom, 
 and the royal chambers, in which, in our day, a regi- 
 ment of infantry is comfortably lodged — who can look 
 at all this and not be aware of the prodigalities of Crown 
 and court? Even if a visitor does not at once under- 
 stand how the splendor within must have corresponded 
 with the splendor without, the remaining vestiges of 
 Catherine de* Medici's cabinet, where Christophe was 
 about to be introduced, would bear sufficient testimony 
 to the elegances of Art which peopled these apartments 
 with animated designs in which salamanders sparkled 
 among the wreaths, and the palette of the sixteenth cen- 
 tury illumined the darkest corners with its brilliant 
 coloring. In this cabinet an observer will still find 
 traces of that taste for gilding which Catherine brought 
 with her from Italy ; for the princesses of her house 
 loved, in the words of the author already quoted, to 
 veneer the castles of France with the gold earned bv 
 their ancestors in commerce, and to hang out their 
 wealth on the walls of their apartments. 
 
 The queen-mother occupied on the first upper floor 
 the apartments of Queen Claude of France, wife of 
 Fran9ois I., in which may still be seen, dehcately 
 carved, the double C accompanied by figures, purely 
 white, of swans and lilies, signifying candkllor ccuidi- 
 clis — more white than the whitest — the motto of the 
 queen whose name began, like that of Catherine, with a 
 C, and which applied as well to the daughter of Louis 
 XJI. as to the mother of the last Valois ; for no sus- 
 picion, in spite of the violence of Calvinist calumnj', 
 has tarnished the fidelity of Catherine de' Medici to 
 Henri II. 
 
104 Catherine de' Medici, 
 
 The queen-mother, still charged with the care of two 
 3'ourig children (him who was afterward Due d'Alengon, 
 and Marguerite, the wife of Henri IV., the sister whom 
 Charles IX. called Margot), had need of the whole of 
 this first upper floor. 
 
 The king, Francois II., and the queen, Mary Stuart, 
 occupied, on the second floor, the ro3'al apartments 
 which had formerl}^ been those of FranQois I. and were, 
 subsequent^, those of Henri III. This floor, like that 
 taken b}' the queen-mother, is divided in two parts 
 throughout its whole length b}" the famous partition- 
 wall, which is more than four feet thick, against which 
 rests the enormous walls which separate the rooms from 
 each other. ■ Thus, on both floors, the apartments are 
 in two distinct halves. One half, to the south, looking 
 to the courtyard, served for public receptions and for the 
 transaction of business ; whereas the private apartments 
 were placed, partly to escape the heat, to the north, 
 overlooking the gardens, on which side is the splendid 
 fa9ade with its balconies and galleries looking out upon 
 the open country' of the Vendomois, and down upon the 
 " Perchoir des Bretons" and the moat, the only side of 
 which La Fontaine speaks. 
 
 The chateau of Franqois I. was, in those days, ter- 
 minated by an enormous unfinished tower which was 
 intended to mark the colossal angle of the building 
 when the succeeding wing was built. Later, Gaston 
 took down one side of it, in order to build his palace on 
 to it ; but he never finished the work, and the tower 
 remained in ruins. This royal stronghold served as a 
 prison or dungeon, according to popular tradition. 
 
 As we wander to-day through the halls of this match- 
 
i 
 
 Catherine de* Medici. 105 
 
 ess chateau, so precious to art and to history, what 
 poet would not be haunted by regrets, and grieved for 
 France, at seeing the arabesques of Catherine's boudoir 
 whitewashed and ahnost obliterated, by order of the 
 quartermaster of the barracks (this royal residence is 
 now a barrack) at the time of an outbreak of cholera. 
 The panels of Catlierine's boudoir, a room of which we 
 are about to speak, is the last remaining relic of the rich 
 decorations accumulated by five artistic kings. Mak- 
 ing our way through the labyrinth of chambers, halls, 
 stairways, towers, we may say to ourselves with solemn 
 certitude: '' Here Mary Stuart cajoled her husband on 
 behalf of the Guises." "There, the Guises insulted 
 Catherine." ''Later, at that very spot the second 
 Balafre fell beneath the daggers of the avengers of the 
 Crown." " A century earlier, from this very window, 
 Louis XII. made signs to his friend Cardinal d'Am- 
 boise to come to him." '' Here, on this balcon}', 
 d'Epernon, the accomplice of Ravaillac, met Marie 
 de* Medici, who knew, it was said, of the proposed 
 regicide, and allowed it to be committed." 
 
 In the chapel, where the marriage of Henri IV. and 
 Marguerite de Valois took place, the sole remaining 
 fragment of the chateau of the counts of Blois, a regi- 
 ment now makes its shoes. This wonderful structure, 
 in which so many styles may still be seen, so many great 
 deeds have been performed, is in a state of dilapida- 
 tion which disgraces France. What grief for those who 
 love the great historic monuments of our countrv to 
 know that soon those eloquent stones will be lost to 
 sight and knowledge, like others at the corner of the 
 rue de la Vieille-Pelleterie ; possibl}', they will exist 
 nowhere but in these pages. 
 
 i 
 
106 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 It is necessary to remark that, in order to watch the 
 ro\'al court more closely, the Guises, although they^ had 
 a house of their own in the town, which still exists, had 
 obtained permission to occupy the upper floor above the 
 apartments of Louis XII., the same lodgings afterwards 
 occupied by the Duchesse de Nemours under the roof. 
 
 The 3'oung king, Fran9ois II., and his bride Mary 
 Stuart, in love with each other like the girl and boy of 
 sixteen which they were, had been abruptly transferred, 
 in the depth of whiter, from the chateau de Saint-Ger- 
 main, which the Due de Guise thought liable to attack, 
 to the fortress which the chateau of Blois then was, 
 being isolated and protected on three sides by preci- 
 pices, and admirably defended as to its entrance. The 
 Guises, uncles of Mar}' Stuart, had powerful reasons 
 for not residing in Paris and for keeping the king and 
 court in a castle the whole exterior surroundings of 
 which could easily be watched and defended. A struggle 
 was now beginning around the throne, between the 
 house of Lorraine and the house of Valois, which was 
 destined to end in this ver}' chA^teau, twenty-eight 3'ears 
 later, namely in 1588, when Henri III., under the very 
 e\'es of his mother, at that moment deeply humiliated 
 by the Lorrains, heard fall upon the floor of his own 
 cabinet, the head of the boldest of all the Guises, the 
 second Balafre, son of that first Balafre by whom Cath- 
 erine de' Medici was now being tricked, watched, 
 threatened, and virtuail}' imprisoned. 
 
Cathei'inc dc" Medici, 
 
 107 
 
 IV. 
 
 THE QUEEN-MOTHER. 
 
 This noble chateau of Blois was to Catherine de' 
 [Medici the narrowest of prisons. On the death of her 
 husband, who had always held her in subjection, she 
 [expected to reign ; but, on the contrary, she found her- 
 [self crushed under the thraldom of strangers, whose 
 )olished manners were far more really brutal than those 
 >f jailers. No action of hers could be done secretl}'. 
 'he women who attended her either had lovers among 
 ihe Guises or were watched b}' Argus eyes. These 
 rere times when passions notabl}' exhibited the strange 
 iffects produced in all ages by the strong antagonism 
 >f two powerful conflicting interests in the State. Gal- 
 lantry, which served Catherine so well, was also an 
 Luxiliary of the Guises. The Prince de Conde, the first 
 leader of the Reformation, was a lover of the Marechale 
 le Saint-Andre, whose husband was the tool of the 
 rand Master. The cardinal, convinced by the affair 
 >f the Vidame de Chartres, that Catherine was more 
 mconquered than invulnerable as to love, was paying 
 "^court to her. The pla}^ of all these passions strangely 
 complicated those of politics, — making, as it were, a 
 double game of chess, in which both parties had to 
 watch the head and heart of their opponent, in order 
 
108 Catherine de' Medici, 
 
 to know, wlien a crisis came, whether the one would 
 betray the other^ 
 
 Though she was constant!}^ in presence of the Cardinal 
 de Lorraine or of Due Francois de Guise, who both dis- 
 trusted her, the closest and ablest enemy of Catherine 
 de* Medici was her daughter-in-law, Queen Mary, a fair 
 little creature, malicious as a waiting-maid, proud as a 
 Stuart wearing three crowns, learned as an old pedant, 
 giddy as a school-girl, as much in love with her hus- 
 band as a courtesan is with her lover, devoted to her 
 uncles whom she admired, and delighted to see the 
 king share (at her instigation) the regard she had for 
 them. A mother-in-law is always a person whom the 
 daughter-in-law is inclined not to like ; especially when 
 she wears the crown and wishes to retain it, which 
 Catherine had imprudently made but too well known. 
 Her former position, when Diane de Poitiers had ruled 
 Henri II., was more tolerable than this; then at least 
 she received the external honors that were due to a 
 queen, and the homage of the court. But now the duke 
 and the cardinal, who had none but their own minions 
 about them, seemed to take pleasure in abasing her. 
 Catherine, hemmed in on all sides by their courtiers, 
 received, not onlj^ day b}' day but from hour to hour, 
 terrible blows to her pride and her self-love ; for the 
 Guises were determined to treat her on the same sys- 
 tem of repression which the late king, her husband, had 
 so long pursued. 
 
 The thirty-six 3'ears of anguish which were now about 
 to desolate France ma^', perhaps, be said to have begun 
 by the scene in which the son of the furrier of the two 
 queens was sent on the perilous errand which makes 
 
1 ^- Catherine cle Medici. 109 
 
 IP 
 
 Iiim the chief figure of our present Study. The danger 
 into which this zealous Reformer was about to fall 
 became imminent the \Qvy morning on which he started 
 from the port of Beaugenc}' for the chateau de Blois, 
 iHbearing precious documents which compromised the 
 highest heads of the nobilit}', placed in his hands by 
 that wily partisan, the indefatigable La Renaudie, who 
 met him, as agreed upon, at Beaugenc^', having reached 
 that port before him. 
 
 While the tow-boat in which Christophe now em- 
 barked floated, impelled b}' a light east wind, down the 
 Bbiver Loire the famous cardinal Charles de Lorraine, 
 Hind his brother the second Due de Guise, one of the 
 greatest warriors of those days, were contemplating, 
 like eagles perched on a rocky summit, their present 
 situation, and looking prudently about them before 
 striking the great blow hy Tyhich the}' intended to kill 
 the Reform in France at Amboise, — an attempt re- 
 newed twelve 3'ears later in Paris, August 24, 1572, 
 on the feast of Saint- Bartholomew. 
 
 During the night three seig7ieurs^ who each plaj'ed 
 a great part in the twelve years' drama which followed 
 this double plot now laid by the Guises and also bj^ the 
 Reformers, had arrived at Blois from different directions, 
 each riding at full speed, and leaving their horses half- 
 dead at the postern-gate of the chateau, which was 
 guarded by captains and soldiers absolutely devoted to 
 
 ■the Due de Guise, the idol of all warriors. 
 I One word about that great man, — a word that must 
 lell, in the first instance, whence his fortunes took their 
 rise. 
 
 His mother was Antoinette de Bourbon, great-annt 
 
 I 
 
110 Catherine de' Medici, 
 
 of Henri IV. Of what avail is consanguinity? He 
 was, at this moment, aiming at the head of his cousin 
 the Prince de Conde. His niece was Mary Stuart. 
 His wife was Anne, daughter of the Duke of Ferrara. 
 The Grand Connetable de Montmorency called the 
 Due de Guise '^ Monseigneur " as he would the king, — 
 ending his letter with " Your very humble servant." 
 Guise, Grand Master of the king's household, replied 
 " Monsieur le connetable," and signed, as he did for 
 the Parliament, " Your verv good friend.'* 
 
 As for the cardinal, called the transalpine pope, and 
 his Holiness, bv Estienne, he had the whole monastic 
 Church of France on his side, and treated the Holy 
 Father as an equal. Vain of his eloquence, and one of 
 the greatest theologians of his time, he kept incessant 
 watch over France and Ital}' bv means of three religious 
 orders who were absolutely' devoted to him, toiling day 
 and night in his service and serving him as spies and 
 counsellors. 
 
 These few words will explain to what heights of 
 power the duke and the cardinal had attained. In 
 spite of their wealth and the enormous revenues of their 
 several offices, the}' were so personalh' disinterested, so 
 eagerl}' carried awaj' on the current of their statesman- 
 ship, and so generous at heart, that the}' were always 
 in debt, doubtless after the manner of Caesar. When 
 Henri HI. caused the death of the second Balafre, whose 
 life was a menace to him, the house of Guise was 
 necessarily ruined. The costs of endeavoring to seize 
 the crown during a whole century will explain the 
 lowered position of this great house during the reigns 
 of Louis XIII. and Louis XIV., when the sudden death 
 
I. ^ 
 of Madame told all Europe the infamous part which a 
 Chevalier de Lorraine had debased himself to pla}'. 
 Calling themselves the heirs of the dispossessed Car- 
 lovingians, the duke and cardinal acted with the utmost 
 minsolence toward Catherine de' Medici, the mother-in- 
 Hlaw of their niece. The Duchesse de Guise spared her 
 ^no mortification. This duchess was a d'Este, and 
 Catherine was a Medici, the daughter of upstart Floren- 
 tine merchants, whom the sovereigns of Europe had 
 never yet admitted into their royal fraternity. Frangois 
 
 »I. himself had alwa\^s considered his son's marriage 
 with a Medici as a mesalliance, and only consented to 
 it under the expectation that his second son would 
 never be daupliin. Hence his fury when his eldest 
 son was poisoned by the Florentine Montecuculi. 
 The d'P^stes refused to recognize the Medici as Italian 
 princes. Those former merchants were in fact trying 
 to solve the impossible problem of maintaining a throne 
 in the midst of i^epublican institutions. The title of 
 grand-duke was only granted ver}^ tardily b}* Philip the 
 Second, king of Spain, to reward those Medici who 
 bought it b}' betraying France their benefactress, and 
 servilely attaching themselves to the court of Spain, 
 which was at the very time covertly counteracting 
 them in Italy. 
 
 " Flatter none but vour enemies," the famous saving 
 of Catherine de' Medici, seems to have been the political 
 rule of life with that family of merchant princes, in 
 which great men were never lacking until their destinies 
 became great, when the^^ fell, before their time, into 
 tliat degeneracy in which royal races and noble families 
 are wont to end. 
 
112 Catherine cW Medici. 
 
 For three generations there had been a great Lorrain 
 warrior and a great Lorrain churchman ; and, what is 
 more singular, the churchmen all bore a strong resem- 
 blance in the face to Ximenes, as did Cardinal Richelieu 
 in after days. These five great cardinals all had sly, 
 mean, and yet terrible faces ; while the warriors, on the 
 other hand, were of that type of Basque mountaineer 
 which we see in Henri IV. The two Balafres, father 
 and son, wounded and scarred in the same manner, 
 lost something of this type, but not the grace and afta- 
 biilt}' by which, as much as b}' their braver}', thej' won 
 the hearts of the soldiery. 
 
 It is not useless to relate how the present Grand 
 Master received his wound ; for it was healed by the 
 heroic measures of a personage of our drama, — by 
 Ambroise Pare, the man we have alread}' mentioned 
 as under obligations to Lecamus, syndic of the guild 
 of furriers. At the siege of Calais the duke had his 
 face pierced through and through b\^*a lance, the point 
 of which, after entering the cheek just below the right 
 eye, went through to the neck, below the left eye, and 
 remained, broken off, in the face. The duke lay dying 
 in his tent in the midst of universal distress, and he 
 would have died had it not been for the devotion and 
 prompt courage of Ambroise Pare. '' The duke is not 
 dead, gentlemen," he said to the weeping attendants, 
 "• but he soon will die if I dare not treat him as I 
 would a dead man ; and I shall risk doing so, no mat- 
 ter what it ma}' cost me in the end. See ! " And with 
 that he put his left foot on the duke's breast, took the 
 broken wooden end of the lance in his fingers, shook 
 and loosened it by degrees m the wound, and finally 
 
I 
 
 Catherine de' Medici. 113 
 
 ■ 
 
 succeeded in drawing out the iron head, as if he were 
 IB handling a thing and not a man. Though he saved the 
 prince by this heroic treatment, he could not prevent 
 the horrible scar which gave the great soldier his nick- 
 name, — Le Balafre, the Scarred. This name descended 
 to the son, and for a similar reason. 
 
 Absolutely masters of Francois II., whom his wife 
 ruled through their mutual and excessive passion, these 
 two great Lorrain princes, the duke and the cardinal, 
 were masters of France, and had no other enemy at 
 court than Catherine de' Medici. No great statesmen 
 ever played a closer or more watchful game. 
 
 The mutual position of the ambitious widow of 
 Henri II. and the ambitious house of Lorraine was 
 pictured, as it were, to the eye by a scene which took 
 place on the terrace of the chateau de Blois very early 
 in the morning of the day on which Christophe Lecamus 
 was destined to arrive there. The queen- mother, who 
 feigned an extreme attachment to the Guises, had 
 asked to be informed of the news brought by the 
 three seigneurs coming from three different parts of 
 the kingdom ; but she had the mortification of being 
 courteously dismissed by the cardinal. She then walked 
 to the parterres which overhung the Loire, where she 
 was building, under the superintendence of her astrol- 
 oger, Ruggieri, an observatory, which is still standing, 
 and from which the eye may range over the whole 
 landscape of that delightful valley. The two Lorrain 
 princes were at the other end of the terrace, facing 
 the Vendomois, which overlooks the upper part of the 
 town, the perch of the Bretons, and the postern gate 
 of the chateau. 
 
 I 
 
114 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 Catherine had deceived the two brothers by pre- 
 tending to a slight displeasure ; for she was in reaUty 
 ver}' well pleased to have an opportunity to speak to 
 one of the three men who had arrived in such haste. 
 This was a young nobleman named Chiverni, appar- 
 ently a tool of the cardinal, in reality a devoted ser- 
 vant of Catherine. Catherine also counted among her 
 devoted servants two Florentine nobles, the Gondi ; 
 but they were so suspected by the Guises that she 
 dared not send them on any errand away from the 
 court, where she kept them, watched, it is true, in 
 all their words and actions, but where at least they 
 were able to watch and stud}' the Guises and counsel 
 Catlierine. These two Florentines maintained in the 
 interests of the queen-mother another Italian, Birago, — 
 a clever Piedmontese, who pretended, with Chiverni, to 
 have abandoned their mistress and gone over to the 
 Guises, who encouraged their enterprises and employed 
 them to watch Catherine. 
 
 Chiverni had come- from Paris and Ecouen. The 
 last to arrive was Saint-Andre, who was marshal of 
 France and became so important that the Guises, whose 
 creature he was, made him the third person in the 
 triumvirate the}' formed the following year against 
 Catherine. The other seigneur who had arrived dur- 
 ing the night was Vieilleville, also a creature of the 
 Guises and a marshal of France, who was returning 
 from a secret mission known only to the Grand Master, 
 who had entrusted it to him. As for Saint-Andre, he 
 was in charge of military measures taken with the ob- 
 ject of driving all Reformers under arms into Amboise ; 
 a scheme which now formed the subject of a council 
 
Catherine cW Medici. 115 
 
 held by the duke and cardinal, Birago, Chiverni, 
 Vieilleville, and Saint- Andre. As the two Lorrains 
 emplo3'ed Birago, it is to be supposed that the}* relied 
 upon their own powers ; for they knew of his attach- 
 ment to the queen-mother. At this singular epoch 
 the double part played by many of the poUtical men 
 of the day was well known to both parties ; the}- were 
 like cards in the hands of gamblers, — the cleverest 
 player won the game. During this council the two 
 brothers maintained the most impenetrable reserve. A 
 conversation which now took place between Catherine 
 and certain of her friends will explain the object of 
 this council, held b}' the Guises in the open air, in the 
 hanging gardens, at break of day, as if the}^ feared to 
 speak within the walls of the chateau de Blois. 
 
 The queen-mother, under pretence of examining the 
 observatory then in process of construction, walked in 
 that direction accompanied by the two Gondis, glancing 
 with a suspicious and inquisitive eye at the group of 
 enemies who were still standing at the farther end of 
 tlie terrace, and from whom Chiverni now detached 
 himself to join the queen-mother. She was then at the 
 corner of the terrace which looks down upon the Church 
 of Saint-Nicholas ; there, at least, there could be no 
 danger of the shghtest overhearino;. The wall of the 
 terrace is on a level with the towers of the church, and 
 the Guises invariably held their council at the farther 
 corner of the same terrace at the base of the great un- 
 finished keep or dungeon, — going and returning be- 
 tween the Perchoir des Bretons and the gallery by the 
 bridge which joined them to the gardens. No one waa 
 within sight. Chiverni raised the hand of the queen- 
 
 I 
 
116 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 mother to kiss it. and as he did so he slipped a little 
 note from his hand to hers, without being observed by 
 the two Italians. Catherine turned to the angle of the 
 parapet and read as follows : — 
 
 You are powerful enough to hold the balance between 
 the leaders and to force them into a struggle as to who shall 
 serve you ; your house is full of kings, and you have nothing 
 to fear from the Lorrains or the Bourbons provided you pit 
 them one against the other, for both are striving to snatch 
 the crown from your children. Be the mistress and not the 
 servant of your counsellors ; support them, in turn, one 
 against the other, or the kingdom will go from bad to worse, 
 and mighty wars may come of it. 
 
 L'HOPITAL. 
 
 The queen put the letter in the hollow of her corset, 
 resolving to burn it as soon as she was alone. 
 
 " When did 3'ou see him ? " she asked Chiverni. 
 
 " On m}' wa}' back from visiting the Connetable, at 
 Melun, where I met him with the Duchesse de Berry, 
 whom he was most impatient to convey to Savoie, that 
 he might return here and open the e^es of the chan- 
 cellor Olivier, who is now completely duped b}^ the 
 Lorrains. As soon as Monsieur I'Hopital saw the true 
 object of the Guises he determined to support your 
 interests. That is why he is so anxious to get here and 
 give you his vote at the councils." 
 
 *' Is he sincere?'' asked Catherine. "You know 
 very well that if the Lorrains have put him in the 
 council it is that he may help them to reign." 
 
 " L'Hopital is a Frenchman who comes of too good a 
 stock not to be honest and sincere," said Chiverni ; 
 *' Besides, his note is a sufficiently strong pledge." 
 
Catherine de' Medici, 117 
 
 "What answer did the Connetable send to the 
 Guises?" 
 
 *' He replied that he was the servant of the king and 
 would await his orders. On receiving that answer the 
 cardnial, to suppress all resistance, determined to pro- 
 pose the appointment of his brother as lieutenant-gen- 
 eral of the kingdom. 
 
 ''Have they got as far as that?" exclaimed Cathe- 
 rine, alarmed. " Well, did Monsieur I'Hopital send me 
 no other message ? " 
 
 '* He told me to sa\' to you, madame, that 3'ou alone 
 could stand between the Crown and the Guises." 
 
 '^ Does he think that I ought to use the Huguenots as 
 a weapon ? " 
 
 " Ah ! madame," cried Chiverni, surprised at such 
 astuteness; *' we never dreamed of casting 3'ou into 
 such difficulties." 
 
 '' Does he know the position that I am in ? " asked 
 the queen, calmly. 
 
 " Verj' nearly. He thinks you were duped after the 
 death of the king into accepting that castle on Madame 
 Diane's overthrow. The Guises consider themselves 
 released toward the queen by having satisfied the 
 woman." 
 
 '' Yes," said the queen, looking at the two Gondi, 
 '• I made a blunder." 
 
 '' A blunder of the gods," replied Charles de Gondi. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said Catherine, '* if I go over openly 
 to the Reformers I shall become the slave of a party." 
 
 "Madame," said Chiverni, eagerly, '^I approve 
 entirely of your meaning. You must use them, but not 
 serve them." 
 
118 Catherine de' Medici, 
 
 *•• Though your support does, undoubtedly, for the 
 time being Ue there/' said Charles de Gondi, ^' we must 
 not conceal from ourselves that success and defeat are 
 both equally perilous." 
 
 ** I know It," said the queen ; " a single false step 
 would be a pretext on which the Guises would seize at 
 once to get rid of me.'' 
 
 ''The niece of a pope, the mother of four Valois, a 
 queen of France, the widow of the most ardent perse- 
 cutor of the Huguenots, an Italian Catholic, the aunt of 
 Leo X., — can she alh' herself with the Reformation? " 
 asked Charles de Gondi. 
 
 "But," said his brother Albert, "if she seconds the 
 Guises does she not play into the hands of a usurpa- 
 tion? We have to do with men who see a crown lo 
 seize in the coming struggle between Catholicism and 
 Reform. It is possible to support the Reformers with- 
 out abjuring.'* 
 
 '' Reflect, madame, that your famil}-, which ought to 
 have been wholly devoted to the king of trance, is at 
 this moment the servant of the king of Spain ; and 
 to-morrow it will be that of the Reformation if the 
 Reformation could make a king of the Duke of 
 Florence.'' 
 
 "I am certainly disposed to lend a hand, for a time, 
 to the Huguenots," said Catherine, '^ if only to revenge 
 myself on that soldier and that priest and that woman ! " 
 As she spoke, she called attention with her subtile Ital- 
 ian glance to the duke and cardinal, and then to the 
 second floor of the chateau on which were the apart- 
 ments of her son and Mary Stuart. "That trio has 
 taken from my hands the reins of State, for which I 
 

 Catherine de Medici, 110 
 
 I 
 
 waited long while the old woman filled my place," she 
 said gloomily, glancing toward Chenonceaux, the cha- 
 teau she had lately exchanged with Diane de Poitiers 
 against that of Chanmont. ''Ma,'' she added in 
 Italian, ''it seems that these reforming gentry in 
 Geneva have not the wit to address themselves to me ; 
 and, on my conscience, I cannot go to them. Not one 
 of you would dare to risk carrying them a message ! " 
 She stamped her foot. '' I did hope you would have 
 met the cripple at Ecouen — he has sense,'* she said to 
 Chiverni. 
 
 "The Prince de Conde was there, madame/' said 
 Chiverni, '' but he could not persuade the Connetable 
 to join him. Monsieur de Montmorency wants to over- 
 throw the Guises, who have sent him into exile, but he 
 will not encourage heresy." 
 
 " What will ever break these individual wills which 
 are forever thwarting royalt}'? God's truth!" ex- 
 claimed the queen, " the great nobles must be made to 
 destro}' each other, as Louis XL, the greatest of your 
 kinofs, did with those of his time. There are four or 
 five parties now in this kingdom, and the weakest of 
 them is that of my children." 
 
 " The Reformation is an idea^'^ said Charles de 
 Gondi ; '' the parties that Louis XL crushed were 
 moved by self-interests onl^'." 
 
 *' Ideas are behind selfish interests," replied Chi- 
 verni. ''Under Louis XL the idea was the great 
 Fiefs — " 
 
 *' Make heresy an axe," said Albert de Gondi, " and 
 you will escape the odium of executions." 
 
 Ah ! " cried the queen, *' but I am ignorant of the 
 
120 Catherine de' Medici, 
 
 strength and also of the plans of the Reformers ; and I 
 have no safe way of communicating with them. If I 
 were detected in an}' manoeuvre of that kind, either by 
 the queen, who watches me like an infant in a cradle, or 
 by those two jailers over there, I should be banished 
 from France and sent back to Florence with a terrible 
 escort, commanded by Guise minions. Thank you, no, 
 my daughter-in-law ! — but I wish you the fate of being 
 a prisoner in yoxxv own home, that you may know what 
 you have made me suffer." 
 
 '' Their plans ! " exclaimed Chiverni ; " the duke and 
 the cardinal know what the}' are, but those two foxes 
 will not divulo^e them. If vou could induce them to do 
 so, madame, I would sacrifice myself for your sake and 
 come to an understanding with the Prince de Conde." 
 
 '' How much of the Guises' own plans have they 
 been forced to reveal to you ? " asked the queen, with 
 a glance at the two brothers. 
 
 '' Monsieur de Vieilleville and Monsieur de Saint 
 Andre have just received fresh orders, the nature of 
 which is concealed from us ; but I think the duke is 
 intending to concentrate his best troops on the left 
 bank. Within a few daj's 3'ou will all be moved to 
 Amboise. The duke has been studying the position 
 from this terrace and decides that Blois is not a pro- 
 pitious spot for his secret schemes. What can he want 
 better ? " added Chiverni, pointing to the precipices 
 w^hich surrounded the chateau. "There is no place in 
 the world where the court is more secure from attack 
 than it is here." 
 
 " Abdicate or reign," said Albert in a low voice to 
 the queen, who stood motionless and thoughtful. 
 
I 
 
 Catherine de' Medici. 121 
 
 A terrible expression of inward rage passed over the 
 fine ivory face of Catherine de' Medici, who was not 
 3'et forty years old, though she had lived for twent\'-six 
 years at the court of France, — without power, she, 
 IBw^ho from the moment of her arrival intended to play a 
 leading part! Then, in her native language, the lan- 
 guage of Dante, these terrible words came slowl}' from 
 her lips : — 
 
 " Nothing so long as that son lives ! — His little 
 wife bewitches him,'* she added after a pause. 
 
 Catherine's exclamation was inspired by a prophecy 
 IHlwhich had been made to her a few da3's earlier at the 
 chateau de Chaumont on the opposite bank of the river ; 
 where she had been taken by Ruggieri, her astrologer, to 
 obtain information as to the lives of her four children 
 from a celebrated female seer, secretlv brouorht there 
 hy Nostradamus (chief among the physicians of that 
 great sixteenth century) who practised, like the Ruggieri, 
 the Cardans, Paracelsus, and others, the occult sciences. 
 This woman, whose name and life have eluded history, 
 foretold one 3'ear as the length of Fran9ois's reign. 
 
 "Give me your opinion on all this," said Catherine 
 to Chiverni. 
 
 *' We shall have a battle,'* replied the prudent court- 
 ier. *' The king of Navarre — ** 
 
 *'0h! say the queen," interrupted Catherine. 
 
 " True, the queen," said Chiverni, smiling, " the 
 queen has given the Prince de Conde as leader to the 
 Reformers, and he, in his position of 3'ounger son, can 
 venture all ; consequently the cardinal talks of ordering 
 him here.'* 
 
 " If he comes,** cried the queen, " I am saved ! " 
 
 ■ 
 
122 Catherine de' Medici, 
 
 Thus the leaders of the great movement of the Re- 
 formation in France were justified in hoping for an ally 
 in Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 " There is one thing to be considered," said the 
 queen. '' The Bourbons may fool the Huguenots and 
 the Sieurs Calvin and de Beze may fool the Bourbons, 
 but are we strong enough to fool Huguenots, Bour- 
 bons, and Guises? In presence of three such enemies 
 it is allowable to feel one's pulse." 
 
 '' But the}^ have not the king," said Albert de Gondi. 
 '' You will alwaj's triumph, having the king on your 
 side." 
 
 ^^ Mcdadetta 3Iaria/** muttered Catherine between 
 her teeth. 
 
 *' The Lorrains are, even now, endeavoring to turn 
 the burghers against you," remarked Birago." 
 
Catherine de' Medici, 123 
 
 ^t-\ 
 
 Y. 
 
 THE COURT. 
 
 The hope of gaining the crown was not the result of 
 a premeditated plan in the minds of the restless Guises. 
 Nothing warranted such a hope or such a plan. Cir- 
 cumstances alone inspired their audacity. The two car*^ 
 inals and the two Balafres were four ambitious minds, 
 uperior in talents to all the other politicians who sur- 
 ounded them. This family was never really brought 
 !ow except by Henri IV. ; a factionist himself, trained 
 in the great school of which Catherine and the Guises 
 ere masters, — by whose lessons he had profited but 
 o well. 
 
 At this moment the two brothers, the duke and 
 cardinal, were the arbiters of the greatest revolution 
 attempted in Europe since that of Henry VIII. in Eng- 
 land, which was the direct consequence of the invention 
 of printing. Adversaries to the Reformation, they 
 meant to stifle it, power being in their hands. But 
 their opponent, Calvin, though less famous than Luther, 
 was far the stronger of the two. Calvin saw govern- 
 ment where Luther saw dogma only. While the stout 
 beer-drinker and amorous German fought with the 
 levil and flung an inkbottle at his head, the man from 
 Picard}', a sickly celibate, made plans of campaign, 
 directed battles, armed princes, and roused whole peo- 
 ples by sowing republican doctrines in the hearts of the 
 
 I 
 
124 Catherine de' Medici, 
 
 burghers, — recouping his continual defeats in the field 
 by fresh progress in the mind of the nations. 
 
 The Cardinal de Lorraine and the Due de Guise, like 
 Philip the Second and tlie Duke of Alba, knew where 
 and when th§ monarchy was threatened, and how close 
 the alliance ought to be between Catholicism and Roy- 
 alt}'. Charles the Fiftli, drunk with the wine of Charle- 
 magne's cup, believing too blindk in the strength of his 
 monarch}', and confident of sharing the world with Su- 
 leiman, did not at first feel the blow at his head ; but no 
 sooner had Cardinal Granvelle made him aware of the 
 extent of the wound than he abdicated. Tlie Guises 
 bad but one scheme, — that of annihilating heres}" at a 
 single blow. This blow they were now to attempt, for 
 the first time, to strike at Amboise ; failing there they 
 tried it again, twelve years later, at the Saint-Bartholo- 
 mew, — on the latter occasion in conjunction with Cath- 
 erine de' Medici, enlightened by that time by the flames 
 of a twelve 3'ears' war, enlightened above all by the 
 significant word " republic,'* uttered later and printed 
 by the writers of the Reformation, but alreadj' foreseen 
 (as we have said before) by Lecamus, that type of the 
 Parisian bourgeoisie. 
 
 The two Guises, now on the point of striking a mur- 
 derous blow at the heart of the French nobility, in 
 order to separate it once for all from a religious party 
 whose triumph would be its ruin, still stood together on 
 the terrace, concerting as to the best means of revealing 
 their coup-d'Etat to the king, while Catherine was talk- 
 ing with her counsellors. 
 
 "Jeanne d'Albret knew what she was about when 
 she declared herself protectress of the Huguenots ! She 
 
I 
 
 VC2 
 
 Catherine de' Medici, 125 
 
 has a battering-ram in the Reformation, and she knows 
 ow to use it," said the duke, who fathomed the deep 
 esigns of the Queen of Navarre, one of the great minds 
 of the century. 
 
 " Theodore de Beze is now at Nerac," remarked the 
 ardinal, " after first going to Geneva to take Calvin's 
 orders." 
 
 "What men these burghers know how to find!" 
 exclaimed the duke. 
 
 "Ah! we have none on our side of the quaht}' of 
 La Renaudie ! " cried the cardinal. "He is a true 
 
 |!;)atiline." 
 " Such men always act for their own interests," re- 
 )ned the duke. "Didn't I fathom La Renaudie? I 
 oaded him with favors ; I helped him to escape when 
 le was condemned by the parliament of Bourgogne ; 
 I brought him back from exile by obtaining a revi- 
 sion of his sentence ; I intended to do far more for 
 him ; and all the while he was plotting a diabolical 
 conspiracy against us ! That rascal has united the 
 Protestants of German}^ with the heretics of France by 
 reconciling the differences that grew up between the 
 dogmas of Luther and those of Calvin. He has brought 
 the discontented great seigneurs into the part}' of the 
 Reformation without obliging them to abjure Catholi- 
 cism openh'. For the last year he has had thirt}' cap- 
 tains under him ! He is everywhere at once, — at Lyon, 
 in Languedoc, at Nantes ! It was he who drew up 
 those minutes of a consultation which were hawked 
 about all German^', in which the theologians declared 
 that force might be resorted to in order to withdraw 
 the king from our rule and tutelage ; the paper is now 
 
 I 
 
126 Catherine de' Medici, 
 
 being circulated from town to town. Wherever we look 
 for liim we never find him ! And jet I liave never done 
 him anything but good ! It comes to this, that we must 
 now either thrash him like a dog, or try to throw him a 
 golden bridge by which he will cross into our camp." 
 
 " Bretagne, Languedoc. in fact the whole kingdom is 
 in league to deal us a mortal blow," said the cardinal. 
 " After the fete was over yesterday I spent the rest 
 of the night in reading the reports sent me hy the 
 monks ; in which I found that the onl}' persons who have 
 compromised themselves are poor gentlemen, artisans, 
 as to whom it does n't signify- whether you hang them 
 or let them live. The Colignys and Condes do not 
 show their hand as yet, though they hold the threads of 
 the whole conspirac}'. 
 
 " Yes," replied the duke, " and, therefore, as soon 
 as that lawyer Avenelles sold the secret of the plot, I 
 told Braguelonne to let the conspirators carry it out. 
 They have no suspicion that we know it ; the}^ are so 
 sure of surprising us that the leaders ma}* possibl}* show 
 themselves then. M}' advice is to allow ourselves to 
 be beaten for fortv-eio^ht hours.'' 
 
 " Half an hour would be too much," cried the car- 
 dinal, alarmed. 
 
 " So this is your courage, is it ? '^ retorted the Balafre. 
 
 The cardinal, quite unmoved, replied : " Whether the 
 Prince de Conde is compromised or not, if we are cer- 
 tain that he is the leader, we should strike him down at 
 once and secure tranquiUity. W^e need judges rather 
 than soldiers for this business — and judges are never 
 lacking. Victor}* is always more certain in the parlia- 
 ment than on the field, and it costs less. 
 
Catherine de' Medici. 127 
 
 I 
 
 ■ '^ I consent, willingly ; *' said the duke ; " but do you 
 
 Hhink the Prince de Conde is powerful enough to in- 
 
 ^Ipire, himself alone, the audacity of those who are 
 
 making this first attack upon us? Is n't there, behind 
 
 him — '* 
 
 '^The king of Navarre," said the cardinal. 
 '^ Pooh ! a fool who speaks to me cap in hand ! '* re- 
 plied the duke. " The coquetries of that Florentine 
 woman seem to blind your eyes — " 
 
 '^Oh! as for that," exclaimed the priest, " if I do 
 pla}^ the gallant with her it is only that I may read to 
 the bottom of her heart." 
 1^ "She has no heart," said the duke, sharply; "she 
 is even more ambitious than 3'ou and I." 
 
 " You are a brave soldier," said the cardinal ; " but, 
 believe me, I distance 3'ou in this matter. I have had 
 Catherine watched by Mar}' Stuart long before 3*ou 
 even suspected her. She has no more religion than 
 my shoe ; if she is not the soul of this plot it is not for 
 want of will. But we shall now be able to test her on 
 the scene itself, and find out then how she stands by 
 us. . Up to this time, however, I am certain she has 
 held no communication whatever with the heretics." 
 
 " Well, it is time now to reveal the whole plot to the 
 king, and to the queen-motiier, who, you say, knows 
 nothing of it, — that is the sole proof of her innocence ; 
 perhaps the conspirators have waited till the last 
 moment, expecting to dazzle her with the probabilities 
 of success. La Renaudie must soon discover by m}' 
 arrangements that we are warned. Last night Ne- 
 mours was to follow detachments of the Reformers who 
 are pouring in along the cross-roads, and the conspira- 
 
 I 
 
128 Catherine de' MedicL 
 
 tors will be forced to attack us at Amboise, which 
 place I intend to let them enter. Here," added the 
 duke, pointing to three sides of the rock on which the 
 chateau de Blois is built ; " we should have an assault 
 without an}^ result ; tlie Huguenots could come and go 
 at will. Blois is an open hall with four entrances ; 
 whereas Amboise is a sack with a single mouth." 
 
 " I shall not leave Catherine's side," said the cardinal. 
 
 " We have made a blunder," remarked the duke, who 
 was playing with his dagger, tossing it in the air and 
 catching it by the hilt. " We ought to have treated her 
 as we did the Reformers, — given her complete freedom 
 of action and caught her in the act." 
 
 The cardinal looked at his brother for an instant and 
 shook his head. 
 
 "What does Pardaillan want?" said the duke, ob- 
 serving the approach of the young nobleman who was 
 later to become celebrated b}' his encounter with La 
 Renaudie, in which they both lost their lives. 
 
 '^ Monseigneur, a man sent b}" the queen's furrier is 
 at the gate, and says he has an ermine suit to convey 
 to her. Am I to let him enter? " 
 
 "Ah ! yes, — the ermine surcoat she spoke of yester- 
 da}'," returned the cardinal ; "let the shop-fellow pass ; 
 she will want the garment for the voyage down the 
 Loire." 
 
 " How did he get here without being stopped until he 
 reached the gate? " asked the duke. 
 
 " I do not know," replied Pardaillan. 
 
 " I Ml ask to see him when he is with t^he queen," 
 thought the Balafre. "Let him wait in the salle des 
 gardes,'' he said aloud. ^^ Is he 3'oung, Pardaillan? " 
 
Catherine de' Medici, 129 
 
 " Yes, monseigneur ; he says he is a son of Lecamiis 
 the furrier/^ 
 
 " Lecanins is a good Catholic/' remarked the cardi- 
 nal, who, like his brother the duke, was endowed with 
 Caesar's raeriiory. "The rector of Saint-Pierre-aux- 
 Boeiifs relies upon him ; he is the provost of that quarter." 
 
 "Nevertheless," said the duke, " make the son talk 
 with the captain of the Scotch guard," laying an em- 
 phasis on the verb which was readily understood. 
 " Ambroise is in the chateau ; he can tell us whether 
 the fellow is really the son of Lecamus, for the old man 
 did him good service in times past. Send for Ambroise 
 Pare." 
 
 It was at this moment that Queen Catherine went, 
 unattended, toward the two brothers, who hastened to 
 meet her with their accustomed show of respect, in which 
 the Italian princess detected constant irony. 
 
 "Messieurs," she said, " will 3'ou deign to inform 
 me of what is about to take place ? Is the widow of 
 your former master of less importance in jour esteem 
 than the Sieurs Vieilleville, Birago, and Chiverni?" 
 
 *' Madame," replied the cardinal, in a tone of gal- 
 lantry, " our duty as men, taking precedence of that 
 of statecraft, forbids us to alarm the fair sex by false 
 reports. But this morning there is indeed good reason 
 to confer with you on the affairs of the country. You 
 must excuse my brother for having already given orders 
 to the gentlemen you mention, — orders which were 
 purely militar}', and therefore did not concern you ; the 
 matters of real importance are still to be decided. If 
 you are willing, we will now go to the lever of the king 
 and queen ; it is nearly time." 
 
 9 
 
130 Catherine cW Medici* 
 
 "But what is all this, Monsieur le due?*' cried 
 Catherine, pretending alarm. '' Is anything the 
 matter? " 
 
 " The Reformation, madame, is no longer a mere 
 heresy ; it is a part}', which has taken arms and is 
 coming here to snatch the king away from 3'ou." 
 
 Catherine, the cardinal, the duke, and the three gen- 
 tlemen made their way to the staircase through the 
 gallery, which was crowded with courtiers who, being 
 off dut}', no longer had the right of entrance to the 
 royal apartments, and stood in two hedges on either 
 side. Gondi, who had watched them while the queen- 
 mother talked with the Lorraine princes, whispered in 
 her ear, in good Tuscan, two words which afterwards 
 became proverbs, — words which are the kej'note to one 
 aspect of her regal character : *' Odiate e aspettate " — 
 " Hate and wait." 
 
 Pardaillan, who had gone to order the officer of the 
 guard at the gate of the chateau to let the clerk of the 
 queen's furrier enter, found Christophe open-mouthed 
 before the portal, staring at the facade built hy the 
 good king Louis XII., on which there was at that time 
 a much greater number of grotesque carvings than we 
 eee there to-da}', — grotesque, that is to sa}', if we may 
 judge by those that remain to us. For instance, 
 persons curious in such matters may remark the figur- 
 ine of a woman carved on the capital of one of the 
 portal columns, with her robe caught up to show to a 
 stout monk crouching in the capital of the correspond- 
 ing column " that which Brunelle showed to Marphise ; " 
 while above this portal stood, at the time of which we 
 write, the statue of Louis XII. Several of the window- 
 
Catherine de* Medici, 131 
 
 casings of this fagade, carved in the same style, and 
 now, unfortunately, destro3'ed, amused, or seemed to 
 amuse Christophe, on whom the arquebusiers of the 
 guard were raining jests. 
 
 ^ " He would like to live there," said the sub-corporal, 
 playing with the cartridges of his weapon, which were 
 prepared for use in the shape of little sugar-loaves, and 
 slung to the baldricks of the men. 
 
 " Hey, Parisian ! " said another; " 3'ou never saw 
 the like of that, did you?" 
 
 " He recognizes the good King Louis XII./' said 
 a third. 
 
 Christophe pretended not to hear, and tried to 
 exaggerate his amazement, the result being that his 
 sill}' attitude and behavior before the guard proved an 
 excellent passport to tiie ej'es of Pardaillan. 
 
 "The queen has not yet risen,'' said the j'oung 
 captain; "come and wait for her in the salle des 
 gardes " 
 
 Christophe followed Pardaillan rather slowl}'. On 
 the wa}' he stopped to admire the pretty gallery in the 
 form of an arcade, where the courtiers of Louis XII. 
 awaited the reception-hour when it rained, and where, 
 at the present moment, were several seigneurs attached 
 to the Guises ; for the staircase (so well preserved to 
 the present da}') which led to their apartments is at 
 the end of this gallery in a tower, the architecture of 
 which commends itself to the admiration of intelligent 
 beholders. 
 
 " Well, well ! did you come here to study tlie carving 
 of images?" cried Pardaillan, as Christophe stopped 
 before the charming sculptures of the balustrade which 
 
132 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 unites, or, if 3'ou prefer it, separates the columns of 
 each arcade. 
 
 Christophe followed the young officer to the grand 
 staircase, not without a glance of ecstasy at the semi- 
 Moorish tower. The weather was fine, and the court 
 was crowded with staff-officers and seigneurs, talking 
 together in little groups, — their dazzling uniforms and 
 court-dresses brightening a spot which the marvels of 
 architecture, then fresh and new, had already made so 
 brilliant. 
 
 '' Come in here," said Pardaillan, making Lecamus a 
 sign to follow him through a carved wooden door lead- 
 ing to the second floor, which the door-keeper opened 
 on recognizing the young officer. 
 
 It is easy to imagine Christophe's amazement as he 
 entered the great salle des gardes^ then so vast that 
 military necessit}' has since divided it hy a partition 
 into two chambers. It occupied on the second floor 
 (that of the king), as did the corresponding hall on the 
 first floor (that of the queen-mother), one third of the 
 whole front of the chateau facing the courtyard ; and it 
 was lighted by two windows to right and two to left of 
 the tower in w^hich the famous staircase winds up. 
 The young captain went to the door of the royal 
 chamber, which opened upon this vast hall, and told 
 one of the two pages on duty to inform Madame Day- 
 elles, the queen's bedchamber woman, that the furrier 
 was in the hall with her surcoat. 
 
 On a sign from Pardaillan Christophe placed himself 
 near an officer, who was seated on a stool at the corner 
 of a fireplace as large as his father's whole shop, which 
 was at the end of the great hall, opposite to a precisely 
 
Catherine de* Medici, 133 
 
 similar fireplace at the other end. While talking to thi^ 
 officer, a lieutenant, he contrived to interest him with 
 an account of the stagnation of trade. Christophe 
 seemed so thoroughly a shopkeeper that the officer 
 imparted that conviction to the captain of the Scotch 
 guard, who came in from the courtyard to question 
 Lecamus, all the while watching him covertly and 
 narrowly. 
 
 However much Christophe Lecamus had been warned, 
 it was impossible for him to really apprehend the cold 
 ferocity of the interests between which Chaudieu had 
 slipped him. To an observer of this scene, who had 
 known the secrets of it as the historian understands 
 it in the light of todav, there was indeed cause 
 to tremble for this young man, — the hope of two 
 families, — thrust between those powerful and pitiless 
 machines, Catherine and the Guises. But do coura- 
 geous beings, as a rule, measure the full extent of their 
 dangers? By the way in which the port of Blois, the 
 chateau, and the town were guarded, Christophe was 
 prepared to find spies and traps everywhere ; and he 
 therefore resolved to conceal the importance of his 
 mission and the tension of his mind under the empty- 
 headed and shopkeeping appearance with which he 
 presented himself to the eyes of 3*oung Pardaillan, the 
 officer of the guard, and the Scottish captain. 
 
 The agitation which, in a royal castle, alwa^'s attends 
 the hour of the king's rising, was beginning to show 
 itself. The great lords, whose horses, pages, or grooms 
 remained in the outer courtyard, — for no one, except 
 the king and the queens, had the right to enter the inner 
 courtyard on horseback, — were mounting b}' groups the 
 
134 Catherine de' Medici, 
 
 pfiagnificent staircase, and filling by degrees the vast 
 hall, the beams of which are now stripped of the deco- 
 rations that then adorned them. Miserable little red 
 tiles have replaced the ingenious mosaics of the floors ; 
 and the thick walls, then draped with the crown tapes- 
 tries and glowing with all the arts of that unique period 
 of the splendors of humanity, are now denuded and 
 whitewashed ! Reformers and Catholics were pressing 
 in to hear the news and to watch faces, quite as 
 much as to pay their duty to the king. Frangois II.'s 
 excessive love for Mary Stuart, to which neither the 
 queen-mother nor the Guises made any opposition, and 
 the politic compliance of Mary Stuart herself, deprived 
 the king of all regal power. At seventeen j^ears of 
 age he knew nothing of ro3'alt3^ but its pleasures, or of 
 marriage beyond the indulgence of first passion. As a 
 matter of fact, all present paid their court to Queen 
 Mary and to her uncles, the Cardinal de Lorraine and 
 the Due de Guise, rather than to the king. 
 
 This stir took place before Christophe, who watched 
 the arrival of each new personage with natural eager- 
 ness. A magnificent portiere, on either side of which 
 stood two pages and two soldiers of the Scotch guard, 
 then on dut}-, showed him the entrance to the royal 
 chamber, — the chamber so fatal to the son of the pres- 
 ent Due de Guise, the second Balafre, who fell at the 
 foot of the bed now occupied by Mary Stuart and P'ran- 
 9ois II. The queen's maids of honor surrounded the 
 fireplace opposite to that where Christophe was being 
 " talked with " by the captain of the guard. This sec- 
 ond fireplace was considered the chhnney of honor. 
 It was built in the thick wall of the Salle de Conseil, 
 
Catherine de^ Medici, 133 
 
 between the door of the royal chamber and that of the 
 council-hall, so that the maids of honor and the lords 
 in waiting who had the right to be there were on the 
 direct passage of the king and queen. The courtiers 
 were certain on this occasion of seeing Catherine, for 
 her maids of honor, dressed like the rest of the court 
 ladies, in black, came up the staircase from the queen- 
 mother's apartment, and took their places, marshalled 
 by the Comtesse de Fiesque, on the side toward the 
 council-hall and opposite to the maids of honor of the 
 3'oung queen, led by the Duchesse de Guise, who occu- 
 pied the other side of the fireplace on the side of the 
 royal bedroom. The courtiers left an open space be- 
 tween the ranks of these 3'oung ladies (who all belonged 
 to the first families of the kingdom), which none but the 
 greatest lords had the right to enter. The Comtesse de 
 Fiesque and the Duchesse de Guise w^ere, in virtue of 
 their office, seated in the midst of these noble maids, 
 who were all standing. 
 
 The first gentleman who approached the dangerous 
 ranks was tlie Due d'Orleans, the king's brother, who had 
 come down from his apartment on the third floor, ac- 
 companied by Monsieur de Cypierre, his governor. This 
 young prince, destined before the end of the year to 
 reign under the title of Charles IX., was only ten years 
 old and extremely timid. The Due d'Anjou and the 
 Due d'Alengon, his 3'ounger brothers, also thePrincesse 
 Marguerite, afterwards the wife of Henri IV. (la Reine 
 Margot), were too young to come to court, and were 
 therefore kept by their mother in her own apartments. 
 The Due d'Orleans, richly dressed after the fashion of 
 the times, in silken trunk-hose, a close-fitting jacket of 
 
136 Catherine de' Medici, 
 
 cloth of gold embroidered with black flowers, and a 
 little mantle of embroidered velvet, all black, for he 
 still wore mourning for his father, bowed to the two 
 ladies of honor and took his place beside his mother's 
 maids. Alread}^ full of antipathy for the adherents 
 of the house of Guise, he replied coldly to the remarks 
 of the duchess and leaned his arm on the back of the 
 chair of the Comtesse cle Fiesque. His governor. Mon- 
 sieur de Cypierre, one of the noblest characters of that 
 day, stood beside him like a shield. Amyot (afterwards 
 Bishop of Auxerre and translator of Plutarch), in the 
 simple soutane of an abbe, also accompanied the young 
 prince, being his tutor, as he was of the two other 
 princes, whose affection became so profitable to him. 
 
 Between the " cliimne}' of honor " and the other 
 chimney at the end of the hall, around which were 
 grouped the guards, their captain, a few courtiers, and 
 Christophe carrying his box of furs, the Chancellor 
 Olivier, protector and predecessor of I'Hopital, in the 
 robes which the chancellors of France have always 
 worn, was walking up and down with the Cardinal de 
 Tournon, who had recentl}' returned from Rome. The 
 pair were exchanging a few whispered sentences in the 
 midst of great attention from the lords of the court, 
 massed against the wall which separated the salle des 
 gardes from the ro3'al bedroom, like a living tapestry 
 hacked bj' the rich tapestr}' of art crowded b}^ a thousand 
 personages. In spite of the present grave events, the 
 court presented the appearance of all courts in all lands, 
 at all epochs, and in the midst of the greatest dangers. 
 The courtiers talked of trivial matters, thinking of seri- 
 ous ones ; they jested as thej' studied faces, and appar- 
 
Catherine de' 3f edict. 137 
 
 entlv concerned themselves about love and the marriaore 
 ^^^f rich heiresses amid the bloodiest catastrophes. 
 ^ " What did you think of j'esterdaj^'s fete ? " asked 
 ^Bourdeilles, seigneur of Brantome, approaching Made- 
 Hpioiselle de Fiennes, one of the queen-mother's maids of 
 "honor. 
 
 ^' Messieurs du Baif et du Bellay were inspired with 
 delightful ideas," she replied, indicating the organizers 
 of the fete, who were standing near. " I thought it 
 all in the worst taste,*' she added in a low voice. 
 
 "You had no part to play in it, I think?" remarked 
 Mademoiselle de Lewiston from the opposite ranks of 
 ■Queen Mary's maids. 
 
 "What are 3'oa reading there, madame?" asked 
 Amj'ot of the Comtesse de Fiesque. 
 
 " ' Amadis de Gaule,* by the Seigneur des Essarts, 
 commissary in ordinary to the king's artillery," she 
 replied. 
 
 "A charming work," remarked the beautiful girl who 
 was afterwards so celebrated under the name of Fos- 
 seuse when she was lady of honor to Queen Marguerite 
 of Navarre. 
 
 " The style is a novelty in form," said Amyot. "Do 
 you accept such barbarisms?" he added, addressing 
 Brantome. 
 
 "They please the ladies, 3'ou know," cried Brantome, 
 crossing over to the Duchesse de Guise, who held 
 the " Decamerone " in her hand. ^- Some of the women 
 of your house must appear in that book, madame," 
 he said. "It is a pity that the Sieur Boccaccio did 
 not live in our day ; he would have known plenty 
 of ladies to swell his volume — " 
 
138 Catherine de' Medici, 
 
 "How shrewd that Monsieur de Bran tome is," said 
 the beautiful Mademoiselle de Limueil to the Comtesse 
 de Fiesque ; "he came to us first, but he means to 
 remain in the Guise quarters." 
 
 "Hush!" said Madame de Fiesque glancing at the 
 beautiful Limueil. "Attend to what concerns your- 
 self." 
 
 The 3^oung girl turned her e^'es to the door. Slie 
 was expecting Sardini, a noble Italian, with whom the 
 queen-mother, her relative, married her after an " acci- 
 dent '* which happened in the dressing-room of Cather- 
 ine de' Medici herself; by which the 3'oung lady won 
 the honor of having a queen as midwife. 
 
 " By the hol}^ Alipantin ! Mademoiselle Davila seems 
 to me prettier and prettier everj^ morning,'^ said Mon- 
 sieur de Robertet, secretary of State, bowing to the 
 ladies of the queen-mother. 
 
 The arrival of the secretary of State made no com- 
 motion whatever, though his office was precisely what 
 that of a minister is in these da3's. 
 
 " If you reallj' think so, monsieur," said the beaut}', 
 " lend me the squib which was written against the 
 Messieurs de Guise ; I know it was lent to you." 
 
 "It is no longer in my possession," replied the sec- 
 retar}', turning round to bow to the Duchesse de 
 Guise. 
 
 " I have it," said the Comte de Grammont to Made- 
 moiselle Davila, " but I will give it you on one condi- 
 tion onh\" 
 
 " Condition ! fie ! " exclaimed Madame de Fiesque. 
 
 ^' You don't know what it is," replied Grammont. 
 
 *' Oh ! it is CIS}' to guess," remarked la Limueil. 
 
I 
 
 Catherine de' Medici. 139 
 
 The Italian custom of calling ladies, as peasants call 
 their wives ^^ la Such-a-one'' was then the fashion at 
 the court of France. 
 
 " You are mistaken," said the count, hastily, " the 
 matter simply is to give a letter from my cousin de 
 Jarnac to one of the maids on the other side, Made- 
 moiselle de Matha." 
 
 "You must not compromise my young ladies,'' said 
 the Comtesse de Fiesque. '' I will deliver the letter 
 myself. — Do j'ou know what is happening in Flan- 
 ders?^' she continued, turning to the Cardinal de Tour- 
 non. '^ It seems that Monsieur d'Egmont is given to 
 surprises." 
 
 '' He and the Prince of Orange," remarked Cypierre, 
 with a significant shrug of his shoulders. 
 
 "The Duke of Alba and Cardinal Granvelle are 
 going there, are they not, monsieur?" said Amyot 
 to the Cardinal de Tournon, who remained standing, 
 gloomy and anxious between the opposing groups after 
 his conversation with the chancellor. 
 
 ''Happil}^ we are at peace; we need only conquer 
 heres}^ on the stage," remarked the young Due d'Orleans, 
 alluding to a part he had played the night before, — that 
 of a knight subduing a hydra which bore upon its fore- 
 heads the word '' Reformation." 
 
 Catherine de' Medici, agreeing in this with her 
 daughter-in-law, had allowed a theatre to be made of 
 the great hall (afterwards arranged for the Parliament 
 of Blois), which, as we have already said, connected the 
 chateau of Francois I. with that of Louis XII. 
 
 The cardinal made no answer to Amyot's question, 
 but resumed his walk through the centre of the hall, 
 
140 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 talking in low tones with Monsieur de Robertet and 
 the chancellor. Many persons are ignorant of the 
 difficulties which secretaries of State (subsequently 
 called ministers) met with at tlie first establishment of 
 their office, and hovv much trouble the kings of France 
 had in creating it. At this epoch a secretary of State 
 like Robertet was purely and simply a writer ; he 
 counted for almost nothing among the princes and 
 grandees who decided the affairs of State. His func- 
 tions were little more than those of the superinten- 
 dent of finances, the chancellor, and the keeper of the 
 seals. The kings granted seats at the council by 
 letters-patent to those of their subjects whose advice 
 seemed to them useful in the management of public 
 affairs. Entrance to the council was given in this wa}^ 
 to a president of the Chamber of Parliament, to a 
 bishop, or to an untitled favorite. Once admitted 
 to the council, the subject strengthened his position 
 there bv obtaininoj various crown offices on which 
 devolved such prerogatives as the sword of a Constable, 
 the government of provinces, the grand-mastership of 
 artillery', the baton of a marshal, a leading rank in the 
 arm}', or the admiralty, or a captainc}^ of the galle3's, 
 often some office at court, like that of grand -master of 
 the household, now held, as we have already said, by 
 the Due de Guise. 
 
 " Do 3'ou think that the Due de IN'emours will marry 
 FrauQoise ? " said Madame de Guise to the tutor of the 
 Due d'Orleans. 
 
 "Ah, madame," he replied, "I know nothing but 
 Latin." 
 
 This answer made all who were within hearing of it 
 
I 
 
 Catherine de' Medici. 141 
 
 ic 
 
 smile. The seduction of FraiiQoise de Eolian by the 
 lie de Nemours was the topic of all conversations ; 
 ut, as the duke was cousin to FrauQois II., and doubly 
 allied to the house of Valois through his mother, the 
 Guises regarded him more as the seduced than the 
 seducer. Nevertheless, the power of the house of 
 Rohan was such that the Due de Nemours was obliged, 
 after the death of Francois II. , to leave France in con- 
 sequence of suits brought against him by the Rohans ; 
 which suits the Guises settled. The duke's marriage 
 with the Duchesse de Guise after Poltrot's assassination 
 of her husband in 1563, ma}^ explain the question which 
 he put to Amyot, by revealing the rivalry which must 
 ave existed between Mademoiselle de Rohan and the 
 uchess. 
 
 " Do see that group of the discontented over there?" 
 aid the Comte de Grammont, motioning toward the 
 ilessieurs de Coligny, the Cardinal de Chatillon, Dan- 
 ille, Thore, Moret, and several ot^r seigneurs sus- 
 pected of tampering with the Reformation, who were 
 standing between two windows on the other side of the 
 fireplace. ^ ^ 
 
 "The Huguenots are bestirring themselves," said 
 Cypierre. '* We know that Theodore de Beze has gone 
 to Nerac to induce the Queen of Navarre to declare for 
 the Reformers — b}' abjuring publicly," he added, look- 
 ing at the hailli of Orleans, who held the office of chan- 
 cellor to the Queen of Navarre, and was watching the 
 court attentively. 
 
 '^ She will do it ! " said the hailli^ dr}'!}'. 
 This personage, the Orleans Jacques Cceur, one of 
 the richest burghers of the da}', was named Groslot, 
 
 I 
 
142 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 and had charge of Jeanne d'Albret's business with the 
 court of France. 
 
 "Do 3'ou really think so?" said the chancellor of 
 France, appreciating the full importance of Groslot's 
 declaration. 
 
 "Are you not aware," said the burgher, "that the 
 Queen of Navarre has nothing of the woman in her 
 except sex ? She is wholl}' for things virile ; her power- 
 ful mind turns to the great affairs of State ; her heart 
 is invincible under adversitv." 
 
 "Monsieur le cardinal," whispered the Chancelier 
 Olivier to Monsieur de Tournon, who had overheard 
 Groslot, "what do you think of that audacit}'?" 
 
 " The Queen of Navarre did well in choosing for her 
 chancellor a man from whom the house of Lorraine 
 borrows money, and who offers his house to the king, 
 if his Majesty visits Orleans," replied the cardinal. 
 
 The chancellor and the cardinal looked at each 
 other, without venturing to further communicate their 
 thoughts ; but Robertet expressed them, for he thought 
 it necessary to show more devotion to the Guises than 
 these great personages, inasmuch as he was smaller 
 than the}'. 
 
 " It is a great misfortune that the house of Navarre, 
 instead of abjuring the religion of its fathers, does not 
 abjure the spirit of vengeance and rebellion which the 
 Connetable de Bourbon breathed into it," he said aloud. 
 " We shall see the quarrels of the Armagnacs and the 
 Bourguignons revive in our da}'." 
 
 "No," said Groslot, "there's another Louis XL in 
 the Cardinal de Lorraine." 
 
 " And also in Queen Catherine," replied Robertet. 
 
Catherine de' Medici, 143 
 
 tAt this moment Madame Daj-elle, the favorite bed- 
 hamber woman of Queen Maiy Stuart, crossed the 
 hall, and went toward the royal chamber. Her pas- 
 sage caused a. general commotion. 
 
 " We shall soon enter," said Madame de Fiesque. 
 '* I don't think so," replied the Duchesse de Guise. 
 " Their Majesties will come out ; a grand council is to 
 be held." 
 
144 Catherijie de* Medici. 
 
 VI. 
 
 THE LITTLE LEVER OF FRANCOIS II. 
 
 Madame Dayelle glided into the iwal' chamber 
 after scratching on the door, — a respectful custom, 
 invented by Catherine de' Medici and adopted by the 
 court of France. 
 
 '' How is the weather, my dear Dayelle?" said Queen 
 Mary, showing her fresh 3'oung face out of the bed, and 
 shaking the curtains. 
 
 ' ' Ah ! madame — " 
 
 ''What's the matter, my Da3'elle ? You look as if 
 the archers of the guard were after you." 
 
 " Oh ! madame, is the king still asleep?" 
 
 ''Yes." 
 
 " We are to leave the chateau ; Monsieur le cardinal 
 requests me to tell 3'ou so, and to ask you to make the 
 king agree to it." 
 
 "• Do you know why, m}' good Dayelle?" 
 
 "• The Reformers want to seize you and carry 
 you off." 
 
 "Ah I that new religion does not leave me a minute's 
 peace ! I dreamed last night that I was in prison, — 
 I, who will some day unite the crowns of the three 
 noblest kingdoms in the world ! " 
 
 " Therefore it could be only a dream, madame." 
 
I 
 
 ■ 
 
 Catherine de' Medici. 145 
 
 '^ Carry m^ off! well, 'twould be rather pleasant ; but 
 on account of religion, and by heretics — oh, that would 
 be horrid ! " 
 
 The queen sprang from the bed and placed herself 
 in a large arm-chair of red velvet before the fireplace, 
 after Davelle had j^iven her a dressin2f-«:own of black 
 velvet, which she fastened looseh' round her waist by a 
 silken cord. Dayelle lit the fire, for the mornings are 
 cool on the banks of the Loire in the month of May. 
 
 ''My uncles must have received some news during 
 the night?" said the queen, inquiringly to Daj'elle, 
 whom she treated with great familiarity. 
 
 "Messieurs de Guise have been walking toscether 
 from early morning on the terrace, so as not to be over- 
 heard by any one ; and there the}' received messengers, 
 who came in hot haste from all the different points of 
 the kingdom where the Reformers are stirring. Madame 
 la reine mere was there too, with her Italians, hoping she 
 would be consulted ; but no, she was not admitted to 
 the council.'^ 
 
 " She must have been furious." 
 
 " All the more because she was so angrj' j'esterda}-," 
 replied Dayelle. ''They say that when she saw your 
 Majesty appear in that beautiful dress of woven gold, 
 with the charming veil of tan-colored crape, she was 
 none too pleased — " 
 
 " Leave us, m}^ good Dayelle, the king is waking up. 
 Let no one, even those who have the little entrees., 
 disturb us ; an affair of State is in hand, and my uncles 
 will not disturb us." 
 
 ''Why! my dear Mary, already out of bed? Is it 
 daylight?" said the young king, waking up. 
 
 10 
 
146 Catherine de^ Medici. 
 
 " My dear darling, while we were asleep the wicked 
 waked, and now they are forcing us to leave this 
 delightful place." 
 
 " What makes you think of wicked people, vc\y 
 treasure? I am sure we enjoyed the prettiest fete in 
 the world last night — if it were not for the Latin words 
 those gentlemen will put into our French." 
 
 '' Ah ! " said Mary, "3'our language is really in xevy 
 good taste, and Rabelais exhibits it finely." 
 
 "You are such a learned woman! I am so vexed 
 that I can't sing your praises in verse. If I were not 
 the king, I would take m}' brothers tutor, Am3'ot, and 
 let him make me as accomplished as Charles." 
 
 " You need not env}' your brother, who writes verses 
 and shows them to me, asking for mine in return. You 
 are the best of the four, and will make as good a king 
 as 3'ou are the dearest of lovers. Perhaps that is why 
 your mother does not like 3'ou ! But never mind ! I, 
 dear heart, will love vou for all the world." 
 
 "I have no great merit in loving such a perfect 
 queen," said the little king. " I don't know what 
 prevented me from kissing 3'ou before the whole court 
 when 3'ou danced the hranle with the torches last 
 night ! I saw plainly that all the other women were 
 mere servants compared to you, my beautiful Mary." 
 
 " It ma}' be onh' prose you speak, but it is ravishing 
 speech, dear darling, for it is love that sa3's those 
 words. And you — 3'ou know well, my beloved, that 
 were you onl}' a poor little page, I should love 3'ou as 
 much as I do now. And yet, there is nothing so sweet 
 as to whisper to one's self: ' My lover is king ! ' " 
 
 "Oh! the pretty arm! Wh3' must we dress our- 
 
I 
 
 I 
 
 Catherine de^ Medici, 147 
 
 selves ? I love to pass my fingers though 3'onr silk}' 
 hair and tangle its blond curls. Ah 9a ! sweet one, 
 don't let 3'our women kiss that prett}' throat and those 
 white shoulders an}' more ; don't allow it, I sa}'. It is 
 too much that the fogs of Scotland ever touched them ! " 
 
 " Won't vou come with me to see mv dear country? 
 The Scotch love 3'ou ; there are no rebellions there ! " 
 
 " Who rebels in this our kingdom ? '' said Francois, 
 crossing his dressing-gown and taking Mary Stuart on 
 his knee. 
 
 " Oh ! 'tis all verj' charming, I know that," she said, 
 withdrawing her cheek from the king; '' but it is your 
 business to reign, if you please, my sweet sire." 
 
 " Why talk of reigning? This morning I wish — " 
 
 " Wh}^ say wish when 3-0U have only to will all? 
 That 's not the speech of a king, nor that of a lover. — 
 But no more of love just now ; let us drop it ! We 
 have business more important to talk of." 
 
 " Oh ! cried the king, ''it is long since we have had 
 any business. Is it amusing? " 
 
 " No," said Mary, '' not at all ; we are to move from 
 Blois." 
 
 " I'll wager, darling, you have seen 3'our uncles, who 
 manage so well that I, at seventeen 3'ears of age, am 
 no better than a roi faineant. In fact, I don't know 
 wh}' I have attended an}' of the couficils since the first. 
 They could manage matters just as well by putting the 
 crown in my chair ; I see only through their eyes, and 
 am forced to consent to things blindly." 
 
 ^'Oh! monsieur," said the queen, rising from the 
 king's knee with a little air of indignation, "you said 
 you would never worry me again on this subject, and 
 
148 Catherine de' Medici, 
 
 that my uncles used the royal power only for the good of 
 your people. Your people ! — they are so nice ! Thej^ 
 would gobble you up like a strawberry if you tried to 
 rule them yourself. They want a warrior, a rough mas- 
 ter with mailed hands ; whereas you — you are a dar- 
 ling whom I love as you are ; whom I should never love 
 otherwise, — do you hear me, monsieur?" she added, 
 kissing the forehead of the lad, who seemed inclined to 
 rebel at her speech, but softened at her kisses. 
 
 " Oh ! how I wish the}^ were not your uncles," cried 
 Francois II. '^ I particularly dislike the cardinal ; and 
 when he puts on his wheedling air and his submissive 
 manner and says to me, bowing : ' Sire, the honoi* of 
 the crown and the faith of your fathers forbid your 
 Majesty to — this and that,' I am sure he is working 
 only for his cursed house of Lorraine." 
 
 '' Oh, how well 3'ou mimicked him ! '' cried the 
 queen. "But why don't you make the Guises inform 
 3'OU of what is going on, so that when 3'ou attain your 
 grand majority you may know how to reign 3^ourself? 
 I am 3'our wife, and your honor is mine. Trust me ! 
 we will reign together, m3' darling ; but it won't be a 
 bed of roses for us until the da3' comes when we have 
 our own wills. There is nothing so difficult for a king 
 as to reign. Am I a queen, for example? Don't you 
 know that your mother returns me evil for all the good 
 m3^ uncles do to raise the splendor of 3'our throne? 
 He3' ! what difference between them ! M3' uncles are 
 great princes, nephews of Charlemagne, filled with ar- 
 dor and read3' to die for 3'ou ; whereas this daughter 
 of a doctor or a shopkeeper, queen of France by acci- 
 dent, scolds like a burgher-woman who can't manage 
 
I 
 
 I 
 
 Catherine de' Medici. 149 
 
 her own household. She is discontented because she 
 can't set every one b}- the ears ; and then she looks at 
 me with a sour, pale face, and says from her pinched 
 lips : ' My daughter, you are the queen ; I am only the 
 second woman in the kingdom ' (she is really furious, 
 you know, my darling), ' but if I were in 3*our place I 
 should not wear crimson velvet while all the court is in 
 mourning ; neither should I appear in i)ublic with my 
 own hair and no jewels, because what is not becoming 
 in a simple lady is still less becoming in a queen. Also 
 I should not dance myself, I should content myself with 
 seeins: others dance/ — That's what she savsto me — " 
 
 "Heavens!*^ cried the king, ''I think I hear her 
 coming. " If she were to know — " 
 
 " Oh, how 3 ou tremble before her. She worries you. 
 Only sa}' so, and we will send her away. Faith, she 's 
 Florentine and we can't help her tricking 3'ou, but when 
 it comes to worrying — " 
 
 " For Heaven's sake, Mary, hold 3'our tongue ! " said 
 Franqois, frightened and also pleased ; " I don't want 
 you to lose her good-will." 
 
 " Don't be afraid that she will ever break with m^, 
 who will some da}' wear the three noblest crowns in the 
 w^orld, my dearest little king," cried Mary Stuart. 
 *' Though she hates me for a thousand reasons she is 
 always caressing me in the hope of turning me against 
 Tt\y uncles." 
 
 " Hates you!" 
 
 " Yes, m}' angel ; and if I had not proofs of that feel- 
 ing such as women only understand, for the\' alone know 
 its malignit}', I would forgive her perpetual opposition 
 to our dear love, my darling. Is it m}* fault that 3'our 
 
150 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 father could not endure Mademoiselle Medici or that 
 his son loves me? The truth is, she hates me so much 
 that if you had not put 3'ourself into a rage, we should 
 each have had our separate chamber at Saint-Germain, 
 and also here. She pretended it was the custom of the 
 kings and queens of France. Custom, indeed ! it was 
 your father's custom, and that is easily understood. As 
 for your grandfather, Fran9ois, the good man set up 
 the custom for the convenience of his loves. Therefore, 
 I say, take care. And if we have to leave this place, 
 be sure that we are not separated." 
 
 "Leave Blois ! Mary, what do 3'ou mean? I don't 
 wish to leave this beautiful chateau, where we can see 
 the Loire and the country all round us, with a town at 
 our feet and all these pretty gardens. If I go away it 
 will be to Italy with you, to see St. Peter's, and Raffa- 
 elle's pictures." 
 
 ** And the orange-trees ? Oh ! my darling king, if 
 5'ou knew the longing 3'our Mary has to ramble among 
 the orange-groves in fruit and flower ! " 
 
 " Let us go, then ! " cried the king. 
 
 " Go ! " exclaimed the grand- master as he entered the 
 room. " Yes, sire, 3'ou must leave Blois. Pardon my 
 boldness in entering 3'our chamber ; but circumstances 
 are stronger than etiquette, and I come to entreat you 
 to hold a council." 
 
 Finding themselves thus surprised, Mar3'' and Fran- 
 cois hastil3' separated, and on their faces was the same 
 expression of offended royal majest3'. 
 
 '^ You are too much of a grand-master, Monsieur de 
 Guise," said the king, though controlling his anger. 
 
 '' The devil take lovers," murmured the cardinal in 
 Catherine's ear. 
 
Catherine de' Medici, 151 
 
 " My son," said the queen-mother, appearing behind 
 the cardinal; ''it is a matter concerning your safety 
 and that of your kingdom." 
 
 " Heresy wakes while you have slept, sire," said the 
 cardinal. 
 
 " Withdraw into the hall," cried the little king, '' and 
 then we will hold a council." 
 
 " Madame," said the grand-master to the young 
 queen ; "the son of your furrier has brought some furs, 
 which are just in time for the journey, for it is probable 
 we shall sail down the Loire. But," he added, turning 
 to the queen-mother, " he also wishes to speak to 3'ou, 
 madame. While the king dresses, you and Madame la 
 reine had better see and dismiss him, so that we may 
 not be dela^^ed and harassed by this trifle." ^ 
 
 *^ Certainly," said Catherine, thinking to herself, *' If 
 he expects to get rid of me by any such trick he little 
 knows me." 
 
 The cardinal and the duke withdrew, leaving the two 
 queens and the king alone together. As they crossed 
 the salle des gardes to enter the council-chamber, the 
 grand-master told the usher to bring the queen's furrier 
 to him. When Christophe saw the usher approaching 
 from the farther end of the great hall, he took him, 
 on account of his uniform, for some great personage, 
 and his heart sank within him. But that sensation, 
 natural as it was at the approach of the critical moment, 
 grew terrible when the usher, whose movement had 
 attracted the ejes of all that brilliant assembly' upon 
 Christophe, his homely face and his bundles, said to 
 him : — 
 
 *' Messeigneurs the Cardinal de Lorraine and the 
 
 ■ 
 
152 Gather ine de* Medici, 
 
 Grand- master wish to speak to 3'ou in the council 
 chamber." 
 
 *• Can I have been betrayed ? " thought the helpless 
 ambassador of tlie Reformers. 
 
 Cliristophe followed tlie usher with lowered e^^es, 
 which he did not raise till be stood in the great council- 
 chamber, the size of which is almost equal to that of 
 the salle des gardes. The two Lorrain princes were 
 there alone, standing before the magnificent fireplace, 
 which backs against that in the salle des gardes around 
 which the ladies of the two queens were grouped. 
 
 ^' You have come from Paris ; which route did 3'ou 
 take?" said the cardinal. 
 
 "I came by water, inonseigneur,'* replied the re- 
 former. 
 
 "How did you enter Blois?'* asked the grand- 
 master. 
 
 " By the docks, monseigneur." 
 
 "Did no one question you?" exclaimed the duke, 
 who was watching the 3'oung man closely. 
 
 " No, monseigneur. To the first soldier who looked 
 as if he meant to stop me I said I came on duty to the 
 two queens, to whom my father was furrier." 
 
 " What is happening in Paris? " asked the cardinal. 
 
 " They are still looking for the murderer of the 
 President Minard." 
 
 "Are you not the son of my surgeon*s greatest 
 friend? '' said the Due de Guise, misled by the candor of 
 Christophers expression after his first alarm had passed 
 away. 
 
 "Yes, monseigneur." 
 
 The Grand-master turned aside, abruptl}' raised the 
 
Catherine de' Medici, 153 
 
 portiere which concealed the double door of the council- 
 chamber, and showed his face to the whole assembly, 
 among whom he was searching for the king's surgeon. 
 Ambroise Pare, standing in a corner, caught a glance 
 which the duke cast upon him, and immediate!}' ad- 
 vanced. Ambroise, who at this time was inclined to 
 the reformed religion, eventually adopted it ; but the 
 friendship of the Guises and that of the kings of 
 France guaranteed him against the evils which over- 
 took his co-religionists. The duke, who considered 
 himself under obligations for life to Ambroise Pare, had 
 lately caused him to be appointed chief-surgeon to the 
 king. 
 
 ''What is it, monseigneur?" said Ambroise. "Is 
 the king ill? I think it likely.'' 
 
 ^* Likely? Why?" 
 
 " The queen is too pretty," replied the surgeon. 
 
 " Ah ! " exclaimed the duke in astonishment. " How- 
 ever, that is not the matter now," he added after a 
 pause. " Ambroise, I want you to see a friend of 
 yours." So saving he drew him to the door of the 
 council-room and showed him Christophe. 
 
 **Ha! true, monseigneur," cried the surgeon, extend- 
 ing his hand to the young furrier. " How is your 
 father, my lad ? " 
 
 ''Very well, Maitre Ambroise," replied Christophe. 
 
 "What are you doing at court?" asked the sur- 
 geon. ** It is not your business to carry parcels ; 3'our 
 father intends you for the law. Do 3'ou want the pro- 
 tection of these two great princes to make you a 
 solicitor." 
 
 " Indeed I do ! " said Christophe; "but I am here 
 
 I 
 
154 Catherine de* Medici, 
 
 only in the interests of m}- father ; and if 3-011 could 
 intercede for us, please do so,-' he added in a piteous 
 tone ; "and ask the Grand Master for an order to pa}^ 
 certain sums that are due to my father, for he is at his 
 wit's end just now for money.*' 
 
 The cardinal and the duke glanced at each other and 
 seemed satisfied. 
 
 ''Now leave us," said the duke to the surgeon, mak- 
 ing him a sign. "And you my friend," turning to 
 Christophe ; "do 3'our errand quickly and return to 
 Paris. My secretary will give you a pass, for it is not 
 safe, mordieu, to be travelling on tlie high-roads ! " 
 
 Neither of the brothers formed the slightest suspicion 
 of the grave importance of Christophers errand, con- 
 vinced, as the}" now were, that he was really the son of 
 the good Catholic Lecamus, the court furrier, sent to 
 collect pa3'ment for their wares. 
 
 "Take him close to the door of the queen's chamber ; 
 she will probabl}- ask for him soon," said the cardinal 
 to the surgeon, motioning to Christophe. 
 
 While the son of the furrier was undergoing this 
 brief examination in the council-chamber, the king, 
 leaving the queen in compan3- with her mother-in-law, 
 had passed into his dressing-room, which was entered 
 through another small room next to the chamber. 
 
 Standing in the wide recess of an immense window, 
 Catherine looked at the gardens, her mind a prey to 
 painful thoughts. She saw that in all probabilit3' one 
 of the greatest captains of the age would be foisted 
 that very da3' into the place and power of her son, the 
 king of France, under tlie formidable title of lieutenant- 
 general of the kingdom. Before this peril she stood 
 
i 
 
 Catherine de' Medici. 15^ 
 
 alone, without power of action, without defence. She 
 might have been likened to a phantom, as she stood 
 there in her mourning garments (which she had not 
 quitted since the death of Henri II.), so motionless 
 was her pallid face in the grasp of her bitter reflections. 
 Her black eyes floated in that species of indecision for 
 which great statesmen are so often blamed, though it 
 comes from the vast extent of the glance with which 
 they embrace all difficulties, — setting one against the 
 other, and adding up, as it were, all chances before 
 deciding on a course. Her ears rang, her blood tingled, 
 and yet she stood there calm and dignified, all the 
 while measuring in her soul the depths of the political 
 abyss which lay before her, like the natural depths 
 which rolled away at her feet. This day was the 
 second of those terrible da3's (that of the arrest of the 
 Vidame of Chartres having been the first) which she 
 was destined to meet in so r^rreat numbers throusfhout 
 her regal life ; it also witnessed her last blunder in the 
 school of power. Though the sceptre seemed escaping 
 from her hands, she wished to seize it; and she did 
 seize it by a flash of that power of will which was 
 never relaxed by either the disdain of her father-in-law, 
 Francois I., and his court, — where, in spite of her rank 
 of dauphiness, she had been of no account, — or the 
 constant repulses of her husband, Henri II., and the 
 terrible opposition of her rival, Diane de Poitiers. A 
 man would never have fathomed this thwarted queen ; 
 but the fair-haired Mar}^ — so subtle, so clever, so 
 girlish, and already so well-trained — examined her out 
 of the corners of her eyes as she hummed an Italian air 
 and assumed a careless countenance. Without beinsr 
 
 i 
 
156 Catherine de^ Medici. 
 
 able to guess the storms of repressed ambition which 
 sent the dew of a cold sweat to the forehead of the 
 Florentine, the pretty Scotch girl, with her wilful, 
 piquant face, knew ver}' well that the advancement of 
 her uncle the Due de Guise to the lieutenant-general- 
 ship of the kingdom was filling the queen-mother with 
 inward rage. Nothing amused her more than to watch 
 her mother-in-law, in whom she saw onl}' an intriguing 
 woman of low birth, alwa3's read}' to avenge herself. 
 The face of the one was grave and gloom}-, and some- 
 what terrible, b}^ reason of the livid tones which trans- 
 form the skin of Italian women to 3'ellow ivory by 
 daylight, though it recovers its dazzling brilliancy under 
 candlelight ; the face of the other was fair and fresh and 
 ga}^ At sixteen, Marj* Stuart's skin had that exquisite 
 blond whiteness which made her beauty so celebrated. 
 Her fresh and piquant face, with its pure lin^s, shone 
 with the roguish mischief of childhood, expressed in 
 the regular eyebrows, the vivacious e3'es, and the arch- 
 ness of the pretty mouth. Alread}' she displayed those 
 feline graces which nothing, not even captivity nor the 
 sight of her dreadful scaffold, could lessen. The two 
 queens — one at the dawn, the other in the midsum- 
 mer of life — presented at this moment the utmost 
 contrast. Catherine was an imposing queen, an im- 
 penetrable widow, without other passion than that of 
 power. Mar}- was a light-hearted, careless bride, making 
 pla3'things of her triple crowns. One foreboded great 
 evils, — foreseeing the assassination of the Guises as the 
 only means of suppressing enemies who were resolved 
 to rise above the Throne and the Parliament ; foreseeing 
 also the bloodshed of a long and bitter struggle; while 
 
Catherine cW Medici. 157 
 
 the other little anticipated her own judicial murder. 
 A sudden and straime reflection calmed the mind of 
 the Italian. 
 
 " That sorceress and Ruggiero both declare this reign 
 is coming to an end ; m}^ difficulties will not last long/' 
 she thought. 
 
 And so, strangely enough, an occult science forgotten 
 in our day — that of astrology — supported Catherine 
 at this moment, as it did, in fact, throughout her life ; 
 for, as she witnessed the minute fulfilment of the 
 prophecies of those who practised the art, her belief in 
 it steadil}' increased. 
 
 "You are very gloom}', madame," said Mary Stuart, 
 taking from the hands of her waiting-woman, Da^'elle, 
 a little cap and placing the point of it on the parting 
 of her hair, while two wings of rich lace surrounded the 
 tufts of blond curls which clustered on her temples. 
 
 The pencil of many painters have so frequently 
 represented this head-dress that it is thought to have 
 belonged exclusively to Mary Queen of Scots ; whereas 
 it was really invented by Catherine de' Medici, when 
 she put on mourning for Henri II. But she never 
 knew how to wear it with the grace of her daughter- 
 in-law, to whom it was becoming. This annoyance was 
 not the least among the many which the queen-mother 
 cherished against the young queen. 
 
 "Is the queen reproving me?" said Catherine, 
 turning to Mar3\ 
 
 " I owe you all respect, and should not dare to do 
 so," said the Scotish queen, maliciousl}-, glancing at 
 Dayelle. 
 
 Placed between the rival queens, the favorite waiting- 
 
158 Catlicrlne de' Medici, 
 
 •womjin stood rigid as an andiron ; a smile of comprehen- 
 sion might have cost her her life. 
 
 '' Can I be as ga}' as 3'ou, after losing the late king, 
 and now beholding my son's kingdom about to burst 
 into flames?'* 
 
 " Public affairs do not concern women," said Mary 
 Stuart. " Besides, ni}* uncles are there." 
 
 These words were, under the circumstances, like so 
 many poisoned arrows. 
 
 *^ Let us look at our furs, madame," replied the Ital- 
 ian, sarcastically-; ''that will emplo}' us on our legiti- 
 mate female affairs while ^our uncles decide those of 
 the kingdom." 
 
 ''Oh! but we will go to the Council, madame; we 
 shall be more useful than you think." 
 
 " We ! " said Catherine, with an air of astonishment. 
 " But I do not understand Latin, myself" 
 
 " You think me verj- learned," cried Mary Stuart, 
 laughing, " but I assure 3'ou, madame, I studj' onl}' to 
 reach the level of the Medici, and learn how to cure 
 the wounds of the kingdom." 
 
 Catherine was silenced by this sharp thrust, which 
 referred to the origin of the Medici, who were descended, 
 some said, from a doctor of medicine, others from a rich 
 dru2fo;ist. She made no direct answer. Davelle colored 
 as her mistress looked at her, asking for the applause 
 that even queens demand from their inferiors if there 
 are no other spectatoi's. 
 
 "Your charming speeches, madame, will unfortunateh' 
 cure the wounds of neither Church nor State," said 
 Catherine at last, with her calm and cold dignit}^ " The 
 science of my fathers in that direction gave them 
 
Catherine de' Medici, 159 
 
 thrones ; whereas if vou continue to trifle in the midst 
 of (lano^er vou are liable to lose yours." 
 
 It was at this moment that Ambroise Pare, the cliief 
 surgeon, scratched softl}^ on the door, and Madame 
 Dayelle, opening it, admitted Christophe. 
 
160 Catherine de' Medici, 
 
 VII. 
 
 A DRAMA IN A SUKCOAT. 
 
 The 3'oung reformer intended to study Catherine's 
 face, all the while affecting a natural embarrassment at 
 finding himself in such a place ; but his proceedings 
 were much hastened bv the eas^erness with which the 
 younger queen darted to the cartons to see her surcoat. 
 
 "• Madame," said Christophe, addressing Catherine. 
 
 He turned his back on the other queen and on Day- 
 elle, instantly profiting by the attention the two women 
 were eager to bestow upon the furs to play a bold 
 stroke. 
 
 '' What do you want of me?" said Catherine giving 
 Mm a searching look. 
 
 Christophe had put the treat}' proposed by the Prince 
 de Conde, the plan of the Reformers, and the detail of 
 their forces in his bosom between his shirt and his cloth 
 jacket, folding them, however, within the bill which 
 Catherine owed to the furrier. 
 
 ''Madame," he said, "mj^ father is in horrible need 
 of money, and if 3'ou will deign to cast 3'our ej es over 
 your bill," here he unfolded the paper and put the 
 treat}^ on the top of it, ''3'ou will see that your Ma- 
 jesty owes him six thousand crowns. Have the good- 
 ness to take pity on us. See, madame ! " and he held 
 
Catherine de' Medici, IGl 
 
 Ihe treaty out to her. " Read it ; the account dates 
 from the time the late king came to the throne." 
 
 Catherine was bewildered b}^ the preamble of the 
 treaty which met her eye, but she did not lose her head. 
 >he folded the paper quickly, admiring the audacit}' 
 and presence of mind of the youth, and feeling sure that 
 after performing such a masterh" stroke he would not 
 fail to understand her. She therefore tapped him on 
 the head with the folded paper, sa3ing : — 
 
 '^ It is ver}' clums}' of you, my little friend, to present 
 3'our bill before the furs. Learn to know women. You 
 lust never ask us to pay until the moment when we are 
 jatisfied." 
 " Is that traditional?" said the young queen, turning 
 her mother-in-law, who made no reply. 
 ''Ah, mesdames, pray excuse my father," said 
 )hristo[)he. "If he had not had such need of money 
 rou would not have had 3*our furs at all. The country 
 in arms, and there are so man}^ dangers to run in 
 'getting here that nothing but our great distress would 
 have brought me. No one but me was willing to risk 
 them." 
 
 "The lad is new to his business," said Mary Stuart, 
 smiling. 
 
 It may not be useless, for the understanding of this 
 
 trifling, but very important scene, to remark that a sur- 
 
 coat was, as the name implies {sur cotte), a species of 
 
 jlose-fitting spencer which women wore over their 
 
 )odies and down to their thighs, defining the figure. 
 
 'his garment protected the back, chest, and throat 
 
 from cold. These surcoats were lined with fur, a 
 
 ^and of which, wide or narrow as the case might be 
 
 11 
 
162 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 bordered the outer material. Mary Stuart, as she tried 
 the garment on, looked at herself in a large Venetian 
 mirror to see the effect behind, thus leaving her mother- 
 in-law an opportunit}' to examine the papers, the bulk 
 of which might have excited the young queen's suspi- 
 cions had she noticed it. 
 
 " Never tell women of the dangers jou have run 
 when you have come out of them safe and sound," she 
 said, turning to show herself to Christophe. 
 
 " Ah ! madame, I have your bill, too," he said, look- 
 ing at her with well-plaj'ed simplicit\'. 
 
 The 3'oung queen eyed him, but did not take the 
 paper ; and she noticed, though without at the moment 
 drawing any conclusions, that he had taken her bill 
 from his pocket, whereas he had carried Queen Cathe- 
 rine's in his bosom. Neither did she find in the lad's 
 eyes that glance of admiration which her presence 
 invariabl}' excited in all beholders. Biit she was so 
 engrossed by her surcoat that, for the moment, she 
 did not ask herself the meaning of such indifference. 
 
 '' Take the bill, Dayelle," she said to her waiting- 
 woman ; " give it to Monsieur de Versailles (Lomenie) 
 and tell him from me to pay it." 
 
 ''Oh! madame," said Christophe, ''if 3'ou do not 
 ask the king or monseigneur the grand-master to sign 
 me an order your gracious word will have no effect." 
 
 '' You are rather more eager than becomes a subject, 
 m}' friend," said Mary Stuart. ''Do you not believe 
 m}' ro^al word ? " 
 
 The king now appeared, in silk stockings and trunk- 
 hose (the breeches of that period), but without his 
 doublet and mantle ; he had, however, a rich loose coat 
 of velvet edged with minever. 
 
Catherine dc' Medici, 163 
 
 " Who is the wretch who dares to doubt your word? " 
 he said, overhearing, in spite of the distance, his wife's 
 last words. 
 
 The door of the dressing-room was hidden b}" the 
 roval bed. This room was afterwards called '^the old 
 jabinet,'* to distinguish it from the fine cabinet of 
 lictures which Henri III. constructed at the farther 
 ind of the same suite of rooms, next to the hall of the 
 ►tates-ofeneral. It was in the old cabinet that Henri 
 11. hid the murderers when he sent for the Due de 
 uise, while he himself remained hidden in the new 
 jabinet during the murder, onl}' emerging in time to 
 lee the overbearing subject for whom there were no 
 longer prisons, tribunals, judges, nor even laws, draw 
 his last breath. Were it not for these terrible circum- 
 stances the historian of to-day could hardly trace the 
 former occupation of these cabinets, now filled with 
 soldiers. A quartermaster writes to his mistress on 
 the ver}" spot where the pensive Catherine once 
 decided on her course between the parties. 
 
 " Come with me, my friend," said the queen-mother, 
 *' and I will see that 3'ou are paid. Commerce must 
 live, and money is its backbone.*' 
 
 "Go, m}' lad,'* cried the young queen, laughing; 
 " mv auojust mother knows more than I do about 
 commerce." 
 
 Catherine was about to leave the room without 
 Replying to this last taunt ; but she remembered that 
 ler indifference to it might provoke suspicion, and she 
 mswered hastilv : — 
 " But 3'ou, m}^ dear, understand the business of 
 >ve.'* 
 
164 Catherine cle' Medici. 
 
 Then she descended to her own apartments. 
 
 " Put awa}' these furs, Dayelle, and let us go to the 
 Council, monsieur," said Mary to the young king, 
 enchanted with the opportunity of deciding in the 
 absence of the queen-mother so im})ortant a question as 
 the lieutenant-generalship of the kingdom. 
 
 Mary Stuart took the king s arm. Da^'elle went out 
 before them, whispering to the pag'es ; one of whom (it 
 was young Teiigny, who afterwards perished so miser- 
 ably during the Saint-Bartholomew) cried out : — 
 
 '' The king ! " 
 
 Hearing the words, the two soldiers of the guard 
 presented arms, and the two pages went forward to the 
 door of the Council-room through the lane of courtiers 
 and that of the maids of honor of the two queens. All 
 the members of the Council then grouped themselves 
 about the door of their chamber, which was not very 
 far from the door to the staircase. The grand-master, 
 the cardinal, and the chancellor advanced to meet the 
 3'oung sovereigns, who smiled to several of the maids of 
 honor and replied to the remarks of a few courtiers 
 more privileged than the rest. But the queen, evi- 
 dently impatient, drew Francois II. as quickl}' as 
 possible toward the Council-chamber. When the sound 
 of arquebuses, dropping heavilj^ on the floor had an- 
 nounced the entrance of the couple, the pages replaced 
 their caps upon their heads, and the private talk among 
 the courtiers on the gravity of the matters now about 
 to be discussed began again. 
 
 " They sent Chivernj' to fetch the Connetable, but he 
 has not come," said one. 
 
 ^' There is not a single prince of the blood present," 
 said another. 
 
Catherine dc' Medici, 165 
 
 " The chancellor and Monsieur de Tournon looked 
 anxious," remarked a third. 
 
 '' The grand-master sent word to the keeper of the 
 seals to be sure not to miss this Council ; therefore you 
 may be certain they will issue letters-patent." 
 
 " Why does the queen-mother stay in her own apart- 
 ments at such a time? " 
 
 " They '11 cut out plenty of work for us," remarked 
 Groslot to Cardinal de Ch^tillon. 
 
 In short, ever} body had a word to say. Some went 
 and came, in and out of the great hall ; others hovered 
 about the maids of honor of both queens, as if it might 
 be possible to catch a few words through a wall three 
 feet thick or through the double doors draped on each 
 side with heavy curtains. 
 
 Seated at the upper end of a long table covered with 
 blue velvet, which stood in the middle of the room, the 
 king, near to whom the 3'oung queen was seated in an 
 arm-chair, waited for his mother. Robertet, the secrc' 
 tary, was mending pens. The two cardinals, the grand- 
 master, the chancellor, the keeper of the seals, and all 
 the rest of the council looked at the little king, wonder- 
 ing why he did not give them the usual order to sit 
 down. 
 
 The two Lorrain princes attributed the queen- 
 mother's absence to some trick of their niece. Incited 
 presentl}' by a significant glance, the audacious cardinal 
 said to his Majesty : — 
 
 ''Is it the king's good pleasure to begin the council 
 without waiting for Madame la reine-mere? '' 
 
 Francois II., without daring to answer directly, said : 
 " Messieurs, be seated." 
 
I 
 
 166 Catherine de' Medici, 
 
 The cardinal then explained siiccinctl}' the dangers 
 of the situation. This great political character, who 
 showed extraordinary^ abilitj' under these pressing cir- 
 cumstances, led up to the question of the lieutenancy 
 of the kingdom in the midst of the deepest silence. 
 The young king doubtless felt the tyranny that was 
 being exercised over him ; he knew that his mother had 
 a deep sense of the rights of the Crown and was fully > 
 aware of the danger that threatened his power ; he 
 therefore replied to a positive question addressed to 
 him by the cardinal b}'' saying : — 
 
 '^ We will wait for the queen, my mother." 
 Suddenly enlightened b}^ the queen- mother's dela}'', 
 Mary Stuart recalled, in a flash of thought, three cir- 
 cumstances which now struck her vividly: first, the bulk 
 of the papers presented to her mother-in-law, which she 
 had noticed, absorbed as she was, — for a woman who 
 seems to see nothing is often a lynx ; next, the place 
 where Christoi)he had carried them to keep them 
 separate from hers: " Wh}^ so?" she thought to 
 herself; and thirdly, she remembered the cold, indif- 
 ferent glance of the young man, which she suddenly 
 attributed to the hatred of the Reformers to a niece of 
 the Guises. A voice cried to her, " He may have been 
 an emissary of the Huguenots I " Obeying, like all 
 excitable natures, her first impulse, she exclaimed : — 
 '' I will go and fetch my mother myself ! " 
 Then she left the room hurriedh', ran down the 
 staircase, to the amazement of the courtiers and the 
 ladies of honor, entered her mother-in-law's apartments, 
 crossed the guard-room, opened the door of the cham- 
 ber with the caution of a thief, glided like a shadow 
 
Catherine de* Medici. 167 
 
 over the carpet, saw no one, and bethought her that she 
 should surel}" surprise the queen-mother in that magnifi- 
 cent dressing-room which comes between the bedroom 
 and the orator}-. The arrangement of tliis orator}^, to 
 wln'ch the manners of that period gave a role in private 
 life like that of the boudoirs of our day, can still be 
 traced. 
 
 By an almost inexplicable chance, when we consider 
 the state of dilapidation into which the Crown has 
 allowed the chateau of Blois to fall, the admirable 
 woodwork of Catherine's cabinet still exists ; and iu 
 those delicately carved panels, persons interested in 
 such things may still see traces of Italian, splendor, 
 and discover the secret hiding places employed b}- the 
 queen-mother. An exact description of these curious 
 arrangements is necessar}- in order to give a clear under- 
 standing of what was now to happen. The woodwork 
 iof the oratory then consisted of about a hundred and 
 eighty oblong panels, one hundred of which still exist, 
 all presenting arabesques of different designs, evidently 
 suggested by the most beautiful arabesques of Ital}'. 
 The wood is live-oak. The red tones, seen through tlie 
 la3'er of whitewash put on to avert cholera (useless 
 precaution!), shows very plainly that the ground of 
 the panels was formerly gilt. Certain portions of the 
 design, visible where the wash has fallen awa}*, seem 
 to show that they once detached themselves from the 
 gilded ground in colors, either blue, or red, or green. 
 The multitude of these panels shows an evident inten- 
 tion to foil a search ; but even if this could be doubted, 
 the concierge of the chdteau, while devoting the memory 
 of Catherine to the execration of the humanity of our 
 
168 Catherine de Medici. 
 
 da3^, shows at the base of these panels and close to the 
 floor a rather heavy foot-board, which can be lifted, and 
 beneath which still remain the ingenious springs which 
 move the panels. B3' pressing a knob thus hidden, the 
 queen was able to open certain panels known to her 
 alone, behind which, sunk in the wall, were hiding- 
 places, oblong like the panels, and more or less deep. 
 It is difficult, even in these days of dilapidation, for the 
 best-trained eye to detect whicii of those panels is thus 
 hinged ; but when the eye was distracted \)y colors and 
 gilding, cleverly- used to conceal the joints, we can 
 readily conceive that to find one or two such panels 
 among two hundred was almost an impossible thing. 
 
 At the moment when Mar}' Stuart laid her hand on 
 the somewhat complicated lock of the door of this 
 oratory, the queen-mother, who had just become con- 
 vinced of the greatness of the Prince de Conde's plans, 
 had touched the spring hidden beneath the foot-board, 
 and one of the mysterious panels had turned over on 
 its hinges. Catherine was in the act of lifting the 
 papers from the table to hide them, intending after 
 that to secure the safet}' of the devoted messenger 
 who had brought them to her, w^ien, hearing the sudden 
 opening of the door, she at once knew that none but 
 Queen Mary herself would dare thus to enter without 
 announcement. 
 
 "You are lost!" she said to Christophe, perceiving 
 that she could no longer put away the papers, nor 
 close with sufficient rapidity the open panel, the secret 
 of which was now betraAed. 
 
 Christophe answered her with a glance that w^as 
 sublime. 
 
I 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 Catherine de' Medici, 169 
 
 ^•^ Povero mio ! '' said Catherine, before she looked 
 at her daughter-in-law. '* Treason, madame ! 1 hold 
 the traitors at last," she cried. " Send for the duke 
 and the cardinal ; and see that that man/* pointing 
 ^o Christophe, '' does not escape." 
 
 In an instant the able woman had seen the necessity 
 of sacrificing the poor 3'outh. She could not hide him ; 
 it was impossible to save him. Eight days earlier it 
 might have been done ; but the Guises now knew of the 
 plot ; they must alread}' possess the lists she held in 
 her hand, and were evidentl}^ drawing the Reformers 
 into a trap. Thus, rejoiced to find in these adversaries 
 the very spirit she desired them to have, her policy 
 now led her to make a merit of the discovery of their 
 plot. These horrible calculations were made during 
 the rapid moment while the 3'oung queen was opening 
 the door. Marv Stuart stood dumb for an instant : the 
 gay look left her eyes, which took on the acuteness that 
 suspicion gives to the 63x8 of all, and which, in hers, 
 became terrible from the suddenness of the chansre. 
 She glanced from Christophe to the queen-mother and 
 from the queen-mother back to Christophe. — her face 
 expressing malignant doubt. Then she seized a bell, 
 at the sound of which one of the queen-mother's maids 
 of honor came running in. 
 
 •' Mademoiselle du Rouet, send for the captain of 
 the guard," said Mary Stuart to the maid of honor, 
 contrary to all etiquette, which was necessaril}' violated 
 under the circumstances. 
 
 While the 3'oung queen gave this order, Catherine 
 looked intently at Christophe, as if saying to him, 
 ''Courage!*' 
 
170 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 The Reformer understood, and replied by another 
 glance, which seemed to sa}', '^Sacrifice me, as they 
 have sacrificed me ! " 
 
 '' Rel}' on me," said Catherine by a gesture. Then 
 she absorbed herself in the documents as her daughter- 
 in-law turned to him. 
 
 "You belong to the Reformed religion?'' inquired 
 Mar}^ Stuart of Christophe. 
 
 "Yes, madame," he answered. 
 
 "I was not mistaken," she murmured as she again 
 noticed in the e3'es of the 3'oung Reformer the same 
 cold glance in which dislike was hidden beneath an ex- 
 pression of humih't}'. 
 
 Pardaillan suddenly appeared, sent by the two Lor- 
 rain princes and b}' the king to escort the queens. The 
 captain of the guard called for by Mary Stuart followed 
 the young officer, who was devoted to the Guises. 
 
 " Go and tell the king and the grand-master and the 
 cardinal, from me, to come here at once, and say that I 
 should not take the liberty of sending for them if some- 
 thing of the utmost importance had not occurred. Go, 
 Pardaillan. — *As for you, Lewiston, keep guard over 
 that traitor of a Reformer," she said to the Scotchman 
 in his mother-tongue, pointing to Christophe. 
 
 The young queen and queen-mother maintained a 
 total silence until the arrival of the king and princes. 
 The moments that elapsed were terrible. 
 
 Mary Stuart had betrayed to her mother-in-law, in 
 its fullest extent, the part her uncles were inducing her 
 to pla}' ; her constant and habitual distrust and espion- 
 age were now revealed, and her young conscience told 
 her how dishonoring to a great queen was the work 
 
Catherine de' Medici, 171 
 
 that she was doing. Catherine, on the other hand, had 
 yielded out of fear ; she was still afraid of being rightly 
 understood, and she trembled for her future. Both 
 women, one ashamed and angr^', the other filled with 
 hatred and yet calm, went to the embrasure of the 
 window and leaned against the casing, one to right, 
 the other to left, silent ; but their feelings were ex- 
 pressed in such speaking glances that they averted 
 their eyes and, with mutual artfulness, gazed through 
 the window at the sky. These two great and superior 
 women had, at this crisis, no greater art of behavior 
 than the vulgarest of their sex. Perhaps it is alwaj'S 
 thus when circumstances arise which overwhelm the 
 human being. There is, inevitabl}', a moment when 
 genius itself feels its littleness in presence of great 
 catastrophes. 
 
 As for Christophe, he was like a man in the act of 
 rolling down a precipice. Lewiston, the Scotch cap- 
 tain, listened to this silence, watching the son of the 
 furrier and the two queens with soldierl}^ curiosity. 
 The entrance of the king and Mary Stuart's two uncles 
 put an end to the painful situation. 
 
172 Catherine de' Medici, 
 
 VIII. 
 
 MARTYRDOM. 
 
 The cardinal went straight to the queen-mother. 
 
 " I hold the threads of the conspirac}' of the here- 
 tics," said Catherhie. '^ Tliey have sent me this treaty 
 and these documents by the hands of that child/' she 
 added. 
 
 During the time that Catherine was explaining mat- 
 ters to the cardinal, Queen Mary whispered a few words 
 to the grand-master. 
 
 ''What is all this about?" asked the 3'oung king, 
 who was left alone in the midst of the violent clash of 
 interests. 
 
 "The proofs of what I was telling to 3'our Majesty 
 have not been long in reaching us," said the cardinal, 
 who had grasped the papers. 
 
 The Due de Guise drew his brother aside without 
 caring that he interrupted him, and said in his ear, 
 " This makes me lieutenant-general without opposition." 
 
 A shrewd glance was the cardinal's only answer ; 
 showing his brother that he fully understood the advan- 
 tages to be gained from Catherine's false position. 
 
 " Who sent you here? " said the duke to Christophe. 
 
 " Chaudieu, the minister," he replied. 
 
 " Young man, you lie ! " said the soldier, sharply ; "it 
 was the Prince de Conde." 
 
Catherine de Medici. 173 
 
 ■ *'Tlie Prince de Conde, monseigneur ! " replied 
 Christophe, with a puzzled look. " I never met him. 
 I am studying law with Monsieur de Thou ; I am his 
 secretary, and he does not know that I belong to the 
 Reformed religion. I yielded only to the entreaties of 
 the minister." 
 
 " Enouo:h ! '' exclaimed the cardinal. "Call Mon- 
 sieur de Robertet," he said to Lewiston, "for this 
 young scamp is sl3'er than an old statesman ; he has 
 managed to deceive m}' brother, and me too ; an hour 
 ago I would have given him the sacrament without 
 
 tsonfession." 
 "You are not a child, morhleu!'^ cried the duke, 
 * and we Ul treat 3'ou as a man." 
 
 " The heretics have endeavored to beofuile vour 
 august mother," said the cardinal, addressing the king, 
 and trying to draw him apart to win him over to their 
 ends. 
 
 " Alas ! " said the queen-mother to her son, assum- 
 ing a reproachful look and stopping the king at the 
 moment when the cardinal was leading him into the or- 
 atory to subject him to his dangerous eloquence, "you 
 see the result of the situation in which I am ; Xh^y think 
 me irritated by the little influence that I have in public 
 affairs, — I, the mother of four princes of the house of 
 Valois ! " 
 
 The young king listened attentivel}'. Mar}' Stuart, 
 seeing the frown upon his brow, took his arm and led 
 him away into the recess of the window, where she 
 cajoled him with sweet speeches in a low voice, no 
 doubt like those she had used that morning in their 
 chamber. The two Guises read the documents given 
 
174 Catherine de! Medici. 
 
 up to them by Catherine. Finding that they contained 
 information which their spies, and Monsieur Brague- 
 lonne, the lieutenant of the Chatelet, had not obtained, 
 the}' were inclined to believe in the sincerity of Cath- 
 erine de' Medici. Robertet came and received certain 
 secret orders relative to Christophe. The youthful 
 instrument of the leaders of the Reformation was then 
 led away by four soldiers of the Scottish guard, who 
 took him down the stairs and delivered him to Monsieur 
 de Montresor, provost of the chateau. That terrible 
 personage himself, accompanied b}^ six of his men, con- 
 ducted Christophe to the prison in the vaulted cellar of 
 the tower, now in ruins, which the concierge of the cha- 
 teau de Blois shows vou with the information that 
 these were the dungeons. 
 
 After such an event the Council could be only a 
 formality. The king, the young queen, the Grand- 
 master, and the cardinal returned to it, taking with 
 them the vanquished Catherine, who said no word 
 except to approve the measures proposed by the 
 Guises. In spite of a slight opposition from the Chan- 
 celier Olivier (the onl}" person present who said one 
 word that expressed the independence to which his 
 office bound him), the Due de Guise was appointed 
 lieutenant-general of the kingdom. Robertet brought 
 the required documents, showing a devotion which 
 might be called collusion. The king, giving his arm to 
 his mother, recrossed the salle des gardes.^ announcing 
 to the court as he passed along that on the following 
 da}' he should leave Blois for the chateau of Amboise. 
 The latter residence had been abandoned since the 
 time when Charles VIII. accidentally killed himself by 
 
I 
 
 Catherine de Medici. 175 
 
 striking his head against the casing of a door on which 
 he had ordered carvings, supposing that he could enter 
 without stooping below the scafifolding. Catherine, to 
 Umask the plans of the Guises, remarked aloud that they 
 intended to complete the chateau of Amboise for the 
 Crown at the same time that her own chateau of Che- 
 nonceaux was finished. But no one was the dupe of 
 that pretext, and all present awaited great events. 
 
 After spending about two hours endeavoring to see 
 where he was in the obscurity of the dungeon, Chris- 
 tophe ended by discovering that the place was sheathed 
 in rougli woodwork, thick enough to make the square 
 l^hole into which he was put both health}^ and habitable. 
 The door, like that of a pig-pen, was so low that he 
 stooped almost double on entering it. Beside this door 
 was a heavy iron grating, opening upon a sort of corri- 
 dor, which gave a little light and a little air. This 
 arrangement, in all respects like that of the dungeons 
 of Venice, showed plainly that the architecture of the 
 chateau of Blois belonged to the Venetian school, wiiich 
 during the Middle Ages, sent so many builders into all 
 parts of Europe. By tapping this species of pit above 
 the woodwork Christophe discovered that the walls 
 which separated his cell to right and left from the 
 adjoining ones were of brick. Striking one of them to 
 get an idea of its thickness, he was somewhat surprised 
 to hear return blows given on the other side. 
 
 '* Who are 30U?*' said his neighbor, speaking to 
 him through the corridor. 
 
 " I am Christophe Lecamus." 
 
 " I,'' replied the voice, " am Captain Chaudieu, brother 
 of the minister. I was taken prisoner to-night at 
 
176 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 Beaugency ; but, luckil}-, there is nothing against 
 
 me." 
 
 ''All is discovered," said Christophe ; "you are for- 
 tunate to be saved from the fray." 
 
 '' We have three thousand men at this moment in 
 the forests of the Vendomois, all determined men, who 
 mean to abduct the king and the queen-mother during 
 their journe}'. Happily La Renaudie was cleverer than 
 I ; he managed to escape. You had only just left us 
 when the Guise men surprised us — " 
 
 " But I don^t know La Renaudie." 
 
 "Pooh ! my brother has told me all about it," said 
 the captain. 
 
 Hearing that, Christophe sat down upon his bench 
 and made no further answer to the pretended captain, 
 for he knew enough of the police to be aware how 
 necessary it was to act with prudence in a prison. In 
 the middle of the night he saw the pale light of a 
 lantern in the corridor, after hearing the ponderous 
 locks of the iron door which closed the cellar groan as 
 they were turned. The provost himself had come to 
 fetch Christophe. This attention to a prisoner who had 
 been left in his dark dungeon for hours without food, 
 struck the poor lad as singular. One of the provost's 
 men bound his hands with a rope and held him by the 
 end of it until they reached one of the lower halls of 
 the chateau of Louis XII., which was evidently the 
 antechamber to the apartments of some important 
 personage. The provost and his man bade him sit 
 upon a bench, and the man then bound his feet as he 
 had before bound his hands. On a sign from Monsieur 
 de Montresor the man left the room. 
 
I 
 
 Catherine de' Medici, 177 
 
 " Now listen to me, my friend," said the provosts 
 marslial, toying with the collar of the Order; for, late aa 
 the hour was, he was in full uniform. 
 ^ This little circumstance gave the young man several 
 ^^TOOughts ; he saw that all was not over ; on the con^ 
 trarv, it was evidently neither to hang nor yet to 
 condemn him that he was brought there. 
 
 ** My friend, you may spare yourself cruel torture by 
 tellincr rne all vou know of the understanding betweeu 
 Monsieur le Prince de Conde and Queen Catherine, 
 Not onlv will no harm be done to you, but vou shall 
 enter the service of Monseigneur the lieutenant-general 
 of the kingdom, who likes intelligent men and on whom 
 your honest face has produced a good impression. The 
 queen-mother is about to be sent back to Florence, and 
 Monsieur de Conde will no doubt be brought to trial. 
 Therefore, believe me, humble folks ought to attach 
 themselves to the gi*eat men who are in power. Tel) 
 me all ; and you will find your profit in it." 
 
 ''Alas, monsieur," replied Christophe ; **I have 
 nothing to tell. I told all I know to Messieurs de 
 Guise in the queen's chamber. Chaudieu persuaded 
 me to put those papers under the e^'es of the queen- 
 mother ; assuring me that the}' concerned the peace of 
 the kingdom." 
 
 ''You have never seen the Prince de Conde?" 
 
 " Never." 
 
 "Thereupon Monsieur de Montresor left Christophe 
 and went into the adjoining room ; but the 3'outh was 
 not left long alone. The door through which he had 
 been brought opened and gave entrance to several 
 men, who did not close it. Sounds that were far from 
 
 12 
 
178 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 reassuring were heard from the court3'ard ; men were 
 bringing wood and machinery', evidently intended for the 
 punishment of the Reformer's messenger. Christophers 
 anxiety soon had matter for reflection in the prepara- 
 tions which were made in the hall before his eyes. 
 
 Two coarse and ill- dressed serving-men obeyed the 
 orders of a stout, squat, vigorous man, who cast upon 
 Christophe, as he entered, the glance of a cannibal on 
 his victim ; he looked him over and estimated him, — 
 measuring, like a connoisseur, the strength of his nerves, 
 tlieir power and their endurance. The man was the 
 executioner of Blois. Coming and going, his assistants 
 brought in a mattress, several mallets and wooden 
 wedges, also planks and other articles, the use of which 
 was not plain, nor their look comforting to the poor 
 boy concerned in these preparations, whose blood now 
 curdled in his veins from a vague but most terrible ap- 
 prehension. Two personages entered the hall at the 
 moment when Monsieur de Montresor reappeared. 
 
 " Hey, nothing read}' ! " cried the provost-marshal, 
 to whom the new-comers bowed with great respect. 
 '' Don't you know," he said, addressing the stout man 
 and his two assistants, " that Monseigneur the cardinal 
 thinks you already at work? Doctor," added the pro- 
 vost, turning to one of the new-comers, ''this is the 
 man ; " and he pointed to Christophe. 
 
 The doctor went straight to the prisoner, unbound 
 his hands, and struck him on the breast and back. 
 Science now continued, in a serious manner, the trucu- 
 lent examination of the executioner's eye. During 
 this time a servant in the liver\' of the house of 
 Guise brought in several arm-chairs, a table, and 
 writing-materials. 
 
Catherine de' Medici, 179 
 
 "Begin the proces verbal^** said Monsieur de Mon- 
 tresor, motioning to the table the second personage, 
 who was dressed in black, and was evidentl}' a clerk. 
 Then the provost went up to Christophe, and said to 
 him in a very gentle way : " My friend, the chancellor, 
 having learned that you refuse to answer me in a 
 satisfactory' manner, decrees that you be put to the 
 question, ordinary and extraordinarj'." 
 
 ''Is he in good health, and can he bear it?" said 
 the clerk to the doctor. 
 
 " Yes," replied the latter, who was one of the 
 phj'sicians of the house of Lorraine. 
 
 ''In that case, retire to the next room ; we will send 
 for you whenever we require 3'our advice." 
 
 The physician left the hall. 
 
 His first terror having passed, Christophe rallied his 
 courage ; the hour of his martyrdom had come. Thence- 
 forth he looked with cold curiosit}' at the arrangements 
 that were made by the executioner and his men. After 
 hastily preparing a bed, the two assistants got ready 
 certain appliances called boots ; which consisted of 
 several planks, between which each leg of the victim 
 was placed. The legs thus placed were brought close 
 together. The apparatus used by binders to press their 
 volumes between two boards, which they fasten by 
 cords, will give an exact idea of the manner in which 
 each leg of the prisoner was bound. We can imagine 
 the effect produced by the insertion of wooden wedges, 
 driven in by hammers between the planks of the two 
 bound legs, — the two set of planks of course not yield- 
 ing, being themselves bound together b}' ropes. These 
 wedges were driven in on a line with the knees and the 
 
180 Catherine de' Medici, 
 
 ankles. The choice of these places where there is little 
 flesh, and where, consequently, the wedge could only be 
 forced in by crushing the bones, made this form of torture, 
 called the '' question," horribly painful. In the " ordi- 
 nary question " four wedges were driven in, — two at the 
 knees, two at the ankles; but in the '^extraordinary 
 question" the number was increased to eight, providea 
 the doctor certified that the prisoner's vitalit}^ was not 
 exhausted. At the time of which we write the " boots '* 
 were also applied in the same manner to the hands and 
 wrists ; but, being pressed for time, the cardinal, the 
 lieutenant-general, and the chancellor spared Christophe 
 that additional suffering. 
 
 The 2^roces verbal was begun ; the provost dictated a 
 few sentences as he walked up and down with a med- 
 itative air, asking Christophe his name, baptismal name, 
 age, and profession ; then he inquired the name of the 
 person from whom he had received the papers he had 
 given to the queen. 
 
 " From the minister Chaudieu," answered Christophe. 
 
 " Where did he give them to you?" 
 
 " In Paris." 
 
 "In giving them to you he must have told 3'ou 
 whether the queen-mother would receive you with 
 pleasure?" 
 
 "He told me nothing of that kind," replied Chris- 
 tophe. " He merely asked me to give them to Queen 
 Catherine secretl3\" 
 
 " You must have seen Chaudieu frequentlj', or he 
 would not have known that 3'ou were going to Blois." 
 
 "The minister did not know from me that in carrying 
 furs to the queen I was also to ask on my father's behalf 
 
Catherine de' Medici, 181 
 
 for the mone}" the queen- mother owes him ; and I did 
 not have time to ask the minister who had told 
 him of it." 
 
 *' But these papers, which were given to yow without 
 being sealed or enveloped, contained a treaty between 
 the rebels and Queen Catherine. You must have seen 
 that the}^ exposed you to the punishment of all those 
 who assist in a rebellion." 
 
 '^Yes." 
 
 "The persons who persuaded 3'ou to this act of 
 high treason must have promised you rewards and the 
 protection of the queen-mother.'* 
 
 "I did it out of attachment to Chaudieu, the only 
 person whom I saw in the matter." 
 
 '' Do you persist in saying you did not see the Prince 
 deConde?" 
 
 ''Yes." 
 
 "The Prince de Conde did not tell you that the 
 queen-mother was inclined to enter into his views 
 against the Messieurs de Guise? " 
 
 " I did not see him." 
 
 " Take care ! one of your accomplices, La Renaudie, 
 has been arrested. Strong as he is, he was not able to 
 bear the "question,'*' which will now be put to you ; he 
 confessed at last that both he and the Prince de Conde 
 had an interview with 3'ou. If you wish to escape the tor- 
 ture of the question, I exhort you to tell me the simple 
 truth. Perhaps you will thus obtain your full pardon." 
 
 Christophe answered that he could not state a thing 
 of which he had no knowledge, or give himself accom- 
 plices when he had none. Hearing these words, the 
 provost-marshal signed to the executioner and retired 
 
182 Catherine de' Medici, 
 
 himself to the inner room. At that fatal sign Chris- 
 tophers brows contracted, his forehead worked with 
 nervous convulsion, as he prepared himself to sutler. 
 His hands closed with such violence that the nails en- 
 tered the flesh without his feeling them. Three men 
 seized him, took him to the camp bed and laid him 
 there, letting his legs hang down. While the execu- 
 tioner fastened him to the rough bedstead with strong 
 cords, the assistants bound his legs into the ''boots." 
 Presently the cords were tightened, by means of a 
 wrench, without the pressure causing much pain to the 
 3'oung Reformer. When each leg was thus held as it 
 were in a vice, the executioner grasped his hammer and 
 picked up the wedges, looking alternately at the victim 
 and at the clerk. 
 
 " Do you persist in 3'our denial? " asked the clerk. 
 
 " I have told the truth," replied Christophe. 
 
 "Verj'well. Go on," said the clerk, closing his eyes. 
 
 The cords were tightened with great force. This 
 was perhaps the most painful moment of the torture ; 
 the flesh being suddenl}^ compressed, the blood rushed 
 violentl}' toward the breast. The poor boy could not 
 restrain a dreadful cry and seemed about to faint. The 
 doctor was called in. After feeling Christophe's pulse, 
 he told the executioner to wait a quarter of an hour 
 before driving the first wedge, to let the action of the 
 blood subside and allow the victim to recover his full 
 sensitiveness. The clerk suggested, kindly, that if he 
 could not bear this beginning of sufferings which he 
 could not escape, it would be better to reveal all at 
 once ; but Christophe made no repl}^ except to say, 
 " The king's tailor I the king's tailor ! " 
 
Catherine de' Medici, 183 
 
 "What do you mean by those words?" asked the 
 clerk. 
 
 " Seeing what torture I must bear," said Christophe, 
 slowly, hoping to gain time to rest, " I call up all my 
 strength, and try to increase it by thinking of the mar- 
 tyrdom borne by the king's tailor for the hoi}" cause of 
 the Reformation, when the question was applied to him 
 in presence of Madame la Duchesse de Valentiuois and 
 the king. I shall tr}^ to be w^orthy of him.'' 
 
 While the physician exhorted the unfortunate lad not 
 to force them to have recourse to more violent meas- 
 ures, the cardinal and the duke, impatient to know the 
 result of the interrogations, entered the hall and them- 
 selves asked Christophe to speak the truth, immediately. 
 The young man repeated the only confession he had 
 allowed himself to make, which implicated no one but 
 Chaudieu. The princes made a sign, on which the ex- 
 ecutioner and his chief assistant seized their hammers, 
 taking each a wedge, which they then drove in between 
 the joints, standing one to right, the other to left of 
 their victim ; the executioner's wedge was driven in 
 at the knees, his assistant's at the ankles. 
 
 The eyes of all present fastened on those of Chris- 
 tophe, and he, no doubt excited by the presence of 
 those great personages, shot forth such burning glances 
 tiiat they appeared to have all the brilliancy of flame. 
 As the third and fourth wedges were driven in, a dread- 
 ful groan escaped him. When he saw the executioner 
 take up the wedges for the ''extraordinary question'' 
 he said no word and made no sound, but his e^'es took 
 on so terrible a fixity, and he cast upon the two great 
 princes who were watching him a glance so penetrating, 
 
184 Catherine de' Medici, 
 
 that the duke and cardinal were forced to drop their 
 eyes. Philippe le Bel met with the same resistance 
 when the torture of the pendulum was applied in his 
 presence to the Templars. That punishment consisted 
 in striking the victim on'the breast with one arm of the 
 balance-pole with which mone}' is coined, its end being 
 covered with a pad of leather. One of the knights thus 
 tortured, looked so intentl}- at the king that Philippe 
 could not detach his eyes from him. At the third blow 
 the king left the chamber on hearing the knight sum- 
 mon him to appear within a year before the judgment- 
 seat of God, — as, in fact, he did. At the fifth blow, 
 the first of the '* extraordinary question,'* Christophe 
 said to the cardinal : '' Monseigneur, put an end to my 
 torture ; it is useless." 
 
 The cardinal and the duke re-entered the adjoining 
 hall, and Christophe distinctly heard the following words 
 said by Queen Catherine : " Go on ; after all, he is only 
 a heretic." 
 
 She judged it prudent to be more stern to her accom- 
 plice than the executioners themselves. 
 
 The sixth and seventh wedges were driven in with- 
 out a w^ord of complaint from Christophe. His face 
 shone with extraordinarj^ brillianc}', due, no doubt, to 
 the excess of strength which his fanatic devotion gave 
 him. Where else but in the feelings of the soul can 
 we find the power necessarj' to bear such sufferings? 
 Finally, he smiled when he saw the executioner lifting 
 the eighth and last wedge. This horrible torture had 
 lasted bv this time over an hour. 
 
 The clerk now went to call the ph3'sician that he 
 might decide whether the eighth wedge could be driven 
 
i 
 
 Catherine cle Medici, 185 
 
 It 
 
 in without endangering the life of the victim. During 
 this delay the duke returned to look at Christophe. 
 IK *' Ventre-dc'hlche ! " 3'ou are a fine fellow," he said 
 • to him, bending down to whisper the words. " I love 
 brave men. Enter my service, and you shall be rich 
 and happy ; m}' favors shall heal those wounded limbs. 
 I do not propose to 3'ou any baseness ; I will not 
 ask you to return to your party and betraj' its plans, — 
 there are always traitors enough for that, and the proof 
 is in the prisons of Blois ; tell me only on what terms 
 are the queen-mother and the Prince de Conde.*' 
 
 " I know nothing about it, monseigneur," replied 
 Christophe Lecamus. 
 
 The physician came, examined the victim, and said 
 that he could bear the eighth wedge. 
 
 **Then insert it," said the cardinal. "After all, as 
 the queen sa^'s, he is only a heretic," he added, looking 
 at Christophe with a dreadful smile. 
 
 At this moment Catherine came with slow steps 
 from the adjoining apartment and stood before Chris- 
 tophe, coldly observing him. Instantl}' she was the 
 object of the closest attention on the part of the two 
 brothers, who watched alternately the queen and her 
 accomplice. On this solemn test the whole future of 
 that ambitious woman depended ; she felt the keenest 
 admiration for Christophe, 3'et she gazed sternly at 
 him ; she hated the Guises, and she smiled upon them ! 
 
 "Young man," said the queen, '* confess that you 
 have seen the Prince de Conde, and you will be richly 
 rewarded." 
 
 "Ah! what a business this is for 3'ou, madame ! " 
 cried Christophe, pitying her. 
 
186 Catherine d^ Medici, 
 
 The queen quivered. 
 
 ''He insults me!" she exclaimed. "Why do 3'ou 
 not hang him?" she cried, turning to the two brothers, 
 who stood thoughtful. 
 
 " What a woman ! " said the duke in a glance at his 
 brother, consulting him bj' his eye, and leading him to 
 the window. 
 
 *' I shall stay in France and be revenged upon them,'* 
 thought the queen. '' Come, make him confess, or let 
 him die ! " she said aloud, addressing Montresor. 
 
 The provost- marshal turned away his eyes, the exe- 
 cutioners were busy wuth the wedges ; Catherine was 
 free to east one glance upon the martyr, unseen by 
 others, which fell on Christophe like tlie dew. The 
 eyes of the great queen seemed to him moist ; two tears 
 were in them, but the}' did not fall. The wedges were 
 driven ; a plank was broken by the blow. Christophe 
 gave one dreadful cr}', after which he was silent ; his 
 face shone, — he believed he was dying. 
 
 ''Let him die?" said the cardinal, echoing the 
 queen's last words with a sort of irony ; "no, no ! 
 don't break that thread," he said to the provost. 
 
 The duke and the cardinal consulted together in a 
 low voice. 
 
 " What is to be done with him?" asked the execu- 
 tioner. 
 
 " Send him to the prison at Orleans," said the duke, 
 addressing Monsieur de Montresor ; *' and don't hang 
 him without my order." ' 
 
 The extreme sensitiveness to which Christophers 
 internal orgranism had been brought, increased bv a 
 resistance which called into play evory power of the 
 
I 
 
 I 
 
 Catherine de' Medici, 18/ 
 
 human bod^^ existed to the same degree, in his senses. 
 He alone heard the following words whispered by the 
 Due de Guise in the ear of his brother the cardinal : 
 
 "• I don't give up all hope of getting the truth out of 
 that little fellow yet." 
 
 When the princes had left the hall the executioners 
 unbound the legs of their victim roughly and without 
 compassion. 
 
 '' Did any one ever see a criminal with such strength ? " 
 said the chief executioner to his aids. *' The rascal 
 bore that last wedge when he ought to have died ; 1 've 
 lost the price of his body." 
 
 " Unbind me gently ; don't make me suffer, friends," 
 said poor Christophe. *' Some day I will reward 
 you — " 
 
 "Come, come, show some humanity," said the phy- 
 sician. ''Monseigneur esteems the young man, and 
 told me to look after him." 
 
 '' I am going to Amboise with m}^ assistants, — take 
 care of him yourself," said the executioner, brutally. 
 ''Besides, here comes the jailer." 
 
 The executioner departed, leaving Christophe in the 
 hands of the soft-spoken doctor, who b}" the aid of 
 Christophe's future jailer, carried the poor boy to a bed, 
 brought him some broth, helped him to swallow it, sat 
 down beside him, felt his pulse, and tried to comfort 
 him. 
 
 "You won't die of this," he said. "You ought to 
 feel great inward comfort, knowing that you have done 
 your duty. — The queen-mother bids me take care of 
 you," he added in a whisper. 
 
 "The queen is very good," said Christophe, whose 
 
188 Catherine de^ Medici, 
 
 terrible sufferings had developed an extraordinary 
 lucidity in his mind, and who, after enduring such 
 unspeakable sulTerings, was determined not to com- 
 promise the results of his devotion. " But she might 
 have spared me such agony by telling my persecutors 
 herself the secrets that I know nothing about, instead 
 of urging them on." 
 
 Hearing that repl}', the doctor took his cap and cloak 
 and left Christophe, rightly judging that he could worm 
 nothing out of a man of that stamp. The jailer of 
 Blois now ordered the poor lad to be carried away on a 
 stretcher by four men, who took him to the prison in 
 the town, where Christophe immediately fell into the 
 deep sleep which, the^' sa}', comes to most mothers 
 after the terrible pangs of childbirth. 
 
Catherine de' Medici, 189 
 
 IX. 
 
 THE TUMULT AT AMBOISE, 
 
 Br moving the court to the ehdteau of Amboise, 
 the two Lorrain princes intended to set a trap for the 
 leader of the party of the Reformation, the Prince de 
 Conde, whom they had made the king summon to his 
 presence. As vassal of the Crown and prince of the 
 blood, Conde was bound to obey the summons of his 
 sovereign. Not to come to Amboise would constitute 
 the crime of treason ; but if he came, he put himself in 
 the power of the Crown. Now, at this moment, as we 
 have seen, the Crown, the council, the court, and all 
 their powers were solel}' in the hands of the Due de 
 Guise and the Cardinal de Lorraine. The Prince de 
 Cond^ showed, at this delicate crisis, a presence of 
 mind and a decision and wiliness which made him the 
 worthy exponent of Jeanne d'Albret and the valorous 
 general of the Reformers. He travelled at the rear 
 of the conspirators as far as Vendome, intending to 
 support them in case of their success. When the first 
 uprising ended by a brief skirmish, in which the flower 
 of the nobility beguiled b^^ Calvin perished, the prince 
 arrived, with fiftv noblemen, at the chateau of Amboise 
 on the very day after that fight, which the politic Guises 
 termed '*the Tumult of Amboise." As soon as the 
 duke and cardinal heard of his coming they sent the 
 
190 Catherine de' Medici, 
 
 Mareclial de Saint-Andre with an escort of a hun- 
 dred men to meet him. When tlie prince and his own 
 escort reached the gates of the chMeau the marechal 
 refused entrance to the latter. 
 
 ''You must enter alone, monseigneur," said the 
 Chancellor Olivier, the Cardinal de Tournon, and 
 Birago, who were stationed outside of the portcullis. 
 
 ''And why?" 
 
 " You are suspected of treason," replied the 
 chancellor. 
 
 The prince, who saw that his suite were already sur- 
 rounded by the troop of the Due de Nemours, replied 
 tranquilly : *' If that is so, I will go alone to my cousin, 
 and prove to him my innocence." 
 
 He dismounted, talked with perfect freedom of mind 
 to Birago, the Cardinal de Tournon, the chancellor, 
 and the Due de Nemours, from whom he asked for 
 particulars of the "tumult.'' 
 
 " Monseigneur," replied the duke, " the rebels had 
 confederates in Amboise. A captain, named Lanoue, 
 had introduced armed men, who opened the gate to 
 them, through which they entered and made themselves 
 masters of the town — " 
 
 "That is to sa}', you opened the mouth of a sack, 
 and they ran into it," replied the prince, looking at 
 Birasfo. 
 
 "If the}' had been supported b}' the attack which 
 Captain Chaudieu, the preacher's brother, was expected 
 to make before the gate of the Bon-Hommes, they would 
 have been completeh' successful," replied the Due de 
 Nemours. " But in consequence of the position which 
 , the Due de Guise ordered me to take up. Captain 
 
I 
 
 Catherine de' Medici, 191 
 
 Chandieii was obliged to turn m}' flank to avoid a fight. 
 So instead of arriving In' night, like the rest, this rebel 
 and his men got there at daybreak, by which time the 
 
 I king's troops had crushed the invaders of the town." 
 ''And you had a reserve force to recover the gate 
 which had been opened to them ? " said the prince. 
 ' " Monsieur le Marechal de Saint- Andre was there 
 with five hundred men-at-arms." 
 
 The prince gave the highest praise to these militar}'' 
 arrangements. 
 
 '*The lieutenant-general must have been fully aware 
 of the plans of the Reformers, to have acted as he 
 did," he said in conclusion. "The}' were no doubt 
 betrayed.^' 
 
 The prince was treated with increasing harshness. 
 After separating him from his escort at the gates, the 
 cardinal and the chancellor barred his way when he 
 reached the staircase which led to the apartments of 
 the king. 
 
 ''We are directed by his Majesty, monseigneur, to 
 take you to your own apartments," they said. 
 
 "Am I, then, a prisoner?" 
 
 "If that were the king's intention you would not 
 be accompanied b\' a prince of the Church, nor by me," 
 replied the chancellor. 
 
 These two personages escorted the prince to an 
 apartment, where guards of honor — so-called — were 
 given him. There he remained, without seeing any 
 one, for some hours. From his window he looked down 
 upon the Loire and the meadows of the beautiful valley 
 stretching from Amboise to Tours. He was reflecting 
 on the situation, and asking himself whether the Guises 
 
192 Catherine de' Medici » 
 
 would reall}^ dare anything against his person, when 
 the door of his chamber opened and Chicot, the king's 
 fool, formerly a dependant of his own, entered the 
 room. 
 
 ''The}' told me you were in disgrace,'' said the 
 prince. 
 
 ''You'd never believe how virtuous the court has 
 become since the death of Henri II." 
 
 "But the king loves a laugh." 
 
 "Which king, — Fran9ois II., or Francois de 
 Lorraine ?" 
 
 "You are not afraid of the duke, if you talk in 
 that wa}' ! " 
 
 "He wouldn't punish me for it, monseigneur," 
 replied Chicot, laughing. 
 
 " To what do I owe the honor of this visit?" 
 
 "Hey! Isn't it due to you on your return? I 
 bring you my cap and bells." 
 
 "Can I go out?" 
 
 "Try." 
 
 " Suppose I do go out, what then?" 
 
 " I should say that you had won the game by playing 
 against the rules." 
 
 " Chicot, 3'ou alarm me. Are 3'ou sent here b}^ some 
 one who takes an interest in me ? " 
 
 "Yes," said Chicot, nodding. He came nearer to 
 the prince, and made him understand that they were 
 being watched and overheard. 
 
 "What have 3'ou to say to me ?" asked the Prince 
 de Conde, in a low voice. 
 
 "Boldness alone can pull 3'ou out of this scrape; 
 the message comes from the queen -mother," replied the 
 fool, slipping his words into the ear of the prince. 
 
Catherine de' Medici. 193 
 
 "Tell tliose who sent yon," replied Conrle, "that I 
 should not have entered this chateau if I had anything 
 to reproach myself with, or to fear." 
 
 " I rush to report that loft}^ answer ! " cried the fool. 
 
 Two hours later, that is, about one o'clock in the 
 afternoon, before the king's dinner, the chancellor and 
 Cardinal de Tournon came to fetch the prince and pre- 
 sent him to Francois II. in the great galler}' of the 
 chateau of Amboise, where the councils were held. 
 There, before the whole court, Conde pretended sur- 
 prise at the coldness with which the little king received 
 him, and asked the reason of it. 
 
 " You are accused, cousin," said the queen-mother, 
 sternly, " of taking part in the conspiracy of the Re- 
 formers ; and you must prove yourself a faithful subject 
 and a good Catholic, if you do not desire to draw down 
 upon your house the anger of the king." 
 
 Hearing these words said, in the midst of the most 
 profound silence, by Catherine de' Medici, on whose 
 right arm the king was leaning, the Due d'Orleans 
 being on her left side, the Prince de Conde recoiled 
 three steps, laid his hand on his sword with a proud 
 motion, and looked at all the persons who surrounded 
 him. 
 
 "Those who said that, madame," he cried in an an- 
 gry voice, " lied in their throats ! " 
 
 Then he flung his glove at the king's feet, saying : 
 " Let him who believes that calumny come forward ! " 
 
 The whole court trembled as the Due de Guise was 
 seen to leave his place ; but instead of picking up the 
 glove, he advanced to the intrepid hunchback. 
 
 '* If 3'ou desire a second in that duel, monseigneur, 
 
 13 
 
 I 
 
194 Catherine dc' Medici. 
 
 do me the honor to accept my services," he said. "I 
 will answer for 3'ou ; I know that you will show the Re- 
 formers how mistaken they are if they think to have 
 vou for their leader." 
 
 The prince was forced to take the hand of the lieu- 
 tenant-general of the kingdom. Chicot picked up the 
 glove and returned it to Monsieur de Conde. 
 
 '* Coijsin," said the little king, "you must draw your 
 sword onh' for the defence of the kingdom. Come and 
 dine." , 
 
 The Cardinal de Lorraine, surprised at his brother's 
 action, drew him awa}' to his own apartments. The 
 Prince de Conde, having escaped his apparent danger, 
 offered his hand to Mary Stuart to lead her to the din- 
 ing hall ; but all the while that he made her flattering 
 speeches he pondered in his mind what trap the astute 
 Balafre was setting for him. In vain he worked his 
 brains, for it was not until Queen Mary herself betrayed 
 it, that he guessed the intention of the Guises. 
 
 '^ 'T would have been a great pit}'/' she said laugh- 
 ing, "if so clever a head had fallen; you must admit 
 that m}' uncle has been generous." 
 
 '^ Yes, madame ; for my head is ox\\y useful on my 
 shoulders, though one of them is notoriously' higher 
 than the other. But is this really your uncle's gener- 
 osity? Is he not getting the credit of it rather cheapl}? 
 Do 3'ou think it would be so easj^ to take off the head 
 of a prince of the blood ? " 
 
 " All is not over yet," she said. "We shall see what 
 your conduct will be at the execution of the noblemen, 
 3'our friends, at w^hich the Council has decided to make 
 a great public display of severity." 
 
___ Catherine de' Medici. 195 
 
 IP *' I shall do," said the prince, " whatever the king 
 
 does." 
 wm " '^^^ ki"o9 t^^^ queen-mother, and myself will be 
 present at the execution, together with the whole court 
 and the ambassadors — " 
 
 " A fete I " said the prince, sarcastically. 
 
 ''Better than that," said the young queen, "an act 
 of faiths an act of the highest polic3^ 'Tis a question 
 of forcing the noblemen of France to submit themselves 
 to the Crown, and compelling them to give up their 
 tastes for i3lots and factions — " 
 IK " You will not break their belligerent tempers by 
 the show of danger, madame ; jou will risk the Crown 
 itself in the attempt," replied the prince. 
 
 At. the end of the dinner, which was gloomy enough, 
 Queen Mary had the cruel boldness to turn the conver- 
 sation openl}' upon the trial of the noblemen on the 
 charge of being seized with arms in their hands, and to 
 speak of the necessit}' of making a great public show 
 of their execution. 
 
 " Madame," said Franqois II., " is it not enough for 
 the king of France to know that so much brave blood 
 is to flow? Must he make a triumph of it? ** 
 
 " No, sire ; but an example," replied Catherine. 
 
 " It was the custom of vour father and vour grand- 
 father to be present at the burning of heretics," said 
 Mary Stuart. 
 
 ''The kings who reigned before me did as they 
 thought best, and I choose to do as I please," said the 
 little king. 
 
 "Philip the Second," remarked Catherine, "who is 
 certainly a great king, lately postponed an auto da 
 
196 Catherine de' Medici, 
 
 fe until he could return from the Low Countries to 
 Valladolid." 
 
 '^What do 3'ou think, cousin?'* said the king to 
 Prince de Conde. 
 
 " Sire, you cannot avoid it, and the papal nuncio and 
 all the ambassadors should be present. I shall go will- 
 ingly', as these ladies take part in the fete." 
 
 Thus the Prince de Conde, at a glance from Cathe- 
 rine de' Medici, bravely chose his course. 
 
 At the moment when the Prince de Conde was enter- 
 ing the chateau d'Amboise, Lecamus, the furrier of the 
 two queens, was also arriving from Paris, brought to 
 Amboise by the anxiety into which the news of the 
 tumult had thrown both his family and that of Lallier. 
 When the old man presented himself at the gate of the 
 chateau, the captain of the guard, on hearing that he 
 was the queens' furrier, said : — 
 
 " My good man, if you want to be hanged you have 
 onl}^ to set foot in this courtj'ard." 
 
 Hearing these words, the father, in despair, sat down 
 on a stone at a little distance and waited until some 
 retainer of the two queens or some servant-w^oman 
 might pass who would give him news of his son. But 
 he sat there all daj' without seeing any one whom he 
 knew, and was forced at last to go down into the town, 
 where he found, not without some difficult}', a lodging 
 in a hostelry on the public square where the executions 
 took place. He was obliged to paj' a pound a day to 
 obtain a room with a window looking on the square. 
 The next da}^ he had the courage to w^atch, from his 
 window, the execution of all the abettors of the rebel- 
 
,_. Catherine de' Medici. 197 
 
 P 
 
 lion who were condemned to be broken on the wheel 
 or hanged, as persons of little importance. He was 
 happy indeed not to see his own son among the victims. 
 
 When the execution was over he went into the square 
 and put himself in the way of the clerk of the court. 
 After giving his name, and slipping a purse full of 
 crowns into the man's hand, he begged him to look on 
 the records and see if the name of Christophe Lecamua 
 appeared in either of the three preceding executions. 
 The clerk, touched by the manner and the tones of the 
 despairing father, took him to his own house. After a 
 careful search he was able to give the old man an abso- 
 lute assurance that Christophe was not among the 
 persons thus far executed, nor among those who were 
 to be put to death within a few days. 
 
 ^'My dear man," said the clerk, '^Parliament has 
 taken charge of the trial of the great lords implicated 
 in the affair, and also that of the principal leaders. 
 Perhaps your son is detained in the prisons of the 
 chateau, and he may be brought forth for the magni- 
 ficent execution which their P^xcellencies the Due de 
 Guise and the Cardinal de Lorraine are now preparing. 
 The heads of twenty-seven barons, eleven counts, and 
 seven marquises, — in all, fifty noblemen or leaders of the 
 Keformers, — are to be cut off. As the justiciary of the 
 county of Touraine is quite distinct from that of the 
 parliament of Paris, if you are determined to know 
 about your son, I advise you to go and see the Chan- 
 celier Olivier, who has the management of this great 
 trial under orders from the lieutenant-general of the 
 kingdom." 
 
 The poor old man, acting on this advice, went three 
 
198 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 times to see the chancellor, standing in a long queue 
 of persons waiting to ask mercy for their friends. 
 But as the titled men were made to pass before the 
 burghers, he was obliged to give up the hope of speak- 
 ing to the chancellor, though he saw him several times 
 leave the house to go either to the chateau or to the 
 committee appointed by the Parliament, — passing each 
 time between a double hedge of petitioners who were 
 kept back by the guards to allow him free passage. It 
 was a horrible scene of anguish and desolation ; for 
 among these petitioners were many women, wives, 
 mothers, daughters, whole families in distress. Old 
 Lecamus gave much gold to the footmen of the chateau, 
 entreating them to put certain letters which he wrote 
 into the hand either of Da3'elle, Queen Marj^'s woman, 
 or into that of the queen-mother ; but the footmen took 
 the poor man's mone}' and carried the letters, according 
 to the general order of the cardinal, to the provost- 
 marshal. By displaying such unheard-of cruelty the 
 Guises knew that they incurred great dangers from 
 revenge, and never did they take such precautions for 
 their safety as they did while the court was at Am- 
 boise ; consequently, neither the greatest of all cor- 
 rupters, gold, nor the incessant and active search 
 which the old furrier instituted gave him the slightest 
 gleam of light on the fate of his son. He went about 
 the little town with a mournful air, watching the great 
 preparations made by order of the cardinal for the 
 dreadful show at which the Prince de Conde had agreed 
 to be present. 
 
 Public curiosit}^ was stimulated from Paris to Nantes 
 by the means adopted on this occasion. The execution 
 
Catherine de' Medici, 199 
 
 was announced from all pulpits b}' the rectors of the 
 churches, while at the same time they gave thanks 
 for the victor}' of the king over the heretics. Three 
 handsome balconies, the middle one more sumptuous 
 than the other two, were built against the terrace 
 of the chateau of Amboise, at the foot of which the 
 executions were appointed to take place. Around the 
 open square, stagings were erected, and these were 
 filled with an immense crowd of people attracted by the 
 wide-spread notoriety* given to this '' act of faith.'* 
 Ten thousand persons camped in the adjoining fields 
 the night before the daj' on which the horrible spectacle 
 was appointed to take place. The roofs of the houses 
 were crowded with spectators, and windows were let at 
 ten pounds apiece, — an enormous sum in those days. 
 The poor old father had engaged, as we may well 
 believe, one of the best places from which the e3'e could 
 take in the whole of the terrible scene, where so many 
 men of noble blood were to perish on a vast scaffold 
 covered with black cloth, erected in the middle of the 
 open square. Thither, on the morning of the fatal day, 
 they brought the choiiquet^ — a name given to the block 
 on which the condemned man laid his head as he knelt 
 before it. After this they brought an arm-chair draped 
 with black, for the clerk of the Parliament, whose 
 business it was to call up the condemned noblemen to 
 their death and read their sentences. The whole square 
 was guarded from early morning by the Scottish guard 
 and the gendarmes of the king's household, in order to 
 keep back the crowd which threatened to fill it before 
 the hour of the execution. 
 
 After a solemn mass said at the chateau and in the 
 
200 Catherine de Medici. 
 
 churches of the town, the condemned lords, the last of 
 the conspirators who were left alive, were led out. 
 These gentlemen, some of whom had been put to the 
 torture, were grouped at the foot of the scaffold and 
 surrounded by monks, who endeavored to make them 
 abjure the doctrines of Calvin. But not a single 
 man listened to the words of the priests who had 
 been appointed for this dutj^ by the Cardinal of Lor- 
 raine ; among whom the gentlemen no doubt feared to 
 find spies of the Guises. In order to avoid the impor- 
 tunity of these antagonists the}' chanted a psalm, put 
 into P'rench verse by Clement Marot. Calvin, as we 
 all know, had ordained that pra\ers to God should be 
 in the language of each country-, as much from a prin- 
 ciple of common sense as in opposition to the Roman 
 worship. To those in the crowd who pitied these un- 
 fortunate gentlemen it was a moving incident to 
 hear them chant the following verse at the very 
 moment when the king and court arrived and took their 
 places : — 
 
 " God be merciful unto us, 
 And bless us I 
 And show us the light of his countenance, 
 And be mercifi^l unto us." 
 
 The eyes of all the Reformers turned to their leader, 
 the Prince de Conde, who was placed intentionally 
 between Queen Marj' and the young Due d'Orleans. 
 Catherine de' Medici was beside the king, and the rest 
 of the court were on her left. The papal nuncio stood 
 behind Queen Mary ; the lieutenant-general of the king- 
 dom, the Due de Guise, was on horseback below the 
 
Catherine cle Medici. 201 
 
 balcony, with two of the marshals of France and his 
 staff captains. When the Prince de Conde appeared all 
 the condemned noblemen who knew him bowed to him, 
 and the brave hunchback returned their salutation. 
 
 " It would be hard,'* he remarked to the Due 
 d'Orleans, " not to be civil to those about to die." 
 
 The two other balconies were filled by invited guests, 
 courtiers, and persons on dut}' about the court. In 
 short, the whole company of the chateau de Blois 
 had come to Amboise to assist at this festival of death, 
 precisely as it passed, a little later, from the pleasures 
 of a court to the perils of war, with an easy facility, 
 which will always seem to foreigners one of the main 
 supports of their polic}' toward France. 
 
 The poor syndic of the furriers of Paris was filled 
 with the keenest jo}^ at not seeing his son among the 
 fifty-seven gentlemen who were condemned to die. 
 
 At a sign from the Due de Guise, the clerk seated on 
 the scaffold cried in a loud voice : — 
 
 " Jean-Louis-Alberic, Baron de Raima}', guilty of 
 heres}', of the crime of lese-majeste^ and assault with 
 armed hand against the person of the king." 
 
 A tall handsome man mounted the scaffold with a 
 firm step, bowed to the people and the court, and said : 
 
 "That sentence lies. I took arms to deliver the 
 king from his enemies, the Guises." 
 
 He placed his head on the block, and it fell. The 
 Reformers chanted : — 
 
 " Thou, O God ! hast proved us ; 
 Thou hast tried us ; 
 As silver is tried in the fire, 
 So hast thou purified us." 
 
 I 
 
202 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 " Robert- Jean -Ken e Briquemaut, Comte de Ville- 
 mongis, guilty of the crime of lese-majeste^ and of 
 attempts against the person of the king ! " called the 
 clerk. 
 
 The count dipped his hands in the blood of the 
 Baron de Raunaj^, and said : — 
 
 " May this blood recoil upon those who are really 
 guilty of those crimes." 
 
 The Reformers chanted : — 
 
 " Thou broughtest us into the snare ; 
 
 Thou laidest affliction upon our loins ; 
 Thou hast suffered our enemies 
 To ride over us." 
 
 "You must admit, monseigneur," said the Prince 
 de Conde to the papal nuncio, "that if these P^ench 
 gentlemen know how to conspire, they also know how 
 to die." 
 
 "What hatreds, brother!" whispered the Duchesse 
 de Guise to the Cardinal de Lorraine, " j'ou are draw- 
 ing down upon the heads of our children ! " 
 
 "The sight makes me sick," said the 3'oung king, 
 turning pale at the flow of blood. 
 
 " Pooh ! onl}^ rebels ! " replied Catherine de* Medici. 
 
 The chants went on ; the axe still fell. The sublime 
 spectacle of men singing as the}^ died, and, above all, 
 the impression produced upon the crowd by the pro- 
 gressive diminution of the chanting voices, superseded 
 the fear inspired by the Guises. 
 
 " Mercy ! " cried the people with one voice, when 
 they heard the solitar}^ chant of the last and most 
 important of the great lords, who was saved to be the 
 
f- 
 
 I 
 
 Catherine de* MedicL 203 
 
 final victim. He alone remained at the foot of the 
 steps b}' which the others had mounted the scaffold, 
 and he chanted : — 
 
 " Thou, O God, be merciful unto us, 
 And bless us. 
 And cause thy face to shine upon us. 
 Amen I " 
 
 "Come, Due de Nemours," said the Prince de Conde, 
 weary of the part he was playing ; " 3'ou who have the 
 credit of the skirmish, and who helped to make these 
 men prisoners, do you not feel under an obligation to 
 ask merc}^ for this one ? It is Castelnau, who, the\' sa}', 
 received 3'our word of honor that he should be cour- 
 teously treated if he surrendered." 
 
 "Do 3'ou think I waited till he was here before trying 
 to save him ? '^ said the Due de Nemours, stung by the 
 stern reproach. 
 
 The clerk called slowly — no doubt he was inten- 
 tionally slow : — 
 
 " Michel- Jean-Louis, Baron de Castelnau-Chalosse, 
 accused and convicted of the crime of lese-niajeste^ and 
 of attempts against the person of the king." 
 
 ''No," said Castelnau, proudl3% "it cannot be a 
 crime to oppose the t3Tanny and the projected usurpa- 
 tion of the Guises." 
 
 The executioner, sick of his task, saw a movement 
 
 the king's gallery, and fumbled with his axe. 
 
 "Monsieur le baron," he said, "I do not want to 
 execute you ; a moment's dela}' may save 3'ou." 
 
 All the people again cried, " Mercy ! " 
 
 "Come!" said the king, "mere}' for that poor 
 Castelnau, who saved the life of the Due d'Orleaus." 
 
204 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 The cardinal intentionall}^ misunderstood the king's 
 speech. 
 
 "Go on," he motioned to the executioner, and the 
 head of Castehiau fell at the very moment when the 
 king had pronounced his pardon. 
 
 "That head, cardinal, goes to joxxx account," said 
 Catherine de* Medici. 
 
 The da}^ after this dreadful execution the Prince de 
 Conde returned to Navarre. 
 
 The affair produced a great sensation in France and 
 at all the foreign courts. The torrents of noble blood 
 then shed caused such anguish to the chancellor Olivier 
 that his honorable mind, perceiving at last the real end 
 and aim of the Guises disguised under a pretext of 
 defending religion and the monarch}^, felt itself no 
 longer able to make head against them. Though he 
 was their creature, he was not willing to sacrifice his 
 duty and the Throne to their ambition ; and he with- 
 drew from his post, suggesting I'Hopital as his rightful 
 successor. Catherine, hearing of Olivier's suggestion, 
 immediatelj' proposed Birago, and put much warmth 
 into her request. The cardinal, knowing nothing of the 
 letter written by I'Hopital to the queen-mother, and 
 supposing him faithful to the house of Lorraine, pressed 
 bis appointment in opposition to that of Birago, 
 and Catherine allowed herself to seem vanquished. 
 From the moment that I'Hopital entered upon his duties 
 he took measures against the Inquisition, which the 
 Cardinal de Lorraine was desirous of introducing into 
 France ; and he thwarted so successfull}' all the anti- 
 gallican policy of the Guises, and proved himself so 
 true a Frenchman, that in order to subdue him he was 
 
I 
 
 Catherine de' Medici. 205 
 
 exiled, within three months of his appointment, to his 
 countiy-seat of Vignay, near Etampes. 
 
 The worthy old Lecamus waited impatient!}' till the 
 court left Amboise, being unable to find an opportun- 
 ity to speak to either of the queens, and hoping to put 
 himself in their wa}^ as the court advanced along the 
 river-bank on its return to Blois. He disguised himself 
 as a pauper, at the risk of being taken for a spy, and 
 by means of this travesty, he mingled with the crowd 
 of beggars which lined the roadvva3% After the depart- 
 ure of the Prince de Conde, and the execution of the 
 leaders, the duke and cardinal thought they had suffi- 
 ciently silenced the Reformers to allow the queen- 
 mother a little more freedom. Lecamus knew that, 
 instead of travelling in a litter, Catherine intended to 
 go on horseback, a la 2>lcinchette^ — such was the name 
 given to a sort of stirrup invented for or b}' the 
 queen-mother, who, having hurt her leg on some occa- 
 sion, ordered a velvet-covered saddle with a plank on 
 which she could place both feet b}- sitting sideways on 
 the horse and passing one leg through a depression in 
 the saddle. As the queen-mother had very handsome 
 legs, she was accused of inventing this method of rid- 
 ing, in order to show them. The old furrier fortunately 
 found a moment when he could present himself to her 
 sight ; but the instant that the queen recognized him 
 she gave signs of displeasure. 
 
 " Go away, my good man, and let no one see you 
 speak to me," she said with anxiet}'. "Get yourself 
 elected deput}' to the States-general, b}- the guild of 
 3'our trade, and act for me when the Assembly convenes 
 at Orleans ; you shall know whom to trust in the mat- 
 ter of your son." 
 
20G Catherine de' Medici, 
 
 *^Is he living? " asked the old man. 
 
 " Alas ! " said the queen, ^' I hope so." 
 
 Lecamus was obUged to return to Paris with nothing 
 better than those doubtful words and the secret of the 
 approaching convocation of the States-general, thus 
 confided to him bj^ the queen-mother. 
 
Catherine de' Medici. 207 
 
 X. 
 
 COSMO RUGGIERO. 
 
 The Cardinal de Lorraine obtained, within a few 
 days of the events just related, certain revelations as 
 to the culpabilit}' of the court of Navarre. At L3'on, 
 and at Mouvans in Dauphine, a body of Reformers, 
 under command of the most enterprising prince of the 
 house of Bourbon had endeavored to incite the popu- 
 lace to rise. Such audacit}', after the blood}' execu- 
 tions at Amboise, astonished the Guises, who (no doubt 
 to put an end to heresy by means known only to 
 themselves) proposed the convocation of the States- 
 general at Orleans. Catherine de' Medici, seeing a 
 chance of support to her policy in a national represen- 
 tation, joyfully agreed to it. The cardinal, bent on re- 
 covering his prey and degrading the house of Bourbon, 
 convoked the States for the sole purpose of bringing 
 the Prince de Conde and the king of Navarre (Antoine 
 de Bourbon, father of Henri IV.) to Orleans, — intend- 
 ing to make use of Christophe to convict the prince of 
 high treason if he succeeded in again getting him within 
 the power of the Crown. 
 
 After two months passed in the prison at Blois, 
 Christophe was removed on a litter to a tow-boat, which 
 sailed up the Loire to Orleans, helped b}^ a westerlj' wind. 
 He arrived there in the evening and was taken at once 
 to the celebrated tower of Saint- Aignan. The poor lad. 
 
208 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 who did not know what to think of his removal, had 
 plenty of time to reflect on his conduct and on his 
 future. He remained there two months, Ivinoj on his 
 pallet, unable to move his legs. The bones of his joints 
 were broken. When he asked for the help of a surgeon 
 from the town, the jailer replied that the orders were so 
 strict about him that he dared not allow an}^ one but 
 himself even to bring him food. This severity, which 
 placed him virtuall}^ in solitary confinement, amazed 
 Christophe. To his mind, he ought either to be hanged 
 or released ; for he was, of course, entirely ignorant of 
 the events at Amboise. 
 
 In spite of certain secret advice sent to them by 
 Catherine de' Medici, the two chiefs of the house of 
 Bourbon resolved to be present at the States-general, 
 so complete 1}' did the autograph letters they received 
 from the king reassure them ; and no sooner had the 
 court established itself at Orleans than it learned, not 
 without amazement, from Groslot, chancellor of Na- 
 varre, that the Bourbon princes had arrived. 
 
 Franqois II. established himself in the house of the 
 chancellor of Navarre, who was also bailli, in other 
 words, chief justice of the law courts, at Orleans. This 
 Groslot, whose dual position was one of the singularities 
 of this period — when Reformers themselves owned 
 abbeys — Groslot, the Jacques Coeur of Orleans, one 
 of the richest burghers of the da}-, did not bequeath 
 his name to the house, for in after 3'ears it was called 
 Le Bailliage, having been, undoubtedl}', purchased either 
 by the heirs of the Crown or by the provinces as the 
 proper place in which to hold the legal courts. This 
 charming structure, built by the bourgeoisie of the six- 
 
Catherine de' Medici. 209 
 
 teenth century, which completes so admirabl\' the his- 
 tory of a period in which king, nobles, and burghers 
 rivalled each other in the grace, elegance, and richness 
 of their dwellings (witness Varangeville, the splendid 
 manor-house of Ango, and the mansion, called that of 
 Hercules, in Paris), exists to this day, though in a state 
 to fill archaeologists and lovers of the Middle Ages with 
 despair. It would be difficult, however, to go to Orle- 
 ans and not take notice of the H6tel-de-Ville which 
 stands on the place de I'Estape. This hotel-de-ville, or 
 town-hall, is the former Balliage, the mansion of Groslot, 
 the most illustrious house in Orleans, and the most 
 neglected. 
 
 The remains of this old building will still show, to 
 the eyes of an archaeologist, how magnificent it was at 
 a period when the houses of the burghers were com- 
 monly built of wood rather than stone, a period when 
 noblemen alone had the right to build maiiora^ — a sig- 
 nificant word. Having served as the dwelling of the 
 king at a period when the court displayed such pomp 
 and luxury, the hotel Groslot must have been the most 
 splendid house in Orleans. It was here, on the place 
 de TEstape, that the Guises and the king reviewed the 
 burgher guard, of which Monsieur de Cypierre was 
 made the commander during the sojourn of the king. 
 At this period the cathedral of Sainte-Croix, afterward 
 completed by Henri IV., — who chose to give that proof 
 of the sincerity of his conversion, — was in process of 
 erection, and its neighborhood, heaped with stones and 
 cumbered with piles of wood, was occupied b}' the 
 Guises and their retainers, who were quartered in the 
 bishop's palace, now destroyed. 
 
 14 
 
210 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 The town was under military discipline, and the 
 measures taken by the Guises proved how little liberty 
 they intended to leave to the States-general, the 
 members of which flocked into the town, raisins: the 
 rents of the poorest lodgings. The court, the burgher 
 militia, the nobility, and the burghers themselves were 
 all in a state of expectation, awaiting some coiip- 
 d'Etat ; and the}' found themselves not mistaken when 
 the princes of the blood arrived. As the Bourbon 
 princes entered the king's chamber, the court saw with 
 terror the insolent bearing of Cardinal de Lorraine. 
 Determined to show his intentions openl}', he remained 
 covered, while the king of Navarre stood before him 
 bare-headed. Catherine de' Medici lowered her eyes, 
 not to show the indignation that she felt. Then fol- 
 lowed a solemn explanation between the young king 
 and the two chiefs of the younger branch. It was 
 short, for at the first words of the Prince de Conde 
 Francois 11. interrupted him, with threatening looks : 
 
 "Messieurs, m}* cousins, I had supposed the affair of 
 Amboise over ; I find it is not so, and 3'ou are compel- 
 ling us to regret the indulgence which we showed.'* 
 
 *^ It is not the king so much as the Messieurs de 
 Guise who now address us,-* replied the Prince de 
 Conde. 
 
 " Adieu, monsieur,'' cried the little king, crimson 
 with anger. When he left the king's presence the prince 
 found his way barred in the great hall hy two officers of 
 the Scottish guard. As the captain of the French 
 guard advanced, the prince drew a letter from his 
 doublet, and said to him in presence of the whole 
 court : — 
 
Catherine de* Medici, 211 
 
 " Can you read that paper aloud to me, Monsieur de 
 Maille-Breze?'' 
 - '' Willingly," said the French captain : — 
 
 ««*My cousin, come in all security; I give you my royal 
 word that you can do so. If you have need of a safe con- 
 duct, this letter will serve as one.* " 
 
 " Signed?" said the shrewd and courageous hunch- 
 back. 
 
 *' Signed ' Francois,' " said Maill6. 
 
 "No, no!" exclaimed the prince, "it is signed: 
 ' Your good cousin and friend, Francois.' — Messieurs," 
 he said to the Scotch guard, *' I follow you to the 
 prison to which you are ordered, on behalf of the king, 
 to conduct me. There is enough nobility in this hall to 
 understand the matter ! " 
 
 The profound silence which followed these words 
 ought to have enlightened the Guises, but silence is 
 that to which all princes listen least. 
 
 *' Monseigneur," said the Cardinal de Tournon, who 
 was following the prince, '' 30U know well that since 
 the affair at Amboise you have made certain attempts 
 both at Lyon and at Mouvans in Dauphine against the 
 royal authority, of which the king had no knowledge 
 when he wrote to you in those terms. " 
 
 *' Tricksters ! " cried the prince, laughing. 
 
 " You have made a public declaration against the 
 Mass and in favor of heres}*." 
 
 " We are masters in Navarre," said the prince. 
 
 *' You mean to say in Beam. But 3'ou owe homage 
 to the Crown," replied President de Thou. 
 
 '*Ha! you here, president?" cried the prince, sarcas- 
 tically. " Is the whole Parliament with 3'ou ? " 
 
212 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 So saying, he cast a look of contempt upon the 
 cardinal and left the hall. He saw plainly enough that 
 ♦ the}' meant to have his head. The next da}', when 
 Messieurs de Thou, de Viole, d'Espesse, the procureur- 
 general Bourdin, and the chief clerk of the court du 
 Tillet, entered his presence, he kept them standing, 
 and expressed his regrets to see them charged with a 
 duty which did not belong to them. Then he said to 
 the clerk, " Write down what I say," and dictated as 
 follows ; — 
 
 " I, Louis de Bourbon, Prince de Condd, peer of the king- 
 dom. Marquis de Conti, Comte de Soissoiis, prince of the 
 blood of France, do declare that I formally refuse to recog- 
 nize any commission appointed to try me, because, in my 
 quality and in virtue of the privilege appertaining to all 
 members of the royal house, I can only be accused, tried, 
 and judged by the Parliament of peers, both Chambers 
 assembled, the king being seated on his bed of justice." 
 
 ** You ought to know that, gentlemen, better than 
 others,'' he added ; " and this reply is all that you will 
 get from me. For the rest, I trust in God and my 
 right." 
 
 The magistrates continued to address him notwith- 
 standing his obstinate silence. The king of Navarre 
 was left at liberty, but closel}' watched ; his prison was 
 larger than that of the prince, and this was the only real 
 difference in the position of the two brothers, — the 
 intention being that their heads should fall together. 
 
 Christophe was therefore kept in the strictest solitary 
 confinement b}' order of the cardinal and the lieutenant- 
 general of the kingdom, for no other purpose than to 
 
Catherine de' Medici, 213 
 
 t 
 
 ■give the judges proof of the culpability of the Prince 
 l^de Conde. The letters seized on Lasagne, the prince's 
 secretary, though intelligible to statesmen, were not 
 ufficiently plain proof for judges. The cardinal in- 
 tended to confront the prince and Christophe by acci- 
 dent ; and it was not without intention that the young 
 Reformer was placed in one of the lower rooms in the 
 tower of Saint-Aignan, with a window looking on the 
 prison yard. Eacli time that Christophe was brought 
 before the magistrates, and subjected to a close exami- 
 nation, he sheltered himself behind a total and complete 
 denial, which prolonged his trial until after the opening 
 of the States-general. 
 
 Old Lecamus, who by that time had got himself 
 elected deputy of the tiers-etat by the burghers of Paris, 
 arrived at Orleans a few days after tiie arrest of the 
 Prince de Conde. This news, which reached him at 
 fitampes, redoubled his anxiety ; for he fully understood 
 — he, who alone knew of Christophers interview with 
 the prince under the bridge near his own house — tliat 
 his son's fate was closely bound up with that of the 
 leader of the Reformed party. He therefore determined 
 to study the dark tangle of interests which were strug- 
 gling together at court in order to discover some means 
 of rescuing his son. It was useless to think of Queen 
 Catherine, who refused to see her furrier. No one 
 about the court whom he was able to address could 
 give him any satisfactory information about Cliristophe ; 
 and he fell at last into a state of such utter despair 
 that he was on the verge of appealing to the cardinal 
 himself, when he learned that Monsieur de Thou (and 
 this was the great stain upon that good man's life) had 
 
214 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 consented to be one of the judges of the Prince de 
 Conde. The old furrier went at once to see him, and 
 learned at last that Christophe was still living, though 
 a prisoner. 
 
 Tourillon, the glover (to whom La Eenaudie sent 
 Christophe on his way to Blois), had offered a room in 
 his house to the Sieur Lecamus for the whole time of 
 his sta}^ in Orleans during the sittings of the States- 
 general. The glover believed the furrier to be, like 
 himself, secretl}-^ attached to the Reformed religion ; but 
 he soon saw that a father who fears for the life of his 
 child pa^'s no heed to shades of religious opinion, but 
 flings himself prone upon the bosom of God without car- 
 ing what insignia men give to Him. The poor old man, 
 repulsed in all his efforts, wandered like one bewildered 
 through the streets. Contrary- to his expectations, his 
 mone}^ availed him nothing ; Monsieur de Thou had 
 warned him that if he bribed any servant of the 
 house of Guise he would merel}- lose his mone}', for 
 the duke and cardinal allowed nothing that related tp 
 Christophe to transpire. De Thou, whose fame is 
 somewhat tarnished b}^ the part he plaj^ed at this crisis, 
 endeavored to give some hope to the poor father ; but 
 he trembled so much himself for the fate of his godson 
 that his attempts at consolation onl}^ alarmed the old 
 man still more. Lecamus roamed the streets ; in three 
 months he had shrunk visibly. His onh' hope now lay 
 in the warm friendship which for so man}^ years had 
 bound him to the Hippocrates of the sixteenth century. 
 Ambroise Pare tried to say a word to Queen Marj^ on 
 leaving the chamber of the king, who was then indis- 
 posed ; but no sooner had he named Christophe than 
 
Catherine de' Medici, 215 
 
 I 
 
 tlie daughter of the Stuarts, nervous at the prospect 
 of her fate should any evil happen to the king, and 
 believing that the Reformers were attempting to poison 
 him, cried out : — 
 
 " If my uncles had only listened to me, that fanatic 
 would have been hanged already." 
 
 The evening on which this fatal answer was repeated 
 to old Lecamus, by his friend Pare on the place de 
 I'Estape, he returned home half dead to his own cham- 
 ber, refusing to eat any supj^er. Tourillon, uneasy 
 about him, went up to his room and found him in tears ; 
 the aged e^'es showed the inflamed red lining of their 
 lids, so that the glover fancied for a moment that he 
 was weeping tears of blood. 
 
 " Comfort yourself, father," said the Reformer ; " the 
 burghers of Orleans are furious to see their city treated 
 as though it were taken b}" assault, and guarded by the 
 soldiers of Monsieur de Cypierre. If the life of the 
 Prince de Conde is in any real danger we will soon 
 demolish the tower of Saint- Aignan ; the whole town 
 is on the side of the Reformers, and it will rise in 
 rebellion ; you may be sure of that 1 " 
 
 ''But, even if they hang the Guises, it will not give 
 me back mj- son," said the wretched father. 
 
 At that instant some one rapped cautiously' on Tour- 
 illon's outer door, and the glover went downstairs to 
 open it himself. The night was dark. In these troub- 
 lous times the masters of all households took minute 
 precautions. Tourillon looked through the peep-holes 
 cut in the door, and saw a stranger, whose accent 
 indicated an Italian, The man, who was dressed in 
 black, asked to speak with Lecamus on matters of 
 
216 Catherine de' Medici, 
 
 business, and Tourillon admitted him. When the fur- 
 rier caught sight of his visitor he shuddered violently ; 
 but the stranger managed, unseen by Tourillon, to lay 
 bis finger on his lips. Lecamus, understanding the 
 gesture, said immediatel}^ : — 
 
 **You have come, 1 suppose, to offer furs?'* 
 
 " /S'i," said the Italian, discreetly. 
 
 This personage was no other than the famous Rug- 
 giero, astrologer to the queen-mother. Tourillon went 
 below to his own apartment, feeling convinced that he 
 was one too many in that of his guest. 
 
 '' Where can we talk without danger of being over- 
 heard?" said the cautious Florentine. 
 
 " We ought to be in the open fields for that," replied 
 Lecamus. '' But we are not allowed to leave the town ; 
 you know the severity with which the gates are guarded. 
 No one can leave Orleans without a pass from Monsieur 
 de Cypierre," he added, — " not even I, who am a mem- 
 ber of the States-general. Complaint is to be made at 
 to-morrow's session of this restriction of liberty." 
 
 " Work like a mole, but don't let 3'our paws be seen 
 in anvthinor, no matter what," said the warv Italian. 
 '' To-morrow will, no doubt, prove a decisive day. 
 Judging b}' m}' observations, you ma}', perhaps, recover 
 3^our son to-morrow, or tlie day after." 
 
 "'May God hear you — you who are thought to 
 traffic with the devil ! " 
 
 " Come to m}' place," said the astrologer, smiling. 
 " I live in the tower of Sieur Touchet de Beauvais, the 
 lieutenant of the Bailliage, whose daughter the little 
 Due d'Orleans has taken such a fanc}' to ; it is there that 
 I observe the planets. I have drawn the girl's horo- 
 
Catherine de' Medici, 217 
 
 scope, anrl it sa3-s that she will become a great lady and 
 be beloved by a king. The lieutenant, her father, is 
 a clever man ; he loves science, and the queen sent me 
 to lodge with him. He has had the sense to be a rabid 
 Guisist while awaiting the reign of Charles IX." 
 
 The furrier and the astrologer reached the house of 
 tlie Sieur de Beauvais without being met or even seen ; 
 but, in case Lecamus' visit should be discovered, the 
 Florentine intended to give the pretext of an astrologi- 
 cal consultation on his son's fate. When they were 
 safely at the top of the tower, where the astrologer did 
 Ins work, Lecamus said to him : — 
 H " Is my son realh^ living?" 
 
 Bp " Yes, he still lives," replied Ruggiero ; ''and the 
 
 question now is how to save him. Remember this, sel- 
 
 i ler of skins, I would not give two farthings for yours if 
 
 ever in all your life a single syllable should escape you 
 
 of what I am about to say." 
 
 " That is a useless caution, my friend ; I have been 
 furrier to the court since the time of the late Louis 
 XII. ; this is the fourth reign that I have seen." 
 
 " And you may soon say the fifth," remarked Rug- 
 giero. 
 
 '' What do 3'ou know about ra}' son? " 
 
 " He has been put to the question." 
 
 " Poor boy ! " said the old man, raising his 63^3 to 
 heaven. 
 
 " His knees and ankles were a bit injured, but he 
 has won a royal protection which will extend over liis 
 whole life," said the Florentine hastily, seeing the ter- 
 ror of the poor father. " Your little Christophe has 
 done a service to our great queen Catherine. If we 
 
218 Catherine de* Medici. 
 
 manage to pull him out of the claws of the Guises you 
 will see him some day councillor to .the Parliament. 
 Any man would gladly have his bones cracked three 
 times over to stand so high in the good graces of this 
 dear sovereign, — a grand and noble genius, who will 
 ti'iumph in the end over all obstacles. I have drawn 
 the horoscope of the Due de Guise; he will be killed 
 within a year. Well, so Chris tophe saw the Prince de 
 Conde — " 
 
 " You who read the future ought to know the past," 
 said the furrier. 
 
 '' M}' good man, I am not questioning you, I am tell- 
 ing you a fact. Now, if your son, who will to-morrow 
 be placed in the princess wa}' as he passes, should rec- 
 ognize him, or if the prince should recognize your son, 
 the head of Monsieur de Conde will fall. God knows 
 what will become of his accomplice ! However, don't 
 be alarmed. Neither your son nor the prince will die ; 
 I have drawn their horoscope, — tlie}' will live ; but I do 
 not know in what wa}^ the}' will get out of this affair. 
 Without distrusting the certaint}' of my calculations, 
 we must do something to bring about results. To-mor- 
 row the prince will receive, from sure hands, a prayer- 
 book in which we conve>' the information to him. God 
 grant that your son be cautious, for him we cannot warn. 
 A single glance of recognition will cost the prince's life. 
 Therefore, although the queen-mother has ever}' reason 
 to trust in Christophe's faithfulness — " 
 
 '' They Ve put it to a cruel test ! *' cried the furrier. 
 
 " Don't speak so! Do you think the queen-mother 
 is on a bed of roses? She is taking measures as if the 
 Guises had already decided on the death of the prince ; 
 
Catherine de Medici. 219 
 
 and right she is, the wise and prudent queen ! Now 
 listen to me ; she counts on you to help her in all 
 things. You have some influence with the tiers-etat^ 
 IBrhere you represent the body of the guilds of Paris, 
 IHnd though the Guisards may promise you to set your 
 son at liberty, try to fool them and maintain tlie inde- 
 pendence of the guilds. Demand the queen-mother as 
 regent; the king of Navarre will publicly accept the 
 proposal at the session of the States-general. 
 
 "But the king?" said Lecamus. 
 
 " The king will die," replied Ruggiero ; " I have read 
 his horoscope. What the queen-mother requires you 
 to do for her at the States-general is a very simple thing ; 
 but there is a far greater service which she asks of you. 
 You helped Ambroise Pare in his studies, you are his 
 friend — *' 
 
 "Ambroise now loves the Due de Guise more than 
 he loves me ; and he is rigiit, for he owes his place to 
 him. Besides, he is faithful to the king. Though he 
 inclines to the Reformed religion, he will never do any- 
 thing against his duty.'' 
 
 "Curse these honest men!" cried the Florentine. 
 "Ambroise boasted this evening that he could bring 
 the little king safely through his present illness (for he 
 is really ill). If the king recovers his health, the Guises 
 triumph, the princes die, the house of Bourbon becomes 
 extinct, we shall return to Florence, vour son will be 
 hanged, and the Lorrains will easily get the better of 
 the other sons of France — " 
 
 '' Great God ! " exclaimed Lecamus. 
 
 "Don't cry out in that way, — it is like a burgher 
 who knows nothing of the court, — but go at once to 
 
220 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 Ambroise and find out from him what he intends to do 
 to save the king's hfe. If there is anything decided on, 
 oome back to me at once, and tell me the treatment in 
 which he has such faith." 
 
 ''But — " said Lecamus. 
 
 ''Obey blindly, my dear friend; otherwise j^ou will 
 get your mind bewildered." 
 
 "He is right," thought the furrier. "I had better 
 not know more ; " and he went at once in search of the 
 king's surgeon, who lived at a hostelrj' in the place du 
 Martroi. 
 
 Catherine de' Medici was at this moment in a politi- 
 cal extremit}' y^vy much like that in which poor Chris- 
 tophe had seen her at Blois. Though she had been in 
 a wa\' trained by the struggle, though she had exer- 
 cised her loft}' intellect b\' the lessons of that first de- 
 feat, her present situation, while nearly the same, had 
 become more critical, more perilous than it was at Am- 
 boise. Events, like the woman herself, had magnified. 
 Though she seemed to be in full accordance with the 
 Guises, Catherine held in her hand the threads of a 
 wisely planned conspiracy against her terrible associ- 
 ates, and was onl}' awaiting a propitious moment to 
 throw off the mask. The cardinal had just obtained 
 the positive certaintj' that Catherine was deceiving him. 
 Her subtle Italian spirit felt that the Younger branch 
 was the best hindrance she could offer to the ambition 
 of the duke and cardinal ; and (in spite of the advice of 
 the two Gondis, who urged her to let the Guises wreak 
 their vengeance on the Bourbons) she defeated the 
 scheme concocted b}' them with Spain to seize the prov- 
 ince of Beam, by warning Jeanne d'Albret, queen of 
 
Catherine de^ Medici, 221 
 
 li^ 
 
 avarre, of that threatened danger. As this state secret 
 was known only to them and to the queen-mother, the 
 Guises knew of course who had betra^'ed it, and re- 
 solved to send her back to Florence. But in order to 
 make themselves perfectly sure of what they called her 
 treason against the State (the State being the house of 
 Lorraine), the duke and cardinal confided to her their 
 intention of getting rid of the king of Navarre. The 
 precautions instantly taken by Antoine proved conclu- 
 sively to the two brothers that the secrets known only 
 to them and the queen-mother had been divulged by 
 the latter. The cardinal instantly* taxed her with 
 treachery, in presence of P'ran9ois II., — threatening 
 lier with an edict of banishment in case of future indis- 
 cretion, which might, as they said, put the kingdom in 
 danger. 
 
 Catherine, who then felt herself in the utmost peril, 
 acted in the spirit of a great king, giving proof of her 
 high capacit}'. It must be added, however, that she 
 was ably seconded by her friends. L'Hopital managed 
 to send her a note, written in the following terms : — 
 
 " Do not allow a prince of the blood to be put to death 
 by a committee ; or you will yourself be carried off in some 
 way." 
 
 Catherine sent Birago to Vignay to tell the chan- 
 cellor (I'Hopital) to come to Orleans at once, in spite of 
 his being in disgrace. Birago returned the very night 
 of which we are writing, and was now a few miles from 
 Orleans with I'Hopital, who heartil}' avowed himself for 
 the queen -mother. Chiverni, whose fidelity was very 
 justl}' suspected by the Guises, had escaped from 
 
 I 
 
222 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 Orleans, and reached Econen in ten hours, by a forced 
 march which almost cost him his life. There he told 
 the Connetable de Montmorency of the peril of his 
 nephew, the Prince de Conde, and the audacious hopes 
 of the Guises. The Connetable, furious at the thought 
 that the prince's life hung upon that of Francois II., 
 started for Orleans at once with a hundred noblemen 
 and fifteen hundred cavalr3\ In order to take the 
 Messieurs de Guise by surprise he avoided Paris, and 
 came direct from Ecouen to Corbeil, and from Corbeil 
 to Pithiviers b}' the vallej' of the Essonne. 
 
 " Soldier against soldier, we must leave no chances," 
 he said on the occasion of this bold march. 
 
 Anne de Montmorency, who had saved France at the 
 time of the invasion of Provence by Charles V., and 
 the Due de Guise, who had stopped the second invasion 
 of the emperor at Metz, were, in truth, the two great 
 warriors of France at this period. Catherine had 
 awaited this precise moment to rouse the inextinguish- 
 able hatred of the Connetable, whose disgrace and 
 banishment were the work of the Guises. The Marquis 
 de Simeuse, however, who commanded at Gien, being 
 made aware of the large force approaching under com- 
 mand of the Connetable, jumped on his horse hoping to 
 reach Orleans in time to warn the duke and cardinal. 
 
 Sure that the Connetable would come to the rescue of 
 his nephew, and full of confidence in the Chancelier 
 THopital's devotion to the royal cause, the queen- 
 mother revived the hopes and the boldness of the 
 Reformed party. The Colignys and the friends of the 
 house of Bourbon, aware of their danger, now made 
 common cause with the adherents of the queen-mother. 
 
Catherine de* Medici. 
 
 223 
 
 A coalition between these opposing interests, attacked 
 by a common enem}', formed itself silentl3' in the States- 
 general, where it soon became a question of appointing 
 Catherine as regent in case the king should die. Cath- 
 erine, whose faith in astrology was much greater than 
 her faith in the Church, now dared all against her 
 oppressors, seeing that her son was ill and apparently 
 dying at the expiration of the time assigned to his 
 life b}' the famous sorceress, whom Nostradamus had 
 brought to her at the chateau of Chaumont. 
 
224 Catherine de' Medici 
 
 XL 
 
 AMBROISE PARE. 
 
 Some days before the terrible end of the reign of 
 Fran9ois II., the king insisted on sailing down the 
 Loire, wishing not to be in the town of Orleans on the 
 day when the Prince de Conde was executed. Having 
 yielded the head of the prince to the Cardinal de Lor- 
 raine, he was equally in dread of a rebellion among the 
 townspeople and of the prayers and supplications of 
 the Princesse de Conde. At the moment of embarka- 
 tion, one of the cold winds which sweep along the Loire 
 at the beginning of winter gave him so sharp an ear- 
 ache that he was obliged to return to his apartments ; 
 there he took to his bed, not leaving it again until he 
 died. In contradiction of the doctors, who, with the 
 exception of Chapelain, were his enemies, Ambroise 
 Pare insisted that an abscess was formed in the king's 
 head, and that unless an issue were given to it, the 
 danger of death would increase dail3\ Notwithstanding 
 the lateness of the hour, and the curfew law, which was 
 sternly enforced in Orleans, at this time practically' in 
 a state of siege, Pare's lamp shone from his window, 
 and he was deep in study, when Lecamus called to 
 him from below. Recognizing the voice of his old 
 friend, Pare ordered that he should be admitted. 
 
 " You take no rest, Ambroise ; while saving the lives 
 of others you are wasting your own," said the furrier 
 
Catherine de' Medici. 225 
 
 as he entered, looking at the surgeon, who sat, with 
 opened books and scattered instruments, before the head 
 of a dead man, lately buried and now disinterred, iu 
 which he had cut an opening. 
 
 " It is a matter of saving the king's life." 
 
 ''Are you sure of doing it, Ambroise?" cried the 
 old man, trembling. 
 
 " As sure as I am of m}" own existence. The king, 
 m}' old friend, has a morbid ulcer pressing on his brain, 
 which will presently suffuse it if no vent is given to it, 
 and the danger is imminent. But by boring the skull 
 I expect to release the pus and clear the head. I have 
 already performed this operation three times. It was 
 invented by a Piedmontese ; but I have had the honor to 
 perfect it. Tiie first operation I performed was at the 
 siege of Metz, on Monsieur de Fienne, whom I cured, 
 who was afterwards all the more intelligent in conse- 
 quence. His was an abscess caused by the blow of 
 an arquebuse. The second was on the head of a 
 pauper, on whom I wanted to prove the value of the 
 audacious operation Monsieur de Fienne had allowed 
 me to perform. The third I did in Faris on a gentle- 
 man, who is now entirely recovered. Trepanning — 
 that is the name given to the operation — is very 
 little known. Fatients refuse it, partl}^ because of the 
 imperfection of the instruments ; but I have at last 
 improved them. I am practising now on this skull, that 
 I may be sure of not failing to-morrow, when I operate 
 on the head of the king." 
 
 '' You ought indeed to be ver}^ sure you are right, for 
 your own head would be in danger in case — " 
 
 "1 'd wager my life I can cure him," replied Ambroise, 
 
 15 
 
226 Catherine de' 3fedici, 
 
 with the conviction of a man of genius. "Ah! my 
 old friend, where 's the danger of boring into a skull 
 with proper precautions? That is what soldiers do in 
 battle every day of their lives, without taking any 
 precautions." 
 
 ''My son," said the burgher, boldly, " do 3'ou know 
 that to save the king is to ruin F'rance? Do you know 
 that this instrument of yours will place the crown of 
 the Valois on the head of the Lorrain who calls himself 
 the heir of Charlemagne? Do you know that surgery 
 and policy are at this moment sternl}' opposed to each 
 other? Yes, the triumph of your genius will be the 
 death of your religion. If the Guises gain the regency, 
 the blood of the Reformers will flow like water. Be a 
 greater citizen than you are a surgeon ; oversleep your- 
 self to-morrow morning and leave a free field to the 
 other doctors who if they cannot cure the king will cure 
 France.'* 
 
 " I ! " exclaimed Pare. " I leave a man to die when 
 I can cure him ? No, no ! were I to hang as an abettor 
 of Calvin I shall go early to court. Do you not fe€4 
 that the first and onl^' reward I shall ask will be the life 
 of your Christophe? Surel}' at such a moment Queen 
 Marv can denv me nothino:." 
 
 "Alas! m}' friend," returned Lecamus, "the little 
 king has refused the pardon of the Prince de Conde to 
 the princess. Do not kill vour religion bv savino: the 
 life of a man who ought to die." 
 
 "Do not you meddle with God's ordering of the 
 future ! " cried Pare. " Honest men can have but one 
 motto: Fais ce que dois^ advienne quepourra! — do 
 thy dut}', come what will. That is what I did at the 
 
Catherine de' Medici. 227 
 
 siege of Calais when I put my foot on the face of the 
 Due cle Guise, — I ran the risk of being strangled by liis 
 friends and his servants ; but to-day I am surgeon to 
 the king ; moreover I am of the Reformed rehgion ; 
 and 3'et the Guises are my friends. I shall save the 
 king,'' cried the surgeon, with the sacred enthusiasm 
 of a conviction bestowed by genius, " and God will save 
 France ! " 
 
 A knock was heard on the street door and presently 
 one of Fare's servants gave a paper to Lecamus, who 
 read aloud these terrifying words : — 
 
 ** A scaffold is being erected at the convent of the Recol- 
 lets : the Prince de Conde will be beheaded there tomorrow." 
 
 Ambroise and Lecamus looked at each other with an 
 expression of the deepest horror. 
 
 " I will go and see it for my self,'' said the furrier. 
 
 No sooner was he in the open street than Ruggiero 
 took his arm and asked by what means Ambroise Pare 
 proposed to save the king. Fearing some tricker}', the 
 old man, instead of answering, replied that he wished to 
 go and see the scaffold. The astrologer accompanied 
 him to the place des Recollets, and there, truly enough, 
 they found the carpenters putting up the horrible frame- 
 work by torchlight. 
 
 '' He}', my friend," said Lecamus to one of the men, 
 *' what are 3'ou doing here at this time of night? '* 
 
 " We are preparing for the hanging of heretics, as 
 the blood-letting at Amboise did n't cure them," said a 
 young Recollet who was superintending the woi'k. 
 
 " Monseigneur the cardinal is ver}- right," said Rug- 
 giero; prudently ; '' but in m}' country we do better." 
 
228 Catheinjie de' Medici. 
 
 " What do jou do? " said the young priest. 
 
 " We burn them." 
 
 Lecamus was forced to lean on the astrologer's arm, 
 for his legs gave vva}' beneath him ; he thought it prob- 
 able that on the morrow his son would hang from one 
 of those gibbets. The poor old man was thrust between 
 two sciences, astrolog}" and surger}', both of which 
 promised him the life of his son, for whom in all proba- 
 bility that scaffold was now erecting. In the trouble 
 and distress of his mind, the Florentine was able to 
 knead him like dough. 
 
 '' Well, m}^ worthy dealer in minever, what do you 
 say now to the Lorraine jokes ? " whispered Ruggiero. 
 
 ''Alas! you know I would give my skin if that of 
 ni}' son were safe and sound." 
 
 "•That is talking like your trade," said the Italian ; 
 <^ but explain to me the operation which Ambroise means 
 to perform upon the king, and in return I will promise 
 you the life of your son." 
 
 '' Faithfully?" exclaimed the old furrier. 
 
 '' Shall I swear it to you? " said Ruggiero. 
 
 Thereupon the poor old man repeated his conversa- 
 tion with Ambroise Pare to the astrologer, who, the 
 moment that the secret of the great surgeon was di- 
 vulged to him, left the poor father abruptly in the street 
 in utter despair. 
 
 " What the devil does he mean, that miscreant ? " cried 
 Lecamus, as he watched Ruggiero hurr3ing with rapid 
 steps to the place de TElstape. 
 
 Lecamus was ignorant of the terrible scene that was 
 taking place around the royal bed, where the imminent 
 danger of the king's death and the consequent loss of 
 
Catherine de' Medici, 229 
 
 power to the Guises had caused the hast\' erection of 
 tlie scaffold for the Prince de Conde, whose sentence had 
 been pronounced, as it were by default, — the execution 
 of it being delayed b}' the king's illness. 
 
 Absolutely no one but the persons on dut}^ were in 
 the halls, staircases, and courtyard of the royal resi- 
 dence, Le Bailliage. The crowd of courtiers w^ere 
 flockins: to the house of the king of Navarre, on whom 
 the regency would devolve on the death of the king, ac- 
 cordingr to the laws of the kinojdora. The French nobil- 
 ity, alarmed by the audacity of the Guises, felt the need 
 of rallvinof around the chief of the vounorer branch, 
 when, ignorant of the queen-mother's Itahan polic}', 
 the}' saw her the apparent slave of the duke and cardi- 
 nal. Antoine de Bourbon, faithful to his secret agree- 
 ment with Catherine, was bound not to renounce the 
 regency in her favor until the States-general had de- 
 clared for it. 
 
 The solitude in which the kinsf's house was left had a 
 powerful effect on the mind of the Due de Guise when, 
 on his return from an inspection, made by way of pre- 
 caution through the cit}', he found no one there but the 
 friends who were attached exclusiveh" to his own for- 
 tunes. The chamber in which was the king's bed adjoined 
 the great hall of the Bailliage. It was at that period pan- 
 elled in oak. The ceiling, composed of long, narrow 
 boards carefully joined and painted, was covered with 
 blue arabesques on a gold ground, a part of which being 
 torn down about fifty years ago was instanth' purchased by 
 a lover of antiquities. This room, hung with tapestr3% 
 the floor being covered with a carpet, was so dark and 
 gloomy that the torches threw scarcely anj' light. The 
 
230 Catherine de* Medici. 
 
 vast four-post bedstead with its silken curtains was like 
 a tomb. Beside hei* husband, close to his pillow, sat 
 Mary Stuart, and near her the Cardinal de Lorraine. 
 Catherine was seated in a chair at a little distance. 
 The famous Jean Chapelain, the physician on dut}^ (who 
 was afterwards chief physician to Charles IX.) was 
 standing before the fireplace. The deepest silence 
 reigned. The young king, pale and shrunken, lay as 
 if buried in his sheets, his pinched little face scarcely 
 showing on the pillow. The Duchesse de Guise, sitting 
 on a stool, attended Queen Mar}', while on the other 
 side, near Catherine, in the recess of a window, Ma- 
 dame de Fiesque stood watching the gestures and looks 
 of the queen-mother ; for she knew the dangers of her 
 position. 
 
 In the hall, notwithstanding the lateness of the hour, 
 Monsieur de Cypierre, governor of the Due d'Orleans 
 and now appointed governor of the town, occupied one 
 corner of the fireplace with the two Gondis. Cardinal 
 de Tournon, who in this crisis espoused the interests 
 of the queen-mother on finding himself treated as an 
 inferior b}' the Cardinal de Lorraine, of whom he was 
 certainly the ecclesiastical equal, talked in a low voice 
 to the Gondis. The marshals de Vieilleville and Saint- 
 Andre and the keeper of the seals, who presided at the 
 States-general, were talking together in a whisper of 
 the dangers to which the Guises were exposed. 
 
 The lieutenant-general of the kingdom crossed the 
 room on his entrance, casting a rapid glance about him, 
 and bowed to the Due d'Orleans whom he saw there. 
 
 *' Monseigneur," he said, ^^ this will teach 3'ou to 
 know men. The Catholic nobility of the kingdom have 
 
Catherine de' Medici, 231 
 
 gone to pay court to a heretic prince, believing that the 
 States-general will give the regency to the heirs of a 
 traitor who long detained in prison 3'our illustrious 
 grandfather." 
 
 Then having said these words, which were destined 
 to plough a furrow in the heart of the young prince, he 
 passed into the bedroom, where the king was not so 
 much asleep as plunged in a heavy torpor. The Duo 
 de Guise was usually able to correct the sinister aspect 
 of his scarred face by an affable and pleasing manner, 
 but on this occasion, when he saw the instrument of his 
 power breaking in his very hands, he was unable to 
 force a smile. The cardinal, whose civil courage was 
 equal to his brother's military daring, advanced a few 
 steps to meet him. 
 
 '' Robertet thinks that little Pinard is sold to the 
 queen-mother," he whispered, leading the duke into the 
 hall; '' they are using him to work upon the members 
 of the States-general." 
 
 ^' Well, what does it signify if we are betrayed by a 
 secretary when all else betrays us?" cried the lieuten- 
 ant-general. ''The town is for the Reformation, and 
 we are on the eve of a revolt. Yes ! the Wasps are 
 discontented ; " he continued, giving the Orleans people 
 their nickname; " and if Pare does not save the king 
 we shall have a terrible uprising. Before long we shall 
 be forced to besiege Orleans, which is nothing but a 
 bog of Huguenots." 
 
 "I have been watching that Itahan woman," said 
 the cardinal, '' as she sits there with absolute insensi- 
 bihty. She is watching and waiting, God forgive her ! 
 for the death of her son ; and I ask m3'self whether we 
 
232 Catherine de' Medici 
 
 should not do a wise thing to arrest her at once, and 
 also the king of Navarre." 
 
 *' It is alread}^ more than we want upon our hands to 
 have the Prince de Conde in prison," replied the 
 duke. 
 
 The sound of a horseman ridino^ in haste to the gate 
 of the Bailliage echoed through the hall. The duke 
 and cardinal went to the window, and by the light of 
 the torches which were in the portico the duke recog- 
 nized on the rider's hat the famous Lorraine cross, 
 which the cardinal had lately ordered his partisans to 
 wear. He sent an officer of the guard, who was 
 stationed in the antechamber, to give entrance to the 
 new-comer ; and went himself, followed b}' his brother, 
 to meet him on the landing. 
 
 "What is it, m}' dear Simeuse?" asked the duke, 
 with that charm of manner which he always displayed 
 to military men, as soon as he recognized the governor 
 of Gien. 
 
 " The Connetable has reached Pithiviers ; he left 
 Ecouen with two thousand cavalry and one hundred 
 nobles." 
 
 '' With their suites?" 
 
 "Yes, monseigneur," replied Simeuse ; "in all, two 
 thousand six hundred men. Some say that Thore is 
 behind them with a bod\^ of infantry. If the Conne- 
 table dela3's awhile, expecting his son, you still have 
 time to repulse him — " 
 
 " Is that all you know ? Are the reasons of this 
 sudden call to arms made known?" 
 
 "Montmorency talks as little as he writes ; go j^ou 
 and meet him, brother, while I prepare to welcome him 
 
Catherine de' Medici. 233 
 
 with the head of his nephew," said the cardinal, giving 
 orders that Robertet be sent to him at once. 
 
 " Vieilleville ! " cried the duke to the raarechal, who 
 came immediately " The Connetable has the andacit}' 
 to come here under arms ; if I go to meet him will you 
 be responsible to hold the town ? " 
 
 "As soon as yon leave it the burghers will ^y to 
 arms ; and who can answer for the result of an affair 
 between cavalry and citizens in these narrow streets ? " 
 replied the marechaL 
 
 " Monseigneur," said Robertet, rushing hastil}' up 
 the stairs, ''the Chancelier de THdpital is at the gate 
 and aslis to enter ; are we to let him in ? " 
 
 '' Yes, open the gate," answered the cardinal. 
 *' Connetable and chancelier tosfether would be dansfer- 
 ous ; we must separate them. We have been boldly 
 tricked b}^ the queen-mother into choosing I'Hopital as 
 chancellor." 
 
 Robertet nodded to a captain of the guard, who 
 awaited an answer at the foot of the staircase ; then he 
 turned round quickly to receive the orders of the 
 cardinal. 
 
 " Monseigneur, I take the libert}^" he said, making 
 one last effort, "to point out that the sentence should 
 be approved by the king in council. If 3'ou violate the 
 saw on a prince of the blood, it will not be respected 
 for either a cardinal or a Due de Guise." 
 
 ''Pinard has upset 3'our mind, Robertet," said the 
 cardinal, sternl}'. '' Do you not know that the king 
 signed the order of execution the day he was about to 
 leave Orleans, in order that the sentence might be 
 carried out in his absence?" 
 
 I 
 
234 Catherine de' Medici, 
 
 The lieutenant-general listened to this discussion 
 without a word, but he took his brother by the arm and 
 led him into a corner of the hall. 
 
 "Undoubtedly," he said, " the heirs of Charlemagne 
 have the right to recover the crown which was usurped 
 from their house b}' Hugh Capet; but can they do it? 
 The pear is not yet ripe. Our nephew is dying, and the 
 whole court has gone over to the king of Navarre." 
 
 '' The king's heart failed him, or the Bearnais would 
 have been stabbed before now," said the cardinal ; 
 "and we could easil^^ have disposed of the Valois 
 children." 
 
 *' We are very ill-placed here," said the duke ; " the 
 rebellion of the town will be supported by the States- 
 general. L'Hopital, whom we protected while the 
 queen-mother opposed his appointment, is to-day against 
 us, and 3'et it is all-important that we should have the 
 justiciary with us. Catherine has too manj' supporters 
 at the present time ; we cannot send her back to Italy. 
 Besides, there are still three Valois princes — " 
 
 " She is no longer a mother, she is all queen," said 
 the cardinal. '' In m}- opinion, this is the moment to 
 make an end of her. Vigor, and more and more vigor ! 
 that 's my prescription ! " he cried. 
 
 So saying, the cardinal returned to the king's cham- 
 ber, followed by the duke. The priest went straight to 
 the queen-mother. 
 
 " The papers of Lasagne, the secretary of the Prince 
 de Conde, have been communicated to you, and you 
 now know that the Bourbons are endeavoring to de- 
 throne your son." 
 
 " I know all that," said Catherine. 
 
Catherine de' Medici, 235 
 
 » 
 
 " Well, then, will you give orders to arrest the king 
 of Navarre?" 
 
 '•There is," she said with dignit}^, "a lieutenant- 
 general of the kingdom." 
 
 At this instant FranQois II. groaned piteously, com- 
 plaining aloud of the terrible pains in his ear. The 
 physician left the fireplace where he was warming him- 
 self, and went to the bedside to examine the king's 
 head. . 
 
 '' Well, monsieur? " said the Due de Guise, interrog- 
 ativel}'. 
 
 *' I dare not take upon myself to apply a blister to 
 draw the abscess. Maitre Ambroise has promised 
 to save the king's life by an operation, and I miglit 
 thwart it.'^ 
 
 " Let us postpone the treatment till to-morrow morn- 
 ing," said Catherine, coldl}^, '' and order all the physi- 
 cians to be present ; for we all know the calumnies to 
 which the death of kings gives rise.'^ 
 
 She went to her son and kissed his hand ; then she 
 withdrew to her own apartments. 
 
 " With what composure that audacious daughter of a 
 shop-keeper alluded to the death of the dauphin, poi- 
 soned by Montecuculi, one of her own Italian followers ! '^ 
 said Mary Stuart. 
 
 "Mary!" cried the little king, ''my grandfather 
 never doubted her innocence." 
 
 '' Can we prevent that woman from coming here to- 
 morrow ? " said the queen to her uncles in a low voice. 
 
 " What will become of us if the king dies? " returned 
 the cardinal, in a whisper. '' Catherine will shovel us 
 all into his grave." 
 
 I 
 
236 Catherine de' Medici, 
 
 m 
 
 Thus the question was plain!}- put between Catherine 
 de' Medici and the house of Lorraine during that fatal 
 night. The arrival of the Connetable de Montmorency 
 and the Chancelier de THopital were distinct indica- 
 tions of rebellion ; the morning of the next -day would 
 therefore be decisive. 
 
Catherine de Medici. 237 
 
 XII. 
 
 DEATH OF FRANCOIS II. 
 i 
 
 On the morrow the queen-mother was the first to 
 enter the king's chamber. She found no one there but 
 Mar\' Stuart, pale and weary, who had passed the night 
 in prayer beside the bed. The Duchesse de Guise had 
 kept her mistress company, and the maids of honor had 
 taken turns in relieving one another. The young king 
 slept. Neither the duke nor the cardinal had yet ap- 
 peared. The priest, who was bolder than the soldier, 
 had, it was afterward said, put forth his utmost energy 
 during the night to induce his brother to make himself 
 king. But, in face of the assembled States-general, 
 and threatened by a battle with Montmorenc}', the 
 Balafre declared the circumstances unfavorable ; he 
 refused, against his brother's utmost urgency, to arrest 
 the king of Navarre, the queen-mother, I'Hopital, the 
 Cardinal de Tournon, the Gondis, Ruggiero, and 
 Birago, objecting that such violent measures would 
 bring on a general rebellion. He postponed the cardi- 
 nal's scheme until the fate of Francois II. should be 
 determined. 
 
 The deepest silence reigned in the king's chamber. 
 Catherine, accompanied b}- Madame de Fiesque, went 
 to the bedside and gazed at her son with a semblance 
 of grief that was admirably simulated. She put her 
 
238 Catherine de Medici, 
 
 handkerchief to her ej^es and walked to the window 
 where Madame de Fiesqne brought her a seat. Thence 
 she could see into the courtyard. 
 
 It had been agreed between Catherine and the Cardinal 
 de Tournon that if the Connetable should successful!}' 
 enter the town the cardinal would come to the king's 
 house with the two Gondis ; if otherwise, he would 
 come alone. At nine in the morning the duke and 
 cardinal, followed b}' their gentlemen, who remained in 
 the hall, entered the king's bedroom, — the captain on 
 duty having informed them that Ambroise Pare had 
 arrived, together with Chapelain and three other physi- 
 cians, who hated Pare and were all in the queen- mother's 
 interests. 
 
 A few moments later and the great hall of the Bailli- 
 age presented much the same aspect as that of the 
 Salle des gardes at Blois on the day when Christophe 
 was put to the torture and the Due de Guise was pro- 
 claimed lieutenant-governor of the kingdom, — with the 
 single exception that whereas love and jo}' overflowed 
 the royal chamber and the Guises triumphed, death and 
 mourning now reigned within that darkened room, and 
 the Guises felt that power was slipping through their 
 fingers. The maids of honor of the two queens were 
 again in their separate camps on either side of the fire- 
 place, in which glowed a monstrous fire. The hall was 
 filled with courtiers. The news — spread about, no one 
 knew how — of some daring operation contemplated b}' 
 Ambroise Pare to save the king's life, had brought back 
 the lords and gentlemen who had deserted the house the 
 da}' before. The outer staircase and courtj'ard were 
 filled by an anxious crowd. The scaffold erected during 
 
Catherine de' Medici, 239 
 
 the night for the Prince de Conde opposite to the con- 
 vent of the Recollets, had amazed and startled the whole 
 nobility. All present spoke in a low voice and the talk 
 was the same mixture as at Blois, of frivolous and seri- 
 ous, light and earnest matters. The habit of expecting 
 troubles, sudden revolutions, calls to arms, rebellions, 
 and great events, which marked the long period during 
 which the house of Valois was slowly being extinguished 
 in spite of Catherine de' Medici's great efforts to pre- 
 serve it, took its rise at this time. 
 
 A deep silence prevailed for a certain distance beyond 
 the door of the king's chamber, which was guarded by 
 two halberdiers, two pages, and b}' the captain of the 
 Scotch guard. Antoine de Bourbon, king of Navarre, 
 held a prisoner in his own house, learned by his 
 present desertion the hopes of the courtiers who had 
 flocked to him the day before, and was horrified by the 
 news of the preparations made during the night for the 
 execution of his brother. 
 
 Standing before the fireplace in the great hall of the 
 Bailliage was one of the greatest and noblest figures 
 of that da}^ — the Chancelier de I'Hopital, wearing his 
 crimson robe lined and edged with ermine, and his cap 
 on his head according to the privilege of his office. 
 This courageous man, seeing that his benefactors were 
 traitorous and self-seeking, held firmly to the cause of 
 the kings, repr-esented by the queen-mother ; at the risk 
 of losing his head, he had gone to Rouen to consult 
 with the Connetable de Montmorency. No one ven- 
 tured to draw him from the rever}- in which he was 
 plunged. Robertet, the secretar}' of State, two mar- 
 shals of France, Vieilleville, and Saint- Andre, and the 
 
240 Catherine de Medici, 
 
 keeper of the seals, were collected in a group before 
 the chancellor. The courtiers present were not pre- 
 cisely jesting ; but their talk was malicious, especially 
 among those who were not for the Guises. 
 
 Presently voices were heard to rise in the king's 
 chamber. The two marshals, Robertet and the chan- 
 cellor went nearer to the door ; for not only was the life 
 of the king in question, but, as the whole court knew 
 well, the chancellor, the queen-mother, and her adher- 
 ents were in the utmost danger. A deep silence fell on 
 the whole assembly. 
 
 Ambroise Pare had b}' this time examined the king's 
 head ; he thought the moanent propitious for his opera- 
 tion ; if it was not performed suffusion would take place, 
 and Francois II. might die at an}' moment. As soon 
 as the duke and cardinal entered the chamber he 
 explained to all present the causes of the king's illness, 
 stating that in so urgent a case it was necessary to 
 trepan the head, and he now waited till the king's phy- 
 sician ordered him to perform the operation. 
 
 " Cut the head of my son as though it were a plank ! 
 — with that horrible instrument ! " cried Catherine de' 
 Medici. ''Maitre Ambroise, I will not permit it." 
 
 The ph3'sicians were consulting together ; but Cath- 
 erine spoke in so loud a voice that her words reached, 
 as she intended they should, beyond the door. 
 
 ••' But, madame, if there is no other, way to save- 
 him?" said Marj' Stuart, weeping. 
 
 '' Ambroise," cried Catherine ; '' remember that your 
 head will answer for the king's life." 
 
 " We are opposed to the treatment suggested by 
 Maitre Ambroise," said the three physicians. "The 
 
I 
 
 Catherine de' Medici. 241 
 
 king can be saved by injecting through the esfr a 
 remedy which will draw the contents of the abscess 
 through that passage." 
 
 The Due de Guise, who was watching Catherine's 
 face, suddenly went up to her and drew her into the 
 recess of the window. 
 
 "Madame," he said, "you wish the death of 3'our 
 son ; you are in league with our enemies, and have been 
 since Blois. This morning the Counsellor Viole told 
 the son of 3'our furrier that the Prince de Conde's head 
 was about to be cut off. That young man, who, when 
 the question was applied, persisted in denying all rela- 
 tions with the prince, made a sign of farewell to him as 
 he passed before the window of his dungeon. You saw 
 your unhappy accomplice tortured with ro^'al insensi- 
 bility. You are now endeavoring to prevent the recov- 
 er}' of 3'our eldest son. Your conduct forces us to 
 believe that the death of the dauphin, which placed the 
 crown on your husband's head was not a natural one, 
 and that Montecuculi was your — " 
 
 '^ Monsieur le chancelier ! " cried Catherine, at a sign 
 from whom Madame de Fiesque opened both sides of 
 the bedroom door. 
 
 The company in the hall then saw the scene that was 
 taking place in the ro3'al chamber : the livid little king, 
 his face half dead, his e3'es sightless, his lips stammer- 
 ing the word " Mary," as he held the hand of the 
 weeping queen ; the Duchesse de Guise motionless, 
 frightened b3' Catherine's daring act ; the duke and 
 cardinal, also alarmed, keeping close to the queen- 
 mother and resolving to have her arrested on the spot 
 b}' Maille-Breze ; lastl3', the tall Ambroise Pare, assisted 
 
 16 
 
242 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 b}' the king's ph^'sician, holding his instrument in his 
 hand but not daring to begin the operation, for which 
 composure and total silence were as necessarj' as the 
 consent of the other surgeons. 
 
 " Monsieur le chancelier," said Catherine, " the Mes- 
 sieurs de Guise wish to authorize a strange operation 
 upon the person of the king ; Ambroise Pare is prepar- 
 ing to cut open his head. 1, as the king's mother and 
 a member of the council of the regency, — I protest 
 against what appears to me a crime of lese-majeste. 
 The king's ph^'sicians advise an injection through the 
 ear, which seems to me as efficacious and less danger- 
 ous than the brutal operation proposed by Pare." 
 
 When the company in the hall heard these words a 
 smothered murmur rose from their midst ; the cardinal 
 allowed the chancellor to enter the bedroom and then 
 he closed the door. 
 
 *' I am lieutenant-general of the kingdom," said the 
 Due de Guise ; " and I would have you know, Monsieur 
 le chancelier, that Ambroise, the king's surgeon, answers 
 for his life." 
 
 ''Ah! if this be the turn that things are taking!" 
 exclaimed Ambroise Pare. " I know my rights and 
 how I should proceed." He stretched his arm over the 
 bed. " This bed and the king are mine. 1 claim to be 
 sole master of this case and solely responsible. I know 
 the duties of my office ; I shall operate upon the king 
 without the sanction of the physicians." 
 
 " Save him ! " said the cardinal, " and you shall be 
 the richest man in France." 
 
 " Go on ! " cried Mary Stuart, pressing the surgeon's 
 hand. 
 
I 
 
 Catherine de' Medici. 243 
 
 *' I cannot prevent it," said the chancellor; " but I 
 shall record the protest of the queen-mother/' 
 
 " Robertet ! " called the Due de Guise. 
 
 When Robertet entered, the lieutenant-general pointed 
 to the chancellor. 
 
 " I appoint you chancellor of France in the place of 
 that traitor," he said. " Monsieur de Maille, take Mon- 
 sieur de THopital and put him in the prison of the 
 Prince de Conde. As for j'ou, madame," he added, 
 turning to Catherine ; ^' your protest will not be re- 
 ceived ; you ought to be aware that any such protest 
 must be supported by sufficient force. I act as the 
 faithful subject and 103'al servant of king Fran9ois II., 
 my master. Go on, Ambroise," he added, looking at 
 the surgeon. 
 
 ''Monsieur de Guise,'' said I'Hopital ; ''if you 
 employ violence either upon the king or upon the chan- 
 cellor of France, remember that enough of the nobility 
 of France are in that hall to rise and arrest 3^ou as a 
 traitor." 
 
 " Oh ! my lords," cried the great surgeon ; "if 3'ou 
 continue these arguments you will soon proclaim 
 Charles IX ! — for king Franqois is about to die." 
 
 Catherine de' Medici, absolutely' impassive, gazed 
 from the window. 
 
 " Well, then, we shall employ force to make ourselves 
 masters of this room," said the cardinal, advancing to 
 the door. 
 
 But when he opened it even he was terrified ; the 
 whole house was deserted ! The courtiers, certain now 
 of the death of the king, had gone in a bodj' to the 
 king of Navarre. 
 
244 Catherine de Medici, 
 
 "Well, go on, perform your duty," cried Marj^ 
 Stuart, vehemently', to Ambroise. '^ I — and jou, 
 duchess," she said to Madame de Guise, — " will 
 protect 3*ou." 
 
 " Madame," said Ambroise -, " my zeal was carrying 
 me away. The doctors, with the exception of my 
 friend Chapelain, prefer an injection, and it is my duty 
 to submit to their wishes. If 1 had been chief surgeon 
 and chief physician, which I am not, the king's life 
 would probably have been saved. Give that to me, 
 gentlemen," he said, stretching out his hand for the 
 syringe, which he proceeded to fill. 
 
 "- Good God ! '" cried Mary Stuart, '' but I order you 
 to — " 
 
 '^ Alas! madame," said Ambroise, " I am uuder the 
 direction of these gentlemen." 
 
 The young queen placed herself between the surgeon, 
 the doctors, and the other persons present. The chief 
 physician held the king's head, and Ambroise made the 
 injection into the ear. The duke and the cardinal 
 watched the proceeding attentively. Robertet and 
 Monsieur de Maille stood motionless. Madame de 
 Fiesque, at a sign from Catherine, glided unperceived 
 from the room. A moment later I'Hdpital boldly opened 
 the door of the king's chamber. 
 
 '^ I arrive in good time," said the voice of a man 
 whose hast}' steps echoed through the great hall, and 
 who stood the next moment on the threshold of the 
 open door. '' Ah, messieurs, so 3'ou meant to take off 
 the head of my good nephew, the Prince de Conde? 
 Instead of that, you have forced the lion from his lair 
 and — here I am!" added the Connetable de Mont- 
 
Catherine de' Medici, 245 
 
 morency. " Ambroise, you shall not plunge your knife 
 into the head of my king. The first prince of the 
 blood, Antoine de Bourbon, the Prince de Conde, the 
 queen-mother, the Connetable, and the chancellor forbid 
 the operation." 
 
 To Catherine's great satisfaction, the king of Navarre 
 and the Prince de Conde now entered the room. 
 
 "What does this mean?" said the Due de Guise, 
 laying his hand on his dagger. 
 
 '^ It means that in my capacity as Connetable, I have 
 dismissed the sentinels of all your posts. Tete Dieu ! 
 3^ou are not in an enemy's countr}', methinks. The 
 king, our master, is in the midst of his loyal subjects, 
 and the States-general must be suffered to deliberate 
 at liberty. I come, messieurs, from the States-general. 
 I carried the protest of my nephew de Conde before 
 that assembl}', and three hundred of those gentlemen 
 have released him. You wish to shed royal blood and 
 to decimate the nobility of the kingdom, do you ? Ha ! 
 in future, I defy 3'ou, and all your schemes, Messieurs 
 de Lorraine. If you order the king's head opened, by 
 this sword which saved France from Charles V., I say 
 it shall not be done — '^ 
 
 "All the more," said Ambroise Pare; '^because it 
 is now too late ; the suffusion has begun." 
 
 "Your reign is over, messieurs," said Catherine to 
 the Guises, seeing from Pare's face that there was no 
 longer an}^ hope. 
 
 "Ah ! madame, jou have killed 3'our own son," cried 
 Mary Stuart as she bounded like a lioness from the bed 
 to the window and seized the queen-mother b}' the arm, 
 gripping it violentlj'. 
 
246 Catherine de' Medici, 
 
 " My dear," replied Catherine, giving her daughter- 
 in-law a cold, keen glance in which she allowed her 
 hatred, repressed for the last six months, to overflow ; 
 " you, to whose inordinate love we owe this death, you 
 will now go to reign in 3'our Scotland, and you will 
 start to-morrow. I am regent de facto. '^ The three 
 physicians having made her a sign, ^^ Messieurs," she 
 added, addressing the Guises, "it is agreed between 
 Monsieur de Bourbon, appointed lieutenant-general of 
 the kingdom bj" the States-general, and me that the 
 conduct of the affairs of the State is our business 
 solel3\ Come, monsieur le chancelier/' 
 
 '' The king is dead! " said the Due de Guise, com- 
 pelled to perform his duties as Grand-master. 
 
 *' Long live King Charles IX. ! " cried all the noble- 
 men who had come with the king of Navarre, the Prince 
 de Conde, and the Connetable. 
 
 The ceremonies which follow the death of a king of 
 France were performed in almost total solitude. When 
 the king-at-arms proclaimed aloud three times in the 
 hall, " The king is dead ! " there were very few persons 
 present to reply, ' ' Vive le roi ! ^' 
 
 The queen-mother, to whom the Comtesse de Fiesque 
 had brought the Due d'Orleans, now Charles IX., left 
 the chamber, leading her son by the hand, and all the 
 remaining courtiers followed her. No one was left ni 
 the house where Francois II. had drawn his last breath, 
 but the duke and the cardinal, the Duchesse de Guise, 
 Mary Stuart, and Dayelle, together with the sentries at 
 the door, the pages of the Grand-master, those of the 
 cardinal, and their private secretaries. 
 
Catherine de' Medici. 247 
 
 " Vive la France ! " cried several Reformers in the 
 street, sounding the first cry of the opposition. 
 
 Robertet, who owed all he was to the duke and cardi- 
 nal, terrified by their scheme and its present failure, 
 went over secretly to tlie queen-mother, whom the am- 
 bassadors of Spain, England, the Empire, and Poland, 
 hastened to meet on the staircase, brought thither by 
 Cardinal de Tournon, who had gone to notify them as 
 soon as he had pade Queen Catherine a sign from the 
 courtyard at the moment when she protested against 
 the operation of Ambroise Pare. 
 
 " Well 1 " said the cardinal to the duke, " so the 
 sons of Louis d'Outre-mer, the heirs of Charles de Lor- 
 raine flinched and lacked courage." 
 
 " We should have been exiled to Lorraine," replied 
 the duke. ''I declare to you, Charles, that if the 
 crown lay there before me I would not stretch out my 
 hand to pick it up. That 's for my son to do." 
 
 '' Will he have, as you have had, the army and 
 Church on his side ? " 
 
 " He will have something better." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 ''The people!" 
 
 " Ah ! " exclaimed Mary Stuart, clasping the stifl^ened 
 hand of her first husband, now dead, '' there is none 
 but me to weep for this poor boy who loved me so ! " 
 
 '' How can we patch up matters with the queen- 
 mother?" said the cardinal. 
 
 " Wait till she quarrels with the Huguenots," replied 
 the duchess. 
 
 The conflicting interests of the house of Bourbon, 
 of Catherine, of the Guises, and of the Reformed 
 
248 Catherine de Medici. 
 
 party produced such confusion in the town of Orleans 
 that, three days after the king's death, his bod}', 
 completely forgotten in the Bailliage and put into a 
 coffin by the menials of the house, was taken to Saint- 
 Denis in a covered waggon, accompanied only b}' the 
 Bishop of Senlis and two gentlemen. When the piti- 
 able procession reached the little town of Etampes, a 
 servant of the Chancelier I'Hopital fastened to the wag- 
 gon this severe inscription, which history has preserved : 
 "Tanneguy de Chastel, where art thou? and 3'et thou 
 wert a Frenchman ! " — a stern reproach, which fell with 
 equal force on Catherine de' Medici, Mary Stuart, and 
 the Guises. What Frenchman does not know that 
 Tanneguy de Chastel spent thirty thousand crowns 
 of the coinage of that day (one million of our francs) 
 at the funeral of Charles VII., the benefactor of his 
 house? 
 
 No sooner did the tolling of the bells announce to 
 the town of Orleans that Francois II. was dead, and the 
 rumor spread that the Connetable de Montmorency 
 had ordered the flinging open of the gates of the town, 
 than Tourillon, the glover, rushed up into the garret of 
 his house and went to a secret hiding-place. 
 
 " Good heavens ! can he be dead?" he cried. 
 
 Hearing the words, a man rose to his feet and an- 
 swered, ''Ready to serve!" — the password of the 
 Reformers who belonged to Calvin. 
 
 This man was Chaudieu, to whom Tourillon now re- 
 lated the events of the last eight days, during which 
 time he had prudently left the minister alone in his 
 hiding-place with a twelve-pound loaf of bread for 
 his sole nourishment. 
 
Catherine cZe' Medici, 249 
 
 '' Go instantly to the Prince de Conde, brotlier : ask 
 him to give me a safe-conduct ; and find me a horse," 
 cried the minister. •' I must start at once." 
 
 I'' Write him a Hue, or he will not receive me." 
 " Here," said Chaudieu, after writing a few words, 
 *' ask for a pass from the king of Navarre, for I must 
 go to Geneva without a moment's loss of time." 
 
250 Catheri7ie de Medici. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 CALVIN. 
 
 Two hours later all was ready, and the ardent min- 
 ister was on his way to Switzerland, accompanied by a 
 nobleman in the service of the king of Navarre (of whom 
 Chaiidieu pretended to be the secretarj-), carrying with 
 him despatches from the Reformers in the Dauphine. 
 This sudden departure was chief!}' in the interests of 
 Catherine de' Medici, who, in order to gain time to 
 establisli her power, had made a bold proposition to the 
 Reformers which was kept a profound secret. This 
 strange proceeding explains the understanding so sud- 
 denly apparent between herself and the leaders of the 
 Reform. The wily woman gave, as a pledge of her good 
 faith, an intimation of her desire to heal all differences 
 between the two churches by calling an assembly, which 
 should be neither a council, nor a conclave, nor a synod, 
 but should be known by some new and distinctive name, if 
 Calvin consented to the project. When this secret was 
 afterwards divulged (be it remarked in passing) it led 
 to an alliance between the Due de Guise and the Con- 
 netable de Montmorency against Catherine and the king 
 of Navarre, — a strange alliance ! known in history as 
 the Triumvirate, the Marechal de Saint-Andre being the 
 third personage in the pureW Catholic coalition to which 
 this singular proposition for a '^colloquy" gave rise. 
 
Catherine de* Medici, 251 
 
 The secret of Catherine's wily policy was riglitl}' under- 
 stood by the Guises ; they felt certain that the queen 
 cared nothing for this mysterious assembly, and was 
 onl}' temporizing with her new allies in order to secure 
 a period of peace until the majority of Charles IX. ; but 
 none the less did they deceive the Connetable into fear- 
 ing a collusion of real interests between the queen and 
 the Bourbons, — whereas, in reality, Catherine was 
 playing them all one against another. 
 
 The queen had become, as the reader will perceive, 
 extremely powerful in a very short time. The spirit of 
 discussion and controversy which now sprang up was 
 singularl}' favorable to her proposition. The Catholics 
 and the Reformers were equally pleased to exhibit their 
 brilliancy one after another in this tournament of 
 words ; for that is what it actually was, and no more. 
 It is extraordinary that historians have mistaken one 
 of the wiUest schemes of the great queen for uncertainty 
 and hesitation ! Catherine never went more directly to 
 her own ends than in just such schemes which appeared 
 to thwart them. The king of Navarre, quite incapa- 
 of understanding her motives, fell into her plan in . 
 sincerity, and despatched Chaudieu to Calvin, as we have 
 seen. The minister had risked his life to be secretly in 
 Orleans and watch events ; for he was, while there, in 
 hourly peril of being discovered and hung as a man 
 under sentence of banishment. 
 
 According to the then fashion of travelling, Chaudieu 
 could not reach Geneva before the month of February, 
 and the negotiations were not likel}^ to be concluded be- 
 fore the end of March ; consequently the assemblj" could 
 certainly not take place before the month of May, 1561. 
 
252 Catherine de' MedicL 
 
 Catherine, meantime, intended to amuse the court and 
 the various conflicting interests by the coronation of 
 the king, and the ceremonies of his first '* lit de jus- 
 tice," at which FHopital and de Thou recorded the 
 letters-patent by which Charles IX. confided the ad- 
 ministration to his mother in common with the present 
 lieutenant-general of the kingdom, Antoine de Navarre, 
 the weakest prince of those days. 
 
 Is it not a strange spectacle this of the great king- 
 dom of France waiting in suspense for the " jes," or 
 " no " of a French burgher, hitherto an obscure man, 
 living for many years past in Geneva? The transal- 
 pine pope held in check by the pontiff of Geneva ! The 
 two Lorrain princes, lately all-powerful, now paralyzed 
 b}' the momentary' coalition of the queen-mother and 
 the first prince of the blood with Calvin ! Is not this, 
 I sa}', one of the most instructive lessons ever given 
 tx) kings by histor}', — a lesson which should teach them 
 to study men, to seek out genius, and eniplo}^ it, as 
 did Louis XIV., wherever God has placed it? 
 
 Calvin, whose name was not Calvin but Cauvin, 
 was the son of a cooper at Noyon in Picard}'. The 
 region of his birth explains in some degree the obsti- 
 nacy combined with capricious eagerness which distin- 
 guished tliis arbiter of the destinies of France in the 
 sixteenth centur}'. Nothing is less known than the 
 nature of this man, who gave birth to Geneva and to 
 the spirit that emanated from that cit}'. Jean-Jacques 
 Rousseau, who had verj' little historical knowledge, 
 has completely ignored the influence of Calvin on his 
 republic. At first the embr^'o Reformer, who lived in 
 one of the humblest houses in the upper town, near the 
 
Catherine de' Medici. 253 
 
 church of Saint-Pierre, over a carpenter's shop (first re- 
 semblance between him and Robespierre), had no great 
 
 B authority in Geneva. In fact for a long time his power 
 was malevolently checked b}' the Genevese. The town 
 
 IB was the residence in those days of a citizen whose fame, 
 like that of several others, remained unknown to the 
 world at large and for a time to Geneva itself. This 
 man, Farel, about the year 1537, detained Calvin in 
 Geneva, pointing out to him that the place could be 
 made the safe centre of a reformation more active and 
 thorough than that of Luther. Farel and Calvin regarded 
 Lutheranism as an incomplete work, — insufficient in 
 itself and without any real grip upon France. Ge- 
 neva, midway between France and Itah', and speaking 
 the French language, was admirably situated for ready 
 communication with Germany, France, and Italy. Cal- 
 vin thereupon adopted Geneva as the site of his moral 
 fortunes ; he made it thenceforth the citadel of his ideas. 
 Tiie Council of Geneva, at Farel's entreaty, author- 
 ized Calvin in September, 1 538, to give lectures on the- 
 ology. Calvin left the duties of the ministry to Farel, 
 his first disciple, and gave himself up patiently to the 
 work of teaching his doctrine. His authorit}'. which 
 became so absolute in the last 3'ears of his life, was 
 obtained with difficulty and very slowl}'. The great 
 agitator met with such serious obstacles that he was 
 banished for a time from Geneva on account of the 
 severity of his reform. A part}' of honest citizens still 
 clung to their old luxur}' and their old customs. But, 
 as usually happens, these good people, fearing ridicule, 
 would not admit the real object of their efforts, and kept 
 up their warfare against the new doctrines on points 
 
254 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 altogether foreign to the real question. Calvin insisted 
 that leavened bread should be used for the communion, 
 and that all feasts should be abolished except Sundays. 
 These innovations were disapproved of at Berne and 
 at Lausanne. Notice was served on the Genevese to 
 conform to the ritual of Switzerland. Calvin and Farel 
 resisted ; their politic opponents used this disobedience 
 to drive them from Geneva, whence the}^ were, in fact, 
 banished for several jears. Later Calvin returned tri- 
 umphanth' at the demand of his flock. Such persecu- 
 tions alwaj's become in the end the consecration of a 
 moral power ; and, in this case, Calvin's return was 
 the beginning of his era as prophet. He then organ- 
 ized his religious Terror, and the executions began. On 
 his reappearance in the cit}' he was admitted into the 
 ranks of the Genevese burghers ; but even then, after 
 fourteen jears' residence, he was not made a member of 
 of the Council. At the time of which we write, when 
 Catherine sent her envo}' to him, this king of ideas had 
 no other title than that of " pastor of the Church of 
 Geneva." Moreover, Calvin never in his life received 
 a salar}' of more than one hundred and fift}' francs in 
 money yearh', fifteen hundred-weight of wheat, and two 
 barrels of wine. His brother, a tailor, kept a shop 
 close to the place Saint-Pierre, in a street now occupied 
 by one of the large printing establishments of Geneva. 
 Such personal disinterestedness, which was lacking in 
 Voltaire, Newton, and Bacon, but eminent in the lives 
 of Rabelais, Spinosa, Lo3'ola, Kant, and Jean-Jacques 
 Rousseau, is indeed a magnificent frame to those ardent 
 and sublime figures. 
 
 The career of Robespierre can alone picture to the 
 
Catherine cW Medici. 255 
 
 tminds of the present da}' that of Calvin, who, founding 
 lis power on the same bases, was as despotic and as 
 jriiel as the lawyer of Arras. It is a noticeable fact 
 ihat Picardy (Arras and Noyon) furnished both these 
 i.instruraents of reformation ! Persons who wish to 
 jtudy the motives of the executions ordered by Calvin 
 111 tind, all relations considered, another 1793 in Gen- 
 eva. Calvin cut off the head of Jacques Gruet '* for 
 having written impious letters, libertine verses, and for 
 working: to overthrow ecclesiastical ordinances." Re- 
 fleet upon that sentence, and ask yourselves if the worst 
 [tyrants in their saturnalias ever gave more horribl}' bur- 
 lesque reasons for their cruelties. Valentin Gentilis, 
 condemned to death for '^involuntary heres}'," escaped 
 execution only by making a submission far more 
 ignominious than was ever imposed b}' the Catholic 
 Church. Seven 3'ears before the conference which was 
 now to take place in Calvin's house on the proposals of 
 the queen-mother, Michel Servet, a Frenchman^ travel- 
 ling through Switzerland, was arrested at Geneva, 
 tried, condemned, and burned alive, on Calvin's accu- 
 sation, for having " attacked the mystery of the Trin- 
 ity," in a book which was neither written nor published 
 in Geneva. Remember the eloquent remonstrance of 
 Jean- Jacques Rousseau, whose book, overthrowing the 
 Catholic religion, written in France and published in 
 Holland, was burned by the hangman, while the author, 
 a foreigner, was merel}' banished from the kingdom 
 where he had endeavored to destro}^ the fundamental 
 proofs of religion and of authority. Compare the con- 
 duct of our Parliament with that of the Genevese ty- 
 rant. Again : Bolsee was brought to trial for '' having 
 
256 Catherine cW Medici, 
 
 other ideas than those of Calvin on predestination." 
 Consider these things, and ask yourselves if Fouquier- 
 Tinville did worse. The savage religious intolerance 
 of Calvin was, morally speaking, more implacable than 
 the savage political intolerance of Robespierre. On a 
 larger stage than that of Geneva, Calvin would have 
 shed more blood than did the terrible apostle of politi- 
 cal equality as opposed to Catholic equalitj'. Three 
 centuries earlier a monk of Picardy drove the whole 
 West upon the East. Peter the Hermit, Calvin, and 
 Robespierre, each at an interval of three hundred 3ears 
 and all three from the same region, w^ere, politically 
 speaking, the Archimedean screws of their age, — at 
 each epoch a Thought which found its fulcrum in the 
 self-interest of mankind. 
 
 Calvin was undoubtedly the maker of that melan- 
 choly' town called Geneva, where, onl}' ten years ago, a 
 man said, pointing to a porte-cochere in the upper 
 town, the first ever built there : " B}' that door luxury 
 has invaded Geneva.'' Calvin gave birth, by the stern- 
 ness of his doctrines and his executions, to that form of 
 h3'pocritical sentiment called '' cant.'' ^ According to 
 those who practise it, good morals consist in renounc- 
 ing the arts and the charms of life, in eating richly but 
 without luxury, in silentl}' amassing money without en- 
 joying it otherwise than as Calvin enjo3'ed power — by 
 thought. Calvin imposed on all the citizens of his 
 adopted town the same gloomy pall which he spread 
 over his own life. He created in the Consistorj- a Cal- 
 vinistic inquisition, absolutely similar to the revolution- 
 arj' tribunal of Robespierre. The Consistorj' denounced 
 
 1 Momerie, 
 
Catherine de' Medici, 257 
 
 the persons to be condemned to the Council, and Calvin 
 ruled the Council through the Consistor}', just as Robes- 
 pierre ruled the Convention through the Club of the 
 Jacobins. In this wa}' an eminent magistrate of Ge- 
 neva was condemned to two months' imprisonment, the 
 loss of all his offices, and the right of ever obtaining 
 others " because he led a disorderly life and was inti- 
 timate with Calvin's enemies." Calvin thus became a 
 legislator. He created the austere, sober, common- 
 place, and hideously sad, but irreproachable manners 
 and customs which characterize Geneva to the present 
 day, — customs preceding those of England called Pu- 
 ritanism, which were due to the Cameronians, disciples 
 of Cameron (a Frenchman deriving his doctrine from 
 Calvin), whom Sir Walter Scott depicts so admirably. 
 The povert}' of a man, a sovereign master, who nego- 
 tiated, power to power, with kings, demanding armies 
 and subsidies, and plunging both hands into their sav- 
 ings laid aside for the unfortunate, proves that thought, 
 used solely as a means of domination, gives birth to 
 political misers, — men who enjo}' by their brains onl}', 
 and, like the Jesuits, want power for power's sake. Pitt, 
 Luther, Calvin, Robespierre, all those Harpagons of 
 power, died without a penu}'. The inventor\' taken in 
 Calvin's house after his death, which comprised all his 
 propert}', even his books, amounted in value, as history 
 records, to two hundred and fifty francs. That of 
 Luther came to about the same sum ; his widow, the 
 famous Catherine de Bora, was forced to petition for a 
 pension of five hundred francs, which was granted to 
 her by an Elector of Germany. Potemkin, Richelieu, 
 Mazarin, those men of thought and action, all three of 
 
 17 
 
258 Catherine de^ Medici. 
 
 whom made or laid the foundation of empires, each left 
 over three hundred millions behind them. The}' had 
 hearts ; they loved women and the arts ; the}* built, 
 the}' conquered ; whereas with the exception of the wife 
 of Luther, the Helen of that Iliad, all the others had 
 no tenderness, no beating of the heart for an}' woman 
 with which to reproach themselves. 
 
 This brief digression was necessarj' in order to ex- 
 plain Calvin's position in Geneva. 
 
 During the first days of the month of Februar}' in 
 the 3'ear 1561, on a soft, warm evening such as we 
 ma}' sometimes find at that season on Lake Leman, 
 two horsemen arrived at the Pr^-l'fiveque, — thus called 
 because it was the former country-place of the Bishop 
 of Geneva, driven from Switzerland about thirty years 
 earlier. These horsemen, who no doubt knew the laws 
 of Geneva ^bout the closing of the gates (then a neces- 
 sity and now very ridiculous) rode in the direction of the 
 Port€ de Rive ; but they stopped their horses suddenly 
 on catching sight of a man, about fifty years of age, 
 leaning on the arm of a servant-woman, and walking 
 slowly toward the town. This man, who was rather 
 stout, walked with diflficulty, putting one foot after the 
 other with pain apparently, for he wore round shoes of 
 black velvet, laced in front. 
 
 ''It is he!'' said Chaudieu to the other horseman, 
 who immediately dismounted, threw the reins to his 
 companion, and went forward, opening wide his arms 
 to the man on foot. 
 
 The man, who was Jean Calvin, drew back to avoid 
 the embrace, casting a stern look at his disciple. At 
 fifty years of age Calvin looked as though he were sixty. 
 
Catherine de* Medici, 259 
 
 -^tout and stocky in figure, he seemed shorter still be- 
 IHanse the horrible sufferings of stone in the bladder 
 ol)liged him to bend almost doable as he walked. 
 These pains were complicated by attacks of gout of 
 the worst kind. P^verj' one trembled before that face, 
 almost as broad as it was long, on which, in spite of its 
 roundness, there was as little human-kindness as on 
 that of Henr}^ the Eighth, whom Calvin greatl}" resem- 
 bled. Sufferings which gave him no respite were 
 manifest in the deep-cut lines starting from each side 
 of tlie nose and following the curve of the moustache 
 till they were lost in the thick gray beard. This face, 
 though red and inflamed like that of a heavy drinker, 
 showed spots where the skin was yellow. In spite of 
 the velvet cap, which covered the huge square head, a 
 vast forehead of noble shape could be seen and admired ; 
 beneath it shone two dark eyes, which must have flashed 
 forth flame in moments of anger. Whether by reason 
 of his obesity, or because of his thick, short neck, or in 
 consequence of his vigils and his constant labors, Cal- 
 vin*s head was sunk between his broad shoulders, which 
 obliged him to wear a fluted ruff of very small dimen- 
 sions, on which his face seemed to lie like the head of John 
 the Baptist on a charger. Between his moustache and 
 his beard could be seen, like a rose, his small and fresh 
 and eloquent little mouth, shaped in perfection. The 
 face was divided by a square nose, remarkable for the 
 flexibility of its entire length, the tip of which was sig- 
 nificantly flat, seeming the more in harmony' with the pro- 
 digious power expressed by the form of that imperial 
 head. Though it might have been diflScult to discover 
 ou his features any trace of the weekly headaches which 
 
260 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 tormented Calvin in the intervals of the slow fever that 
 consumed him, suffering, ceaselessly resisted by study 
 and by will, gave to that mask, superficially so florid, 
 a certain something that was terrible. Perhaps this 
 impression was explainable by the color of a sort of 
 greas}' layer on the skin, due to the sedentary- habits of 
 the toiler, showing evidence of the perpetual struggle 
 which went on between that valetudinarian tempera- 
 ment and one of the strongest wills ever known in 
 the history of the human mind. The mouth, though 
 charming, had an expression of cruelt3'. Chastit}-, 
 necessitated by vast designs, exacted by so many sickly 
 conditions, was written upon that face. Regrets were 
 there, notwithstanding the serenity of that all-powerful 
 brow, together with pain in the glance of those eyes, 
 the calmness of which was terrifying. 
 
 Calvin's costume brought into full relief this powerful 
 head. He wore the well-known cassock of black cloth, 
 fastened round his waist by a black cloth belt with a 
 brass buckle, which became thenceforth the distinctive 
 dress of all Calvinist ministers, and was so uninterest- 
 ing to the ej'e that it forced the spectator's attention 
 upon the wearer's face. 
 
 " I suffer too much, Theodore, to embrace 3'ou," 
 said Calvin to the elegant cavalier. 
 
 Theodore de Beze, then fort3'-two jears of age and 
 latel}^ admitted, at Calvin's request, as a Genevese 
 burgher, formed a violent contrast to the terrible pas- 
 tor whom he had chosen as his sovereign guide and 
 ruler. Calvin, like all burghers raised to moral sover- 
 eignt}', and all inventors of social systems, was eaten up 
 with jealous}'. He abhorred his disciples; he wanted 
 
Catherine de' Medici 261 
 
 no equals ; he could not bear the slightest contradic- 
 tion. Yet there was between him and this graceful 
 ^avalier so marked a difference, Theodore de Beze was 
 lifted with so charming a personaUt}' enhanced by a 
 I poHteness trained b}' court life, and Calvin felt him to 
 be so unlike his other surly janissaries, that the stern 
 ' reformer departed in de Beze's case from his usual hab- 
 its. He never loved him, for this harsh legislator 
 totally ignored all friendship, but, not fearing him in 
 the light of a successor, he liked to play with Theodore 
 as Richelieu played with his cat; he found him supple 
 l^nd agile. Seeing how admirabW de Beze succeeded in 
 all his missions, he took a fancy to the polished instru- 
 ment of which he knew himself the mainspring and the 
 manipulator ; so true is it that the sternest of men can- 
 not do without some semblance of affection. Theodore 
 was Calvin's spoilt child ; the harsh reformer never 
 scolded him ; he forgave him his dissipations, his 
 amours, his fine clothes and his eleorance of lansfua^e. 
 Perhaps Calvin was not unwilling to show that the 
 Eeformation had a few men of the world to compare with 
 the men of the court. Theodore de Beze was anxious^ 
 to introduce a taste for the arts, for literature, and for 
 poesy into Geneva, and Calvin listened to his plans 
 without knitting his thick gray eyebrows. Thus the 
 jU contrast of character and person between these two cel- 
 ebrated men was as complete and marked as the differ- 
 ence in their minds. 
 
 Calvin acknowledged Chaudieu's very humble salu- 
 tation by a slight inclination of the head. Chaudieu 
 slii)ped the bridles of both horses through his arms and 
 followed the two great men of the Reformation, walking 
 
262 Catherine de* MedicL 
 
 to the left, behind de Beze, who was on Calvin's right. 
 The servant-woman hastened on in advance to prevent 
 the closing of the Porte de Rive, by informing the cap- 
 tain of the guard that Calvin had been seized with 
 sudden acute pains. 
 
 Theodore de Beze was a native of the canton of 
 Vezelay, which was the first to enter the Confedera- 
 tion, the curious history of which transaction has been 
 written by one of the Thierrys. The burgher spirit of 
 resistance, endemic at Vezehiy, no doubt, played its 
 part in the person of this man, in the great revolt of the 
 Reformers ; for de Beze was undoubtedly one of the 
 most singular personalities of the Heres}'. 
 
 "You suffer still? '* said Theodore to Calvin. 
 
 " A Catholic would say, ^ like a lost soul,' " replied the 
 Reformer, with the bitterness he gave to his slightest 
 remarks. *^ Ah ! I shall not be here long, my son. 
 What will become of you without me ? " 
 
 '' We shall fight by the light of your books," said 
 Chaudieu. 
 
 Calvin smiled ; his red face changed to a pleased 
 expression, and he looked favorably at Chaudieu. 
 
 " Well, have you brought me news? Have they 
 massacred man}- of our people?" he said smiling, and 
 letting a sarcastic jo>' shine in his brown eyes. 
 
 " No," said Chaudieu, " all is peaceful." 
 
 " So much the worse," cried Calvin ; " so much the 
 worse I All pacification is an evil, if indeed it is not a 
 trap. Our strength lies in persecution. Where should 
 we be if the Church accepted Reform ? " 
 
 " But," said Theodore, >' that is precisely what the 
 queen- mother appears to wish." 
 
Catherine de Medici, 263 
 
 ''She is capable of it/' remarked Calvin. '' I study 
 that woman — " 
 
 '' What, at this distance?'* cried Chaudieu. 
 
 "Is there any distance for the mind?" replied Cal- 
 vin, sternly, for he thought the interruption irreverent. 
 " Catherine seeks power, and women with that in their 
 eye have neither honor nor faith. But what is she 
 doing now ? " 
 
 " I bring you a proposal from her to call a species of 
 council," replied Theodore de Beze. 
 
 "Near Paris?" asked Calvin, hastily. 
 
 I "Yes." 
 " Ha ! so much the better ! " exclaimed the Reformer. 
 " vie are to try to understand each other and draw 
 p some public agreement which shall unite the two 
 hurches.'* 
 "Ah! if she would only have the courage to separ- 
 ate the French Church from the court of Rome, and 
 create a patriarch for France as they did in the Greek 
 Church ! " cried Calvin, his eyes glistening at the idea 
 thus presented to his mind of a possible throne. '* But, 
 my son, can the niece of a pope be sincere? She is 
 only trying to gain time." 
 
 " She has sent away the Queen of Scots," said Chau- 
 dieu. 
 
 "One less!" remarked Calvin, as they passed 
 through the Porte de Rive. " Elizabeth of England 
 will restrain that one for us. Two neighboring queens 
 will soon be at war with each other. One is handsome, 
 the other ugly, — a first cause for irritation; besides, 
 there's the question of illegitimacy — " 
 
 He rubbed his hands, and the character of his joy 
 
264 Catherine de* Medici, 
 
 was so evidently ferocious that de Beze shuddered : he 
 saw the sea of blood his master was contemplating. 
 
 "The Guises have irritated the house of Bourbon," 
 said Theodore after a pause. They came to an open 
 rupture at Orleans." 
 
 '*Ah!" said Calvin, "you would not believe me, 
 m}' son, when I told you the last time 3'ou started for 
 Nerac that we should end by stirring up war to the 
 death between the two branches of the house of France ? 
 I have, at least, one court, one king and ro^al family on 
 my side. My doctrine is producing its effect upon the 
 masses. The burghers, too, understand me ; the}- re- 
 gard as idolators all who go to Mass, who paint the 
 walls of their churches, and put pictures and statues 
 within them. Ha ! it is far more eas}' for a people to 
 demolish churches and palaces than to argue the ques- 
 tion of justiflcation bj' faith, or the real presence. 
 Luther was an argufier, but I, — I am an arm}' ! 
 He was a reasoner, I am a system. In short, my 
 sons, he was mereh^ a skirmisher, but I am Tarquui ! 
 Yes, my faithful shall destroy pictures and pull down 
 churches ; the}' shall make mill- stones of statues to 
 grind the flour of the peoples. There are guilds and 
 corporations in the States-general — I will have nothing 
 there but individuals. Corporations resist ; they see 
 clear where the masses are blind. We must join to 
 our doctrine political interests which will consolidate it, 
 and keep together the materiel of my armies. I have 
 satisfied the logic of cautious souls and the minds of 
 thinkers \)y this bared and naked worship which cariies 
 religion into the world of ideas ; I have made the peo- 
 ples understand the advantages of suppressing cere- 
 
Catherine de! Medici. 265 
 
 mony. It is for you, Theodore, to enlist their interests ; 
 hold to that; go not beyond it. All is said in the 
 way of doctrine ; let no one add one iota. Why does 
 Cameron, that little Gascon pastor, presume to write 
 of it?'* 
 
 Calvin, de Beze, and Chauiieu were mounting the 
 steep streets of the upper town in the midst of a crowd, 
 but the crowd paid not the slightest attention to the 
 men who were unchaining the mobs of other cities and 
 preparing them to ravage France. 
 
 After this terrible tirade, the three marched on in 
 silence till the}^ entered the little place Saint-Pierre and 
 turned toward the pastor's house. On the second story 
 of that house (never noted, and of which in those days no 
 one is ever told in Geneva, where, it may be remarked, 
 Calvin has no statue) his lodging consisted of three 
 chambers with common pine floors and wainscots, at the 
 end of which were the kitchen and the bedroom of lus 
 woman-servant. The entrance, as usually happened in 
 most of the burgher households of Geneva, was through 
 the kitchen, which opened into a little room with two 
 windows, serving as parlor, salon, and dining-room. 
 Calvin's study, where his thouglit had wrestled wMth 
 suffering for the last fourteen years, came next, with 
 the bedroom beyond it. Four oaken chairs covered 
 with tapestry and placed around a square table were 
 the sole furniture of the parlor. A stove of white por- 
 celain, standing in one corner of the room, cast out a 
 genth; heet. Panels and a wainscot of pine wood left in 
 its natural state without decoration covered the walls. 
 Thus the nakedness of the place was in keeping with 
 the sober and simple life of the Reformer. 
 
 I 
 
266 Catherine de' Medici, 
 
 " Well?" said de Beze as they entered, profiting by 
 the few moments when Chaudieu left them to put up 
 the horse at a neighboring inn, " what am I to do? 
 Will you agree to the colloquy ? " 
 
 "Of course," replied Calvin. "And it is 3'ou, my 
 eon, who will figlit for ns there. Be peremptory, be 
 arbitrarj'. No one, neither tlie queen nor the Guises 
 nor I, wants a pacification ; it would not suit us at all. 
 I have confidence in Duplessis-Mornay ; let him play the 
 leading part. Are we alone?" he added, with a glance 
 of distrust into the kitchen, where two shirts and a few 
 collars were stretched on a line to dry. "Go and shut 
 all the doors. Well," he continued when Theodore 
 returned, " we must drive the king of Navarre to join 
 the Guises and the Connetable b}' advising him to break 
 with Queen Catherine de' Medici. Let us get all the 
 benefit of that poor creature's weakness. If he turns 
 against the Italian she will, when she sees herself de- 
 prived of that support, necessarily unite with the Prince 
 de Conde and Colign}-. Perhaps this manoeuvre will so 
 compromise her that she will be forced to remain on 
 our side." 
 
 Theodore de Beze caught the hem of Calvin's cas- 
 sock and kissed it. 
 
 "Oh! my master," he exclaimed, "how great 3'ou 
 are ! " 
 
 " Unfortunately, my dear Theodore, I am dying. If 
 I die without seeing you again," he added, sinking his 
 voice and speaking in the ear of his minister of foreign 
 affairs, " remember to strike a great blow by the hand 
 of some one of our martyrs." 
 
 " Another Minard to be killed? " 
 
Catherine de' Medici, 2G7 
 
 " Something better than a mere lawyer." 
 
 «'Aking?" 
 
 '' Still better ! — a man wlio wants to be a king." 
 
 " Tlie Due de Guise 1 " exclaimed Theodore, with an 
 involuntar}' gesture. • 
 
 *' Well?" cried Calvin, who thought he saw disap- 
 proval or resistance in the gesture, and did not see at 
 the same moment the entrance of Chaudieu. '' Have 
 we not the right to strike as we are struck? — yes, to 
 strike in silence and in darkness. May we not return 
 them wound for wound, and death for death? Would 
 tlie Catholics hesitate to lay traps for us and mas- 
 sacre us? Assuredly not. Let us burn their churches ! 
 Forward, my children ! And if you have devoted 
 3'ouths — " 
 
 " I have," said Chaudieu. 
 
 " Use them as engines of war! our cause justifies 
 all means. Le Balafre, that terrible soldier, is, like me, 
 more than a man ; he is a dynasty, just as I am a 
 system. He is able to annihilate usj therefore, I saj', 
 Death to the Guise ! " 
 
 '' I would rather have a peaceful victor}', won by time 
 and reason," said de Beze. 
 
 " Time ! " exclaimed Calvin, dashing his chair to the 
 ground, " reason ! Are 3*ou mad? Can reason achieve 
 conquests? You know nothing of men, you who deal 
 with them, idiot! The thing that injures my doctrine, 
 you triple fool ! is the reason that is in it. B3' the light- 
 ning of Saul, b}' the sword of Vengeance, thou pumpkin- 
 head, do 3'ou not see the vigor given to m}- Reform by 
 the massacre at Amboise? Ideas never grow till they 
 are watered with blood. The slaying of the Due de 
 
 I 
 
268 Catherine de* Medici, 
 
 Guise will lead to a horrible persecution, and I pra^^ for 
 it with all 1113' might. Onr reverses are preferable to 
 success. The Reformation has an object to gain in be- 
 ing attacked ; do you hear me, dolt? It cannot hurt us 
 to be defeated, whereas Catholicism is at an end if we 
 should win but a single battle. Ha ! what are my lieu- 
 tenants? — rags, wet rags instead of men ! white-haired 
 cravens ! baptized apes ! O God, grant me ten years 
 more of life ! If I die too soon the cause of true reli- 
 gion is lost in the hands of such boobies ! You are as 
 great a fool as Antoine de Navarre ! Out of my sight ! 
 Leave me ; I want a better negotiator than you ! You 
 are an ass, a popinjay, a poet ! Go make your elegies 
 and your acrostics, 3'ou trifler ! Hence ! " 
 
 The pains of his body were absolutely overcome by 
 the fire of his anger ; even the gout subsided under this 
 horrible excitement of his mind. Calvin's face flushed 
 purple, like the sky before a storm. His vast brow 
 shone. His e3'es flamed. He was no longer himself. 
 He gave wa}^ utterly to the species of epileptic motion, 
 full of passion, which was common with him. But in 
 the \QYy midst of it he was struck b}- the attitude of the 
 two witnesses ; then as he caught the w^ords of Cliau- 
 dieu saying to de Beze, " The Burning Bush ! '* he sat 
 down, was silent, and covered his face with his two 
 hands, the knotted veins of which were throbbing in 
 spite of their coarse texture. 
 
 Some minutes later, still shaken by this storm raised 
 within him b}' the continence of his life, he said in a 
 voice of emotion : — 
 
 " My sins, which are man}^, cost me less trouble 
 to subdue, than m^' impatience. Oh, savage beast ! 
 
Catherine de' Medici, 269 
 
 shall I never vanquish you?" he cried, beating his 
 ■ ^ breast. 
 
 IB '' My dear master," said de Beze, in a tender voice, 
 taking Calvin's hand and kissing it, "Jupiter thunders, 
 but he knows how to smile." 
 
 Calvin looked at his disciple with a softened eye and 
 said : — 
 
 '* Understand me, m}* friends." 
 
 *' I understand that the pastors of peoples bear great 
 burdens," replied Theodore. '' You have a world upon 
 your shoulders." 
 1^ ''I have three martvrs," said Chaudieu, whom 
 the master's outburst had rendered thoughtful, '' on 
 whom we can YQ\y. Stuart, who killed Minard, is at 
 liberty — " 
 
 "You are mistaken," said Calvin, gentl}', smiling 
 after the manner of great men who bring fair weather 
 into their faces as though they were ashamed of the 
 previous storm. '' I know human nature ; a man may 
 kill one president, but not two." 
 
 " Is it absolutely necessary'? " asked de Beze. 
 
 " Again ! " exclaimed Calvin, his nostrils swelling. 
 '^ Come, leave me, 3'ou will drive me to fury. Take my 
 decision to the queen. You, Chaudieu, go 3-our wa}', 
 and hold your flock together in Paris. God guide you ! 
 Dinah, light my friends to the door." 
 
 '' Will you not permit me to embrace 3'ou ? " said The- 
 odore, much moved. " Who knows what may happen 
 to us on the morrow? We ma}^ be seized in spite of 
 our safe-conduct." 
 
 '' And yet you want to spare them ! " cried Calvin, 
 embracing de B^ze. Then he took Chaudieu's hand and 
 
 ■ 
 
270 Catherine de^ Medici, 
 
 said: "Above all, no Huguenots, no Reformers, but 
 Calvinists ! Use no term but Calvinism. Alas! this is 
 not ambition, for I am dying, — but it is necessary- to 
 destroy' the whole of Luther, even to the name of 
 Lutheran and Lutheranism." 
 
 ''Ah! man divine," cried Chaudieu, ''3'ou well de- 
 serve such honors." 
 
 " Maintain the uniformity of the doctrine ; let no one 
 henceforth change or remaik it. We are lost if new 
 sects issue from our bosom." 
 
 We will here anticipate the events on which this 
 Study is based, and close the histor}' of Theodore de 
 Beze, who went to Paris with Chaudieu. It is to be 
 remarked that Poltrot, who fired at the Due de Guise 
 fifteen months later, confessed under torture that he 
 bad been urged to the crime by Theodore de Beze ; 
 though he retracted that avowal during subsequent tor- 
 tures ; so that Bossuet, after weighing all historical 
 considerations, felt obliged to acquit Beze of instigat- 
 ing the crime. Since Bossuet's time, however, an ap- 
 parently futile dissertation, apropos of a celebrated 
 song, has led a compiler of the eighteenth century to 
 prove that the verses on the death of the Due de Guise, 
 sung b}' the Huguenots from one end of France to 
 the other, was the work of Theodore de Beze ; and it 
 is also proved that the famous song on the burial of 
 Marlborough was a plagiarism on it.^ 
 
 1 One of the most remarkable instances of the transmission of 
 songs is that of Marlborough. Written in the first instance by a 
 Huguenot on the death of the Due de Guise in 1563, it was pre- 
 served in the French army, and appears to have been sung with 
 variations, suppressions, and additions at the death of all gen- 
 
Catherine d^ Medici. 
 
 271 
 
 erals of iniportauce. When the intestine wars were over the song 
 followed the soldiers into civil life. It was never forgotten (though 
 the habit of singing it may have lessened), and in 1781, sixty years 
 after the death of Marlborough, the wet-nurse of the Dauphin was 
 heard to sing it as she suckled her nursling. When and why the 
 name of the Duke of Marlborough was substituted for that of the 
 Due de Guise lias never been ascertained. See " Chausons Popu- 
 laires," par Charles Nisard ; Paris, Deutu, 1867. — Tb. 
 
272 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 CATHERINE IN POWER. 
 
 The day on which Theodore de Beze and Chaudieu 
 arrived in Paris, the court returned from Rheims, where 
 Charles IX. was crowned. This ceremony, which Cath- 
 erine made magnificent with splendid fetes, enabled her 
 to gather about her the leaders of the various parties. 
 Having studied all interests and all factions, she found 
 herself with two alternatives from which to choose ; 
 either to rally them all to the throne, or to pit them 
 one against another. The Connetable de Montmo- 
 renc}', supremely Catholic, whose nephew, the Prince de 
 Conde, was leader of the Reformers, and whose sons 
 were inclined to the new religion, blamed the alliance 
 of the queen-mother with the Reformation. The Guises, 
 on their side, were endeavoring to gain over Antoine 
 de Bourbon, king of Navarre, a weak prince ; a manoeu- 
 vre which his wife, Jeanne d'Albret, instructed by de 
 Beze, allowed to succeed. The difficulties were plain 
 to Catherine, whose dawning power needed a period of 
 tranquillity. She therefore impatiently awaited Cal- 
 vin's reply to the message which the Prince de Conde, 
 the king of Navarre, Colign}^, d'Andelot, and the Cardi- 
 nal de Chatillon had seat him through de Beze and 
 Chaudieu. Meantime, however, she w^as faithful to 
 her promises as to the Prince de Conde. The chan- 
 
Catherine de' Medici, 273 
 
 cellor put an end to the proceedings in which Chris- 
 tophe was involved by referring the affair to the 
 Parliament of Paris, which at once set aside the judg- 
 ment of the committee, declaring it without power to 
 try a prince of the blood. The Parliament then reop- 
 ened the trial, at the request of the Guises and the 
 queen-mother. Lasagne's papers had already been 
 given to Catherine, who burned them. The giving up 
 of these papers was a first pledge, uselessly made by 
 the Guises to the queen-mother. The Parliament, no 
 longer able to take cognizance of those decisive proofs, 
 reinstated the prince in all his rights, property, and 
 honors. Christophe, released during the tumult at 
 Orleans on the death of the king, was acquitted in the 
 first instance, and appointed, in compensation for his 
 sufferings, solicitor to the Parliament, at the request of 
 his godfather Monsieur de Thou. 
 
 The Triumvirate, that coming coalition of self-inter- 
 ests threatened by Catherine's first acts, was now form- 
 ing itself under her very eyes. Just as in chemistry 
 antagonistic substances separate at the first shock 
 which jars their enforced union, so in politics the alU- 
 ance of opposing interests never lasts. Catherine thor- 
 oughl}' understood that sooner or later she should 
 return to the Guises and combine with them and the 
 Connetable to do battle against the Huguenots. The 
 proposed " colloquy " which tempted the vanity of the 
 orators of all parties, and offered an imposing specta- 
 cle to succeed that of the coronation and enliven the 
 bloody ground of a religious war which, in point of fact, 
 had alroadv beijun, was as futile in the eves of the Due 
 de Guise as in those of Catherine. The Cathohcs 
 
 18 
 
274 ^ Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 would, in one sense be worsted ; for the Huguenots, 
 under pretext of conferring, would be able to proclaim 
 their doctrine, with the sanction of the king and his 
 mother, to the ears of all France. The Cardinal de 
 Lorraine, flattered by Catherine into the idea of destro}'- 
 ing the heresy by the eloquence of the Church, per- 
 suaded his brother to consent ; and thus the queen 
 obtained what was all-essential to her, six months of 
 peace. 
 
 A slight event, occurring at this time, came near 
 compromising the power which Catherine had so pain- 
 fully built up. The following scene, preserved in his- 
 tor}', took place, on the very day the envoj's returned 
 from Geneva, in the hotel de Colign}- near the Louvre. 
 At his coronation, Charles IX., who was greatl}' attached 
 to his tutor Amyot, appointed him grand-almoner of 
 France. This affection was shared b}- his brother the 
 Due d'Anjou, afterwards Henri IIL, another of Am3'ot's 
 pupils. Catherine heard the news of this appointment 
 from the two Gondis during the journey from Rheims to 
 Paris. She had counted on that office in the gift of the 
 Crown to gain a supporter in the Church with whom 
 to oppose the Cardinal de Lorraine. Her choice had 
 fallen on the Cardinal de Tournon, in whom she expected 
 to find, as in I'Hopital, another crutch — the word is her 
 own. As soon as she reached the Louvre she sent for 
 the tutor, and her anger was such, on seeing the disaster 
 to her policy caused by the ambition of this son of a 
 shoemaker, that she was betrayed into using the follow- 
 ing extraordinary language, which several memoirs of 
 the dav have handed down to us : — 
 
 " What ! " she cried, '' am I, who compel the Guises, 
 
Catherine de' Medici. 275 
 
 the Colignj's, the Connetables, the house of Kavarre, 
 the Prince de Conde, to serve 1113' ends, am I to be op- 
 posed by a priesthng like you who are not satisfied to 
 be bishop of Auxerre?" 
 
 Amyot excused himself. He assured the queen that 
 he had asked nothing ; the king of his own will had 
 given him the office of which he, the son of a poor 
 tailor, felt himself quite unworthy. 
 K '' Be assured, niaitre^'' replied Catherine (that being 
 the name which the two kings, Charles IX. and Henri 
 III., gave to the great writer) " that 3^ou will not stand 
 on 3'our feet twenty- four hours hence, unless you make 
 your pupil change his mind." 
 IK Between the death thus threatened and the resigna- 
 tion of the highest ecclesiastical office in the gift of the 
 crown, the son of the shoemaker, who had lately become 
 extremel}' eager after honors, and ma}^ even have cov- 
 eted a cardinal's hat, thought it prudent to temporize. 
 He left the court and hid himself in the abbey of Saint- 
 Germain. When Charles IX. did not see him at his 
 first dinner, he asked where he was. Some Guisard 
 doubtless told him of what had occurred between 
 Amyot and the queen-mother. 
 
 ^' Has he been forced to disappear because I made 
 him grand-almoner?" cried the king. 
 
 He thereupon rushed to his mother in the violent 
 wrath of angry children when their caprices are opposed. 
 
 " Madame," he said on entering, '' did I not kindly 
 sign the letter you asked me to send to Parliament, by 
 means of which jou govern my kingdom? Did you 
 not promise that if I did so my will should be 3'ours? 
 And here, the first favor that I wish to bestow excites 
 
276 Catherine de' Medici, 
 
 your jealousy I The chancellor talks of declaring my 
 majority at fourteen, three years from now, and you 
 wish to treat me as a child. By God, I will be king, 
 and a king as my father and my grandfather were 
 kings ! " 
 
 The tone and manner in which these words were said 
 gave Catherine a revelation of her son's true character ; 
 it was like a blow in the breast. 
 
 " He speaks to me thus, he whom I made a king ! " 
 she thought. '^ Monsieur," she said aloud, '' the office 
 of a king, in times like these, is a very difficult one ; 
 you do not yet know the shrewd men with whom you 
 have to deal. You will never have a safer and more 
 sincere friend than your mother, or better servants than 
 those who have been so long attached to her person, 
 without whose services 3'ou might perhaps not even 
 exist to-day. Tlie Guises want both your life and 3'our 
 throne, be sure of that. If the}^ could sew me into a 
 sack and fling me into the river," she said, pointing to 
 the Seine, '' it would be done to-night. They know 
 that I am a lioness defending her young, and that I 
 alone prevent their daring hands from seizing your 
 crown. To whom — to whose part}' does your tutor 
 belong? Who are his allies? What authority has he? 
 What services can he do you ? What weight do his words 
 carry ? Instead of finding a prop to sustain your power, 
 you have cut the ground from under it. The Cardinal 
 de Lorraine is a living threat to you ; he plays the 
 king ; he keeps his hat on his head before the princes 
 of the blood ; it was urgent!}' necessar}' to invest an- 
 other cardinal with powers greater than his own. But 
 what have you done? Is Amyot, that shoemaker, fit 
 
Catherine de' Medici. 277 
 
 onl}' to tie the ribbons of his shoes, is he capable of mak- 
 \\w head ao:ainst the Guise ambition? However, you 
 love Amyot, you have appointed him ; your will must now 
 be done, monsieur. But before you make such gifts 
 again, I pra}^ you to consult me in affectionate good 
 faith. Listen to reasons of state ; and your own good 
 sense as a child may perhaps agree with ray old expe- 
 rience, when you really understand the difficulties that 
 lie before 3'ou." 
 
 ''Then I can have my master back again?" cried 
 the king, not listening to his mother's words, which he 
 considered to be mere reproaches. 
 
 " Yes, you shall have him," she replied. " But it is 
 not he, nor that brutal Cypierre who will teach you 
 how to reign." 
 
 "It is for you to do so, my dear mother," said the 
 boy, mollified b}^ his victory and relaxing the surly and 
 threatening look stamped bj' nature on his countenance. 
 
 Catherine sent Gondi to recall the new grand-almoner. 
 When the Italian discovered the place of Am3ot's re- 
 treat, and the bishop heard that the courtier was sent 
 by the queen, he was seized with terror and refused to 
 leave the abbey. In this extremity Catherine was 
 obliged to write to him herself, in such terms that 
 he returned to Paris and received from her own lips 
 the assurance of her protection, — on condition, how- 
 ever, that he would blindl}' promote her wishes with 
 Charles IX. 
 
 This little domestic tempest over, the queen, now re- 
 established in the Louvre after an absence of more 
 than a year, held council with her closest friends as to 
 the proper conduct to pursue with the 3'oung king, 
 whom Cypierre had complimented on his firmness. 
 
278 Catherine de' Medici, 
 
 "What is best to be done?" she said to the two 
 Gondis, Riiggiero, Birago, and Chiverni who had lately 
 become governor and chancellor to the Due d'Anjou. 
 
 "Before all else," replied Birago, "get rid of 
 Cvpierre. He is not a courtier ; he will never accom- 
 modate himself to your ideas, and will think he does 
 his duty in thwarting 3011." 
 
 " Whom can I trust?" cried the queen. 
 
 " One of us," said Birago. 
 
 "On m}' honor!" exclaimed Gondi, "I'll promise 
 3'ou to make the king as docile as the king of Navarre." 
 
 " You allowed the late king to perish to save your 
 other children/' said Albert de Gondi. "Do, then, as 
 the great signors of Constantinople do, — divert the 
 anger and amuse the caprices of the present king. He 
 loves art and poetrj' and hunting, also a little girl he 
 saw at Orleans ; there 's occupation enough for him." 
 
 "Would 3'ou really be the king's governor?" said 
 Catherine to the ablest of the Gondis. 
 
 "Yes, if 3'ou will give me the necessary authority; 
 you may even be obliged to make me marshal of 
 France and. a duke. Cypierre is altogether two small 
 a man to hold the office. In future, the governor of a 
 king of France should be of some great dignity, like 
 that of duke and marshal." 
 
 " He is right," said Birago. 
 
 "Poet and huntsman," said Catherine in a dreamy 
 tone. 
 
 " We will hunt and make love ! " cried Gondi. 
 
 "Moreover," remarked Chiverni, "you are sure of 
 Am3'ot, who will always fear poison in case of diso- 
 bedience ; so that 3'ou and he and Gondi can hold the 
 king in leading-strings." 
 
Catherine de' Medici. 279 
 
 " Amj'ot has deeply offended nie," said Catherine. 
 
 "He does not know what he owes to you; if he 
 did know, you would be in danger," replied Birago, 
 gravely, emphasizing his words. 
 
 *' Then, it is agreed,'' exclaimed Catheiine, on whom 
 Birago's reply made a powerful impression, " that you, 
 Gondi, are to be the king's governor. My son must 
 consent to do for one of my friends a favor equal to the 
 one I have just permitted for his knave of a bishop. 
 That fool has lost the hat ; for never, as long as I 
 live, will I consent that the pope shall give it to him ! 
 How strong we might have been with Cardinal de 
 Tournon ! What a trio with Tournon for grand- 
 almoner, and THopital, and de Thou ! As for the 
 burghers of Paris, I intend to make my son cajole 
 them ; we will get a support there." 
 
 Accordingl}', Albert de Gondi became a marshal of 
 France and was created Due de Retz and governor of 
 the king a few days later. 
 
 At the moment when this little private council ended, 
 Cardinal de Tournon announced to the queen the arrival 
 of the emissaries sent to Calvin. Admiral Coligny 
 accompanied the party in order that his presence might 
 ensure them due respect at the Louvre. The queen 
 gathered the formidable phalanx of her maids of honor 
 about her, and passed into the reception hall, built b}^ 
 her husband, which no longer exists in the Louvre of 
 to-da3\ 
 
 At the period of which we write the staircase of the 
 Louvre occupied the clock tower. Catherine's apart- 
 ments were in the old buildings which still exist in the 
 court of the Musse. The present staircase of the mu- 
 
280 Catherine de' Afedici. 
 
 seiim was built in what was formerly the salle des bal- 
 lets. The ballet of those days was a sort of dramatic 
 entertainment performed by the whole court. 
 
 Revolutionar}' passions gave rise to a most laugh- 
 able error about Charles IX., in connection with the 
 Louvre. During the Revolution hostile opinions as to 
 this king, whose real character was masked, made a 
 monster of him. Joseph Chenier's tragedy was writ- 
 ten under the influence of certain words scratched on 
 the window of the projecting wing of the Louvre, look- 
 ing toward the quay. The words were as follows : 
 "It was from this window that Charles IX., of exe- 
 crable memor}*, fired upon Fiench citizens." It is 
 well to inform future historians and all sensible persons 
 that this portion of the Louvre — called to-da}* the old 
 Louvre — which projects upon the quay and is con- 
 nected with the Louvre by the room called the Apollo 
 gallery (while the great halls of the Museum connect 
 the Louvre with the Tuileries) did not exist in the time 
 of Charles IX. The greater part of the space where 
 the frontage on the qua\' now stands, and where the 
 Garden of the Infanta is laid out,- was then occupied 
 by the hotel de Bourbon, which belonged to and was 
 the residence of the house of Navarre. It was abso- 
 lutely impossible, therefore, for Charles IX. to fire from 
 the Louvre of Henry II. upon a boat full of Huguenots 
 crossing the river, although at the present time the 
 Seine can be seen from its windows. Even if learned 
 men and libraries did not possess maps of the Louvre 
 made in the time of Charles IX., on which its then posi- 
 tion is clearly indicated, the building itself refutes the 
 error. All the kings who co-operated in the work of 
 
Catherine rfe* Medici, 281 
 
 erecting this enormous mass of buildings never failed 
 to put tlieir initials or some special monogram on the 
 parts they had severally built. Now the part we speak 
 of, the venerable and now blackened wing of the Louvre, 
 projecting on the qua}* and overlooking the garden of 
 the Infanta, bears the monograms of Henri III. and 
 Henri IV., which are totally different from that of Henri 
 II., who invariably joined his H to the two C*8 of Cath- 
 erine, forming a D, — which, by the bye, has con- 
 stantly deceived superficial persons into fancying that 
 the king put the initial of his mistress, Diane, on great 
 public buildings. Henri IV. united the Louvre with 
 his own hotel de Bourbon, its garden and dependencies. 
 He was the first to think of connecting Catherine de' 
 Medici's palace of theTuilerics with the Louvre by his un- 
 finished galleries, the precious sculptures of which have 
 been so cruelly neglected. Even if the map of Paris, 
 and the monograms of Henri III. and Henri IV. did 
 not exist, the difference of architecture is refutatioa 
 enough to the cjilumny. The vermiculated stone cop- 
 ings of the hotel de la Force mark the transition be- 
 tween what is called the architecture of the Renaissance 
 and that of Henri HI., Henri IV., and Louis XIII. 
 This archfleological digression (continuing the sketches 
 of old Paris with which we began this history) enables 
 us to picture to our minds the then appearance of this 
 other corner of the ohl cit\% of which nothing now re- 
 mains but Henri IV.*s addition to the Louvre, with its 
 admirable bas-reliefs, now being rapidiv annihilated. 
 
 When the court heard that the queen was about 
 to give an audience to Theodore de B^ze and Chau- 
 dieu, presented by Admiral Coligny, all the courtiers 
 
282 Catheriiie de' Medici, 
 
 who had the right of entrance to the reception hall, 
 hastened thither to witness the interview. It was about 
 six o'clock in the evening ; Colign}' had just supped, 
 and was using a toothpick as he came up the staircase 
 of the Louvre between the two Reformers. The prac- 
 tice of using a toothpick was so inveterate a habit with 
 the admiral that he was seen to do it on the battle-field 
 while planning a retreat. " Distrust the admiral's tooth- 
 pick, the iVo of the Connetable, and Catherine's les," 
 was a court proverb of that day. After the Saint- 
 Bartholomew the populace made a horrible jest on^ the 
 bod}' of Coligny, which hung for three days at Mont- 
 faucon, b}' putting a grotesque toothpick into his mouth. 
 History has recorded this atrocious levit}^ So pett}- an 
 act done in the midst of that great catastrophe pictures 
 the Parisian populace, which deserves tlie sarcastic jibe 
 of Boileau : '' Frenchmen, born mali?i, created the guil- 
 lotine." The Parisian of all time cracks jokes and 
 makes lampoons before, during, and after the most 
 horrible revolutions. 
 
 Theodore de Beze wore the dress of a courtier, black 
 silk stockings, low shoes with straps across the instep, 
 tight breeches, a black silk doublet with slashed sleeves, 
 and a small black velvet mantle, over which lay an ele- 
 gant white fluted ruff. His beard was trimmed to a 
 moustache and virgule (now called imperial) and he 
 carried a sword at his side and a cane in his hand. 
 Whosoever knows the galleries of Versailles or the col- 
 lections of Odieuvre, knows also his round, almost jovial 
 face and lively eyes, surmounted hy the broad forehead 
 which characterized the writers and poets of that day. 
 De Beze had, what served him admirably, an agreeable 
 
Catherine de' McdicL 283 
 
 air and manner. In this he was a great contrast to 
 Cohtrnv, of* austere countenance, and to the sour, biUous 
 Chaudieu, wlio chose to wear on this occasion the robe 
 and bands of a Calvinist minister. 
 
 The scenes that,happeu in our day in the Chamber of 
 Deputies, and which, no doubt, happened in the Conven- 
 tion, will give an idea of how, at this court, at this 
 epoch, these men, who six months later were to fight to 
 the deatji xw a war without quarter, could meet and talk 
 to each other with courtesy and even laughter. Bir- 
 ago, who was coldly to advise the Saint-Bartholomew, 
 and Cardinal de Lorraine, who charged his servant 
 Besme " not to miss the admiral," now advanced to 
 meet Colign}' ; Birago saying, with a smile ; — 
 
 *' Well, my dear admiral, so 3*011 have really taken 
 upon yourself to present these gentlemen from Geneva?" 
 
 *^ Perhaps you will call it a crime in me," replied the 
 admnal, jesting, ^' whereas if you had done it yourself 
 you would make a merit of it." 
 
 "They say that the Sieur Calvin is very ill," re- 
 marked the Cardinal de Lorraine to Theodore de Beze. 
 '' 1 hope no one suspects us of giving him his broth." 
 
 "Ah! monseigneur ; it would be too great a risk," 
 replied de Beze, maliciously. 
 
 The Due de Guise, who was watching Chaudieu, 
 looked fixedly at his brother and at Birago, who were 
 both taken aback by de Bezels answer. 
 
 *' Good God ! " remarked the cardinal, '' heretics are 
 not diplomatic ! " 
 
 To avoid embarrassment, the queen, who was an- 
 nounced at this moment, had arranged to remain stand- 
 ing during the audience. She began by speaking to 
 
284 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 the Connetable, who had previously remonstrated with 
 her vehementlv on the scandal of receivino; messeno;ers 
 from Calvin. 
 
 " You see, m}' dear Connetable," she said, '^ that I 
 receive them without ceremony." 
 
 ^* Madame," said the admiral, approaching the queen, 
 ^^ these are two teachers of the new religion, who have 
 come to an understanding with Calvin, and who have 
 his instructions as to a conference in which the churches 
 of France may be able to settle their differences." 
 
 *' This is Monsieur de Beze, to whom m}' wife is 
 much attached," said the king of Navarre, coming for- 
 ward and takinof de Beze bv the hand. 
 
 '* And this is Chaudieu," said the Prince de Conde. 
 ^' M(/ frie? id the Due de Guise knows the soldier," he 
 added, looking at Le Balafre, '' perhaps he will now like 
 to know the minister." 
 
 This gasconade made the whole court laugh, even 
 Catherine. 
 
 "Faith!" replied the Due de Guise, "I am en- 
 chanted to see a gars who knows so well how to choose 
 his men and to emploj' them in their right sphere. One 
 of your agents," he said to Chaudieu, " actually en- 
 dured the extraordinary question without dying and 
 without confessing a single thing. I call myself brave ; 
 but I don't know that I could have endured it as he 
 did." 
 
 ''Hum!" muttered Ambroise, "3'ou did not say 
 a word when I pulled the javelin out of your face at 
 Calais." 
 
 Catherine, standing at the centre of a semicircle of 
 the courtiers and maids of honor, kept silence. She 
 
Catlierine de' Medici. 285 
 
 was observing the two Reformers, trying to penetrate 
 their minds as, with the shrewd, intelligent glance of her 
 black eyes, she studied them. 
 
 " One seems to be the scabbard, the other the blade," 
 whispered Albert de Gondi in her ear. 
 
 "' Well, gentlemen," said Catherine at last, unable to 
 restrain a smile, ^' has your master given 3'ou permis- 
 sion to unite in a public conference, at which you will 
 be converted by the arguments of the Fathers of the 
 Church who are the glory of our State? " 
 
 " We have no master but the Lord," said Chaudien. 
 
 *' But surel}' you will allow some little authority to 
 the king of France?" said Catherine, smiling. 
 
 '*And much to the queen," said de Beze, bowing 
 low. 
 
 "You will find," continued the queen, "that our 
 most submissive subjects are heretics." 
 
 *' Ah, madame ! " cried Colign}', " we will indeed en- 
 deavor to make 3'ou a noble and a peaceful kingdom! 
 p]urope has profited, alas ! by our internal divisions. 
 For the last fifty years she has had the advantage of 
 one-half of the French people being against the other 
 half." 
 
 "Are we here to sing anthems to the glory of here- 
 tics," said the Connetable, brutalh'. 
 
 "No, but to bring them to repentance," whispered 
 the Cardinal de Lorraine in his ear; " we want to coax 
 them by a little sugar." 
 
 " Do you know what I should have done under the 
 late king?" said the Connetable, angril3^ " I'd have 
 called in the provost and hung those two knaves, then 
 and there, on the gallows of the Louvre." 
 
286 Catherine de' Medici 
 
 '' Well, gentlemen, who are the learned men whom 
 you have selected as our opponents?" inquired the 
 queen, imposing silence on the Connetable by a look. 
 
 '' Duplessis-Mornay and The'odore de Beze will speak 
 on our side," replied Chaudieu. 
 
 ••'The court will doubtless go to Saint-Germain, and 
 as it would be improper that this colloquy should take 
 place in a royal residence, we will have it in the little 
 town of Poiss}'/' said Catherine. 
 
 " Shall we be safe there, madame?" asked Chaudieu. 
 
 ''Ah!" replied the queen, with a sort of naivete, 
 ** 3'ou will surely know how to take precautions. The 
 Admiral will arrange all that with my cousins the Guises 
 and de Montmorency." 
 
 " The devil take them ! " cried the Connetable, '' I '11 
 have nothing to do with it ! '* 
 
 " How do you contrive to give such strength of char- 
 acter to your converts?'' said the queen, leading Chau- 
 dieu apart. " The son of my furrier was actually 
 sublime." 
 
 " We have faith," replied Chaudieu. 
 
 At this moment the hall presented a scene of ani- 
 mated groups, all discussing the question of the proposed 
 assembl}', to which the few words said b\' the queen had 
 already given the name of the " Colloquy of Poiss}'." 
 Catherine glanced at Chaudieu and was able to say to 
 him unheard : — 
 
 "Yes, a new faith!" 
 
 " Ah, madame, if you were not blinded by your alli- 
 ance with the court of Rome, you would see that we are 
 returning to the true doctrines of Jesus Christ, who, 
 recognizing the equalit}^ of souls, bestows upon all men 
 equal rights on earth." 
 
Catherine de' Medici, 287 
 
 " Do you tliink 3'ourself the equal of Calvin? " asked 
 the queen, shrewdly. " No, no ; we are equals only in 
 cliurch. What ! would you unbind the tie of the people 
 Hlo the throne?'* she cried. "Then you are not onl}'' 
 heretics, you are revohitionists, — rebels against obedi- 
 ence to the king as you are against that to the pope ! " 
 So saying, she left Chaudieu abruptly and returned to 
 Theodore de B^ze. *' I count on you, monsieur," she 
 said, ''to conduct this colloquy in good faith. Take 
 all the time 3'ou need." 
 
 " I had supposed," said Chaudieu to the Prince de 
 Conde, the King of Navarre, and Admiral Coligny, as 
 they left the hall, '' that a great State matter would 
 be treated more seriously." 
 
 " Oh ! we know very w^ell what 3'ou want," exclaimed 
 the Prince de Conde, exchanging a sly look with Theo- 
 dore de Beze. 
 
 The prince now left his adherents to attend a rendez- 
 vous. This great leader of a party was also one of the 
 most favored gallants of the court. The two choice 
 beauties of that day were even then strivinor with such 
 desperate eagerness for his affections that one of them, 
 the Marechale de Saint-Andre, the wife of the future 
 triumvir, gave him her beautiful estate of Saint-Valerj', 
 hoping to win him away from the Duchesse de Guise, 
 tlie wife of the man who had tried to take his head on 
 the scaffold. The duchess, not being able to detach the 
 Due de Nemours from Mademoiselle de Rohan, fell in 
 love, €71 attendant^ with the leader of the Reformers. 
 
 "What a contrast to Geneva!" said Chaudieu to 
 Thsodore de Beze, as they crossed the little bridge of 
 the Louvre. 
 
288 Catherine de' Medici, 
 
 " The people here are certainly gayer than the Gene- 
 vese. I don't see why they should be so treacherous/' 
 replied de Beze. 
 
 '' To treachery oppose treachery/' replied Chaudieu, 
 whispering the words in his companion's ear. '' I have 
 saints in Paris on whom I can rel^', and I intend to 
 make Calvin a prophet. Christophe Lecamus shall de- 
 liver us from our most danorerous enemv." 
 
 " The queen-mother, for w^hom the poor devil endured 
 his torture, has already, with a high hand, caused him 
 to be appointed soUcitor to the Parliament ; and 
 solicitors make better prosecutors than murderers. 
 Don't you remember how Avenelles betrayed the se- 
 crets of our first uprising? " 
 
 " I know Christophe," said Chaudieu, in a positive 
 tone, as he turned to leave the envoy from Geneva. 
 
Catherine de' Medici. 289 
 
 XV. 
 
 COMPENSATION. 
 
 A FEW days after the reception of Calvin's emissaries 
 by the queen, that is to say, toward the close of the 
 year (for the year then began at Easter and the present 
 calendar was not adopted until later in the reign 
 of Charles IX.), Christophe reclined in an eas}' chair 
 beside the fire in the large brown hall, dedicated to 
 family life, that overlooked the river in his fiither s 
 liouse, where the present drama was begun. His feet 
 rested on a stool ; his mother and Babette Lallier had 
 just renewed the compresses, saturated with a solution 
 brought by Ambroise Pare, who was charged bj- Cath- 
 erine de' Medici to take care of the vounor man. Once 
 restored to his family, Christophe became the object of 
 the most devoted care. Babette, authorized b}' her 
 father, came every morning and only left the Lecamus 
 house at night. Christophe, the admiration of the ap- 
 prentices, gave rise throughout the quarter to various 
 tales, which invested him with mysterious poesy. He 
 had borne the worst torture ; the celebrated Ambroise 
 Pare was employing all his skill to cure him. What 
 great deed had he done to be thus treated? Neither 
 Christophe nor his father said a word on the subject. 
 Catherine, then all-powerful, was concerned in their 
 silence as well as the Prince de Conde. The constant 
 
 19 
 
 I 
 
290 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 visits of Pare, now chief surgeon of both the king and 
 the house of Guise, whom the queen-mother and the 
 Lorrains allowed to treat a 3'outh accused of heresy, 
 strangely- complicated an affair through which no one 
 saw clearly. Moreover, the rector of Saint-Pierre-aux- 
 Boeufs came several times to visit the son of his church- 
 warden, and these visits made the causes of Chris- 
 tophe's present condition still more unintelligible to his 
 neighbors. 
 
 The old S3'ndic, who had his plan, gave evasive an- 
 swers to his brother-furriers, the merchants of the 
 neighborhood, and to all friends who spoke to him of 
 his son: "Yes, I am very thankful to have saved 
 him." — " AYell, you know, it wont do to put your finger 
 between the bark and the tree." — " My son touched 
 fire and came near burning up m}' house." — "The}' 
 took advantage of his youth ; we burghers get nothing 
 but shame and evil by frequenting the grandees." — 
 " This affair decides me to make a lawyer of Chris- 
 tophe ; the practice of law will teach him to weigh his 
 words and his acts." — "The joung queen, who is now 
 in Scotland, had a great deal to do with it; but then, 
 to be sure, my son may have been imprudent." — "1 
 have had cruel anxieties." — " All this ma}' decide me 
 to give up m}' business ; I do not wish ever to go 
 to court again." — "My son has had enough of the 
 Reformation ; it has cracked all his joints. If it had 
 not been for Ambroise, I don't know what would have 
 become of me." 
 
 Thanks to these ambiguous remarks and to the great 
 discretion of such conduct, it was generall}' averred in 
 the neighborhood that Christophe had seen the error of 
 
I 
 
 Catherine de' Medici. 291 
 
 Lis ways ; everybody thonglit it natural tliat the old 
 syndic should wish to get his son appointed to the 
 Parliament, and the rector's visits no longer seemed 
 extraordmary. As the neighbors reflected on the old 
 man's anxieties the}' no longer thought, as they would 
 otherwise have done, that his ambition was inordinate. 
 The young lawyer, who had lain ht^lpless for months on 
 the bed which his family made up for him in the old 
 hall, was now, for the last week, able to rise and move 
 about by the aid of crutches. Babette's love and his 
 mother's tenderness had deeply touched his heart ; and 
 they, while they had him helpless in their hands, lec- 
 tured him severely on religion. President de Thou paid 
 his godson a visit, during which he showed himself 
 most fatherh'. Christophe, being now a solicitor of 
 the Parliament, must of course, he said, be Catholic ; 
 his oath would bind him to that ; and the president, 
 who assumed not to doubt of his godson's orthodoxy, 
 ended his remarks by saying with great earnestness : 
 
 '' My son, you have been cruelly tried. I am myself 
 ignorant of the reasons which made the Messieurs de 
 Guise treat 3*ou thus ; but I advise you in future to 
 live peacefully, without entering into the troubles of the 
 times ; for the favor of the king and queen will not be 
 shown to the makers of revolt. You are not important 
 enough to play fast and loose with the king as the 
 Guises do. If you wish to be some da}^ counsellor to 
 the Parliament remember that 3'ou cannot obtain that 
 noble office unless b}- a real and serious attachment to 
 the ro3'al cause." 
 
 Nevertheless, neither President de Thou's visit, nor 
 the seductions of Babette, nor the urgency of his mother, 
 
 I 
 
292 Catherine d^ Medici, 
 
 were sufficient to shake the constancy of the martyr of 
 the Refonnation. Christophe held to his religion all 
 tlie more because he had suffered for it 
 
 " My father will never let me marrj' a heretic," whis- 
 pered Babette in his ear. 
 
 Christophe answered only by tears, which made the 
 young girl silent and thoughtful. 
 
 Old Lecamus maintained his paternal and magiste- 
 rial dignity ; he observed his son and said little. The 
 stern old man, after recovering his dear Christophe, was 
 dissatisfied with himself; he repented the tenderness he 
 had shown for this onlv son : but he admired him se- 
 cretly. At no period of his life did the syndic pull more 
 wires to reach his ends, for he saw the field ripe for the 
 harvest so painfully sown, and he wanted to gather the 
 whole of it. Some days before the mornintr of which 
 we write, he had had, being alone with Christophe, a 
 long conversation with him in which he endeavored to 
 discover the secret reason of the young man's resist- 
 ance. Christophe, who was not without ambition, be- 
 tra3'ed his faith in the Prince de Conde. The generous 
 promise of the prince, who, of course, was onl}^ exer- 
 cising his profession of prince, remained graven on his 
 heart ; little did he think that Conde had sent him, 
 mentally, to the devil in Orleans, muttering, " A Gas- 
 con would have understood me better," when Christophe 
 called out a touching farewell as the prince passed the 
 window of his dungeon. 
 
 But besides this sentiment of admiration for the 
 prince, Christophe had also conceived a profound rev- 
 erence for the great queen, who had explained to him 
 by a single look the necessity which compelled her to 
 
Catherine de' Medici. . 293 
 
 sacrifice him ; and who during his agony had given 
 him an inimitable promise in a single tear. During the 
 silent months of his weakness, as he lay there waiting 
 for recovery, he had thought over each event at Blois and 
 at Orleans. He weighed, one might almost say in spite 
 of himself, the relative worth of these two protections. 
 He floated between the queen and the prince. He had 
 certainly served Catherine more than he had served the 
 Reformation, and in a young man both heart and mind 
 would naturall}' incline toward the queen ; less because 
 she was a queen than because she was a woman. Under 
 such circumstances a man will always hope more from 
 a woman than from a man. 
 
 " I sacrificed myself for her; what will she do for 
 me?" 
 
 This question Christophe put to himself almost invol- 
 untarily as he remembered the tone in which she had 
 said the words, Povero mio / It is diflScult to believe 
 how egotistical a man can become when he lies on a bed 
 of sickness. Everything, even the exclusive devotion of 
 which he is the object, drives him to think only of 
 himself B}^ exaggerating in his own mind the obliga- 
 tions which the Prince de Conde was under to him he 
 had come to expect that some oflfice would be given to 
 him at the court of Navarre. Still new to the world of 
 political life, he forgot its contending interests and the 
 rai)id march of events which control and force the hand 
 of all leaders of parties ; he forgot it the more because 
 he was practically a prisoner in solitary confinement on 
 his bed in that old brown room. Each party is, neces- 
 sarilv, ungrateful while the struggle lasts ; when it 
 triumphs it has too may persons to reward not to be 
 
294 Catherine de* Medici, 
 
 ungrateful still. Soldiers submit to this ingratitude ; 
 but their leaders turn against the new master at whose 
 side the}' have acted and suffered like equals for so long. 
 Christophe, who alone remembered his sufferings, felt 
 himself alread}^ among the leaders of the Reformation 
 b}' the fact of his martyrdom. His father, that old fox 
 of commerce, so shrewd, so perspicacious, ended by 
 divining the secret thoughts of his son ; consequentl}', 
 all his manoeuvres were now based on the natural ex- 
 pectancy to which Christophe had yielded himself. 
 
 " Would n't it be a fine thing," he had said to Ba- 
 bette, in presence of the family a few days before his 
 interview with his son, " to be the wife of a counsellor 
 of the Parhament? You would be called madame /" 
 
 ''You are crazy, compere^" said Lallier. "Where 
 would you get ten thousand crowns* income from landed 
 propert3% which a counsellor must have, according to 
 hiw ; and from whom could you buy the office ? No 
 one but the queen-mother and regent could help your 
 son into Parliament, and I 'm afraid he 's too tainted 
 with the new opinions for that." 
 
 " What would you pay to see your daughter the wife 
 of a counsellor ? " 
 
 " Ah I 3-0U want to look into my purse, shrewd- 
 head I " said Lallier. 
 
 Counsellor to the Parliament ! The words worked 
 powerfull}^ in Christophers brain. 
 
 Sometime after this conversation, one morning when 
 Christophe was gazing at the river and thinking of the 
 scene which began this history, of the Prince de Conde, 
 Chaudieu, La Renaudie, of his journey to Blois, — in 
 short, the whole story of his hopes, — his father came 
 
Catherine de'' Medici. 295 
 
 and sat down beside him, scarcel}' concealing a joyful 
 thouglit beneath a serious manner. 
 
 " My son," he said, '' after what passed between 
 you and the leaders of the Tumult of Amboise, they 
 owe you enough to make the care of your future incum- 
 bent on the house of Navarre.'^ 
 
 " Yes," replied Christophe. 
 
 "Well," continued his father, "I have asked their 
 permission to buy a legal practice for you in the prov- 
 ince of Beam. Our good friend Pare undertook to pre- 
 sent the letters which I wrote on your behalf to tlie 
 Prince de Conde and the queen of Navarre. Here, read 
 the answer of Monsieur de Pibrac, vice-chancellor of 
 Navarre : — 
 
 To THE SiEUR Lfcamus, sj/ndic of the guild of furriers : 
 
 Monseigiieur le Prince de Conde desires me to express 
 his regret that he cannot do what you ask for his late com- 
 panion in the tower of Saint- Aignan, whom he perfectly 
 remembers, and to whom, meanwhile, he offers the place of 
 gendarme in his company ; which will put your son in the 
 way of making his mark as a man of courage, which he is. 
 
 The queen of Xavarre awaits an opportunity to reward 
 the Sieur Christophe, and will not fail to take advantage 
 of it. 
 
 Upon which, Monsieur le syndic, we pray God to have 
 you in His keeping. 
 
 Pibrac, 
 
 At Nerac. Chancellor of Navarre. 
 
 ''Nerac, Pibrac, crack ! " cried Babette. '* There 's 
 no confidence to be placed in Gascons ; they think only 
 of themselves." 
 
 Old Lecamus looked at his son, smiling scornfully. 
 
296 Gather i7ie de Medici, 
 
 " The}' propose to put on horseback a poor bo}' whose 
 knees and ankles were shattered for their sakes ! " cried 
 the mother. " What a wicked jest ! " 
 
 '' I shall never see you a counsellor of Navarre," said 
 his father. 
 
 *' I wish I knew what Queen Catherine would do for 
 me, if I made a claim upon her," said Christophe, cast 
 down by the prince's answer. 
 
 " She made you no promise," said the old man, " but 
 I am certain that she will never mock you like these 
 others ; she will remember your sufferings. Still, how 
 can the queen make a counsellor of the Parliament ou* 
 of a Protestant burgher? " 
 
 "But Christophe has not abjured!" cried Babette. 
 *^ He can very well keep his private opinions secret." 
 
 " The Prince de Conde would be less disdainful of a 
 counsellor of the Parliament," said Lallier. 
 
 " Well, what say you, Christophe?" urged Babette. 
 
 ^' You are counting without the queen," replied the 
 3'oung law3'er. 
 
 A few da3's after this rather bitter disillusion, an ap- 
 prentice brought Christophe the following laconic little 
 missive : — 
 
 "Chaudieu wishes to see his son." 
 
 '' Let him come in ! " cried Christophe. 
 
 '* Oh ! my sacred martjT ! " said the minister, embrac- 
 ing him ; '' have you recovered from your sufferings?" 
 
 " Yes, thanks to Pare." 
 
 "Thanks rather to God who gave 3'ou the strength 
 to endure the torture. But what is this I hear? Have 
 you allowed them to make you a solicitor? Have 
 
ft 
 
 Catherine de' Medici. 297 
 
 you taken the oath of fidelity? Surel}^ you will not 
 recognise that prostitute, the Roman, Catholic, and 
 apostolic Church ? " 
 
 "My father wished it." 
 
 " But ought we not to leave fathers and mothers and 
 wives and children, all, all, for the sacred cause of Cal- 
 vinism ; na}', must we not suffer all things ? Ah ! 
 Christophe, Calvin, the great Calvin, the whole part}', 
 the whole world, the Future counts upon your courage 
 and the grandeur of your soul. We want your life." 
 
 It is a remarkable fact in the mind of man that the 
 most devoted spirits, even while devoting themselv^es, 
 build romantic hopes upon their perilous enterprises. 
 When the prince, the soldier, and the minister had asked 
 Christophe, under the bridge, to convey to Catherine 
 the treaty which, if discovered, would in all probability 
 cost him his life, the lad had relied upon his nerve, upon 
 chance, upon the powers of his mind, and confident in 
 such hopes he bravel}', nay, audaciously put himself 
 between those terrible adversaries, the Guises and 
 Catherine. During the torture he still kept saying to 
 himself: "I shall come out of it! it is onl}' pain!" 
 But when this second and brutal demand, " Die ; we 
 want your life," was made upon a boy who was still 
 almost helpless, scarcely recovered from his late tor- 
 ture, and clinging all the more to life because he had 
 just seen death so near, it was impossible for him to 
 launch into further illusions. 
 
 Christophe answered quietly : — 
 
 "What is it now?" 
 
 " To fire a pistol courageously, as Stuart did on 
 Minard." 
 
298 Catherine de* Medici. 
 
 " On whom? ' 
 
 '^ The Due de Guise." 
 
 " A murder?" 
 
 "A vengeance. Have 3-011 forgotten the hundred 
 gentlemen massacred on the scaffold at Amboise? A 
 child who saw that butchery, the little d'Aubigne cried 
 out, ^The}^ have slaughtered France ! "' 
 
 " You should receive the blows of others and give 
 none ; that is the religion of the gospel," said Chris- 
 tophe. *' If 3'ou imitate the Catholics in their cruelty, 
 of what good is it to reform the Church? " 
 
 " Oh ! Christophe, they have made you a lawj'er, and 
 now vou argue ! " said Chaudieu. 
 
 "No, my friend," replied the young man, *'but par- 
 ties are ungrateful ; and you will be, both you and 
 3'ours, nothing more than puppets of the Bourbons." 
 
 " Christophe, if 3'OU could hear Calvin, you would 
 know how we wear them like gloves ! The Bourbons 
 are the gloves, we are the hand." 
 
 " Read that," said Christophe, giving Chaudieu 
 Pibrac's letter containing the answer of the Prince de 
 Conde. 
 
 " Oh ! m3' son ; vou are ambitious, 3'ou can no longer 
 make the sacrifice of 3'ourself ! — I pit3^ 3'ou ! " 
 
 With those fine words Chaudieu turned and left him. 
 
 Some davs after that scene, the Lallier familv and 
 the Lecamus family were gathered together in honor of 
 the formal betrothal of Christophe and Babette, in the 
 old brown hall, from which Christophe's bed had been 
 removed ; for he was now able to drag himself about 
 and even mount the stairs without his crutches. It was 
 nine o'clock in the evening and thecompan3' were await- 
 
Catherine dc' Medici, 299 
 
 ing Ambroise Pare. The family notary sat before a 
 table on wliicli lay various contracts. The furrier was 
 selling his house and business to his head-clerk, who 
 was to pay down forty thousand francs for the house 
 and then mortgage it as security for the paN'ment of the 
 goods, for which, however, he paid twenty thousand 
 francs on account. 
 
 Lecamus was also buying for his son a magnificent 
 stone house, built by Philibert de I'Orme in the rue 
 8aint-Pierre-aux-Boeufs, which he gave to Christophe 
 as a marriage portion. He also took two hundred 
 thousand francs from his own fortune, and Lallier gave 
 as much more, for the purchase of a fine seignorial manor 
 in Picardy, the price of which was five hundred thou- 
 sand francs. As this manor was a tenure from the 
 Crown it was necessary to obtain letters-patent (called 
 rescrlptions) granted by the king, and also to make pay- 
 ment to the Crown of considerable feudal dues. The 
 marriage had been postponed until this royal favor was 
 obtained. Though the burghers of Paris had latel}' ac- 
 quired the right to purchase manors, the wisdom of the 
 privy council had been exercised In putting certain re- 
 strictions on the sale of those estates which were depen- 
 dencies of the Crown ; and the one which old Lecamus 
 had had in his eye for the last dozen years was among 
 them. Ambroise was pledged to bring the royal ordi- 
 nance that evening ; and the old furrier went and came 
 from the hall to the door in a state of impatience which 
 showed how great his long-repressed ambition had been. 
 Ambroise at last appeared. 
 
 " My old friend ! " cried the surgeon, in an agitated 
 manner, with a glance at the supper table, *' let me see 
 
300 Catherine cle Medici. 
 
 your linen. Good. Oh ! you must have wax- candles. 
 Quick, quick ! get out your best things ! " 
 
 '' Why? what is it all about?" asked the rector of 
 Saint-Pierre-aux-Boeufs. 
 
 *' The queen- mother and the young king are coming 
 to sup with you," replied the surgeon. "They are only 
 waiting for an old counsellor who agreed to sell his 
 place to Christophe, and with whom Monsieur de Thou 
 has concluded a bargain. Don't appear to know any- 
 thing ; I have escaped from the Louvre to warn you." 
 
 In a second the whole family were astir ; Chris- 
 tophers mother and Babette's aunt bustled about with 
 the celerity of housekeepers suddenly surprised. But 
 in spite of the apparent confusion into which the news 
 had thrown the entire family, the preparations were 
 promptly made, with an activity that was nothing short 
 of marvellous. Christophe, amazed and confounded 
 by such a favor, was speechless, gazing mechanically 
 at what went on. 
 
 " The queen and the king here in our house ! '^ said 
 the old mother. 
 
 " The queen ! " repeated Babette. " What must we 
 say and do ? " 
 
 In less than an hour all was changed ; the hall was 
 decorated ; the supper-table sparkled. Presentl}' the 
 noise of horses sounded in the street. The light of 
 torches carried b}^ the horsemen of the escort brought 
 all the burghers of the neighborhood to their windows. 
 The noise soon subsided and the escort rode away, leav- 
 ing the queen-mother and her son. King Charles IX., 
 Charles de Gondi, now Grand-master of the wardrobe 
 and governor of the king, Monsieur de Thou, Pinard, 
 
Catherine de' Medici, 301 
 
 secretaiy of State, the old counsellor, and two pages, 
 under the arcade before the door. 
 
 '' My worthy people," said the queen as she entered, 
 '' the king, m}" son, and I have come to sign the mar- 
 riage-contract of the son of m}^ furrier, — but only on 
 condition that he remains a Catholic. A man must be 
 a Catholic to enter Parliament ; he must be a Catholic 
 to own land which derives from the Crown ; he must be 
 a Catholic if he would sit at the king's table. That is 
 so, is it not, Pinard ? " 
 
 The secretary of State entered and showed the 
 letters-patent. 
 
 ''If we are not all Catholics," said the little king, 
 " Pinard will throw those papers into the fire. But we 
 are all Catholics here, I think," he continued, casting 
 his somewhat haughty eyes over the compan}*. 
 
 1^ '* Yes, sire," replied Christophe, bending his injured 
 knees with difficult}', and kissing the hand which the 
 king held out to him. 
 
 H Queen Catherine stretched out her hand to Christophe 
 and, raising him hastily, drew him aside into a corner, 
 saying in a low voice : — 
 
 U " Ah qa ! my lad, no evasions here. Are yon playing 
 above-board now ? " 
 
 '' Yes, madame,'' he answered, won b}" the dazzling 
 reward and the honor done him b}' the grateful queen. 
 
 '' Very good. Monsieur Lecamus, the king, my son, 
 and I permit you to purchase the office of the goodman 
 Grosla}^ counsellor of the Parliament, here present. 
 Young man, you will follow, I hope, in the steps of 
 your predecessor." 
 
 De Thou advanced and said: "I will answer for 
 him^ madame. 
 
 I 
 
302 Catheinne de' Medici. 
 
 '' Veiy well ; draw up the deed, notary," said Piiiard. 
 
 ^ Inasmuch as the king our master does us the favor 
 to sign m}' daughter's marriage contract," cried Lallier, 
 " I will pa}' the whole price of the manor." 
 
 '^The ladies may sit down," said the young king, 
 graciously : " As a wedding present to the bride I re- 
 mit, with m}' mother's consent, all mj' dues and rights 
 in the manor." 
 
 Old Lecamus and Lallier fell on their knees and 
 kissed the king's hand. 
 
 ^'- Mordieu / sire, what quantities of mone}^ these 
 burghers have ! " whispered de Goudi in his ear. 
 
 The young king laughed. 
 
 " As their Highnesses are so kind," said old Lecamus, 
 " will they permit me to present to them my successor, 
 and ask them to continue to him the royal patent of 
 furrier to their Majesties? " 
 
 '* Let us see him," said the king. 
 
 Lecamus led forward his successor, who was livid with 
 fear. 
 
 *^If my mother consents, we will now sit down to 
 table," said the little king. 
 
 Old Lecamus had bethought him of presenting to the 
 king a silver goblet which he had bought of Benvenuto 
 Cellini when the latter stayed in Paris at the hotel de 
 Nesle. This treasure of art had cost the furrier no 
 less than two thousand crowns." 
 
 *^0h! ni}' dear mother, see this beautiful work!" 
 cried the 3'oung king, lifting the goblet b}' its stem. 
 
 ^'Itwas made in Florence," replied Catherine. 
 
 " Pardon me, madame," said Lecamus, '' it was made 
 in Paris by a Florentine. All that is made in Florence 
 
Catherine de' Medici. 303 
 
 would belong to your Majest}- ; that which is made in 
 France is the king's." 
 
 '' I accept it, my good man," cried Charles IX. ; " and 
 it shall henceforth be my particular drinking cup. 
 
 '*lt is beautiful enough," said the queen, examining 
 the masterpiece, ''to be included among the crown- 
 jewels. Well, Maitre Ambroise," she whispered in the 
 surgeon's ear, with a glance at Christophe, " have you 
 taken good care of him? Will he walk again?" 
 
 " He will run," replied the surgeon, smiling. " Ah! 
 you have cleverly made him a renegade." 
 
 " Ha ! " said the queen, with the levit}' for which slie 
 has been blamed, though it was only on the surface, 
 " the Church won't stand still for want of one monk ! " 
 
 The supper was ga}* ; the queen thought Babette 
 pretty, and, in the regal manner which was natural to 
 her, she slipped upon the girl's finger a diamond ring 
 which compensated in value for the goblet bestowed 
 upon the king. Charles IX., who afterwards became 
 rather too fond of these invasions of burgher homes, 
 supped with a good appetite. Then, at a word from 
 his new governor (who, it is said, was instructed to 
 make him forget the virtuous teachings of Cypierre) , he 
 obliged all the men present to drink so deeply that the 
 queen, observing that the gayetj^ was about to become 
 too nois}', rose to leave the room. As she rose, Chris- 
 tophe, his father, and the two women took torches and 
 acconppanied her to the shop-door. There Christophe 
 ventured to touch the queen's wide sleeve and to make 
 her a sign that he had something to say. Catherine 
 stopped, made a gesture to the father and the two 
 women to leave her, and said, turning to Christophe : 
 
304 Catherine de* Medici, 
 
 ''What is it?" 
 
 ''It may serve aou to know, madame," replied Cliris- 
 tophe, whispering in lier ear, " that the Due de Guise 
 is being followed by assassins." 
 
 " You are a loyal subject," said Catherine, smiling, 
 " and I shall never forget you." 
 
 She held out to him her hand, so celebrated for its 
 beauty, first ungloving it, wliich was indeed a mark of 
 favor, — so much so that Christophe, then and there, 
 became altogether royaUst as he kissed that adorable 
 hand. 
 
 *' So they mean to rid me of that bully without my 
 having a finger in it," thought she as she replaced her 
 glove. 
 
 Then she mounted her mule and returned to the 
 Louvre, attended by her two pages. 
 
 Christophe went back to the supper-table, but was 
 thoughtful and gloomy even while he drank ; the fine, 
 austere face of Ambroise Pare seemed to reproach him 
 for his apostasy. But subsequent events justified the 
 manoeuvres of the old syndic. Christophe would cer- 
 tainly not have escaped the massacre of Saint-Bartholo- 
 mew ; his wealth and his landed estates would have 
 made him a mark for the murderers. History has re- 
 corded the cruel fate of the wife of Lallier's successor, 
 a beautiful woman, whose naked body hung by the hair 
 for three days from one of the buttresses of the Pont au 
 Change. Babette trembled as she thought that she, 
 too, might have endured the same treatment if Chris- 
 tophe had continued a Calvinist, — for such became the 
 name of the Reformers. Calvin's personal ambition was 
 thus gratified, though not until after his death. 
 
Catherine de' Medici, 305 
 
 Such was the origin of the celebrated parliamentary 
 house of Lecamus. Talleinant des Reaux is in error 
 when he states that the}' came originally from Picard}'. 
 It is only true that the Lecamus family found it for 
 their interest in after days to date from the time the old 
 furrier bought their principal estate, which, as we have 
 said, was situated in Picardy. Christophe's son, who 
 succeeded him under Louis XIIL, was the father of the 
 rich president Lecamus who built, in the reign of Louis 
 XIV., that magnificent mansion which shares with the 
 hotel Lambert the admiration of Parisians and foreign- 
 ers, and was assuredly one of the finest buildings in 
 Paris. It may still be seen in the rue Thorigny, though 
 at the beginning of the Revolution it was pillaged as 
 having belonged to Monsieur de Juigne, the archbishop 
 of Paris. All the decorations were then destroyed ; and 
 the tenants who lodge there have greatly damaged it ; 
 nevertheless this palace, which is reached through the 
 old house in the rue de la Pelleterie, still shows the 
 noble results obtained in former days b}^ the spirit of 
 family. It may be doubted whether modern individu- 
 alism, brought about by the equal division of inheri- 
 tances, will ever raise such noble buildings. 
 
 20 
 
o 
 
 06 Catherine de Medici. 
 
 PART SECOND. 
 
 THE SECRETS OF THE RUGGIERI. 
 
 I. 
 
 THE COURT UNDER CHARLES IX. 
 
 Between eleven o'clock and midnight toward the end 
 of October, 1573, two Italians, Florentines and brothers, 
 Albert de Gondi, Due de Retz and marshal of France, 
 and Charles de Gondi la Tour, Grand-master of the 
 robes of Charles IX., were sitting on the roof of a house 
 in the rue Saint-Honore, at the edge of a gutter. This 
 gutter was one of those stone channels which in former 
 da3's were constructed below the roofs of houses to re- 
 ceive the rain-water, discharging it at regular intervals 
 through those long gargoyles carved in the shape of 
 fantastic animals with gaping mouths. In spite of the 
 zeal with which our present generation pulls down 
 and demolishes venerable buildings, there still existed 
 many of these projecting gutters until, quite recentl}', 
 an ordinance of the police as to water-conduits com- 
 pelled them to disappear. But even so, a few of these 
 carved gargoyles still remain, chieflj' in the guartier 
 Saint-Antoine, where low rents and values hinder the 
 building of new storeys under the eaves of the roofs. 
 
Catherine de' Medici, 307 
 
 It certainly seems strange that two personages in- 
 vested with such important offices should be pkiying tlie 
 part of cats. But whosoever will burrow into the his- 
 toric treasures of those days, when personal interests 
 jostled and thwarted each other around the throne till 
 the whole political centre of France was like a skein of 
 tangled thread, will readily understand that the two 
 Florentines were cats indeed, and very much in their 
 places in a gutter. Their devotion to the person of the 
 queen-mother, Catherine de' Medici —who had brought 
 them to the court of France and foisted them into their 
 high offices — compelled them not to recoil before any of 
 the consequences of their intrusion. But to explain how 
 and why these courtiers were thus perched, it is neces- 
 sary to relate a ^cene which had taken place an hour 
 earlier not far from this very gutter, in that beautiful 
 brown room of the Louvre, all that now remains to us 
 of the apartments of Henri II., in which after supper 
 the courtiers had been paying court to the two queens, 
 Catherine de' Medici and Elizabeth of Austria, and to 
 their son and husband King Charles IX. 
 
 In those days the majority of the burghers and great 
 lords supped at six, or at seven o'clock, but the more 
 refined and elegant supped at eight or even nine. This 
 repast was the dinner of to-da}*. Man}^ persons erron- 
 eousl}^ believe that etiquette was invented by Louis 
 XIV. ; on the contrary it was introduced into France 
 by Catherine de' Medici, who made it so severe that 
 the Connetable de Montmorency had more difficulty in 
 obtaining permission to enter the court of the Louvre 
 on horseback than in winning his sword ; moreover, that 
 unheard-of distinction was granted to him only on ac- 
 
308 Catherine de Medici. 
 
 count of bis great age. Etiquette, which was, it is true, 
 slightly- relaxed under the two first Bourbon kings, took 
 an Oriental form under the Great Monarch, for it was 
 introduced from the Eastern Empire, which derived it 
 from Persia. In 1573 few persons had the right to 
 enter the courtyard of the Louvre with their servants 
 and torches (under Louis XIV. the coaches of none but 
 dukes and peers were allowed to pass under the peri- 
 style) ; moreover, the cost of obtaining entrance after 
 supper to the royal apartments was ver}^ heav}'. The 
 Marechal de Retz, whom we have just seen, perched on 
 a gutter, offered on one occasion a thousand crowns of 
 that da}', six thousand francs of our present money, to 
 the usher of the king's cabinet to be allowed to speak 
 to Henri III. on a day when he was not on dut}'. To an 
 historian who knows the truth, it is laughable to see the 
 well-known picture of the courtyard at Blois, in which 
 the artist has introduced a courtier on horseback ! 
 
 On . the present occasion, therefore, none but the 
 most eminent personages in the kingdom were in the 
 royal apartments. The queen, Elizabeth of Austria, 
 and her mother-in-law, Catherine de' Medici, were 
 seated together on the left of the fireplace. On the 
 other side sat the king, buried in an armchair, affect- 
 ing a lethargy consequent on digestion, — for he had just 
 supped like a prince returned from hunting ; possibly he 
 was seeking to avoid conversation in presence of so 
 many persons who were spies upon his thoughts. The 
 courtiers stood erect and uncovered at the end of the 
 room. Some talked in a low voice ; others watched the 
 king, awaiting the bestowal of a look or a word. Occa- 
 sionally one was called up by the queen-mother, who 
 
Catherine de' Medici. 309 
 
 talked with him for a few moments ; another risked 
 saying a word to the king, who replied with either a 
 nod or a brief sentence. A German nobleman, the 
 Comte de Solern, stood at the corner of the fireplace 
 behind the young queen, the granddaughter of Charles 
 v., whom he had accompanied into France. Near to 
 her on a stool sat her lad}' of honor, the Comtesse de 
 Fiesque, a Strozzi, and a relation of Catherine de' 
 Medici. The beautiful Madame de Sauves, a descend- 
 ant of Jacques Coeur, mistress of the king of Navarre, 
 then of the king of Poland, and lastly of the Due 
 d'Alen^on, had been invited to supper; but she stood 
 like the rest of the court, her husband's rank (that of 
 secretary of State) giving her no right to be seated. 
 Behind these two ladies stood the two Gondis, talkins: 
 to theiu. The}' alone of this dismal assembly were 
 smiling. Albert Gondi, now Due de Retz, marshal of 
 France, and gentleman of the bed-chamber, had been 
 ^deputed to marry the queen b\' proxy at Spire. In the 
 first line of courtiers nearest to the kins stood the 
 Marechal de Tavannes, who was present on court 
 business ; Neufville de Villeroy, one of the ablest bank- 
 ers of the period, who laid the foundation of the great 
 house of that name ; Birago and Chiverni, gentlemen 
 of the queen-mother, who, knowing her preference for 
 her son Henri (the brother whom Charles IX. regarded 
 as an enemy), attached themselves especiall}' to him ; 
 then Strozzi, Catherine's cousin ; and finall}^ a num- 
 ber of great lords, among them the old Cardinal de 
 Lorraine and his nephew, the young Due de Guise, who 
 were held at a distance by the king and his mother. 
 These two leaders of the Holy Alliance, and later of 
 
310 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 the League (founded in conjunction with Spain a few 
 years earlier), affected the submission of servants who 
 are onlj^ waiting an opportunity to make themselves 
 masters. Catherine and Charles IX. watched each 
 other with close attention. 
 
 At this gloom}' court, as gloom}^ as the room in which 
 it was held, each individual had his or her own reasons 
 for being sad or thoughtful. The young queen, Eliza- 
 beth, was a pre}' to the tortures of jealous}^ and could 
 ill-disguise them, though she smiled upon her husband, 
 whom she passionately adored, good and pious woman 
 that she was ! Marie Touchet, the only mistress Charles 
 IX. ever had and to whom he was loyally faithful, had 
 latel}' returned from the chateau de Fa3'et in Dauphine, 
 whither she had gone to give birth to a child. She 
 brought back to Charles IX. a son, his only son, 
 Charles de Valois, first Comte d'Auvergne, and after- 
 ward Due d'Angouleme. The poor queen, in addi- 
 tion to the mortification of her abandonment, now 
 endured the pang of knowing that her rival had borne a 
 son to her husband while she had brought him onl}' a 
 daughter. And these were not her onl}' troubles and 
 disillusions, for Catherine de' Medici, who had seemed 
 her friend in the first instance, now, out of polic}', fa- 
 vored her betra3'al, preferring to serve the mistress rather 
 than the wife of the king, — for the following reason. 
 
 When Charles IX. openly avowed his passion for 
 Marie Touchet, Catherine showed favor to the girl in 
 the interests of her own desire for domination. Mane 
 Touchet, who was A^er}' young when brought to court, 
 came at an age when all the noblest sentiments are 
 predominant. She loved the king for himself alone. 
 
Catherine de Medici. 311 
 
 Frightened at the fate to which ambition had led the 
 Duchesse de Valentinois (better known as Diane de 
 Poitiers), she dreaded the queen mother, and greatly pre- 
 ferred her simple happiness to grandeur. Perhaps she 
 thought that lovers as young as the king and herself 
 could never struggle successful!}' against the queen- 
 mother. As the daughter of Jean Touchet, Sieur de 
 Beauvais and Quillard, she was born between the burgher 
 class and the lower nobility ; she had none of the inborn 
 ambitions of the Pisseleus and Saint- Valliers, girls of 
 rank, who battled for their families with the hidden 
 weapons of love. Marie Touchet, without famil}' or 
 friends, spared Catherine de' Medici all antagonism with 
 her son's mistress ; the daughter of a great house would 
 have been her rival. Jean Touchet, the father, one of 
 the finest wits of the time, a man to whom poets dedi- 
 cated their works, wanted nothing at court. Marie, a 
 young girl without connections, intelhgent and well- 
 educated, and also simple and artless, whose desires 
 would probably never be aggressive to the royal power, 
 suited the queen-mother admirabl}'. In short, she 
 made the parliament recognize the son to whom Marie 
 Touchet had just given birth in the month of April, and 
 she allowed him to take tlie title of Comte d'Auvergne, 
 assuring Charles IX. that she would leave the boy her 
 personal property, the counties of Auvergne and Lara- 
 guais. At a later period. Marguerite de Valois, queen 
 of Navarre, contested this legacy after she was queen 
 of France, and the Parliament annulled it. But later 
 still, Louis XIIL, out of respect for the Valois blood, 
 indemnified the Comte d'Auvergne by the gift of the 
 duchy of Angouleme. 
 
01 o 
 
 12 Catherine de Medici. 
 
 Catherine bad already given Marie Toiichet, who 
 asked nothing, the manor of Belleville, an estate close 
 to Vincennes which carried no title ; and thither she 
 went whenever the king hunted and spent the night at 
 the castle. It was in this gloomy fortress that Charles 
 IX. passed the greater part of his last years, ending 
 his life there, according to some historians, as Louis 
 XII. had ended his. 
 
 The queen-mother kept close watch upon her son. 
 All the occupations of his personal life, outside of poli- 
 tics, were reported to her. The king had begun to look 
 upon his mother as an enem3% but the kind intentions 
 she expressed toward his son diverted his suspicions 
 for a time. Catherine's motives in this matter were 
 never understood by Queen Elizabeth, who, according 
 to Brantome, was one of the gentlest queens that ever 
 reigned, who never did harm or even gave pain to 
 any one, '* and was careful to read her prayer-book 
 secretly," But this single-minded princess began at 
 last to see the precipices 3'awning around the throne, — 
 a dreadful discover}-, which might indeed have made her 
 quail ; it was some such remembrance, no doubt, that 
 led her to saj' to one of her ladies, after the death of 
 the king, in repl}' to a condolence that she had no son, 
 and could not, therefore, be regent and queen-mother : 
 
 '' Ah ! I thank God that I have no son. I know well 
 what would have happened. My poor son would have 
 been despoiled and wronged like the king, my husband, 
 and I should have been the cause of it. God had 
 mercy on the State ; he has done all for the best." 
 
 This princess, whose portrait Brantome thinks he 
 draws by saying that her complexion was as beautiful 
 
Catherine de' Medici. 313 
 
 and delicate as the ladies of her suite were channinor 
 and agreeable, and that her figure was fine though 
 rather short, was of little account at her own court. 
 Sufifering from a double grief, her saddened attitude 
 added another gloom^^ tone to a scene which most 3'oung 
 queens, less cruelly injured, might have enlivened. The 
 pious Elizabeth proved at this crisis that the qualities 
 which are the shining glory of women in the ordinary 
 ways of life can be fatal to a sovereign. A princess 
 able to occupy herself with other things besides her 
 prayer-book might have been a useful helper to Charles 
 IX., who found no prop to lean on, either in his wife or 
 in his mistress. 
 
 The queen-mother, as she sat there in that brown 
 room, was closely observing the king, who, during 
 supper, had exhibited a boisterous good-humor which 
 she felt to be assumed in order to mask some inten- 
 tion against her. This sudden gayet}^ contrasted too 
 vividly with the struggle of mind he endeavored to 
 conceal by his eagerness in hunting, and by an almost 
 maniacal toil at his forge, where he spent man}^ hours 
 in hammering iron ; and Catherine was not deceived by 
 it. Without being able even to guess which of the 
 statesmen about the king was employed to prepare or 
 negotiate it (for Charles IX. contrived to mislead his 
 mother's spies) , Catherine felt no doubt whatever that 
 some scheme for her overthrow was being planned. 
 The unlooked-for presence of Tavannes, who arrived at 
 the same time as Strozzi, whom she herself had sum- 
 moned, gave her food for thought. Strong in the 
 strength of her political combination, Catherine was 
 above the reach of circumstances ; but she was power- 
 
314 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 less against some sudden violence. As man}- persons 
 are ignorant of the actual state of public affairs then 
 so complicated b}' the various parties that distracted 
 France, the leaders of which had each their private in- 
 terests to carr}' out, it is necessary to describe, in a few 
 words, the perilous game in which the queen- mother 
 was now engaged. To show Catherine de' Medici in a 
 new light is, in fact, the root and stock of our present 
 history. 
 
 Two words explain this woman, so curiously inter- 
 esting to study, a woman whose influence has left such 
 deep impressions upon France. Those words are : 
 Power and Astrology. Exclusively ambitious, Cath- 
 erine de' Medici had no other passion than that of 
 power. Superstitious and fatalistic, like so man}- su- 
 perior men, slie had no sincere belief except in occult 
 sciences. Unless this double mainspring is known, the 
 conduct of Catherine de' Medici will remain forever 
 misunderstood. As we picture her faith in judicial 
 astrology, the light will fall upon two personages, who 
 are, in fact, the philosophical subjects of this Study. 
 
 There lived a man for whom Catherine cared more 
 than for anv of her children ; his name was Cosmo 
 Ruggiero. He lived in a house belonging to her, the 
 hotel de Soissons ; she made him her supreme adviser. 
 It was his duty to tell her whether the stars ratified the 
 advice and judgment of her ordinary counsellors. Cer- 
 tain remarkable antecedents warranted the power which 
 Cosmo Ruggiero retained over his mistress to her last 
 hour. One of the most learned men of the sixteenth 
 century was ph} sician to Lorenzo de' Medici, Due d* 
 Urbiuo, Catherine's father. This physician was called 
 
Catherine de' Medici, 315 
 
 Ruggiero the Elder (Vecchio Riiggier and Roger TAn- 
 cien in the French authors who have written on al- 
 chemy), to distinguish him from his two sons, Lorenzo 
 Ruggiero, called the Great by cabalistic writers, and 
 Cosmo Ruggiero, Catherine's astrologer, also called 
 Roger by several French historians. In France it was 
 the custom to pronounce the name in general as Rug- 
 gieri. Ruggiero the elder was so highl}' valued by the 
 Medici that the two dukes, Cosmo and Lorenzo, stood 
 godfathers to his two sons. He cast, in concert with 
 the famous mathematician, Basilio, the horoscope of 
 Catherine's nativit}', in his official capacity as mathema- 
 tician, astrologer, and physician to the house of Medici ; 
 three offices which are often confounded. 
 
 At the period of which we write the occult sciences 
 were studied with an ardor that may surprise the in- 
 credulous minds of our own age, which is supremely 
 analytical. Perhaps such minds ma^' find in this his- 
 torical sketch the dawn, or rather the germ, of the pos- 
 itive sciences which have flowered in the nineteenth 
 century, though without the poetic grandeur given to 
 them by the audacious Seekers of the sixteenth, who, 
 instead of using them solely for mechanical industries, 
 magnified Art and fertilized Thought by their means. 
 The protection universally given to occult science by 
 the sovereigns of those days was justified by the noble 
 creations of many inventors, who, starting in quest of 
 the Great Work (the so-called philosophers^ stone), at- 
 tained to astonishing results. At no period were the 
 sovereigns of the world more eager for the study of 
 these mysteries. The Fuggers of Augsburg, in whom 
 all modern Luculluses will recognize their princes, and 
 
316 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 all bankers their masters, were gifted with powers of 
 calculation it would be difficult to surpass. Well, those 
 practical men, who loaned the funds of all Europe to the 
 sovereigns of the sixteenth century (as deeply in debt as 
 the kings of the present da}'), those illustrious guests 
 of Chailes V. were sleeping partners in the crucibles 
 of Paracelsus. At the beginning of the sixteenth cen- 
 turj', Ruggiero the elder was the head of that secret 
 university from which issued the Cardans, the Nostra- 
 damuses, and the Agrippas (all in their turn ph3'sicians 
 of the house of Valois) ; also the astronomers, astrolo- 
 gers, and alchemists who surrounded the princes of 
 Christendom and were more especiallj^ welcomed and 
 protected in France by Catherine de' Medici. In tiie 
 nativity drawn by Basilio and Ruggiero the elder, the 
 principal events of Catherine's life were foretold with a 
 correctness which is quite disheartening for those who 
 deny the power of occult science. This horoscope 
 predicted the misfortunes which during the siege of 
 Florence imperilled the beginning of her life ; also her 
 marriage with a son of the king of France, the unex- 
 pected succession of that son to his father's throne, the 
 birth of her children, their number, and the fact that 
 three of her sons would be kings in succession, that two 
 of her daughters would be queens, and that all of them 
 were destined to die without posterity. This prediction 
 was so fully realized that man}' historians have assumed 
 that it was written after the events. 
 
 It is well known that Nostradamus took to the cha- 
 teau de Chaumont, whither Catherine went after the 
 conspiracy of La Renaudie, a woman who possessed the 
 faculty of reading the future. Now, during the reign 
 
Catherine de' Medici. 317 
 
 of Francois II., vvliile the queen liad with her her four 
 sons, all young and in good health, and before the 
 marriage of her daughter EUzabeth with Philip II., king 
 of Spain, or that of her daugiiter Marguerite with Henri 
 de Bourbon, king of Navarre (afterward Henri IV.), 
 Nostradamus and this woman reiterated the circum- 
 stances formerly predicted in the famous nativit}*. 
 This woman, who was no doubt gifted with second sight, 
 and who belonged to the great school of Seekers of the 
 Great Work, though the particulars of her life and name 
 are lost to history, stated that the last crowned child 
 would be assassinated. Having placed the queen- 
 mother in front of a magic mirror, in which was re- 
 flected a wheel on the several spokes of which were 
 the faces of her children, the sorceress set the wheel re- 
 volving, and Catherine counted the number of revolu- 
 tions which it made. Each revolution was for each son 
 one year of his reign. Henri IV. was also put upon 
 the wheel, which then made twenty-four rounds, and the 
 woman (some historians have said it was a man) told 
 the frightened queen that Henri de Bourbon would be 
 king of France and reign that number of years. From 
 that time forth Catherine de' Medici vowed a mortal 
 hatred to the man whom she knew would succeed the 
 last of her Valois sons, who was to die assassinated. 
 Anxious to know wiiat her own death would be, she was 
 warned to beware of Saint-Germain. Supposing, there- 
 fore, that she would be either put to death or imprisoned 
 in the chdteau de Saint-Germain, she would never so 
 much as put her foot there, although that residence was 
 far more convenient for her political plans, owing to its 
 proximit}' to Paris, than the other castles to which she 
 
318 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 retreated with the king during the troubles. When she 
 was taken suddenly ill, a few days after the murder of 
 the Due de Guise at Blois, she asked the name of the 
 bishop who came to assist her. Being told it was 
 Saint-Germain, she cried out, " I am dead! " and did 
 actual!}' die on the morrow, — having, moreover, lived 
 the exact number of years given to her by all her 
 horoscopes. 
 
 These predictions, which were known to the Cardi- 
 nal de Lorraine, who regarded them as witchcraft, were 
 now in process of realization. P'rangois II. had reigned 
 his two revolutions of the wheel, and Charles IX. was 
 now making his last turn. If Catherine said the strange 
 words whicli histor}' has attributed to her when her son 
 Henri started for Poland, — " You will soon return," — 
 they must be set down to her faith in occult science, and 
 not to the intention of poisoning Charles IX. 
 
 Many other circumstances corroborated Catherine's 
 faith in the occult sciences. The night before the tour- 
 nament at which Henri II. was killed, Catherine saw 
 the fatal blow in a dream. Her astrological council, 
 then composed of Nostradamus and the two Ruggieri, 
 had ahead}' predicted to her the death of the king. 
 History has recorded the efforts made b}' Catherine 
 to persuade her husband not to enter the lists. The 
 prognostic, and the dream produced bj' the prognostic, 
 were verified. The memoirs of the day relate another 
 fact that was no less singular. The courier who an- 
 nounced the victory of Moncontour arrived in the night, 
 after riding with such speed that he killed three horses. 
 The queen-mother was awakened to receive the news, 
 to which she replied, " I knew it already." In fact, 
 
Catherine de' Medici, 319 
 
 as Brantome relates, she had told of her son's triumph 
 the evenhig before, and narrated several circumstances 
 of tlie battle. The astrologer of the house of Bourbon 
 predicted that the youngest of all the princes descended 
 from Saint-Louis (the son of Antoine de Bourbon) 
 would ascend the throne of France. This prediction, 
 related b}' Sully, was accomplished in the precise terms 
 of the horoscope ; which led Henri IV. to say that by 
 dint of lying these people sometimes hit the truth. 
 However that may be, if most of the great minds of 
 that epoch believed in this vast science, — called Magic 
 by the masters of judicial astrolog}', and Sorcery- by the 
 public, — they were justified in so doing by the fulfil- 
 ment of horoscopes. 
 
 It was for the use of Cosmo Ruggiero, her mathema- 
 tician, astronomer, and astrologer, that Catherine de* 
 Medici erected the tower behind the Halle aux Bles, — 
 all that now remains of the hotel de Soissons. Cosmo 
 Ruggiero possessed, like confessors, a m3'sterious influ- 
 ence, the possession of which, like them again, sufficed 
 him. He cherished an ambitious thought superior to 
 all vulgar ambitions. This man, whom dramatists and 
 romance-writers depict as a juggler, owned the rich 
 abbey of Saint-Mahe in Lower Brittan}', and refused 
 many high ecclesiastical dignities; the gold which the 
 superstitious passions of the age poured into his coffers 
 sufficed for his secret enterprise ; and the queen's hand, 
 stretched above his head, preserved every hair of it 
 from danger. 
 
320 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 n. 
 
 SCHEMES AGAINST SCHEMES. 
 
 The thirst for power which consumed the queen- 
 mother, her desire for dominion, was so great that in 
 order to retain it she had, as we have seen, allied 
 herself to the Guises, those enemies of the throne ; to 
 keep the reins of power, now obtained, within her 
 hands, she was using every means, even to the sacrifice 
 of her friends and that of her children. This woman, 
 of whom one of her enemies said at her death, '' It is 
 more than a queen, it is monarchy itself that has died," 
 — this woman could not exist without the intrigues of 
 government, as a gambler can live only b}' the emotions 
 of play. Althougli she was an Italian of the voluptuous 
 race of the Medici, the Calvinists who calumniated her 
 never accused her of having a lover. A great admirer 
 of the maxim, '' Divide to reign," she had learned the 
 art of perpetually pitting one force against another. 
 No sooner had she grasped the reins of power than she 
 was forced to keep up dissensions in order to neutral- 
 ize the strength of two rival houses, and thus save 
 the Crown. Catherine invented the game of political 
 see-saw (since imitated b}' all princes who find them- 
 selves in a like situation), by instigating, first the 
 Calvinists against the Guises, and then the Guises 
 against the Calvinists. Next, after pitting the two 
 
Catherine de Medici. 321 
 
 reliofions aofainst each other in the heart of the nation, 
 Catherine instigated the Due d'Anjou aganist liis 
 brother Charles IX. After neutrahzing events h\ op- 
 posing them to one another, she neutralized men, by 
 holdinsj the thread of all their interests in her hands. 
 But so fearful a game, which needs the head of a 
 Louis XI. to play it, draws down inevitably the hatred 
 of all parties upon the player, who condemns himself 
 forever to the necessity of conquering ; for one lost 
 game will turn every selfish interest into an enemy. 
 
 The greater part of the reign of Charles IX. wit- 
 nessed the triumph of the domestic policy of this 
 astonishing woman. What adroit persuasion must 
 Catherine have employed to have obtained the com- 
 mand of the armies for the Due d'Anjou nnder a young 
 and brave king, tliirsting for glor}-, capable of mili- 
 tary achievement, generous, and in presence, too, of 
 the Connetable de Montmorenc}'. In the e3'es of the 
 statesmen of Europe the Due d'Anjou had all the 
 honors of the Saint-Bartholomew, and Charles IX. all 
 the odium. After inspiring the king with a false and 
 secret jealousy of his brother, she used that passion to 
 wear out b}^ the intrigues of fraternal jealousy the really 
 noble qualities of Charles IX. Cypierre, the king's first 
 governor, and Am^ot, his first tutor, had made him so 
 great a man, they had paved the way for so noble a 
 reign, that the queen-mother began to hate her son as 
 soon as she found reason to fear the loss of the power 
 she had so slowly and so painfully obtained. On these 
 general grounds most historians have believed that 
 Catherine de' Medici felt a preference for Henri III. ; 
 but her conduct at the period of which we are now 
 
 21 
 
322 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 writing, proves the absolute indifference of her heart 
 toward all her children. 
 
 When the Due d'Anjou went to reign in Poland 
 Catherine was deprived of the instrument by which she 
 had worked to keep tlie king's passions occupied in 
 domestic intrigues, which neutralized his energy in other 
 directions. She then set up the conspiracy of La Mole 
 and Coconnas, in which her 3'oungest son, the Due 
 d'Alen^on (afterwards Due d'Anjou, on the accession 
 of Henri III.) took part, lending himself very willingl}' 
 to his mother's wishes, and displaying an ambition 
 much encouraged by his sister Marguerite, then queen of 
 Navarre. This secret conspiracy had now reached the 
 point to which Catherine sought to bring it. Its object 
 was to put the ^oung duke and his brother-in-law, the 
 king of Navarre, at the head of the Calvinists, to seize 
 the person of Charles IX., and imprison that king with- 
 out an heir, — leaving the throne to the Due d'Alengon, 
 whose intention it was to establish Calvinism as the 
 religion of France. Calvin, as we have already said, 
 had obtained, a few days before his death, the reward 
 lie had so deeply coveted, — the Reformation was now 
 called Calvinism in his honor. 
 
 If Le Laboureur and other sensible writers had not 
 already proved that La Mole and Coconnas, — arrested 
 fifty nights after the da}' on which our present history 
 begins, and beheaded the following April, — even, we 
 say, if it had not been made historicall}' clear that these 
 men were the victims of the queen-mother's polic}', the 
 part which Cosmo Ruggiero took in this affair would 
 go far to show that she secretly' directed their enter- 
 prise. Ruggiero, against whom the king had suspi- 
 
Catherine de* Medici. 323 
 
 eions, and for whom he cherished a hatred the motives 
 of which we are about to explain, was incUided in the 
 prosecution. He admitted having given to La Mole a 
 wax figure representing the king, wliicli was pierced 
 through the heart bj' two needles. This method of 
 casting spells constituted a crime, which, in those days, 
 was punished by death. It presents one ol the most 
 startling and infernal images of hatred that humanity 
 could invent ; it pictures admirably' the magnetic and 
 terrible working in the occult world of a constant malev- 
 olent desire surrounding the person doomed to death ; 
 the effects of which on the person are exhibited b^' the 
 figure of wax. The law in those days thought, and 
 thought justlj', that a desire to which an actual form 
 was given should be regarded as a crime of Use majeste, 
 Charles IX. demanded the death of Ruggiero ; Cathe- 
 rine, more powerful than her son, obtanied from the 
 Parliament, through the young counsellor, Lecamus, a 
 commutation of the sentence, and Cosmo was sent to 
 the galleys. The following year, on the death of the 
 king, he was pardoned b^^ a decree of Henri III., who 
 restored his pension, and received him at court. 
 
 But, to return now to the moment of which we are 
 writing, Catherine had, by this time, struck so man}' 
 blows on the heart of her son that he was eagerly desu'- 
 ous of casting off her yoke. During the absence of 
 Marie Touchet, Charles IX., deprived of his usual occu- 
 pation, had taken to observing everj'thing about him. 
 He cleverl}' set traps for the persons in whom he trusted 
 most, in order to test their fidelit}-. He spied on his 
 mother's actions, concealing from her all knowledge of 
 his own, employing for this deception the evil qualities 
 
324 Catherine de Medici, 
 
 she had fostered in him. Consumed by a desire to 
 blot out the horror excited in France by the Saint- 
 Bartholomew, he busied himself actively in public af- 
 fairs ; he presided at the Council, and tried to seize the 
 reins of government by well-laid schemes. Though the 
 queen-mother endeavored to check these attempts of 
 her son by employing all the means of influence over 
 his mind which her maternal authoritv and a Ions habit 
 of domineering gave her, his rush into distrust was so 
 vehement that he went too far at the first bound ever to 
 return from it. The day on which his mother's speech 
 to the king of Poland was reported to him, Charles IX., 
 conscious of his failing health, conceived the most hor- 
 rible suspicions, and when such thoughts take posses- 
 sion of the mind of a son and a king nothing can 
 remove them. In fact, on his deathbed, at the moment 
 when he confided his wife and daughter to Henri IV., he 
 began to put the latter on his guard against Catherine, 
 so that she cried out passionately, endeavoring to si- 
 lence him, '' Do not say that, monsieur ! '^ 
 
 Though Charles IX. never ceased to show her the 
 outward respect of which she was so tenacious that 
 she would never call the kings her sons anything but 
 " Monsieur,'* the queen-mother had detected in her 
 son's manner during the last few^ months an ill-dis- 
 guised purpose of vengeance. But clever indeed must 
 be the man who counted on taking Catherine un- 
 awares. She held read}' in her hand at this moment 
 the conspirac}^ of the Duke d'Alengon and La Mole, in 
 order to counteract, hy another fi-aternal struggle, the 
 efforts Charles IX. was making toward emancipation. 
 But, before employing this means, she wanted to re- 
 
Catherine de' Medici, 325 
 
 move his distrust of her, which would render impos- 
 sible their future reconcihation ; for was he like!}' to 
 restore power to the hands of a mother whom he 
 thought capable of poisoning him? She felt herself 
 at this moment ia such serious danger that slie had 
 sent for Strozzi, her relation and a soldier noted for 
 his promptitude of action. She took counsel in secret 
 with Birago and the two Gondis, and never did she 
 so frequently' consult her oracle, Cosmo Ruggiero, as 
 at the present crisis. 
 
 Though the habit of dissimulation, together with ad- 
 vancing age, had given the queen-mother that well- 
 known abbess face, with its haughty and macerated 
 mask, expressionless yet full of depth, inscrutable yet 
 vigilant, remarked by all who have studied her por- 
 trait, the courtiers now observed some clouds on her 
 icy countenance. No sovereign was ever so imposing 
 as this woman from the day when she succeeded in 
 restraining the Guises after the death of Francois II. 
 Her black velvet cap, made with a point upon the fore- 
 head (for she never relinquished her widow's mourning) 
 seemed a species of feminine cowl around the cold, impe- 
 rious face, to which, however, she knew how to give, at 
 the right moment, a seductive Italian charm. Cath- 
 erine de' Medici was so well made that she was accused 
 of inventing side-saddles to show the shape of her legs, 
 which were absolutel}- perfect. Women followed her 
 example in this respect throughout Europe, which even 
 then took its fashions from France. Those who desire 
 to bring this grand figure befoi-e their minds will find 
 that the scene now taking place in the brown hall of the 
 Louvre presents it in a striking aspect. 
 
326 Catherine de' Medici, 
 
 The two queens, different in spirit, in beaut}-, in 
 dress, and now estranged, — one naive and thoughtful, 
 the other thoughtful and gravely abstracted, — were far 
 too preoccupied to think of giving the order awaited by 
 the courtiers for the amusements of the evening. The 
 carefully concealed drama, played for the last six 
 months b}* the mother and son was more than suspected 
 b}' man}' of the courtiers ; but the Italians were watch- 
 ing it with special anxiety, for Catherine's failure in- 
 volved their ruin. 
 
 During this evening Charles IX., wear}- with the 
 day's hunting, looked to be forty years old. He had 
 reached the last stages of the malady of which he died, 
 the symptoms of which were such that many reflecting 
 persons were justified in thinking that he was poisoned. 
 According to de Thou (the Tacitus of the Valois) the 
 surgeons found suspicious spots — ex causa incognita 
 reperti livores — on his body. Moreover, his funeral 
 was even more neglected than that of Fran9ois II. The 
 body was conducted from Saint-Lazare to Saint-Denis 
 by Erantome and a few archers of the guard under 
 command of the Comte de Solern. This circumstance, 
 coupled with the supposed hatred of the mother to the 
 son, may or may not give color to de Thou's supposi- 
 tion, but it proves how little affection Catherine felt for 
 any of her children, — a want of feeling which may be 
 explained by her implicit faith in the predictions of judi- 
 cial astrology. This woman was unable to feel affec- 
 tion for the instruments which were destined to fail her. 
 Henri III. was the last king under whom her reign of 
 power was to last ; that was the sole consideration of 
 her heart and mind. 
 
Catherine de* Medici, 327 
 
 111 these days, however, we can readily believe that 
 Charles IX. died a natural death. His excesses, his 
 manner of life, the sudden development of his faculties, 
 his last spasmodic attempt to recover the reins of power, 
 his desire to live, the abuse of his vital strength, his 
 final sufferings and last pleasures, all prove to an im- 
 partial mind that he died of consumption, a disease 
 scarceh^ studied at that time, and ver}' little understood, 
 the symptoms of which might, not unnatui*ally, lead 
 Charles IX. to believe himself poisoned. The real 
 poison which his mother gave him was in the fatal coun- 
 sels of the courtiers whom she placed about him, — men 
 who led him to waste his intellectual as well as his 
 physical vigor, thus bringing on a malady which 
 was purely fortuitous and not constitutional. Under 
 these harrowing circumstances, Charles IX. displayed a 
 gloomy majesty of demeanor which was not unbecom- 
 ing to a king. The solemnity of his secret thoughts 
 was reflected on his face, the olive tones of which he 
 inherited from his mother. This ivor}' pallor, so fine 
 hy candlelight, so suited to the expression of melan- 
 choly thought, brought out vigorously the fire of the 
 blue-black e3'es, which gazed from their thick and heavy 
 lids with the keen perception our fancy lends to kings, 
 their color being a cloak for dissimulation. Those 
 eyes were terrible, — especially from the movement 
 of their brows, which he could raise or lower at will on 
 his bald, high forehead. His nose was broad and long, 
 thick at the end, — the nose of a lion ; his ears were 
 large, his hair sandy, his lips blood-red, like those of 
 all consumptives, the upper lip thin and sarcastic, the 
 lower one firm, and full enough to give an impression 
 
328 Catherine de' Medici, 
 
 of the noblest qualities of the heart. The wrinkles of 
 his brow, the youth of which was killed by dreadful 
 cares, inspired the strongest interest; remorse, caused 
 by the uselessness of the Saint Bartholomew, accounted 
 for some, but there were two others on that face which 
 would have been eloquent indeed to any student wh.>se 
 premature genius had led him to divine the principles of 
 modern physiolog}^ These wrinkles made a deepl}' in- 
 dented furrow going from each cheek-bone to each cor- 
 ner of the mouth, revealing the inward efforts of an 
 organization wearied by the toil of thought and the 
 violent excitements of the bod}'. Charles IX. was 
 worn-out. If polic}' did not stifle remorse in the breasts 
 of those who sit beneath the purple, the queen-mother, 
 looking at her own work, would surely have felt it. Had 
 Catherine foreseen the effect of her intrigues upon her 
 son, would she have recoiled from them ? What a fear- 
 ful spectacle was this ! A king born vigorous, and now 
 so feeble ; a mind powerfully tempered, shaken by dis- 
 trust ; a man clothed with authoritj', conscious of no 
 support ; a firm mind brought to the pass of having 
 lost all confidence in itself! His warlike valor had 
 changed by degrees to ferocit}' ; his discretion to deceit ; 
 the refined and delicate love of a Valois was now a 
 mere quenchless desire for pleasure. This perverted 
 and misjudged great man, with all the man}' facets of a 
 noble soul worn-out, — a king without power, a gener- 
 ous heart without a friend, dragged hither and thither 
 b}' a thousand conflicting intrigues, — presented the mel- 
 ancholy^ spectacle of a youth, only twent3'-four years 
 old, disillusioned of life, distrusting everybody and 
 everything, now resolving to risk all, even his life, on a 
 
Catherine de' Medici, 329 
 
 last effort. For some time past he had fully understood 
 his roj'al mission, his power, his resources, and the 
 obstacles which his mother opposed to the pacification 
 of the kingdom ; but alas ! this light now burned in a 
 shattered lantern. 
 
 Two men, whom Charles IX. loved sufHcienth' to pro- 
 tect under circumstances of great danger, — Jean Chap- 
 elain, his physician, whom he saved from the Saint 
 Bartholomew, and Ambroise Pare, with whom he went 
 to dine when Fare's enemies were accusing him of in- 
 tending to poison the king, — had arrived this evening 
 in haste from the provinces, recalled by the queen- 
 mother. Both were watching their master anxiously. 
 A few courtiers spoke to them in a low voice ; but the 
 men of science made guarded answers, carefully con- 
 cealing the fatal verdict which was in their minds. 
 Every now and then the king would raise his heavy 
 e3'elids and give his mother a furtive look which he 
 tried to conceal from those about him. Suddenly he 
 sprang up and stood before the fireplace. 
 
 '' Monsieur de Chiverni," he said abruptly, " why do 
 you keep the title of chancellor of Anjou and Poland ? 
 Are you in our service, or in that of our brother? " 
 
 "I am all 3'ours, sire," replied Chiverni, bowing low. 
 
 ^' Then come to me to-morrow ; I intend to send you 
 to Spain. Very strange things are happening at the 
 court of Madrid, gentlemen." 
 
 The king looked at his wife and flung himself back 
 into his chair. 
 
 " Strange things are happening everywhere," said 
 the Marechal de Tavannes, one of the friends of the 
 king's 3'outh, in a low voice. 
 
330 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 The king rose again and led this companion of his 
 youthful pleasures apart into the embrasure of the win- 
 dow at the corner of the room, saying, when they were 
 out of hearing : — 
 
 " I want you. Kemain here when the others go. I 
 shall know to-night whether you are for me or against 
 me. Don't look astonished. I am about to burst my 
 bonds. My mother is the cause of all the evil about 
 me. Three months hence I shall be king indeed, or 
 dead. Silence, if you value 3'our life ! You will have 
 m}' secret, 3'ou and Solern and Villeroy oiAy, If it is 
 betra\'ed, it will be by one of 3'ou three. Don't keep 
 near me ; go and pay 3'our court to m}^ mother. Tell 
 her I am dying, and that you don't regret it, for I am 
 onl}^ a poor creature." 
 
 The king was leaning on the shoulder of his old 
 favorite, and pretending to tell him of his ailments, in 
 order to mislead the inquisitive eyes about him ; then, 
 not wishing to make his aversion too visible, he went 
 up to his wife and mother and talked with them, calling 
 Birago to their side. 
 
 Just then Pinard, one of the secretaries of State, 
 glided like an eel through the door and along the wall 
 until he reached the queen-mother, in whose ear he said 
 a few words, to which she replied by an affirmative 
 sign. The king did not ask his mother the meaning of 
 this conference, but he returned to his seat and kept 
 silence, darting terrible looks of anger and suspicion 
 all about him. 
 
 This little circumstance seemed of enormous conse- 
 quence in the e3'es of the courtiers ; and, in truth, so 
 marked an exercise of power by the queen-mother, 
 
Catherine de' Medici. 331 
 
 without reference to the king, was like a drop of water 
 overflowing the cup. Queen Elizabeth and the Com- 
 tesse de Fiesque now retired, but the king paid no atten- 
 tion to their movements, though the queen-mother rose 
 and attended her daughter-in-law to the door ; after 
 which the courtiers, understanding that their presence 
 was unwelcome, took their leave. By ten o'clock no 
 one remained in the hall but a few intimates, — the two 
 Gondis, Tavannes, Solern, Birago, the king, and the 
 queen-mother. 
 
 The king sat plunged in the blackest melancholy. 
 The silence was oppressive. Catherine seemed embar- 
 rassed. She wished to leave the room, and waited for 
 the king to escort her to the door ; but he still contin- 
 ued obstinately lost in thought. At last she rose to 
 bid him good-night, and Charles IX. was forced to do 
 likewise. As she took his arm and made a few steps 
 toward the door, she bent to his ear and whispered : — 
 
 " Monsieur, I have important things to say to you." 
 
 Passing a mirror on her wa}', she glanced into it and 
 made a sign with her eyes to the two Gondis, which 
 escaped the king's notice, for he was at the moment 
 exchanging looks of intelligence with the Comte de 
 Solern and Villero}^ Tavannes was thoughtful. 
 
 '' Sire," said the latter, coming out of his revery, 
 "I think you are royalh- ennuyed ; don't 3'ou ever amuse 
 yourself now? Vive Dieu ! have you forgotten the 
 times when we used to vagabondize about the streets 
 at night?" 
 
 ''Ah! those were the good old times!" said the 
 king, with a sigh. 
 
 " Wbj' not bring them back ? " said Birago, glancing 
 significantly at the Gondis as he took his leave. 
 
332 Catherine de' Medici, 
 
 "Yes, I always think of those days with pleasure," 
 said Albert de Gondi, Due de Retz. 
 
 " I'd like to see you on the roofs once more, mon- 
 sieur le due," remarked Tavannes. " Damned Italian 
 cat ! I wish he might break his neck ! " he added in a 
 whisper to the king. 
 
 " I don't know which of us two could climb the 
 quickest in these days," replied de Gondi ; "but one 
 thing I do know, that neither of us fears to die." 
 
 *' Well, sire, will you start upon a frolic in the streets 
 to-night, as you did in the days of your youth?'' said 
 the other Gondi, master of the Wardrobe. 
 
 The days of his youth ! so at twenty-four j'ears of 
 age the wretched king seemed no longer young to any 
 one, not even to his flatterers ! 
 
 Tavannes and his master now reminded each other, 
 like two school-boys, of certain pranks they had 
 played in Paris, and the evening's amusement was soon 
 arranged. The two Italians, challenged to climb roofs, 
 and jump from one to another across alley's and 
 streets, wagered that the}' would follow the king wher- 
 ever he went. They and Tavannes went off to change 
 their clothes. The Comte de Solern, left alone with 
 the king, looked at him in amazement. Though the 
 worthy German, filled with compassion for the hap- 
 less position of the king of France, was honor and 
 fidelit}^ itself, he was certainly not quick of perception. 
 Charles IX., surrounded by hostile persons, unable to 
 trust any one, not even his wife (who had been guilty 
 of some indiscretions, unaware as she was that his 
 mother and his servants were his enemies), had been 
 fortunate enough to find in Monsieur de Solern a faith- 
 
Catherine de' Medici. 333 
 
 fill friend in whom he could place entire confidence. 
 Tavannes and Villero}^ were trusted with only a part of 
 the king's secrets. The Comte de Solern alone knew 
 the wliole of the plan which he was now about to carry 
 out. This devoted friend was also useful to his master, 
 in possessing a body of discreet and affectionate fol- 
 lowers, who blindl}^ obeyed his orders. He commanded 
 a detachment of the archers of the guards, and for the 
 last few days he had been sifting out the men who 
 were faithfully attached to the king, in order to make a 
 company of tried men when the need came. The king 
 took thought of everj'thing. 
 
 ''Why are you surprised, Solern?" he said. "You 
 know very well I need a pretext to be out to-night. It 
 is true, I have Madame de Belleville, but this is better ; 
 for who knows whether my mother does not hear of all 
 that goes on at Marie's ? " 
 
 Monsieur de Solern, who was to follow the king, 
 asked if he might not take a few of his Germans to 
 patrol the streets, and Charles consented. About eleven 
 o'clock the king, who was now ver}' gaj- , set forth with 
 his three courtiers, — namely, Tavannes and the two 
 Gondis. 
 
 " I '11 go and take m}' little Marie b}' surprise," said 
 Charles IX. to Tavannes, ''as we pass through the rue 
 de I'Autruche." That street being on the way to the rue 
 Saint-Honore, it would have been strange indeed for 
 the king to pass the house of his love without stopping. 
 
 Looking out for a chance of mischief, — a belated 
 burgher to frighten, or a watchman to thrash — the 
 king went along with his nose in the air, watching 
 all the lighted windows to see what was happening, 
 
334 Catherine de' Medici, 
 
 and striving to hear the conversations. But alas ! he 
 found his good city of Paris in a state of deplorable 
 tranquilhty. Suddenly-, as he passed the house of a 
 famous perfumer named Rene, who supplied the court, 
 the king, noticing a strong light from a window in the 
 roof, was seized by one of those apparently hasty in- 
 spirations which, to some minds, suggest a previous 
 intention. 
 
 This perfumer was stronglj- suspected of curing rich 
 uncles who thought themselves ill. The court laid at 
 his door the famous '^Elixir of Inheritance," and even 
 accused him of poisoning Jeanne d'Albret, mother 
 of Henri of Navarre, who was buried (in spite of 
 Charles IX.'s positive order) without her head being 
 opened. For the last two months the king had sought 
 some way of sending a spy into Rene's laboratorj^ where, 
 as he was well aware, Cosmo Ruggiero spent much 
 time. The king intended, if anything suspicious were 
 discovered, to proceed in the matter alone, without the 
 assistance of police or law, with whom, as he well knew, 
 his mother would counteract him hy means of either 
 corruption or fear. 
 
 It is certain that during the sixteenth centurj^, 
 and the j'ears that preceded and followed it, poison- 
 ing was brought to a perfection unknown to modern 
 chemistr\', as historj^ itself will prove. Italy, the 
 cradle of modern science, was, at this period, the 
 inventor and mistress of these secrets, many of which 
 are now lost. Hence the reputation for that crime 
 which weighed for the two following centuries on Italj'. 
 Romance-writers have so greatl}^ abused it that wher- 
 ever they have introduced Italians into their tales they 
 
Catherine de' Medici. 335 
 
 have almost always made them play the part of assas- 
 sins and poisoners.^ If Italy then had the traffic in 
 subtle poisons which some historians attribute to her, 
 we should remember her supremacy in the art of toxi- 
 cology, as we do her pre-eminence in all other human 
 knowledge and art in which she took the lead in Europe. 
 The crimes of that period were not her crimes specially. 
 She served the passions of the age, just as she built 
 magnificent edifices, commanded armies, painted noble 
 frescos, sang romances, loved queens, delighted kings, 
 devised ballets and fetes, and ruled all policies. The 
 horrible art of poisoning reached to such a pitch in 
 Florence that a woman, dividing a peach with a duke, 
 using a golden fruit-knife with one side of its blade 
 poisoned, ate one half of the peach herself and killed 
 the duke with the other half. A pair of perfumed 
 gloves were known to have infiltrated mortal illness 
 through the pores of the skin. Poison was instilled 
 into bunches of natural roses, and the fragrance, when 
 inhaled, gave death. Don John of Austria was poi- 
 soned, it was said, by a pair of boots. 
 
 Charles IX. had good reason to be curious in the 
 matter ; we know already- the dark suspicions and 
 beliefs which now prompted him to surprise the 
 perfumer Rene at his work. 
 
 The old fountain at the corner of the rue de TArb re- 
 See, which has since been rebuilt, offered every facility 
 for the royal vagabonds to climb upon the roof of a house 
 not far from that of Rene, which the king wished to 
 visit. Charles, followed hy his companions, began to 
 ramble over the roofs, to the great terror of the burgh- 
 
 1 Written sixty-six years ago. — Tr. 
 
336 Catherine de^ Medici, 
 
 ers awakened by the tramp of these false thieves, who 
 called to them in saucy language, listened to their talk, 
 and even pretended to force an entrance. When the 
 Italians saw the king and Tavannes threading their 
 way among the roofs of the house next to that of Rene, 
 Albert de Gondi sat down, declaring that he was tired, 
 and his brother followed his example. 
 
 " So much the better," thought the king, glad to 
 leave his spies behind him. 
 
 Tavannes began to laugh at the two Florentines, left 
 sitting alone in the midst of deep silence, in a place 
 where they had nought but the skies above them, and 
 the cats for auditors. But the brothers made use of 
 their position to exchange thoughts they would not dare 
 to utter on an}' other spot in the world, — thoughts 
 inspired b}^ the events of the evening. 
 
 ''Albert," said the Grand-master to the marechal, 
 " the king will get the better of the queen-mother; we 
 are doing a foolish thing for our own interests to sta}' 
 by those of Catherine. If we go over to the king now, 
 when he is searching everywhere for support against 
 her and for able men to serve him, we shall not be 
 driven awa}' like wild beasts when the queen-mother is 
 banished, imprisoned, or killed." 
 
 " You would n't get far with such ideas, Charles," 
 replied the marechal, gravely. '' You'd follow the king 
 into the grave, and he won't live long ; he is ruined b}' 
 excesses. Cosmo Ruggiero predicts his death within 
 a year." 
 
 *' The dying boar has often killed the huntsman," 
 said Charles de Gondi. *' This conspirac}' of the Due 
 d'Alen^on, the king of Navarre, and the Prince de 
 
Catherine de^ Medici. 337 
 
 Conde, with whom La Mole and Coconnas are nego- 
 tiating, is more dangerous than useful. In the first 
 place, the king of Navarre, whom the queen- mother 
 hoped to catch in the ver^^ act, distrusts her, and 
 declines to run his head into the noose. He means to 
 profit by the conspiracy without taking any of its risks. 
 Besides, the notion now is to put the crown on tlie head 
 of the Due d'Alen9on, who has turned Calvinist." 
 
 ^'' Budelone! but don't you see that this conspiracy 
 enables the queen-mother to find out what the Hugue- 
 nots can do with the Due d'Alen9on, and what the king 
 can do with the Huguenots? — for the king is even now 
 negotiating with them ; but he 'II be finely pilloried 
 to-morrow, when Catherine reveals to him the counter- 
 conspiracj" which will neutralize all his projects." 
 
 ''Ah!" exclaimed Charles de Gondi, " bv dint of 
 profiting by our advice she 's cleverer and stronger than 
 we ! Well, that 's all right." 
 
 "All right for the Due d'Anjou, who prefers to be 
 king of France rather than king of Poland ; I am 
 going now to explain the matter to him." 
 
 " When do you start, Albert? " 
 
 " To-morrow. I am ordered to accompany the king 
 of Poland ; and I expect to join him in Venice, where 
 the patricians have taken upon themselves to amuse 
 and delaj' him." 
 
 " You are prudence itself! " 
 
 " Che bestia ! I swear to 3'ou there is not the 
 slightest danger for either of us in remaining at court. 
 If there weire, do you think I would go away? I should 
 sta}^ by the side of our kind mistress." 
 
 "Kind!" exclaimed the Grand-master; "she is a 
 
 22 
 
338 Catherine de' Medici, 
 
 woman to drop all her instruments the moment she 
 finds them heavj'." 
 
 " O coglione ! you pretend to be a soldier, and j'ou 
 fear death ! Every business has its duties, and we 
 have ours in makhig our fortune. By attaching our- 
 selves to kings, the source of all temporal power which 
 protects, elevates, and enriches families, we are forced 
 to give them as devoted a love as that which burns in 
 the heart of mart3'rs toward heaven. We must suffer 
 in their cause; when they sacrifice us to the interests 
 of their throne we may perish, for we die as much for 
 ourselves as for them, but our name and our families 
 perish not. Ecco ! '* 
 
 *' You are right as to yourself, Albert ; for they have 
 given you the ancient title and duchy of de Retz." 
 
 "Now listen to me," replied his brother. ''The 
 queen hopes much from the cleverness of the Ruggieri ; 
 she expects them to bring the king once more under 
 her control. When Charles refused to use Rene's per- 
 fumes any longer the war}' woman knew at once on 
 whom his suspicions really rested. But who can tell 
 the schemes that are in his mind ? Perhaps he is only 
 hesitating as to what fate he shall give his mother ; he 
 hates her, 3'ou know. He said a few words about it to 
 his wife ; she repeated them to Madame de Fiesque, 
 and Madame de Fiesque told the queen-mother. Since 
 then the king has kept awa}' from his wife." 
 
 " The time has come," said Charles de Gondi. 
 
 " To do what?" asked the marechal. 
 
 " To lay hold of the king's mind," replied the Grand- 
 master, who, if he was not so much in the queen's 
 confidence as his brother, was by no means less clear- 
 sighted. 
 
I 
 
 Catherine de Medici, 339 
 
 " Charles, I have opened a great career to you," 
 said his brother gravely. ''If you wish to be a duke 
 also, be, as I am, the accomplice and cat's-paw of our 
 mistress ; she is the strongest here, and she will con- 
 tinue in power. Madame de Sauves is on her side, 
 and the king of Navarre and the Due d'Alengon are 
 still for Madame de Sauves. Catherine holds the pair 
 in a leash under Charles IX., and she will hold tliem in 
 future under Henri III. God grant that Henri may not 
 prove ungrateful ! " 
 
 "How so?" 
 
 " His mother is doing too much for him." 
 
 " Hush ! what noise is that I hear in the rue Saint- 
 Honore?" cried the Grand-master. " Listen ! there is 
 some one at Rene's door ! Don't you hear the footsteps 
 of many men. Can they have arrested the Ruggieri ? " 
 
 " Ah, diavolo ! this is prudence indeed. The king 
 has not shown his usual impetuosity. But where will 
 they imprison them ? Let us get down into the street 
 and see." 
 
 The two brothers reached the corner of the rue 
 de I'Autruche just as the king was entering the house 
 of his mistress, Marie Touchet. By the light of the 
 torches which the concierge carried, they distinguished 
 Tavannes and the two Ruggieri. 
 
 *' Hey, Tavannes ! " cried the grand-master, running* 
 after the king's companion, who had turned and was 
 making his way back to the Louvre, '' What happened 
 to you?" 
 
 " We fell into a nest of sorcerers and arrested two, 
 compatriots of yours, who maj' perhaps be able to ex- 
 plain to the minds of French gentlemen how you, who 
 
340 Catherine de' Medici, 
 
 are not Frenchmen, have managed to lay hands on two 
 of the chief offices of the Crown," replied Tavannes, 
 half jesting, half in earnest. 
 
 "But the king?" inquired the Grand-master, who 
 cared little for Tavannes' s enmity. 
 
 '-'- He stag's with his mistress." 
 
 '* We reached our present distinction through an 
 absolute devotion to our masters, — a noble course, my 
 dear Tavannes, which I see that you also have 
 adopted," rephed Albert de Gondi. 
 
 The three courtiers walked on in silence. At the 
 moment when thej^ parted, on meeting their servants 
 who then escorted them, two men glided swiftly along 
 the walls of the rue de 1' Autruche. These men were the 
 king and the Comte de Solern, who soon reached 
 the banks of the Seine, at a point where a boat and 
 two rowers, carefully selected by de Solern, awaited 
 them. In a very few moments they reached the other 
 shore. 
 
 '' My mother has not gone to bed," cried the king. 
 "She will see us; we chose a bad place for the 
 interview." 
 
 " She will think it a duel," replied Solern ; " and 
 she cannot possibly distinguish who we are at this 
 distance." 
 
 " Well, let her see me ! " exclaimed Charles IX. " I 
 am resolved now ! " 
 
 The king and his confidant sprang ashore and walked 
 quickl}' in the direction of the Fre-aux-Clercs. When 
 they reached it the Comte de Solern, preceding the 
 king, met a man who was evidentl}' on the w^atch, and 
 with whom he exchanged a few words ; the man then 
 
'^» r*ni-\vc 
 
 Catherine de Medici. 341 
 
 retired to a distance. Presentl}' two other men, who 
 seemed to be princes b}' the marks of respect which 
 the first man paid to them, left the place where they 
 were evidently hiding behind the broken fence of a 
 field, and approached the king, to whom they bent the 
 knee. But Charles IX. raised them before they touched 
 the ground, saying : — 
 
 ••' No ceremon}^ we are all gentlemen here." 
 
 A venerable old man, who might have been taken for 
 the Chancelier de I'Hdpital, had the latter not died ia 
 the preceding year, now joined the three gentlemen, all 
 four walking rapidly so as to reach a spot where their 
 conference could not be overheard by their attendants. 
 The Comte de Solern followed at a slight distance to 
 keep watch over the king. That faithful servant was 
 filled with a distrust not shared by Charles IX. , a man 
 to whom life was now a burden. He was the onl}' per- 
 son on the king's side who witnessed this mysterious 
 conference, which presently became animated. 
 
 " Sire,*' said one of the new-comers, ''the Connetable 
 de Montmorenc}', the closest friend of the king your 
 father, agreed with the Marechal de Saint- Andre in de- 
 claring that Madame Catherine ought to be sewn up in 
 a sack and flung into the river. If that had been done 
 then, many worthy persons would be still alive." 
 
 '' I have enough executions on m}' conscience, mon- 
 sieur," replied the king. 
 
 '' But, sire," said the youngest of the four personages, 
 " if you merely banish her, from the depths of her 
 exile Queen Catherine will continue to stir up strife, 
 and to find auxiliaries. We have everything to fear 
 from the Guises, who, for the last nine years, have 
 
342 Catherine de' Medici, 
 
 schemed for a vast Catholic alliance, in the secret of 
 which your Majesty is not included ; and it threatens 
 your throne. This alliance was invented b}" Spain, 
 which will never renounce its project of destroying the 
 boundary' of the Pyrenees. Sire, Calvinism will save 
 France b}- setting up a moral barrier between her and a 
 nation which covets the empire of the world. If the 
 queen-mother is exiled, she will turn for help to Spain 
 and to the Guises." 
 
 " Gentlemen," said the king, " know this, if by 3'our 
 help peace without distrust is once established, 1 will 
 take upon myself the duty of making all subjects trem- 
 ble. Tete-Dieu! it is time indeed for royalty to assert 
 itself M}' mother is right in that, at an}^ rate. You 
 ought to know that it is to 3'our interest as well as 
 mine, for 3'Our hands, 3'Our fortunes depend upon our 
 throne. If religion is overthrown, the hands you allow 
 to do it will be laid next upon the throne and then upon 
 you. I no longer care to fight ideas with weapons that 
 cannot touch them. Let us see now if Protestantism will 
 make progress when left to itself; above all, I would 
 like to see with whom and what the spirit of that fac- 
 tion will wrestle. The admiral, God rest his soul ! was 
 not my enemy ; he swore to me to restrain the revolt 
 within spiritual limits, and to leave the ruling of the 
 kingdom to the monarch, his master, with submissive 
 subjects. Gentlemen, if the matter be still within 3'our 
 power, set that example now ; help your sovereign to 
 put down a spirit of rebellion which takes tranquillity 
 from each and all of us. War is depriving us of rev- 
 enue ; it is ruining this kingdom. I am weary of these 
 constant troubles ; so weary, that if it is absolutely 
 
Catherine de' Medici, 343 
 
 necessary I will sacrifice my mother. Nay, I will go 
 farther ; I will keep an equal number of Protestants 
 and Catholics about me, and I will hold the axe of 
 Louis XL above their heads to force them to be on 
 good terms. If the Messieurs de Guise plot a Holy 
 Alliance to attack our crown, the executioner shall 
 begin with their heads. I see the miseries of my peo- 
 ple, and I will make short work of the great lords who 
 attempt to bring more trouble into the kingdom. I 
 care little for consciences, — let them hold what opin- 
 ions they like ; what I want in future is submissive sub- 
 jects, who will work, according to my will, for the pros- 
 perity of the State. Gentlemen, 1 give you ten da3's 
 to negotiate with your friends, to break off your plots, 
 and to return to me who will be your father. If you re- 
 fuse you will see great changes. I shall use the mass of 
 the people, who will rise at my voice against the lords. 
 I will make m3'self a king who pacificates his kingdom 
 by striking down those who are more powerful even than 
 3'ou, and who dare def}^ him. If the troops fail me, I 
 liave my brother of Spain, on whom I shall call to defend 
 our menaced thrones, and if I lack a minister to carry 
 out my will, he can lend me the Duke of Alba." 
 
 " But in that case, sire, we should have Germans to 
 oppose to your Spaniards," said one of his hearers. 
 
 " Cousin," replied Charles IX., coldl}', " my wife's 
 name is Elizabeth of Austria ; support might fail 3'ou 
 on the German side. But, for Heaven's sake, let us 
 fight, if fight we must, alone, without the help of for- 
 eigners. You are the object of my mother's hatred, 
 and you stand near enough to me to be m3^ second in 
 the duel I am about to fight with her ; well then, listen 
 
344 Catherine de^ Medici, 
 
 to what I now sa}'. You seem to me so worthy of con- 
 fidence that I offer 3'ou the post of connetable / you 
 will not betray me like the other.'' 
 
 The prince to whom Charles IX. had addressed him- 
 self, struck his hand into that of the king, exclaiming : 
 
 " Ventre-saint-gris ! brother ; this is enough to make 
 me forget many wrongs. But, sire, the head cannot 
 march without the tail, and ours is a long tail to drag. 
 Give me more than ten daj's ; we want at least a month 
 to make our friends hear reason. At the end of that 
 time we shall be masters." 
 
 "A month, so be it! My onl}' negotiator will be 
 Villeroy ; trust no one else, no matter what is said to 
 you." 
 
 '' One month," echoed the other seigneurs, " that is 
 sufficient." 
 
 ''Gentlemen, we are five,'' said the king, — ''five 
 men of honor. If any betrayal takes place, we shall 
 know on whom to avenge it." 
 
 The three strangers kissed the hand of Charles IX. 
 and took leave of him with ever}^ mark of the utmost 
 respect. As the king recrossed the Seine, four o'clock 
 was ringing from the clock-tower of the Louvre. Lights 
 were in the queen-mother's room ; she had not yet gone 
 to bed. 
 
 " My mother is still on the watch," said Charles to 
 the Comte de Solern. 
 
 " She has her forge as you have 3'ours,'^ remarked 
 the German. 
 
 " Dear count, what do you think of a king who is 
 reduced to become a conspirator?'' said Charles IX., 
 bitterly, after a pause. 
 
Catherine de^ Medici, 345 
 
 "I think, sire, that if you would allow me to fling 
 that woman into the river, as your young cousin said, 
 France would soon be at peace." 
 
 " What ! a parricide in addition to the Saint-Barthol- 
 omew, count?*' cried the king. "No, no! I will exile 
 her. Once fallen, my mother will no longer have either 
 servants or partisans." 
 
 "Well, then, sire," replied the Comte de Solern, 
 " orive me the order to arrest her at once and take her 
 out of the kingdom ; for to-morrow she will have forced 
 3'ou to change 3'our mind." 
 
 " Come to my forge," said tiie king, ^^ no one can 
 overhear us there ; besides, I don't want my mother to 
 suspect the capture of the Ruggieri. If she knows I 
 am in m}^ work-shop she '11 suppose nothing, and we can 
 consult about the proper measures for her arrest." 
 
 As the king entered a lower room of the palace, 
 which he used for a workshop, he called his companion's 
 attention to the forge and his implements with a laugh. 
 
 " I don't believe," he said, " among all the kings that 
 France will ever have, there '11 be another to take pleas- 
 ure in such work as that. But when I am really king, 
 I '11 forge no swords ; they shall all go back into their 
 scabbards." 
 
 "Sire," said the Comte de Solern, "the fatigues 
 of tennis and hunting, your toil at this forge, and — 
 if I may say it — love, are chariots which the devil is 
 offering you to get the faster to Saint-Denis." 
 
 " Solern,'' said the king, in a piteous tone, " if 3'ou 
 knew the fire they have put into m}" soul and body ! 
 nothing can quench it. Are 3'OU sure of the men who 
 are guarding the Ruggieri?" 
 
346 Catherine de* Medici, 
 
 ' ' As sure as of mj'self." 
 
 " Ver}' good; then, during tliis coming da}" I shall 
 take my own course. Think of the proper means of 
 making the arrest, and I will give 3'ou m}" final orders 
 by five o'clock at Madame de Belleville's." 
 
 As the first rays of dawn were struggling with the 
 lights of the workshop, Charles IX., left alone by the 
 departure of the Comte de Solern, heard the door of the 
 apartment turn on its hinges, and saw his mother stand- 
 ing within it in the dim light like a phantom. Though 
 ver}' nervous and impressible, the king did not quiver, 
 albeit, under the circumstances in which he then stood, 
 this apparition had a certain air of myster}^ and horror. 
 
 " Monsieur," she said, " you are killing yourself.'^ 
 
 " I am fulfilling my horoscope," he replied with a 
 bitter smile. " But you, madame, 3'ou appear to be as 
 earlj' as I." 
 
 "We have both been up all night, monsieur ; but 
 ■with ver}^ different intentions. While you have been 
 conferring with 3'our worst enemies in the open fields, 
 concealing 3'our acts from 3'our mother, assisted by 
 Tavannes and the Gondis, with whom you have been 
 scouring the town, I have been reading despatches 
 which contained the proofs of a terrible conspirac}" in 
 which your brother, the Due d'Alen^on, your brother- 
 in-law, the king of Navarre, the Prince de Conde, and 
 half the nobles of 30ur kingdom are taking part. Their 
 purpose is nothing less than to take the crown from your 
 head and seize your person. Those gentlemen have 
 alread}' fift}- thousand good troops behind them." 
 
 " Bah ! " exclaimed the king, incredulousl3^ 
 
 ''Your brother has turned Huguenot," she continued. 
 
Catherine de' Medici. 347 
 
 '' My brother ! gone over to the Huguenots ! '* cried 
 Charles, brandishing the piece of iron which he held in 
 his hand. 
 
 '' Yes ; the Due d'Alen^on, Huguenot at heart, will 
 soon be one before the e3'es of the world. Your sister, 
 the queen of Navarre, has almost ceased to love you ; 
 she cares more for the Due d'Alen9on ; she cares for 
 Bussy ; and she loves that little La Mole." 
 
 *' What a heart ! " exclaimed the king. 
 
 "• That little La Mole," went on the queen, " wishes 
 to make himself a great man hy giving France a king 
 of his own stripe. He is promised, they say, the place 
 of connetable." 
 
 ''Curse that Margot !" cried the king. "This is 
 what comes of her marriage with a heretic." 
 
 " Heretic or not is of no consequence ; the trouble is 
 that, in spite of m}' advice, you have brought the head 
 of the younger branch too near the throne by that mar- 
 riage, and Henri's purpose now is to embroil you with 
 the rest and make you kill one another. The house of 
 Bourbon is the enemj- of the house of Valois ; remember 
 that, monsieur. All younger branches should be kept 
 in a state of povert}', for the}' are born conspirators. 
 It is sheer folly to give them arms when they have 
 none, or to leave them in possession of arms when they 
 seize them. Let ever}- younger son be made incapable 
 of doing harm ; that is the law of Crowns ; the Sultans 
 of Asia follow it. The proofs of this conspirac}' are in 
 my room upstairs, where I asked you to follow me last 
 evening, when you bade me good-night ; but instead of 
 doing so, it seems you had other plans. I therefore 
 waited for you. If we do not take the proper measures 
 
348 Catherine de Medici, 
 
 immediately you will meet the fate of Charles the 
 Simple within a month." 
 
 "A month!" exclaimed the king, thunderstruck at 
 the coincidence of that period with the delay asked 
 for by the princes themselves. " ' In a month we 
 shall be masters,' " he added to himself, quoting their 
 words. ''Madame," he said aloud, "what are your 
 proofs ? '' 
 
 " The}^ are unanswerable, monsieur ; the3' come from 
 m}' daughter Marguerite. Alarmed herself at the pos- 
 sibilities of such a combination, her love for the throne 
 of the Valois has proved stronger, this time, than all 
 her other loves. She asks, as the price of her revela- 
 tions that nothing shall be done to La Mole ; but the 
 scoundrel seems to me a dangerous villain whom we 
 had better be rid of, as well as the Comte de Coconnas, 
 your brother d'Alen9on's right hand. As for the Prince 
 de Conde, he consents to everything, provided I am 
 thrown into the sea ; perhaps that is the wedding pres- 
 ent he gives me in return for the pretty wife I gave 
 him ! All this is a serious matter, monsieur. You talk 
 of horoscopes ! I know of a prediction which gives 
 the throne of the Valois to the Bourbons, and if we do 
 not take care it will be fulfilled. Do not be angry with 
 your sister ; she has behaved well in this affair. My 
 son," continued the queen, after a pause, giving a tone 
 of tenderness to her wofds, ''evil persons on the side 
 of the Guises are trying to sow dissensions between 
 3'ou and me ; and 3'et we are the onh' ones in the king- 
 dom whose interests are absolutel}^ identical. You 
 blame me, I know, for the Saint-Bartholomew ; you 
 accuse me of having forced you into it. Catholicism, 
 
Catherine de* Medici, 349 
 
 monsieur, must be the bond between France, Spain, 
 and Ital^', three countries which can, by skilful man- 
 agement, secretly planned, be united in course of time, 
 under the house of Valois. Do not deprive yourself of 
 such chances by loosing the cord which binds the three 
 kingdoms in the bonds of a common faith. Why should 
 not the Valois and the Medici carry out for their own 
 glory the scheme of Charles the Fifth, whose head failed 
 him? Let us fling off that race of Jeanne la Folle. 
 The Medici, masters of Florence and of Rome, will 
 force Italy to support your interests ; they will guar- 
 antee you advantages by treaties of commerce and alli- 
 ance which shall recognize your fiefs in Piedmont, the 
 Milanais, and Naples, where 3'ou have rights. These, 
 monsieur, are the reasons of the war to the death 
 which we make against the Huguenots. Why do 3'ou 
 force me to repeat these things? Charlemagne was 
 wrong in advancing toward the north. France is a 
 bod}' whose heart is on the Gulf of Lyons and its two 
 arms over Spain and Itah'. Therefore, she must rule 
 the Mediterranean, that basket into which are poured 
 all the riches of the Orient, now turned to the profit 
 of those- seigneurs of Venice, in the very teeth of 
 Philip II. If the friendship of the MedicJl and your 
 rights justify 3'ou in hoping for Ital}', force, alliances, 
 or a possible inheritance may give 3'ou Spain. Warn 
 the house of Austria as to this, — that ambitious house 
 to which the Guelphs sold Ital}', and w^hich is even now 
 hankering after Spain. Though jour wife is of that 
 house, humble it ! Clasp it so closel}' that 3'ou will 
 smother it ! There are the enemies of 3'our kingdom ; 
 thence comes help to the Reformers. Do not listen to 
 
350 Catherine de* MedicL 
 
 those who find their profit in causing us to disagree, 
 and who torment your life b}" making 3'ou believe 1 am 
 your secret eneni}'. Have Z prevented you from having 
 heirs? Wli}^ has your mistress given you a son, and 
 3'our wife a daughter? AVhy have you not to-day three 
 legitimate heirs to root out the hopes of these seditious 
 persons? Is it I, monsieur, who am responsible /or 
 such failures? If you had an heir, would the Due 
 d*Alen9on be now conspiring ? " 
 
 As she ended these words, Catherine fixed upon 
 her son the magnetic glance of a bird of pre}^ upon 
 its victim. The daughter of the Medici became mag- 
 nificent ; her real self shone upon her face, which, like 
 that of a gambler over the green table, glittered with 
 vast cupidities. Charles IX. saw no longer the mother 
 of one man, but (as was said of her) the mother of 
 armies and of empires, — mater castrorum, Catlierine 
 had now spread wide the wings of her genius, and 
 boldl}^ flown to the heights of the Medici and Valois 
 policy, tracing once more the mighty plans which terri- 
 fied in earlier days her husband Henri II., and which, 
 transmitted hy the genius of the Medici to Richelieu, 
 remain in writing among the papers of the house of 
 Bourbon. But Charles IX., hearing the unusual per- 
 suasions his mother was using, thought that there must 
 be some necessity for them, and he began to ask him- 
 self what could be her motive. He dropped his eyes ; 
 he hesitated ; his distrust was not lessened by her stud- 
 ied phrases. Catherine was amazed at the depths of 
 suspicion she now beheld in her son's heart. 
 
 "Well, monsieur," she said, "do you not under- 
 stand me? What are we, you and I, in comparison 
 
Catherine de' Medici 351 
 
 with the eternit^^ of ro3'al crowns? Do you suppose me 
 to have other designs than those that ought to actuate 
 all royal persons who inhabit the sphere where empires 
 are ruled ? " 
 
 "Madame, I will follow you to your cabinet; we 
 must act — " 
 
 "Act!" cried Catherine; "let our enemies alone; 
 let them act ; take them red-handed, and law and justice 
 will deliver you from their assaults. For God's sake, 
 monsieur, show them good- will." 
 
 The queen withdrew ; the king remained alone for a 
 few moments, for he was utterly overwhelmed. 
 
 " On which side is the trap? " thought he. " Which 
 of the two — she or the}' — deceive me ? What is my 
 best polic}' ? DeuSy disceme causam ineam ! " he mut- 
 tered with tears in his eyes. " Life is a burden to me ! 
 I prefer death, natural or violent, to these perpetual 
 torments ! " he cried presently', bringing down his ham- 
 mer upon the anvil with such force that the vaults of 
 the palace trembled. 
 
 " My God ! " he said, as he went outside and looked 
 np at the sky, " thou for whose holy religion I struggle, 
 give me the light of thy countenance that I may pene- 
 trate the secrets of m}^ mother's heart while I question 
 the Ruggieri." 
 
352 Catherine de' Medici, 
 
 III. 
 
 MARIE TOUCHET. 
 
 The little house of Madame de Belleville, where 
 Charles IX. had deposited his prisoners, was the last 
 but one in the rue de TAutruche on the side of the rue 
 Saint-Honore. The street gate, flanked by two little 
 brick pavilions, seemed very simple in those days, when 
 gates and their accessories were so elaborately treated. 
 It had two pilasters of stone cut in facets, and the cop- 
 ing represented a reclining woman holding a cornucopia. 
 The gate itself, closed b}' enormous locks, had a wicket 
 through which to examine those who asked admittance. 
 In each pavilion lived a porter ; for the king's extremely 
 capricious pleasure required a porter b}' day and b}^ night. 
 The house had a little courtyard, paved like those of 
 Venice. At this period, before carriages were invented, 
 ladies went about on horseback, or in litters, so that 
 courtyards could be made magnificent without fear of 
 injury from horses or carriages. This fact is always to 
 be remembered as an explanation of the narrowness of 
 streets, the small size of courtjards, and certain other 
 details of the private dwellings of the fifteenth and six- 
 teenth centuries. 
 
 The house, of one story only above the ground-floor, 
 was capped by a sculptured frieze, above which rose a 
 
Catherine de' Medici, 353 
 
 roof with four sides, the peak being flattened to form a 
 platform. Dormer windows were cut in this roof^ with 
 casings and pediments which the chisel of some great 
 artist had covered with arabesques and dentils ; each 
 of the three windows on the main floor were equally 
 beautiful in stone embroidery, which the brick of the 
 walls showed off to great advantage. On the ground- 
 floor, a double portico, ver}' delicately decorated, led 
 to the entrance door, which was covered with bosses cut 
 with facets in the Venetian manner, — a style of deco- 
 ration which was further carried on round the windows 
 placed to right and left of the door. 
 
 A garden, carefully laid out in the fashion of the 
 times and filled with choice flowers, occupied a space 
 behind the house equal to that of the courtyard in front. 
 A grape-vine draped its walls. In the centre of a 
 grass plot rose a silver fir-tree. The flower-borders 
 were separated from the grass by meandering paths 
 which led to an arbor of clipped yews at the farther end 
 of the little garden. The walls were covered with a 
 mosaic of variously colored pebbles, coarse in design, 
 it is true, but pleasing to the e3'e from the harmon}' of 
 its tints with those of the flower-beds. The house had 
 a carved balcony on the garden side, above the door, 
 and also on the front toward the courtvard, and around 
 the middle windows. On both sides of the house the 
 ornamentation of the principal window, which projected 
 some feet from the wall, rose to the frieze ; so that it 
 formed a little pavilion, hung there like a lantern. The 
 casings of the other windows were inlaid on the stone 
 with precious marbles. 
 
 In spite of the exquisite taste displaj'ed in the little 
 
 23 
 
354 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 house, there was an air of melancholy about it. It was 
 darkened by the buildings that surrounded it and by 
 the roofs of the hotel d'Alenqon which threw a heavy 
 shadow over both court and garden ; moreover, a deep 
 silence reigned there. But this silence, these half-lights, 
 this solitude, soothed a ro^'al soul, which could there 
 surrender itself to a single emotion, as in a cloister 
 where men pra}', or in some sheltered home wherein 
 they Jove. 
 
 It is easy now to imagine the interior charm and 
 choiceness of this haven, the sole spot in his kingdom 
 where this dying Valois could pour out his soul, reveal 
 his sufferings, exercise his taste for art, and give himself 
 up to the poesy he loved, — pleasures denied him by 
 the cares of a cruel ro3'alt3'. Here, alone, were his 
 great soul and his high intrinsic worth appreciated ; 
 here he could give himself up, for a few brief months, 
 the last of his life, to the joys of fatherhood, — 
 pleasures into which he flung himself with the frenzy 
 that a sense of his coming and dreadful death impressed 
 on all his actions. 
 
 In the afternoon of the day succeeding the night- 
 scene we have just described, Marie Touchet was 
 finishing her toilet in the oratory, which was the boudoir 
 of those days. She was arranging the long curls of her 
 beautiful, black hair, blending them with the velvet of a 
 new coif, and gazing intentl}' into her mirror. 
 
 " It is nearl>' four o'clock ; that interminable council 
 must surel}' be over," she thought to herself. ''Jacob 
 has returned from the Louvre ; he says that everybod}^ 
 ho saw was excited about the number of the councillors 
 summoned and the length of the session. What can 
 
Catherine de' Medici, 355 
 
 have happened? Is it some misfortune? Good God ! 
 surely he knows how suspense wears out the soul ! 
 Perhaps he has gone a-hunting? If he is happy and 
 anuised, it is all right. When I see him gay, I forget 
 all I have suffered." 
 
 Slie drew her hands round her slender waist as if to 
 smooth some trifling wrinkle in her gown, turning side- 
 ways to see if its folds fell properly, and as she did so, 
 she caught sight of the king on the couch behind her. 
 The carpet had so mu filed the sound of his steps that 
 he had slipped in softly without being heard. 
 
 " You frightened me ! " she said, with a cry of sur- 
 prise, which was quickly repressed. 
 
 '' Were 3'ou thinking of me? " said the king. 
 
 ''When do I not think of you?" she answered, 
 sitting down beside him. 
 
 She took off his cap and cloak, passing her hands 
 through his hair as though she combed it with her 
 fingers. Charles let her do as she pleased, but made 
 no answer. Surprised at this, Marie knelt down to 
 study the pale face of her royal master, and then saw 
 the signs of a dreadful weariness and a more consum- 
 ing melancholy than any she had yet consoled. She 
 repressed her tears and kept silence, that she might not 
 irritate by mistaken words the sorrow which, as yet, she 
 did not understand. In this she did as tender women 
 do under like circumstances. She kissed that forehead, 
 seamed with untimely wrinkles, and those livid cheeks, 
 trying to convey to the worn-out soul the freshness of 
 hers, — pouring her spirit into the sweet caresses which 
 met with no response. Presently she raised her head 
 to the level of the king's, clasping him softly in her 
 
356 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 arms ; then she la}^ still, her face hidden on that suf- 
 fering breast, watching for the opportune moment to 
 question his dejected mind. 
 
 ''My Chariot,'' she said at last, ''will you not tell 
 your poor, distressed Marie the troubles that cloud that 
 precious brow, and whiten those beautiful red lips?" 
 
 "Except Charlemagne," he said in a hollow voice, 
 *' all the kings of France named Charles have ended 
 miserably." 
 
 " Pooh ! " she said, " look at Charles VIII." 
 
 " That poor prince ! " exclaimed the king. " In the 
 flower of his age he struck his head against a low door 
 at the chMeau of Amboise, which he was having decor- 
 ated, and died in horrible agony. It was his death which 
 gave the crown to our famil3^" 
 
 "Charles VII. reconquered his kingdom." 
 
 " Darling, he died " (the king lowered his voice) "of 
 hunger; for he feared being poisoned b}' the dauphin, 
 who had already caused the death of his beautiful 
 Agnes. The father feared his son ; to-day the son 
 dreads his mother ! " 
 
 " Why drag up the past? " she said hastil}', remem- 
 bering the dreadful life of Charles VI. 
 
 " Ah ! sweetest, kings have no need to go to sorcer- 
 ers to discover their coming fate ; the}' need only turn 
 to history. I am at this moment endeavoring to escape 
 the fate of Charles the Simple, who was robbed of his 
 crown, and died in prison after seven years' captivit}'." 
 
 "Charles V. conquered the English," she cried 
 triumphantly. 
 
 "No, not he, but du Guesclin. He himself, poi- 
 soned b}^ Charles de Navarre, dragged out a wretched 
 existence." 
 
Catherine de' Medici, 357 
 
 "Well, Charles IV., then ? " 
 
 "He married three times to obtain an heir, in spite of 
 the masculine beautj' of the children of PhiUppe le Bel. 
 The first house of Valois ended with him, and the 
 second is about to end in the same wa}'. The queen 
 has given me only a daughter, and I shall die without 
 leaving her pregnant ; for a long minority would be 
 the greatest curse I could bequeath to the kingdom. 
 Besides, if I had a son, would he live? The name of 
 Charles is fatal ; Charlemagne exhausted the luck of it. 
 If I left a son I should tremble at the thought that he 
 would be Charles X." 
 
 ' ^ Who is it that wants to seize 3'our crown ? " 
 
 " My brother d'Alengon conspires against it. Enemies 
 are all about me." 
 
 " Monsieur,'' said Marie, with a charming little pout, 
 " do tell me something gayer." 
 
 "Ah! my little jewel, my treasure, don't call me 
 * monsieur,' even in jest ; you remind me of my mother, 
 who stabs me incessantlv with that title, by which she 
 seems to snatch away my crown. She says ' my son ' 
 to the Due d'Anjou — I mean the king of Poland." 
 
 "Sire," exclaimed Marie, clasping her hands as 
 though she were praying, " there is a kingdom where 
 you are worshipped. Your Majesty tills it with his 
 glory, his power ; and there the word ' monsieur/ means 
 ' my beloved lord.' " 
 
 She unclasped her hands, and with a pretty gesture 
 pointed to her heart. The words were so niitsiques (to 
 use a word of the times which depicted the melodies of 
 love) that Charles IX. caught her round the waist with 
 the nervous force that characterized him, and seated 
 
358 Catherine de! Medici, 
 
 her on his knee, rubbing his forehead gentl}- against the 
 prett}' curls so coquettishly arranged. Marie thought 
 the moment favorable ; she ventured a few kisses, which 
 Charles allowed rather than accepted, then she said 
 softly : — 
 
 '' If m}' servants were not mistaken you were out all 
 night in the streets, as in the days when you played the 
 pranks of a 3'ounger son." 
 
 '' Yes," replied the king, still lost in his own thoughts. 
 
 '' Did 3'ou fight the watchman and frighten some of 
 the burghers? Who are the men you brought here and 
 locked up? They must be ver}- criminal, as you won't 
 allow an}' communication with them. No girl was ever 
 locked in as carefully', and thej- have not had a mouth- 
 ful to eat since they came. The Germans whom Solern 
 left to guard them won't let any one go near the room. 
 Is it a joke that you are playing ; or is it something 
 serious ? '* 
 
 " Yes, 3'ou are right," said the king, coming out of 
 his rever}', " last night I did scour the roofs with Ta- 
 vannes and the Gondis. I wanted to try m}' old follies 
 with the old companions ; but my legs were not what 
 they once were ; I did not dare leap the streets ; 
 though we did jump two alleys from one roof to the 
 next. At the second, however, Tavannes and I, holding 
 on to a chimney, agreed that we could n't do it again. 
 If either of us had been alone we could n't have done 
 it then." 
 
 " I '11 wager that3'ou sprang first." The king smiled. 
 " I know wlw you risk your life in that way." 
 
 *^ And why, you little witch? " 
 
 '' You are tired of hfe." 
 
Catherine de' Medici. 359 
 
 "Ah, sorceress! But I am being hunted clown by 
 sorcer}'," said the king, resuming his anxious look. 
 
 " My sorcery is love," she replied smiling. " Since 
 the happ3^ day when 3'ou first loved me, have I not al- 
 ways divined your thoughts? And — if you will let me 
 speak the truth — the thoughts which torture you to- 
 day are not worthy of a king." 
 
 " Am I a king? " he said bitterly. 
 
 "Cannot you be one? What did Charles VII. do? 
 He listened to his mistress, monseigneur, and he recon- 
 quered his kingdom, invaded by the English as yours 
 now is by the enemies of our religion. Your last coup 
 d'J^tat showed you the course you have to follow. 
 Exterminate heres}'." 
 
 "You blamed the Saint-Bartholomew," said Charles, 
 " and now you — '* 
 
 "That is over," she said; "besides, I agree with 
 Madame Catherine that it was better to do it yourselves 
 than let the Guises do it." 
 
 " Charles VII. had only men to fight; I am face to 
 face with ideas," resumed the king. " We can kill men, 
 but we can't kill words ! The Emperor Charles V. gave 
 up the attempt ; his son Philip has spent his strength 
 npon it ; we shall all perish, we kings, in that struggle. 
 On whom can I rely ? To right, among the Catholics, 
 I find the Guises, who are my enemies ; to left, the Cal- 
 vinists, who will never forgive me the death of my poor 
 old Coligny, nor that bloody day in August ; besides, 
 the}^ w^ant to suppress the throne ; and in front of me 
 what have I ? — mv mother ! " 
 
 " Arrest her ; reign alone," said Marie in a low voice, 
 whispering in his ear. 
 
o 
 
 60 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 "I meant to do so yesterday; to-day I no longer 
 intend it. You speak of it rather cooll3\" 
 
 ''Between the daughter of an apothecary and that 
 of a doctor there is no great difference," replied Marie 
 Touchet, always ready to laugh at the false origin at- 
 tributed to her. 
 
 The king frowned. 
 
 '•Marie, don't take such liberties. Catherine de' 
 Medici is my mother, and you ought to tremble lest — " 
 
 "What is it you fear?" 
 
 " Poison ! '* cried the king, beside himself. 
 
 " Poor child ! " cried Marie, restraining her tears ; for 
 the sight of such strength united with such weakness 
 touched her deeply. " Ah ! " she continued, " you make 
 me hate Madame Catherine, who has been so good to 
 me ; her kindness now seems perfidy'. Why is she so 
 kind to me, and so bad to you? During my stay in 
 Dauphine I heard many things about the beginning of 
 your reign which you concealed from me ; it seems to 
 me that the queen, your mother, is the real cause of all 
 3'our troubles." 
 
 " In what wa\'?" cried the king, deeply interested. 
 
 " Women whose souls and whose intentions are pure 
 use virtue wherewith to rule the men they love ; but 
 women who do not seek good rule men through their evil 
 instincts. Now, the queen made vices out of certain of 
 your noblest qualities, and she taught you to believe 
 that your worst inclinations were virtues. Was that the 
 part of a mother? Be a tyrant like Louis XI. ; inspire 
 terror ; imitate Philip II. ; banish the Italians ; drive 
 out the Guises ; confiscate the lands of the Calvinists. 
 Out of this solitude you will rise a king ; you will save 
 
Catherine de' MedicL 361 
 
 the throne. The moment is propitious ; your brother 
 is in Poland." 
 
 " We are two children at statecraft," said Charles, 
 bitterl}' ; "we know nothing except how to love. 
 Alas ! my treasure, yesterday I, too, thought all these 
 things ; I dreamed of accomplishing great deeds — bah ! 
 my mother blew down my house of cards ! From a dis- 
 tance we see great questions outlined like the summits 
 of mountains, and it is easy to say : ' I '11 make an end 
 of Calvinism ; I '11 bring those Guises to task : I '11 
 separate from the Court of Rome ; I '11 rely upon my 
 people, upon the burghers — ' ah ! yes, from afar it all 
 seems simple enough ! but try to climb those mountains 
 and the higher you go the more the difficulties appear. 
 Calvinism, in itself, is the last thing the leaders of that 
 party care for ; and the Guises, those rabid Catholics, 
 would be sorry indeed to see the Calvinists put down. 
 Each side considers its own interests exclusivel}', and 
 religious opinions are but a cloak for insatiable ambi- 
 tion. The party of Charles IX. is the feeblest of all. 
 That of the king of Navarre, that of the king of Poland, 
 that of the Due d'Alen9on, that of the Condes, that of 
 the Guises, that of m\' mother, are all intriguing one 
 against another, but they take no account of me, not 
 even in m}' own council. M}^ mother, in the midst of 
 so many contending elements, is, nevertheless, the 
 strongest among them ; she has just proved to me the 
 inanit}' of my plans. We are surrounded by rebellious 
 subjects who defy the law. The axe of Louis XI. of 
 which you speak, is lacking to us. Parliament would 
 not condemn the Guises, nor the king of Navarre, nor 
 the Condes, nor my brother. No ! the courage to 
 
362 Catherine, de' Medici, 
 
 assassinate is needed; tlie throne will be forced to 
 strike down those insolent men who suppress both law 
 and justice; but where can we find the faithful arm? 
 The council I held this morning has disgusted me with 
 everything ; treason everywhere ; contending interests 
 all about me. I am tired with the burden of my crown. 
 I only want to die in peace." 
 
 He dropped into a sort of gloom}^ somnolence. 
 
 ''Disgusted with everything!" repeated Marie 
 Touchet, sadly ; but she did not disturb the black tor- 
 por of her lover. 
 
 Charles was the victim of a complete prostration 
 of mind and bod}', produced by three things, — the 
 exhaustion of all his faculties, aggravated by the dis- 
 heartenment of realizing the extent of an evil ; the 
 recognized impossibility of surmounting his weakness ; 
 and the aspect of difficulties so great that genius itself 
 would dread them. The king's depression w^as in pro- 
 portion to the courage and the loftiness of ideas to which 
 he had risen during the last few months. In addition to 
 this, an attack of nervous melancholy, caused by his 
 malad}', had seized him as he left the protracted coun- 
 cil which had taken place in his private cabinet. Marie 
 saw that he was in one of those crises when the least 
 word, even of love, would be importunate and painful ; 
 so she remained kneeling quietly beside him, her head 
 on his knee, the king's hand buried in her hair, and he 
 himself motionless, without a word, without a sigh, 
 as still as Marie herself, — Charles IX. in the leth- 
 argy of impotence, Marie in the stupor of despair 
 which comes to a loving woman when she perceives the 
 boundaries at which love ends. 
 
Catherine de* Medici, 363 
 
 The lovers thus remained, in the deepest silence, 
 during one of those terrible hours when all reflection 
 TV'ounds, when the clouds of an inward tempest veil even 
 the memory of happiness. Marie believed that she 
 herself was partly the cause of this frightful dejection. 
 She asked herself, not without horror, if the excessive 
 joys and the violent love which she had never yet found 
 strength to resist, did not contribute to weaken the 
 mind and body of the king. As she raised her eyes, 
 bathed in tears, toward her lover, she saw the slow 
 tears rolling down his pallid cheeks. This mark of the 
 sympathy that united them so moved the king that he 
 rushed from his depression like a spurred horse. He 
 took Marie in his arms and placed her on the sofa. 
 
 " I will no longer be a king," he cried. " I will be 
 your lover, jour lover only, wholly given up to that 
 happiness. I will die happ}-, and not consumed by the 
 cares and miseries of a throne." 
 
 The tone of these words, the fire that shone in the 
 half-extinct eyes of the king, gave Marie a terrible 
 shock instead of happiness ; she blamed her love as an 
 accomplice in the malady of which the king was dying. 
 
 *' Meanwhile you forget your prisoners," she said, 
 rising abruptl3\ 
 
 " Hey ! what care I for them? I give them leave to 
 kill me." 
 
 " What ! are they murderers ? " 
 
 "Oh, don't be frightened, little one; we hold them 
 fast. Don't think of them, but of me. Do you 
 love me ? " 
 
 " Sire ! " she cried. 
 
 '' Sire ! " he repeated, sparks darting from his eyes, 
 
364 Catherine de* Medici, 
 
 so violent was the rush of his anger at the untimely 
 respect of his mistress. *' You are in league with my 
 mother/' 
 
 '^ O God ! '* cried Marie, looking at the picture above ' 
 her frie-dleu and turning toward it to say her prayer, 
 '* grant that he comprehend me ! " 
 
 ^' Ah ! " said the king, suspiciously, " 3'ou have some 
 wrong to me upon your conscience ! " Then looking 
 at lier from between his arms, he plunged his eyes 
 into hers. " I have heard some talk of the mad passion 
 of a certain Entragues," he went on wildl}'. " Ever since 
 their grandfather, the soldier Balzac, married a viscon- 
 tessa at Milan that family hold their heads too high." 
 
 Marie looked at the king with so proud an air that 
 he was ashamed. At that instant the cries of little 
 Charles de Valois, who had just awakened, were heard 
 in the next room. Marie ran to the door. 
 
 ''Come in, Bourguignonne ! " she said, taking the 
 child from its nurse and carrying it to the king. " You 
 are more of a child than he," she cried, half angr^^, half 
 appeased. 
 
 " He is beautiful ! " said Charles IX., taking his son 
 in his arms. 
 
 " 1 alone know how like he is to vou," said Marie ; 
 " alread}' he has your smile and your gestures." 
 
 " So tiny as that ! " said the king, laughing at her. 
 
 "Oh, I know men don't believe such things; but 
 watch him, my Chariot, play with him. Look there ! 
 See! Am I not rioht?" 
 
 " True ! " exclaimed the king, astonished by a motion 
 of the child which seemed the very miniature of a ges- 
 ture of his own. 
 
Catherine de' Medici, 365 
 
 '' All, the pretty flower ! " cried the mother. " Never 
 shall he leave me ! He will never cause me grief." 
 
 The king frolicked with his son ; he tossed him in 
 his arms, and kissed him passion atel}', talking the 
 foohsh, unmeaning talk, the prettj", baby language in- 
 vented by nurses and mothers. His voice grew child- 
 like. At last his forehead cleared, joy returned to his 
 saddened face, and then, as Marie saw that he had for- 
 gotten his troubles, she laid her head upon his shoulder 
 and whispered in his ear : — 
 
 " Won't you tell me. Chariot, why you have made me 
 keep murderers in my house? Who are these men, 
 and what do you mean to do with them? In short, I 
 want to know w4iat you were doing on the roofs. I hope 
 there was no woman in the business?" 
 
 "Then you love me as much as ever!" cried the 
 king, meeting the clear, interrogator}' glance that women 
 know so well how to cast upon occasion. 
 
 " You doubted me," she repUed, as a tear shone on 
 her beautiful eyelashes. 
 
 '' There are women in my adventure," said the king ; 
 '' but they are sorceresses. How far had I told )'0U?" 
 
 " You were on the roofs near bj- — w4iat street 
 was it?" 
 
 "Rue Saint-Honore, sweetest," said the king, who 
 seemed to have recovered himself Collecting his 
 thoughts, he began to explain to his mistress what had 
 happened, as if to prepare her for a scene that was 
 presently to take place in her presence. 
 
 " As I was passing through the street last night on a 
 frolic," he said, " I chanced to see a bright light from 
 the dormer window of the house occupied by Rene, my 
 
366 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 mother's plover and perfumer, and once 3'ours. I have 
 strong doubts about that man and what goes on in his 
 house. If I am poisoned, the drug will come from 
 there." 
 
 " 1 shall dismiss him to-morrow/* 
 
 " Ah ! so 3'ou kept him after I had given him up?*' 
 cried the king. " I thought m}' life was safe with you,'* 
 he added gloomily; " but no doubt death is following 
 me even here." 
 
 '^But, m}' dearest, I have onl}' just returned from 
 Dauphine with our dauphin," she said, smiling, " and 
 Rene has supplied me with nothing since the death of 
 the Queen of Navarre. Go on; you climbed to the 
 roof of Rene's house ? " 
 
Catherine de' Medici, 367 
 
 IV. 
 
 THE king's tale. 
 
 ''Yes," returned the king. "In a second I was 
 there, followed by Tavannes, and then we clambered to 
 a spot where I could see without being seen the interior 
 of that devil's kitchen, in which I beheld extraordinary 
 things which inspired me to take certain measures. Did 
 you ever notice the end of the roof of that cursed per- 
 fumer ? The windows toward the street are alwavs 
 closed and dark, except the last, from which can be 
 seen the hotel de Soissons and the observatorj^ which 
 my mother built for that astrologer, Cosmo Ruggiero. 
 Under the roof are lodging-rooms and a gallerj^ which 
 have no windows except on the courtyard, so that in 
 order to see what was going on within, it was necessary 
 to go where no man before ever dreamed of climbing, — 
 along the coping of a high wall which adjoins the roof 
 of Rene's house. The men who set up in that house 
 the furnaces by which they distil death, reckoned on 
 the cowardice of Parisians to save them from being 
 overlooked ; but they little thought of Charles de Va- 
 lois ! I crept along the coping until I came to a win- 
 dow, against the casing of which I was able to stand 
 up straight with my arm round a carved monkey which 
 ornamented it." 
 
868 Catherine de* Medici, 
 
 "What did jo\x see, dear heart?" said Marie, 
 trembling. 
 
 " A den, where works of darkness were being done/' 
 replied the king. " The first object on which m}' eyes 
 lighted was a tall old man seated in a chair, with a magnifi- 
 cent white beard, like that of old I'llopital, and dressed 
 like him in a black velvet robe. On his broad forehead 
 furrowed deep with wrinkles, on his crown of white hair, 
 on his calm, attentive face, pale with toil and vigils, fell 
 the concentrated rays of a lamp from which shone a 
 vivid light. His attention was divided between an old 
 manuscript, the parchment of which must have been 
 centuries old, and two lighted furnaces on which hereti- 
 cal compounds were cooking. Neither the floor nor the 
 ceiling of the laboratorj* could be seen, because of the 
 myriads of hanging skeletons, bodies of animals, dried 
 plants, minerals, and articles of all kinds that masked 
 the walls ; while on the floor were books, instruments 
 for distilling, chests filled with utensils for magic and 
 astrology ; in one place I saw horoscopes and nativities, 
 phials, wax-figures under spells, and possibly poisons. 
 Tavannes and I were fascinated, I do assure 3'ou, b}' the 
 sight of this devil's-arsenal. Only to see it puts one 
 imder a spell, and if I had not been King of France, I 
 might have been awed by it. ' You can tremble for 
 both of us,' I whispered to Tavannes. But Tavannes' 
 eyes were already caught bj' the most mysterious feature 
 of the scene. On a couch, near the old man, lay a girl 
 of strangest beaut}', — slender and long like a snake, 
 white as ermine, livid as death, motionless as a statue. 
 Perhaps it was a woman just taken from her grave, on 
 whom they were trying experiments, for she seemed to 
 
Catherine de' Medici, 369 
 
 wear a shroud ; her e3'es were fixed, and I conld not 
 see that she breathed. The old fellow paid no attention 
 to her. I looked at him so intentl}' that, after a while, 
 his soul seemed to pass into mine. By dint of studying 
 him, I ended by admiring the glance of his e3'e, — so 
 keen, so profound, so bold, in spite of the chilling power 
 of age. I admired his mouth, mobile with thoughts 
 emanating from a desire which seemed to be the soli- 
 tar}" desire of his soul, and was stamped upon every 
 line of the face. All things in that man expressed 
 a hope which nothing discouraged, and nothing could 
 check. His attitude, — a quivering immovability, — those 
 outlines so free, carved b}' a single passion as b}' the 
 chisel of a sculptor, that idea concentrated on some 
 experiment criminal or scientific, that seeking Mind in 
 quest of Nature, thwarted by her, bending but never 
 broken under the weight of its own audacity, which 
 it would not renounce, threatening creation with the fire 
 it derived from it, — ah ! all that held me in a spell for 
 the time being. I saw before me an old man who was 
 more of a king than I, for his glance embraced the 
 world and mastered it. I will forge swords no longer ; 
 I will soar above the ab3'sses of existence, like that 
 man ; for his science, methinks, is true roj'alt}' ! Yes, 
 I believe in occult science." 
 
 "•You, the eldest son, the defender of the Holy 
 Catholic, Apostolic, and Roman Church ? " said Marie. 
 
 " What happened to 3'ou ? Go on, go on ; I will fear 
 for you, and you will have courage for me." 
 
 " Looking at a clock, the old man rose," continued 
 the king. " He went out, I don't know where; but I 
 
 24 
 
370 Catherine cW Medici. 
 
 heard the window on the side toward the rue Saint- 
 Honore open. Soon a brilliant light gleamed out upon 
 the darkness ; then I saw in the observatorj^ of the hotel 
 de Soissons another light replying to that of the old 
 man, and b}^ it I beheld the figure of Cosmo Ruggiero 
 on the tower. ' See, they communicate ! ^ I said to 
 Tavannes, who from that moment thought the matter 
 frightfull}' suspicious, and agreed with me that we 
 ought to seize the two men and search, incontinently', 
 their accursed workshop. But before proceeding to do 
 so, we wanted to see what was going to happen. After 
 about fifteen minutes the door opened, and Cosmo 
 Ruggiero, my mother's counsellor, — the bottomless pit 
 which holds the secrets of the court, he from whom all 
 the women ask help against their husbands and lovers, 
 and all the men ask help against their unfaithful wives 
 and mistresses, he who traflScs on the future as on the 
 past, receiving pay with both hands, who sells horo- 
 scopes and is supposed to know all things, — that 
 semi-devil came in, saying to the old man, ' Good-day 
 to 3'ou, brother.' With him he brought a hideous old 
 woman, — toothless, humpbacked, twisted, bent, like a 
 Chinese image, onl}^ worse. She was wrinkled as a 
 withered apple ; her skin was saffron-colored ; her chin 
 bit her nose ; her mouth was a mere line scarcelv visi- 
 ble ; her e3'es were like the black spots on a dice ; her 
 forehead emitted bitterness ; her hair escaped in strag- 
 gling gray locks from a dirty coif; she walked with a 
 crutch ; she smelt of heresy and witchcraft. The sight 
 of her actually frightened us, Tavannes and me ! We 
 did n't think her a natural woman. God never made 
 a woman so fearful as that. She sat down on a stool 
 
Catherine de' Medici, 371 
 
 near the pretty snake with whom Tavannes was in love. 
 The two brothers paid no attention to the old woman 
 nor to the young woman, who together made a horrible 
 couple, — on the one side life in death, on the other 
 death in life — " 
 
 '' Ah ! my sweet poet ! " cried Marie, kissing the king. 
 
 " ' Good-day, Cosmo,' replied the old alchemist. 
 And they both looked into the furnace. ' What strength 
 has the moon to-day ? ' asked the elder. ' But, caro 
 Lorenzo^* replied my mothers astrologer, ' the Septem- 
 ber tides are not yet over ; we can learn nothing while 
 that disorder lasts.' 'What saj's the East to-night? ' 
 ' It discloses in the air a creative force which returns to 
 earth all that earth takes from it. The conclusion is that 
 all things here below are the product of a slow trans- 
 formation, but that all diversities are the forms of one 
 and the same substance.' ' That is what my predecessor 
 thought,' replied Lorenzo. ' This morning Bernard Pal- 
 iss3' told me that metals were the result of compression, 
 and that fire, which divides all, also unites all ; fire has 
 the power to compress as well as to separate. That man 
 has genius.' Though I was placed where it was impos- 
 sible for them to see me, Cosmo said, lifting the hand 
 of the dead girl : ' Some one is near us ! Who is it ? ' 
 ' The king,* she answered. I at once showed myself 
 and rapped on the window. Ruggiero opened it, and I 
 sprang into that hellish kitchen, followed by Tavannes. 
 ^ Yes, the king,' I said to the two Florentines, wbo 
 seemed terrified. ' In spite of 3'our furnaces and your 
 books, your science and your sorceries, you did not fore- 
 see m}' visit. I am ver}^ glad to meet tlie famous Lorenzo 
 Ruggiero, of whom ray mother speaks mysteriously/ I 
 
372 Catherine de* Medici. 
 
 said^ addressing the old man, who rose and bowed. * You 
 are in this kingdom without my consent, my good man. 
 For whom are you working here, you whose ancestors 
 from father to son have been devoted in heart to the 
 liouse of Medici ? Listen to me ! You dive into so many 
 purses that by this time, if you are grasping men, you 
 have piled up gold. You are too shrewd and cautious 
 to cast yourselves imprudently into criminal actions ; 
 but, nevertheless, you are not here in this kitchen with- 
 out a purpose. Yes, you have some secret scheme, you 
 who are satisfied by neither gold nor power. Whom 
 do you serve, — God or the devil ? What are you con- 
 cocting here? I choose to know the whole truth ; I am 
 a man who can hear it and keep silence about your en- 
 terprise, however blamable it may be. Therefore you 
 will tell me all, without reserve. If vou deceive me 
 you will be treated severely. Pa^rans or Christians, 
 Calvinists or Mohammedans, 3'ou have m}' royal word 
 that you shall leave the kingdom in safet}' if you have 
 an}' misdemeanors to relate. I shall leave 3'ou for the 
 rest of the night and the forenoon of to-morrow to ex- 
 amine your thoughts ; for you are now my prisoners, 
 and you will at once follow me to a place where you 
 will be guarded carefuU}'.' Before obeying me the 
 two Italians consulted each other b}^ a subtle glance ; 
 then Lorenzo Ruggiero said I might be assured that no 
 torture could wring their secrets from them ; that in 
 spite of their apparent feebleness neither pain nor 
 human feelings had an}' power over them ; confidence 
 alone could make their mouth sa}' what their mind con- 
 tained. I must not, he said, be surprised if the}^ 
 treated as equals with a king who recognized God only 
 
Catherine de' Medici. 373 
 
 as above him, for their thoughts came from God alone. 
 The}^ therefore claimed from me as much confidence 
 and trust as they should give to me. But before en- 
 gaging themselves to answer me without reserve they 
 must request me to put my left hand into that of the 
 young girl lying there, and my right into that of the 
 old woman. Not wishing them to think I was afraid 
 of their sorcery, I held out my hands ; Lorenzo took 
 the right, Cosmo the left, and each placed a hand in 
 that of each woman, so that I was like Jesus Christ be- 
 tween the two thieves. During the time that the two 
 witches were examining my hands Cosmo held a mir- 
 ror before me and asked me to look into it ; his brother, 
 meanwhile, was talking with the two women in a lan- 
 guage unknown to me. Neither Tavannes nor I could 
 catch the meaning of a single sentence. Before bring- 
 ing the men here we put seals on all the outlets of the 
 laboratory, which Tavannes undertook to guard until 
 such time as, by my express orders, Bernard Palissy, 
 and Chapelain, my physician, could be brought there 
 to examine thoroughl}' the drugs the place contained 
 and which were evidently made there. In order to 
 keep the Ruggieri ignorant of this search, and to pre- 
 vent them from communicatinsr with a single soul out- 
 side, I put the two devils in your lower rooms in charge 
 of Solern's Germans, who are better than the walls of a 
 jail. Rene, the perfumer, is kept under guard in his 
 own house by Solern's equerry, and so are the two 
 witches. Now, my sweetest, inasmuch as I hold the 
 keys of the whole cabal, — the kings of Thune, the 
 chiefs of sorcery, the gipsy fortune-tellers, the masters 
 of the future, the heirs of all past soothsayers, — 1 in- 
 
374 Catherine de^ Medici, 
 
 tend by their means to read you, to know 3'our heart ; 
 and, together, we will find what is to happen to us.'' 
 
 " I shall be giad if they can lay my heart bare be- 
 fore 3'ou," said Marie, without the slightest fear. 
 
 '' I know why sorcerers don't frighten 3'ou, — because 
 you are a witch yourself." 
 
 "Will you have a peach?" she said, offering him 
 some delicious fruit on a gold plate. " See these 
 grapes, these pears ; I went to Vincennes mjself and 
 gathered them for 3'ou." 
 
 " Yes, I '11 eat them ; there is no poison there except 
 a philter from your hands." 
 
 "You ought to eat a great deal of fruit, Charles; 
 it would cool 3'our blood, which 3'ou heat by such 
 excitements." 
 
 " Must I love you less?" 
 
 " Perhaps so," she said. *' If the things you love 
 injure 3'ou — and I have feared it — I shall find 
 strength in my love to refuse them. I adore Charles 
 more than I love the king ; I want the man to live, 
 released from the tortures that make him grieve." 
 
 "Royalt}^ has ruined me." 
 
 "Yes," she replied. "If 3'ou were only a poor 
 prince, like 3'our brother-in-law of Navarre, without a 
 penn3", possessing onl3^ a miserable little kingdom in 
 Spain where ne never sets his foot, and Beam in 
 France which does n't give him revenue enough to feed 
 him, I should be happ3% much happier than if I were 
 reall3" Queen of France." 
 
 " But 3'ou are more than the Queen of France. She 
 has King Charles for the sake of the kingdom only; 
 royal marriages are onl3^ politics." 
 
Catherine de! Medici. 375 
 
 Marie smiled and made a pretty little grimace as she 
 said: '' Yes, 3'es, I know that, sire. And my sonnet, 
 have 3'ou written it?" 
 
 '' Dearest, verses are as difficult to write as treaties 
 of peace ; but you shall have them soon. Ah, me ! life 
 is so easy here, I wish I might never leave 3'ou. How- 
 ever, we must send for those Italians and question them. 
 Tete-Dieu! I thought one Ruggiero in the kingdom 
 was one too manj', but it seems there are two. Now 
 listen, my precious ; you don't lack sense, 3'ou would 
 make an excellent lieutenant of police, for you can pen- 
 etrate things — '* 
 
 '^ But, sire, we women suppose all we fear, and we 
 turn what is probable into truths ; that is the whole of 
 our art in a nutshell." 
 
 " Well, help me to sound these men. Just now all 
 my plans depend on the result of their examination. 
 Are the}' innocent? Are they guilty? My mother is 
 behind them." 
 
 " I hear Jacob's voice in the next room," said 
 Marie. 
 
 Jacob was the favorite valet of the king, and the one 
 who accompanied him on all his private excursions. 
 He now came to ask if it was the king's good pleasure 
 to speak to the two prisoners. The king made a sign 
 in the affirmative, and the mistress of the house gave 
 her orders. 
 
 "Jacob," she said, " clear the house of everybod}^, 
 except the nurse and Monsieur le Dauphin d'Auvergne, 
 who may remain. As for you, stay in the lower hall ; 
 but first, close the windows, draw the curtains of the 
 salon, and light the candles." 
 
376 Catherine de^ Medici. 
 
 The king's impatience was so great that while these 
 preparations were being made he sat down upon a 
 raised seat at the corner of a lofty fireplace of white 
 marble in which a bright fire was blazing, placing his 
 pretty mistress by his side. His portrait, framed in 
 in velvet, was over the mantle in place of a mirror. 
 Charles IX. rested his elbow on the arm of the seat as 
 if to watch the two Florentines the better under cover 
 of his hand. 
 
 The shutters closed, and the curtains drawn, Jacob 
 lighted the wax tapers in a tall candelabrum of chis- 
 elled silver, which he placed on the table where the 
 Florentines were to stand, — an object, b}' the bye, 
 which they would readily recognize as the work of their 
 compatriot, Benvenuto Cellini. The richness of the 
 room, decorated in the taste of Charles IX., now shone 
 forth. The red-brown of the tapestries showed to better 
 advantage than by daylight. The various articles of 
 furniture, delicateh' made or carved, reflected in their 
 ebon}' panels the glow of the fire and the sparkle of the 
 lights. Gilding, soberly applied, shone here and there 
 like eyes, brightening the brown color which prevailed 
 in this nest of love. 
 
 Jacob presentl}^ gave two knocks, and, receiving 
 permission, ushered in the Italians. Marie Touchet 
 was instantl}^ affected by the grandeur of Lorenzo's 
 presence, which struck all those who met him, great 
 and small alike. The silverj^ whiteness of the old 
 man's beard was heightened by a robe of black velvet ; 
 his brow was like a marble dome. His austere face, 
 illumined by two black eyes which cast a pointed flame, 
 conveyed an impression of genius issuing from solitude, 
 
Catherine de* Medici, 
 
 377 
 
 and all the more effective because its power had not 
 been dulled b}^ contact with men. It was like the steel 
 of a blade that had never been fleshed. 
 
 As for Cosmo Ruggiero, he wore the dress of a 
 courtier of the time. Marie made a sign to the king 
 to assure him that he had not exaggerated his descrij^- 
 tion, and to thank him for having shown her these 
 extraordinarv men. 
 
 " I would like to have seen the sorceresses, too," she 
 "whispered in his ear. 
 
378 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 V. 
 
 THE ALCHEMISTS. 
 
 Again absorbed in thought, Charles IX. made her 
 no answer ; he was idly flicking crumbs of bread from 
 his doublet and breeches. 
 
 ''Your science cannot change the heavens or make 
 the sun to shine, messieurs," he said at last, pointing 
 to the curtains which the gray atmosphere of Paris 
 darkened. 
 
 " Our science can make the skies what we like, sire," 
 replied Lorenzo Ruggiero. ''The weather is always 
 fine for those who work in a laboratory by the light of 
 a furnace.'' 
 
 "That is true," said the king. "Well, father," he 
 added, using an expression familiar to him when 
 addressing old men, " explain to us clearly the object of 
 your studies." 
 
 " What will guarantee our safety?" 
 
 " The word of a king," repUed Charles IX., whose 
 curiosity was keenl}^ excited by the question. 
 
 Lorenzo Ruggiero seemed to hesitate, and Charles IX. 
 cried out: "What hinders 3'ou? We are here alone." 
 
 " But is the King of France here? " asked Lorenzo. 
 
 Charles reflected an instant, and then answered, 
 "]No." 
 
Catherine de' Medici, 379 
 
 The imposing old man then took a chair, and seated 
 himself. Cosmo, astonished at this boldness, dared not 
 imitate it. 
 
 Charles IX. remarked, with cutting sarcasm: ''The 
 king is not here, monsieur, but a lady is, whose per- 
 mission it was your duty to await." 
 
 '' He whom you see before you, madame," said the 
 old man, ''is as far above kings as kings are above 
 their subjects ; you will think me courteous when you 
 know my powers." 
 
 t Hearing these audacious words, said with Italian 
 emphasis, Charles and Marie looked at each other, and 
 also at Cosmo, who, with his eyes fixed on his brotlier, 
 seemed to be asking himself: " How does he intend to 
 get us out of the danger in which we are ? " 
 \ In fact, there was but one person present wlio could 
 understand the boldness and the art of Lorenzo Rug- 
 giero's first step ; and that person was neither the king 
 nor his young mistress, on whom the great seer had 
 already flung the spell of his audacity, — it was Cosmo 
 Ruggiero, his wily brother. Though superior himself 
 to the ablest men at court, perhaps even to Catherine 
 de' Medici herself, the astrologer always recognized his 
 brother Lorenzo as his master. 
 
 Buried in studious solitude, the old savant weighed 
 and estimated sovereigns, most of whom were worn out 
 by the perpetual turmoil of politics, the crises of which 
 at this period came so suddenly and were so keen, so 
 intense, so unexpected. He knew their ennui, their 
 lassitude, their disgust with things about them ; he 
 knew the ardor with which they sought what seemed 
 gto them new or strange or fantastic ; above all, how 
 
380 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 they loved to enter some unknown intellectual region 
 to escape their endless struggle with men and events. 
 To those who have exhausted statecraft, nothing remains 
 but the realm of pure thought. Charles the Fifth 
 proved this by his abdication. Charles IX., who wrote 
 sonnets and forged blades to escape the exhausting 
 cares of an age in which both throne and king were 
 threatened, to whom royalty had brought only cares and 
 never pleasures, was likely to be roused to a high pitch 
 of interest by the bold denial of his power thus uttered 
 by Lorenzo. Religious doubt was not surprising in an 
 age when Catholicism was so violently arraigned ; but 
 the upsetting of all religion, given as the basis of a 
 strange, mysterious art, would surely strike the king's 
 mind, and drag it from its present preoccupations. 
 The essential thing for the two brothers was to make 
 the king forget his suspicions b}^ turning his mind to 
 new ideas. 
 
 The Ruggieri were well aware that their stake in 
 this game was their own life, and the glances, so hum- 
 ble, and yet so proud, which they exchanged with the 
 searching, suspicious eyes of Marie and the king, were 
 a scene in themselves. 
 
 " Sire," said Lorenzo Ruggiero, " 3'ou have asked me 
 for the truth ; but, to show the truth in all her naked- 
 ness, I must also show you and make you sound the 
 depths of the well from which she comes. I appeal to 
 the gentleman and the poet to pardon words which 
 the eldest son of the Church might take for blasphemy, 
 — I believe that God does not concern himself with 
 human affairs." 
 
 Though determined to maintain a kingly composure, 
 Charles IX. could not repress a motion of surprise. 
 
Catherine de' Medici. 381 
 
 "Without that conviction I should have no faith 
 whatever in the miraculous work to which my life is 
 devoted. To do that work I must have this belief ; 
 and if the finger of God guides all things, then — I am 
 a madman. Therefore, let the king understand, once 
 for all, that this work means a victory to be won over 
 the present course of Nature. I am an alchemist, sire. 
 But do not think, as the common-minded do, that I 
 seek to make gold. The making of gold is not the 
 object but an incident of our researches ; otherwise our 
 toil could not be called the Great Work. The Great 
 Work is something far loftier than that. If, therefore, 
 I were forced to admit the presence of God in matter, 
 my voice must logicall}^ command the extinction of fur- 
 naces kept burning throughout the ages. But to deny 
 the direct action of God in the world is not to deny 
 God ; do not make that mistake. We place the Creator 
 of all things far higher than the sphere to which reli- 
 gions have degraded him. Do not accuse of atheism 
 those who look for immortality. Like Lucifer, we are 
 jealous of our God ; and jealousy means love. Though 
 the doctrine of which I speak is tlie basis of our work, 
 all our disciples are not imbued with it. Cosmo,'' said 
 the okl man, pointing to his brother, " Cosmo is 
 devout ; he pays for masses for the repose of our 
 father's soul, and he goes to hear them. Your mother's 
 astrologer believes in the divinity of Christ, in the 
 Immaculate Conception, in Transubstantiation ; he be- 
 lieves also in the pope's indulgences and in hell, and in 
 a multitude of such things. His hour has not 3'et come. 
 I have drawn his horoscope ; he will live to be almost a 
 centenarian ; he will live through two more reigns, and 
 he will see two kings of France assassinated." 
 
382 Catlierine de' MedicL 
 
 " Who are the}'?" asked the king. 
 
 "The last of the Valois and the first of tlie Bonr- 
 hons/' replied Lorenzo. " But Cosmo shares m}- opin- 
 ion. It is impossible to be an alchemist and a Catholic, 
 to have faith in the despotism of man over matter, and 
 also in the sovereignty' of the divine." 
 
 '^ Cosmo to die a centenarian ! " exclaimed the king, 
 with his terrible frown of the eyebrows. 
 
 "Yes, sire," replied Lorenzo, with authorit}^; "and 
 he will die peaceablj' in his bed." 
 
 " If you have power to foresee the moment of 3'our 
 death, wh}' are 3'ou ignorant of the outcome of your 
 researches ? " asked the king. 
 
 Charles XT. smiled as he said this, looking trium- 
 phantl}' at Marie Touchet. The brothers exchanged a 
 rapid glance of satisfaction. 
 
 " He begins to be interested," thought they. "We 
 are saved ! " 
 
 " Our prognostics depend on the immediate relations 
 which exist at the time between man and Nature ; but 
 our purpose itself is to change those relations entirelj'/' 
 replied Lorenzo. 
 
 The king was thoughtful. 
 
 " But, if 3'ou are certain of dying 3'ou are certain of 
 defeat," he said, at last. 
 
 " Like our predecessors," replied Lorenzo, raising his 
 hand and letting it fall again with an emphatic and sol- 
 emn gesture, which presented visibly the grandeur of 
 his thought. " But 3'Our mind has bounded to the con- 
 fines of the matter, sire ; we must return upon our 
 steps. If you do not know the ground on which our 
 edifice is built, you may well think it doomed to crumble 
 
Catherine de' Medici. 383 
 
 with our lives, and so judge the Science cultivated from 
 century to century by the greatest among men, as the 
 common herd judge of it." 
 
 The king made a sign of assent. 
 
 *•■ I think," continued Lorenzo, " that this earth be- 
 longs to man ; he is the master of it, and he can appro- 
 priate to his use all forces and all substances. Man is 
 not a creation issuing directly from the hand of God ; 
 but the development of a principle sown broadcast into 
 the infinite of ether, from which millions of creatures 
 are produced, — differing beings in different worlds, 
 because the conditions surrounding life are varied. 
 Yes, sire, the subtle element which we call life takes 
 its rise bej'ond the visible worlds ; creation divides 
 that principle according to the centres into which it 
 flows ; and all beings, even the lowest, share it, taking 
 so much as they can take of it at their own risk and 
 peril. It is for them to protect themselves from death, — 
 the whole purpose of alchemy lies there, sire. If man, 
 the most perfect animal on this globe, bore within him- 
 self a portion of the divine, he would not die ; but he 
 does die. To solve this difficulty, Socrates and his 
 school invented the Soul. I, the successor of so many 
 great and unknown kings, the rulers of this science, I 
 stand for the ancient theories, not the new. I believe 
 in the transformations of matter which I see, and not 
 in the possible eternit}^ of a soul which I do not see. I 
 do not recognize that world of the soul. If such a 
 world existed, the substances whose magnificent con- 
 junction produced your bod}', and are so dazzling in 
 that of Madame, would not resolve themselves after 
 your death each into its own element, water to water, 
 
384 Catherine de' Medici, 
 
 fire to fire, 'metal to metal, just as the elements of 
 m}^ coal, when burned, return to their primitive mole- 
 cules. If you believe that a certain part of us sur- 
 vives, we do not survive ; for all that makes our 
 actual being perishes. Now, it is this actual being 
 that I am striving to continue beyond the limit 
 assigned to life ; it is our present transformation to 
 which I wish to give a greater duration. Wh}' ! the 
 trees live for centuries, but man lives only 3'ears, though 
 the former are passive, the others active ; the first mo- 
 tionless and speechless, the others gifted with language 
 and motion. No created thing should be superior in 
 this world to man, either in power or in duration. 
 Already we are widening our perceptions, for we look 
 into the stars ; therefore ought to lengthen the dura- 
 tion of our lives. I place life before power. What 
 good is power if life escapes us? A wise man should 
 have no other purpose than to seek, not whether he 
 has some other life within him, but the secret springs 
 of his actual form, in order that he may prolong its 
 existence at his will. That is the desire which has 
 whitened my hair; but I walk boldly in the darkness, 
 marshalling to the search all those great intellects that 
 share my faith. Life will some day be ours, ^ — ours to 
 control." 
 
 '' Ah ! but how? " cried the king, rising hastil}'. 
 
 '' The first condition of our faith being that the earth 
 belongs to man, you must grant me that point," said 
 Lorenzo. 
 
 ''So be it!" said Charles de Valois, alreadj^ under 
 the spell. 
 
 " Then, sire, if we take God out of this world, what 
 
Catherine de' Medici. 385 
 
 remains? Man. Let us therefore examine our domain. 
 The material world is composed of elements ; these 
 elements are themselves principles ; these principles 
 resolve themselves into an ultimate principle, endowed 
 with motion. The number three is the formula of 
 creation: Matter, Motion, Product.*' 
 
 " Stop! '^ cried the king, '' what proof is there of 
 this?" 
 
 '' Do you not see the effects ? " replied Lorenzo. " We 
 have tried in our crucibles the acorn which produces the 
 oak, and the embryo from which grows a man ; from 
 this tiny substance results a single principle, to which 
 some force, some movement must be given. Since 
 there is no overruling creator, this principle must give 
 to itself tlie outward forms which constitute our world 
 — for this phenomenon of life is the same everywhere. 
 Yes, for metals as for human beings, for plants as for 
 men, life begins in an imperceptible embryo wiiich 
 develops itself. A primitive principle exists ; let us 
 seize it at the point where it begins to act upon itself, 
 where it is a unit, where it is a principle before taking 
 definite form, a cause before being an effect ; we 
 must see it single, without form, susceptible of clothing 
 itself with all the outward forms we shall see it take. 
 When we are face to face with this atomic particle, 
 when we shall have caught its movement at the very 
 instant of motion, the?i we shall know the law ; 
 thenceforth we are the masters of life, masters who 
 can impose upon that principle the form we choose, — 
 with gold to win the world, and the power to make for 
 ourselves centuries of life in which to enjoy it ! That 
 is what my people and I are seeking. All our strength, 
 
 23 
 
386 Catherine de' Medici, 
 
 all onr thoughts are strained in that direction ; nothing 
 distracts us from it. One hour wasted on an}" other 
 passion is a theft committed against our true grandeur. 
 Just as you have never found yonv hounds relinquishing 
 the hunted animal or failing to be in at the death, so I 
 have never seen one of my patient disciples diverted 
 from this great quest b}' the love of woman or a selfish 
 thought. If an adept seeks power and wealth, the 
 desire is instigated by our needs ; he grasps treasure as 
 a thirsty dog laps water while he swims a stream, be- 
 cause his crucibles are in need of a diamond to melt or 
 an ingot of gold to reduce to powder. To each his 
 own work. One seeks the secret of vegetable nature ; 
 he watches the slow life of plants ; he notes the parity 
 of motion among all the species, and the parity of 
 their nutrition ; he finds everywhere the need of sun and 
 air and water, to fecundate and nourish them. Another 
 scrutinizes the blood of animals. A third studies the 
 laws of universal motion and its connection with 
 celestial revolutions. Nearly all are eager to struggle 
 with the intractable nature of metal, for while we find 
 many principles in other things, we find all metals like 
 unto themselves in every particular. Hence a common 
 error as to our work. Behold these patient, inde- 
 fatigable athletes, ever vanquished, yet ever returning 
 to the combat! Humanity, sire, is behind us, as the 
 huntsman is behind your hounds. She cries to us : 
 ' Make haste ! neglect nothing ! sacrifice all, even a 
 man, 3'e who sacrifice yourselves ! Hasten ! hasten ! 
 Beat down the arms of death, mine enemy ! ' Yes, 
 sire, we are inspired by a hope which involves the happi- 
 ness of all coming generations. We have buried many 
 
Catherine de^ Medici, 387 
 
 men — and what men! — d3ing of this Search. Set- 
 tins: foot in this career we cannot w^ork for ourselves ; 
 we may die without discovering the Secret ; and our 
 death is that of those who do not believe in another 
 life ; it is this life that we have sought, and failed to 
 perpetuate. We are glorious martyrs ; we have the 
 welfare of the race at heart ; we have failed but we 
 live again in our successors. As we go through this 
 existence we discover secrets with which we endow the 
 liberal and the mechanical arts. From our furnaces 
 gleam lights which illumine industrial enterprises, and 
 perfect them. Gunpowder issued from our alembics ; 
 nay, we have mastered the lightning. In our persistent 
 vigils lie political revolutions." 
 
 ''Can this be true?" cried the king, springing once 
 more from his chair. 
 
 "Why not?" said the grand-master of the new 
 Templars. '' Tradidit mimdum disputationibus ! 
 God has given us the earth. Hear this once more : 
 man is master here below ; matter is his ; all forces, 
 all means are at his disposal. Who created us? 
 Motion. What power maintains life in us? Motion. 
 Why cannot science seize the secret of that motion? 
 Nothing is lost here below ; nothing escapes from our 
 planet to go elsewhere, — otherwise the stars would 
 stumble over each other ; the waters of the deluge 
 are still with us in their principle, and not a drop is 
 lost. Around us, above us, beneath us, are to be 
 found the elements from which have come innumerable 
 hosts of men who have crowded the earth before and 
 since the deluge. What is the secret of our struggle ? 
 To discover the force that disunites, and then, then we 
 
388 Catherine de' Medici, 
 
 shall discover that which binds. We are the product 
 of a visible manufacture. When the waters covered 
 the globe men issued from them who found the ele- 
 ments of their life in the crust of the earth, in the air, 
 and in the nourishment derived from them. Earth and 
 air possess, therefore, the principle of human trans- 
 formations ; those transformations take place under 
 our eyes, by means of that which is also under our 
 eyes. We are able, therefore, to discover that secret, — 
 not limiting the effort of the search to one man or to 
 one age, but devoting humanit}' in its duration to it. 
 We are engaged, hand to hand, in a struggle with 
 Matter, into whose secret, I, the grand-master of our 
 order, seek to penetrate. Christopher Columbus gave 
 a world to the King of Spain ; I seek an ever-living 
 people for the King of France. Standing on the con- 
 fines whicii separate us from a knowledge of material 
 things, a patient observer of atoms, 1 destroy forms, 
 I dissolve the bonds of combinations ; I imitate death 
 that I may learn how to imitate life. I strike inces- 
 santly at the door of creation, and I shall continue so 
 to strike till the day of ni}' death. When I am dead the 
 knocker will pass into other hands equally persistent 
 with those of the mighty men who handed it to me. 
 Fabulous and uncomprehended beings, like Prometheus, 
 Ixion, Adonis, Pan, and others, who have entered 
 into the rehgious beliefs of all countries and all 
 ages, prove to the world that the hopes we now em- 
 bod}" were born with the human races. Chaldea, India, 
 Persia, Egypt, Greece, the Moors, have transmitted 
 from one to another Magic, the highest of all the 
 occult sciences, which holds within it as a precious 
 
Catherine de' Medici. 389 
 
 deposit the fruits of the studies of each generation. In 
 it lay the tie that bound the grand and majestic 
 institution of the Templars. Sire, when one of your 
 predecessors burned the Templars, he burned men 
 onlj^, — their Secret lived. The reconstruction of the 
 Temple is the vow of an unknown nation, a race of 
 daring seekers, whose faces are turned to the Orient of 
 life, — all brothers, all inseparable, all united by one 
 idea, and stamped with the mark of toil. I am the 
 sovereign leader of that people, sovereign by election, 
 not b}' birth. I guide them onward to a knowledge of 
 the essence of life. Grand-master, Red-Cross-bearers, 
 companions, adepts, we forever follow the impercep-* 
 tible molecule which still escapes our eyes. But soon 
 we sliall make for ourselves eyes more powerful than 
 those which Nature has given us ; we shall attain to a 
 sight of the primitive atom, the corpuscular element so 
 persistently sought by the wise and learned of all ages 
 who have preceded us in the glorious search. Sire, 
 when a man is astride of that abyss, when he com- 
 mands bold divers like my disciples, all other human 
 interests are as nothing. Therefore we are not danger- 
 ous. Religious disputes and political struggles are far 
 away from us ; we have passed be^'ond and above 
 them. No man takes others by the throat when his 
 whole strength is given to a struggle with Nature. 
 Besides, in our science results are perceivable ; we can 
 measure effects and predict them ; whereas all things 
 are uncertain and vacillatins: in the struofsfles of men 
 and their selfish interests. We decompose the diamond 
 in our crucibles, and we shall make diamonds, we shall 
 make gold ! We shall impel vessels (as they have at 
 
390 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 Barcelona) with fire and a little water ! We test the 
 wind, and we shall make wind ; we shall make light ; we 
 shall renew the face of empires with new industries ! 
 But we shall never debase ourselves to mount a throne 
 to be crucified by the peoples ! " 
 
 In spite of his strong determination not be taken in 
 by Italian wiles, the king, together with his gentle mis- 
 tress, was alread}^ caught and snared by the ambiguous 
 phrases and doublings of this pompous and humbugging 
 loquacity. The eyes of the two lovers showed how 
 their minds were dazzled by the mysterious riches of 
 power thus displayed ; they saw, as it were, a series of 
 subterranean caverns filled with gnomes at their toil. 
 The impatience of their curiosity put to flight all 
 suspicion. 
 
 " But,'* cried the king, 'Mf this be so, 3'ou are great 
 statesmen who can enhghten us." 
 
 " No, sire,*' said Lorenzo, naively. 
 
 " Why not? " asked the king. 
 
 " Sire, it is not given to any man to foresee what will 
 happen when thousands of men are gathered together. 
 We can tell what one man will do, how long he will 
 live, whether he will be happy or unhappy ; but we can- 
 not tell what a collection of wills ma}' do ; and to cal- 
 culate the oscillations of their selfish interests is more 
 difficult still, for interests are men plus things. We 
 can, in solitude, see the future as a whole, and that is 
 all. The Protestantism that now torments 3'ou will be 
 destro3'ed in turn by its material consequences, which 
 will turn to theories in due time. Europe is at the 
 present moment getting the better of religion ; to-mor- 
 row it will attack royalty." 
 
Catherine de' Medici, 391 
 
 " Then the Saiut-Bartholomew was a great con- 
 ception ? '* 
 
 " Yes, sire ; for if the people triumph it will have a 
 Saint-Bartholomew of its own. When religion and ro^'- 
 alty are destroyed the people will attack the nobles ; 
 after the nobles, the rich. When Europe has become 
 a mere troop of men without consistence or stabiUt^', 
 because without leaders, it will fall a prey to brutal con- 
 querors. Twenty times already has the world seen that 
 sight, and Europe is now preparing to renew it. Ideas 
 consume the ages as passions consume men. When 
 man is cured, humanity may possibly cure itself. Sci- 
 ence is the essence of humanity, and we are its pontiffs ; 
 whoso concerns himself about the essence cares little 
 about the individual life." 
 
 " To what have you attained, sq far? " asked the 
 king. 
 
 " We advance slowly ; but we lose nothing that we 
 have won." 
 
 " Then you are the king of sorcerers ? " retorted the 
 king, piqued at being of no account in the presence of 
 this man. 
 
 The majestic grand-master of the Rosicrucians cast a 
 look on Charles IX. which withered him. 
 
 ''You are the king of men/' he said; "I am the 
 king of ideas. If we were sorcerers, you would already 
 have burned us. We have had our martyrs." 
 
 " But b}^ what means are you able to cast nativi- 
 ties?" persisted the king. "How did you know that 
 the man who came to jour window last night was King 
 of France? What power authorized one of you to tell 
 my mother the fate of her three sons ? Can you, grand- 
 
392 Catherine de' Medici, 
 
 master of an art which claims to mould the world, 
 can you tell me what my mother is planning at this 
 moment ? " 
 
 "Yes, sire." 
 
 This answer was given before Cosmo could pull his 
 brother's robe to enjoin silence. 
 
 " Do 3'ou know why my brother, the King of Poland, 
 has returned ? " 
 
 '* Yes, sire." 
 
 4* Why?" 
 
 " To take your place." 
 
 " Our most cruel enemies are our nearest in blood ! " 
 exclaimed the king, violently', rising and walking about 
 the room with hast}' steps. "Kings have neither 
 brothers, nor sons, nor mothers. Colign}' was right; 
 my murderers are. not among the Huguenots, but in the 
 Louvre. You are either impostors or regicides! — 
 Jacob, call Solern." 
 
 "Sire," said Marie Touchet, "the Ruggieri have 
 your word as a gentleman. You wanted to taste of 
 the fruit of the tree of knowledge ; do not complain of 
 its bitterness." 
 
 The king smiled, with an expression of bitter self- 
 contempt ; he thought his material royalty pettj^ in 
 presence of the august intellectual roj'alty of Lorenzo 
 Ruggiero. Charles IX. knew that he could scarcely'' 
 govern France, but this grand-master of Rosicrucians 
 ruled a submissive and intelligent world. 
 
 "Answer me truthfull}' ; I pledge my word as a 
 gentleman that 3'our answer, in case it confesses dread- 
 ful crimes, shall be as if it were never uttered," resumed 
 the king. " Do 3'ou deal with poisons?" 
 
I 
 
 Catherine de' Medici, 393 
 
 '' To discover that which gives life, we must also have 
 full knowledge of that which kills." 
 
 " Do you possess the secret of many poisons ? " 
 
 "Yes, sire, — in theory, but not in practice. We 
 understand all poisons, but do not use them." 
 
 " Has my mother asked you for an}' ? " said the king, 
 breathlessly. 
 
 " Sire," replied Lorenzo, " Queen Catherine is too 
 able a woman to employ such means. She knows that 
 the sovereign who poisons dies by poison. The Bor- 
 gias, also Bianca Capello, Grand Duchess of Tuscan}', 
 are noted examples of the dangers of that miserable 
 resource. All things are known at courts ; there can 
 be no concealment. It may be possible to kill a poor 
 devil — and what is the good of that? — but to aim at 
 great men cannot be done secretly. Who shot Co- 
 ligny? It could only be you, or the queen-mother, or 
 the Guises. Not a soul is doubtful of that. Believe 
 me, poison cannot be twice used with impunity in state- 
 craft. Princes have successors. As for other men, if, 
 like Luther, they are sovereigns through the power of 
 ideas, their doctrines are not killed by killing them. 
 The queen is from Florence ; she knows that poison 
 should never be used except as a weapon of personal 
 revenge. My brother, who has not been parted from 
 her since her arrival in France, knows the grief 
 that Madame Diane caused your mother. But she 
 never thought of poisoning her, though she might eas- 
 ily have done so. What could your father have said ? 
 Never had a woman a better right to do it ; and she 
 could have done it with impunity ; but Madame de 
 Valentinois still lives.'* 
 
 I 
 
394 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 *' But what of those waxen images? " asked the king. 
 
 " Sire," said Cosmo, " these tilings are so absolutely 
 harmless that we lend ourselves to the practice to 
 satisfy blind passions, just as ph3'sicians give bread 
 pills' to imaginar}' invalids. A disappointed woman 
 fancies that by stabbing the heart of a wax-figure she 
 has brought misfortunes upon the head of the man who 
 has been unfaithful to her. What harm in that ? Besides, 
 it is our revenue." 
 
 " The pope sells indulgences," said Lorenzo Ruggiero, 
 smiling. 
 
 ''Has my mother practised these spells with waxen 
 images?** 
 
 " What good would such harmless means be to one 
 who has the actual power to do all things?" 
 
 " Has Queen Catherine the power to save 3'ou at this 
 moment?" inquired the king, in a threatening manner. 
 
 " Sire, we are not in any danger," replied Lorenzo, 
 tranquill}'. '' I knew before I came into this house 
 that I should leave it safel}', just as I know that the 
 king will be evilly disposed to my brother Cosmo a 
 few weeks hence. My brother may run some danger 
 then, but he will escape it. If the king reigns by the 
 sword, he also reigns by justice," added the old man, 
 alluding to the famous motto on a medal struck for 
 Charles IX. 
 
 " You know all, and you know that I shall die soon, 
 which is very well," said the king, hiding his anger 
 under nervous impatience ; " but how will my brother 
 die, — he whom you say is to be Henri III. ? " 
 
 " By a violent death.'* 
 
 '' And the Due d'Alengon?" 
 
I 
 
 I 
 
 Catherine cle' Medici. 395 
 
 " He will not reign." 
 
 " Then Henri de Bourbon will be king of France?'* 
 
 "Yes, sire." 
 
 "How will be die?'' 
 
 " J3y a violent death." 
 
 " When I am dead what will become of madame?" 
 asked the king, motioning to Marie Touchet. 
 
 " Madame de Belleville will marrv, sire." 
 
 " You are impostors ! " cried Marie Touchet. " Send 
 them awa}^, sire." 
 
 " Dearest, the Ruggieri have my word as a gentle- 
 man," replied the king, smiling. '' Will madame have 
 children?" he continued. 
 
 "Yes, sire; and madame will live to be more than 
 eighty years old." 
 
 "Shall I order them to be hanged?" said the king 
 to his mistress. "But about my son, the Comte 
 d'Auvergne ? " he continued, going into the next room 
 to fetch the child. 
 
 " Why did you tell him I should marry?" said Marie 
 to the two brothers, the moment they were alone. 
 
 " Madame," replied Lorenzo, with dignity, " the 
 king bound us to tell the truth, and we have told it." 
 
 " Is that true? " she exclaimed. 
 
 "As true as it is that the governor of the city of 
 Orleans is madly in love with you." 
 
 " But I do not love him," she cried. 
 
 " That is true, madame," replied Lorenzo ; " but your 
 horoscope declares that you will marry the man who is 
 in love with you at the present time." 
 
 "Can you not lie a little for m3'sake?" she said 
 smiling ; " for if the king believes your predictions — " 
 
396 Catherine de' Medici 
 
 "Is it not also necessary that he should believe in 
 our innocence?" interrupted Cosmo, with a wil}' glance 
 at the young favorite. " The precautions taken against 
 us by the king have made us think during the time we 
 have spent in your charming jail that the occult 
 sciences have been traduced to him." 
 
 " Do not feel uneas}^" replied Mar3\ " I know him ; 
 his suspicions are at an end." 
 
 "We are innocent," said the grand-master of the 
 Rosicrucians, proudly. 
 
 "So much the better for you," said Marie, "for 
 3'our laboratory, and yout retorts and phials are now 
 being searched b}' order of the king." 
 
 The brothers looked at each other smiling. Marie 
 Touchet took that smile for one of innocence, though it 
 reall}^ signified : " Poor fools ! can they suppose that if 
 we brew poisons, we do not hide them?" 
 
 " Where are the king's searchers?" 
 
 " In Rene's laboratory," replied Marie. 
 
 Again the brothers glanced at each other with a look 
 which said : "The hotel de Soissons is inviolable." 
 
 The king had so completely forgotten his suspicions 
 that when, as he took his boy in his arms, Jacob gave 
 him a note from Chapelain, he opened it with the 
 eertaint}' of finding in his phj-sician's report that noth- 
 ing had been discovered in the laboratory but what 
 related exclusively' to alchemj'. * 
 
 "Will he live a happ}^ man?" asked the king, 
 presenting his son to the two alchemists. 
 
 " That is a question which concerns Cosmo," replied 
 Lorenzo, signing to his brother. 
 
 Cosmo took the tiny hand of the child, and examined 
 it carefully. 
 
Catherine de' Medici, 397 
 
 "Monsieur/* said Charles IX. to the old man, "if 
 you find it necessary to deny the existence of the soul 
 in order to believe in the possibility of your enterprise, 
 will you explain to me why 3'ou should doubt what 
 your power does? Thought, which you seek to nullify, 
 is the certaint}', the torch which lights your researches. 
 Ha ! ha ! is not that the motion of a spirit within you, 
 while 3'ou deny such motion ? " cried the king, pleased 
 with his argument, and looking triumphantly at his 
 mistress. 
 
 " Thought," replied Lorenzo Ruggiero, " is the exer- 
 cise of an inward sense ; just as the facult}* of seeing 
 several objects and noticing their size and color is an 
 effect of sight. It has no connection with what people 
 choose to call another life. Thought is a facult}' which 
 ceases, with the forces which produced it, when we cease 
 to breathe." 
 
 "You are logical," said the king, surprised. '^But 
 alchemy must therefore be an atheistical science." 
 
 " A materialist science, sire, which is a very dif- 
 ferent thing. Materialism is the outcome of Indian 
 doctrines, transmitted through the m3'steries of Isis to 
 Chaldea and Egypt, and brought to Greece by Pythag- 
 oras, one of the demigods of humanit3^ His doctrine 
 of re- incarnation is the mathematics of materialism, the 
 vital law of its phases. To each of the different crea- 
 tions which form the terrestrial creation belongs the 
 power of retarding the movement which sweeps on 
 the rest." 
 
 " Alchem3^ is the science of sciences ! " cried Charles 
 IX., enthusiastically. '^I want to see 3"ou at work." 
 
 '^ Whenever it pleases 3'ou, sire ; 3'ou cannot be 
 more interested than Madame the Queen-mother." 
 
398 Oatherine de' Medici. 
 
 " All ! so this is whj' she cares for 3^ou? *' exclaimed 
 the king. 
 
 " The house of Medici has secretl}^ protected our 
 Search for more than a centur\'." 
 
 "Sire," said Cosmo, "this child will live nearly a 
 hundred years ; he will have trials ; nevertheless, he 
 will be happ3" and honored, because he has in his veins 
 the blood of the Valois." 
 
 " I will go and see 3'ou in your laboratorj', mes- 
 sieurs," said the king, his good-humor quite restored. 
 " You ma}' now go." 
 
 The brothers bowed to Marie and to the king and 
 then withdrew. The\' went down the steps of the por- 
 tico gravel}', without looking or speaking to each other ; 
 neither did they turn their faces to the windows as they 
 crossed the courtyard, feeling sure that the king's e3'e 
 watched them. But as the}' passed sideways out of the 
 gate into the street they looked back and saw Charles IX. 
 gazing after them from a window. When the alchemist 
 and the astrologer were safely in the rue de TAutruche, 
 they cast their eyes before and behind them, to see if 
 they were followed or overheard ; then they continued 
 their way to the moat of the Louvre without uttering a 
 word. Once there, however, feeling themselves securely 
 alone, Lorenzo said to Cosmo, in the Tuscan Italian 
 of that day : — 
 
 " Affe d'Iddio ! how we have fooled him ! " 
 
 " Much good may it do him ; let him make what he 
 can of it ! " said Cosmo. " We have given him a help- 
 ing hand, — whether the queen pays it back to us or 
 not." 
 
 Some days after this scene, which struck the king's 
 
Catherine de' Medici. 399 
 
 mistress as forcibly as it did the king, Marie suddenly 
 exclaimed, in one of those moments when the soul 
 seems, as it were, disengaged from the body in the 
 plenitude of happiness : — 
 
 ''Charles, I understand Lorenzo Ruggiero ; but did 
 3'ou observe that Cosmo said nothing ? " 
 
 " True," said the king, struck by that sudden light. 
 " After all, there was as much falsehood as truth in 
 what they said. Those Italians are as supple as the 
 silk they weave." 
 
 This suspicion explains the rancor which the king 
 showed against Cosmo when the trial of La Mole and 
 Coconnas took place a few weeks later. Finding him 
 one of the agents in that conspiracy, he thought the 
 Italians had tricked him ; for it was proved that his 
 mother's astrologer was not exclusively concerned with 
 stars, the powder of projection, and the primitive atom. 
 Lorenzo had bv that time left the kinojdom. 
 
 In spite of the incredulity which most persons show 
 in these matters, the events which followed the scene 
 we have narrated confirmed the predictions of the 
 Euggieri. 
 
 The king died within three months. 
 
 Charles de Gondi followed Charles IX. to the grave, 
 as had been foretold to him jestingly by his brother the 
 Marechal de Retz, a friend of the Ruggieri, who 
 believed in their predictions. 
 
 Marie Touchet married Charles de Balzac, Marquis 
 d'Entragues, the governor of Orleans, by whom she had 
 two daughters. The most celebrated of these daughters, 
 the half-sister of the Comte d'Auvergne, was the mis- 
 tress of Henri IV., and it was she who endeavored, at 
 
400 Catherine de' Medici, 
 
 the time of Biron's conspiracy, to put her brother on the 
 throne of France by driving out the Bourbons. 
 
 The Comte d'Auvergne, who became the Due 
 d'Angouleme, lived into the reign of Louis XIV. He 
 coined money on his estates and altered the inscrip- 
 tions ; but Louis XIV. let him do as he pleased, out of 
 respect for the blood of the Valois. 
 
 Cosmo Ruggiero lived till the middle of the reign of 
 Louis XIII. ; he witnessed the fall of the house of the 
 Medici in France, also that of the Concini. History 
 has taken pains to record that he died an atheist, that 
 is, a materialist. 
 
 The Marquise d'Entragues was over eight}" when she 
 died. 
 
 The famous Comte de Saint-Germain, who made so 
 much noise under Louis XIV., was a pupil of Lorenzo 
 and Cosmo Ruggiero. This celebrated alchemist lived 
 to be one hundred and thirt}' 3'ears old, — an age which 
 some biographers give to Marion de Lorme. He must 
 have heard from the Ruggieri the various incidents of 
 the Saint- Bartholomew and of the reigns of the Valois 
 kings, which he afterwards recounted in the first per- 
 son singular, as though he had played a part in them. 
 The Comte de Saint-Germain was the last of the alche- 
 mists who knew how to clearly explain their science ; 
 but he left no writings. The cabalistic doctrine pre- 
 sented in this Study is that taught bj' this mysterious 
 personage. 
 
 And here, behold a strange thing ! Three lives, that 
 of the old man from whom I have obtained these facts, 
 that of the Comte de Saint-Germain, and that of Cosmo 
 Ruggiero, suffice to cover the whole of European history 
 
Catherine de* Medici, 401 
 
 from Frangois I. to Napoleon ! Only fiflt}^ such lives 
 are needed to reach back to the first known period of 
 the world. "What are fifty generations for the study 
 of the mysteries of life ? " said the Comte de Saint- 
 Germain. 
 
402 Catherine dd Medici, 
 
 PART THIRD. 
 
 TWO DREAMS. 
 
 In 1786 Bodard de Saint-James, treasurer of the 
 navy, excited more attention and gossip as to his hix- 
 ury than any other financier in Paris. At this period 
 he was building his famous " FoUe" at Neuill}', and his 
 wife had just bought a set of feathers to crown the 
 tester of her bed, the price of which had been too great 
 for even the queen to pay. 
 
 Bodard owned the magnificent mansion in the place 
 Vendome, which t\\Q fermier-general^ Dange, had lately 
 been forced to leave. That celebrated epicurean was 
 now dead, and on the day of his interment his intimate 
 friend. Monsieur de Bievre, raised a laugh by sa}-- 
 ing that he " could now pass thi'ough the place Ven- 
 dome without danger.'' This allusion to the hellish 
 gambUng which went on in the dead man's house, 
 was his only funeral oration. The house is opposite 
 to the Chancellerie. 
 
 To end in a few words the history of Bodard, — he 
 became a poor man, having failed for fourteen millions 
 after the bankruptcy of the Prince de Guemenee. The 
 stupidity he showed in not anticipating that " serenissime 
 
Catherine de' Medici, 403 
 
 disaster," to use the expression of Lebrun Pindare, was 
 the reason whj' no notice was taken of his misfortunes. 
 He died, like Bourvalais, Bouret, and so many others, 
 in a garret. 
 
 Madame Bodard de Saint-James was ambitious, and 
 professed to receive none but persons of quality at her 
 house, — an old absurdity which is ever new. To her 
 thinking, even the parliamentary judges were of small 
 account ; she wished for titled persons in her salons, or 
 at all events, those who had the right of entrance at 
 court. To say that many cordons hleus were seen at 
 her house would be false ; but it is quite certain that 
 she managed to obtain the good- will and civilities of 
 several members of the house of Rohan, as was proved 
 later in the affair of the too celebrated diamond neck- 
 lace. 
 
 One evening — it was, I think, in August, 1786 — I 
 was much surprised to meet in the salons of this lady, 
 so exacting in the matter of gentilit}', two new faces 
 which struck me as belonging to men of inferior social 
 position. She came to me presently in the embrasure 
 of a window where* I had ensconced myself. 
 
 "Tell me," I said to her, with a glance toward one 
 of the new-comers, " who and what is that queer 
 species? Why do you have that kind of thing here?" 
 
 " He is charming." 
 
 " Do you see him through a prism of love, or am I 
 blind?" 
 
 " You are not blind," she said, laughing. '' The 
 man is as ugly as a caterpillar ; but he has done me 
 the most immense service a woman can receive from 
 
 a man." 
 
404 Catherine de' Medici, 
 
 As I looked at her rather maliciously she hastened 
 to add: ''He's a physician, and he has completely 
 cured me of those odious red blotches which spoiled my 
 complexion and made me look like a peasant woman." 
 
 I shrugged my shoulders with disgust. 
 
 " He is a charlatan." 
 
 "No," she said, "he is the surgeon of the court 
 pages. He has a fine intellect, I assure you ; in fact, 
 he is a writer, and a very learned man." 
 
 " Heavens! if his style resembles his face!" I said 
 scojBingl}'. " But who is the other?" 
 
 "What other?" 
 
 "That spruce, affected little popinjay over there, who 
 looks as if he had been drinking verjuice." 
 
 "He is rather a well-born man," she replied; "just 
 arrived from some province, I forget which — oh ! from 
 Artois. He is sent here to conclude an affair in which 
 the Cardinal de Rohan is interested, and his Eminence 
 in person has just presented him to Monsieur de Saint- 
 James. It seems thej' have both chosen my husband 
 as arbitrator. The provincial did n't show his wisdom 
 in that ; but fancy what simpletons the people who 
 sent him here must be to trust a case to a man of his 
 sort ! He is as meek as a sheep and as timid as a 
 girl. His Eminence is ver}' kind to him." 
 
 " What is the nature of the affair?" 
 
 " Oh ! a question of three hundred thousand francs." 
 
 " Then the man is a lawyer?" I said, with a slight 
 shrug. 
 
 " Yes," she replied. 
 
 Somewhat confused by this humiliating avowal, 
 Madame Bodard returned to her place at a faro-table. 
 
Catherine de' Medici. 405 
 
 All the tables were full. I had nothing to do, no 
 one to speak to, and I had just lost two thousand 
 crowns to Monsieur de Laval. I flung myself on a 
 sofa near the fireplace. Presently, if there was ever a 
 man on earth most utterly astonished it was I, when, on 
 looking up, I saw, seated on another sofa on the opposite 
 side of the fireplace, Monsieur de Calonne, the comp- 
 troller-general. He seemed to be dozing, or else he 
 was buried in one of those deep meditations which over- 
 take statesmen. When I pointed out the famous min- 
 ister to Beaumarchais, who happened to come near me 
 at that moment, the father of Figaro explained the 
 mystery of his presence in that house without uttering 
 a word. He pointed first at my head, then at Bodard's 
 with a malicious gesture which consisted in turning to 
 each of us two fingers of his hand while he kept the 
 others doubled up. My first impulse was to rise and 
 say something rousing to Calonne ; then I paused, first, 
 because I thought of a trick I could play the statesman, 
 and secondl}', because Beaumarchais caught me famil- 
 iarly' b}^ the hand. 
 
 *' Why do 3'ou do that, monsieur?" I said. 
 
 He winked at the comptroller. 
 
 '' Don't wake him," he said in a low voice. '' A man 
 is happy when asleep." 
 
 " Pray, is sleep a financial scheme? " I whispered. 
 
 " Indeed, yes ! " said Calonne, who had guessed our 
 words from the mere motion of our lips. "Would 
 to God we could sleep long, and then the awakening 
 you are about to see would never happen." 
 
 " Monseigneur," said the dramatist, "I must thank 
 you — " 
 
406 Catherine de^ Medici, 
 
 'Tor what?" 
 
 " Monsieur de Mirabeau has started for Berlin. I 
 don't know whether we might not both have drowned 
 ourselves in that affair of ' les Eaux.' " 
 
 " You have too much memor}-, and too little grati- 
 tude," replied the minister, annoyed at having one of 
 his secrets divulged in my presence. 
 
 " Possibl}'," said Beaumarchais, cut to the quick; 
 '' but I have millions that can balance many a score." 
 
 Calonne pretended not to hear. 
 
 It was long past midnight when the play ceased. 
 Supper was announced. There were ten of us at table : 
 Bodard and his wife, Calonne, Beaumarchais, the two 
 strange men, two pretty women, whose names I will 
 not give here, 2i fermier-generaly Lavoisier, and myself. 
 Out of thirty guests who were in the salon when I 
 entered it, onl}- these ten remained. The two queer 
 species did not consent to sta}^ until they were urged 
 to do so by Madame Bodard, who probably thought she 
 was paying her obhgations to the surgeon by giving 
 him something to eat, and pleasing her husband (with 
 whom she appeared, I don't preciselj^ know wh}', to be 
 coquetting) b}^ inviting the lawyer. 
 
 The supper began b}- being frightfully dull. The two 
 strangers and the ferniier- general oppressed us. I 
 made a sign to Beaumarchais to intoxicate the son of 
 Escnlapius, who sat on his right, giving him to under- 
 stand that I would do the same b}- the law3'er, who was 
 next to me. As there seemed no other wa}^ to amuse 
 ourselves, and it offered a chance to draw out the two 
 men, who were already sufficiently singular, Monsieur 
 de Calonne smiled at our project. The ladies present 
 
Catherine de* Medici, 407 
 
 also shared in the bacchanal conspiracy, and the wine 
 of Sillery crowned our glasses again and again with its 
 silvery foam. The surgeon was easily managed ; but 
 at the second glass which I offered to my neighbor the 
 lawyer, he told me with the frigid politeness of a 
 usurer that he should drink no more. 
 
 At this instant Madame de Saint-James chanced to 
 introduce, I scarcely know how, the topic of the marvel- 
 lous suppers to the Comte de Cagliostro, given by the 
 Cardinal de Rohan. My mind was not ver\^ attentive to 
 what the mistress of the house was saying, because I was 
 watching with extreme curiosity the pinched and livid 
 face of my little neighbor, whose principal feature was 
 a turned-up and at the same time pointed nose, which 
 made him, at times, look very like a weasel. Suddenly 
 his cheeks flushed as he caught the words of a dispute 
 between Madame de Saint-James and Monsieur de 
 Calonne. 
 
 " But I assure you, monsieur," she was saying, with 
 an imperious air, " that I saw Cleopatra, the queen." 
 
 ''I can believe it, madame," said mj- neighbor, "for 
 I myself have spoken to Catherine de' Medici." 
 
 '' Oh ! oh ! " exclaimed Monsieur de Calonne. 
 
 The words uttered b\" the little provincial were said 
 in a voice of strange sonorousness, if I may be per- 
 mitted to borrow that expression from the science of 
 physics. This sudden clearness of intonation, coming 
 from a man who had hitherto scarcely spoken, and then 
 in a low and modulated tone, surprised all present 
 exceedingly. 
 
 ''Why, he is talking!" said the surgeon, who was 
 now in a satisfactory state of drunkenness, addressing 
 Beaumarchais. 
 
408 Catherine de' Medici, 
 
 " His neighbor must have pulled his wires," replied 
 the satirist. 
 
 My man flushed again as he overheard the "words, 
 though tliey were said in a low voice. 
 
 "And pra}^, how was the late queen ? " asked Calonne, 
 jestingl\'. 
 
 "I will not swear that the '"person with whom I 
 supped last night at the house of Cardinal de Rohan 
 was Catherine de' Medici in person. That miracle 
 would justl}" seem impossible to Christians as well as 
 to philosophers," said the little law^-er, resting the tips 
 of his fingers on the table, and leaning back in his 
 chair as if preparing to make a speech. " Never- 
 theless, I do assert that the woman I saw resembled 
 Catherine de' Medici as closelj' as though they were 
 twin-sisters. She was dressed in a black velvet gown, 
 precisely like that of the queen in the well-known por- 
 trait which belongs to the king ; on her head was the 
 pointed velvet coif, which is characteristic of her ; and 
 she had the wan complexion, and the features we all 
 know well. I could not help betra^'ing my surprise to 
 his Eminence. The suddenness of the evocation seemed 
 to me all the more amazing because Monsieur de Cagli- 
 ostro had been unable to divine the name of the person 
 with whom I wished to communicate. I was con- 
 founded. The magical spectacle of a supper, where one 
 of the illustrious women of past times presented herself, 
 took from me my presence of mind. I listened without 
 daring to question. When I roused myself about mid- 
 night from the spell of that magic, I was inclined to 
 doubt my senses. But even this great marvel seemed 
 natural in comparison with the singular hallucination to 
 
Catherine de* Medici, 409 
 
 which I was presently subjected. I don't know in what 
 words I can describe to you the state of my senses. 
 But I declare, in the sincerit}^ of my heart, I no longer 
 wonder that souls have been found weak enough, or 
 strong enough, to believe in the mysteries of magic and 
 and in the power of demons. For myself, until I am 
 better informed, I regard as possible the apparitions 
 which Cardan and other thaumaturgists describe." 
 
 These words, said with indescribable eloquence of 
 tone, were of a nature to rouse the curiosity of all 
 present. We looked at the speaker and kept silence ; 
 our eyes alone betrayed our interest, their pupils reflect- 
 ins: the light of the wax-candles in the sconces. Bv dint 
 of observing this unknown little man, I fancied I could 
 see the pores of his skin, especially those of his fore- 
 head, emitting an inward sentiment with which he was 
 saturated. This man, apparently so cold and formal, 
 seemed to contain within him a burning altar, the 
 flames of which beat down upon us. 
 
 "I do not know," he continued, "if the Figure 
 evoked followed me invisibly, but no sooner had my 
 head touched the pillow in my own chamber than I 
 saw once more that grand Shade of Catherine rise 
 before me. I felt myself, instinctively, in a luminous 
 sphere, and my eyes, fastened upon the queen with 
 intolerable fixity, saw naught but her. Suddenly', she 
 bent toward me." 
 
 At these words the ladies present made a unanimous 
 movement of curiosit}'. 
 
 " But," continued the lawyer, "I am not sure that I 
 ought to relate what happened, for though I am inclined 
 to believe it was all a dream, it concerns grave matters. 
 
410 Catherine de' Medici, 
 
 " Of religion?" asked Beaumarchais. 
 
 " If there is an}' impropriety," remarked Cak)nne, 
 " these ladies will excuse it." 
 
 " It relates to government," replied the lawj'er. 
 
 " Goon, then," said the minister ; '' Voltaire, Diderot, 
 and their fellows have alread}' begun to tutor us on that 
 subject." 
 
 Calonne became ver}^ attentive, and his neighbor, 
 Madame de Genlis, rather anxious. The little provin- 
 cial still hesitated, and Beaumarchais said to him some- 
 what roughl}^ : — 
 
 *' Go on, mmtre, go on ! Don't 3'ou know that when 
 the laws allow but little liberty the people seek their 
 freedom in their morals?" 
 
 Thus adjured, the small man told his tale : — 
 
 " Whether it was that certain ideas were fermenting 
 in my brain, or that some strange power impelled me, 
 I said to her : ^ Ah ! raadame, you committed a very 
 great crime.' 'What crime?* she asked in a grave 
 voice. ' The crime for which the signal was given from 
 the clock of the palace on the 24th of August,' I an- 
 swered. She smiled disdainfully, and a few deep 
 wrinkles appeared on her pallid cheeks. 'You call 
 that a crime which was onl}- a misfortune,' she said. 
 'The enterprise, being ill-managed, failed; the benefit 
 we expected for France, for Europe, for the Catholic 
 Church was lost. Impossible to foresee that. Our 
 orders were ill executed ; we did not find as many 
 Montlucs as we needed. Posteritj^ will not hold us 
 responsible for the failure of communications, which 
 deprived our work of the unit}^ of movement which is 
 essential to all great strokes of policy ; that was our 
 
Catherine de' Medici. All 
 
 misfortune ! If on the 25tb of August not the shadow 
 of a Huguenot had been left in France, I should go 
 down to the uttermost posterity- as a noble image of 
 Providence. How many, many times have the clear- 
 sighted souls of Sixtus the Fifth, Richelieu, Bossuet, 
 reproached me secretly for having failed in that enter- 
 prise after having the boldness to conceive it ! How 
 many and deep regrets for that failure attended my 
 deathbed ! Thirty years after the Saint-Bartholomew 
 the evil it might have cured was still in existence. 
 That failure caused ten times more blood to flow in 
 France than if the massacre of August 24th had been 
 completed on the 26th. The revocation of the Edict of 
 Nantes, in honor of which 3^ou have struck medals, 
 has cost more tears, more blood, more mone}', and killed 
 the prosperit}^ of France far more than three Saint- 
 Bartholomews. Letellier with his pen gave effect to 
 a decree which the throne had secretly promulgated 
 since my time ; but, though the vast execution was 
 necessary of the 25th of August, 1572, on the 25th of 
 August, 1685, it was useless. Under the second son of 
 Henri de Valois heres}^ had scarcely conceived an off- 
 spring ; under the second son of Henri de Bourbon 
 that teeming mother had cast her spawn over the whole 
 universe. You accuse me of a crime, and you put up 
 statues to the son of Anne of Austria! Nevertheless, 
 he and I attempted the same thing ; he succeeded, I 
 failed ; but Louis XIV. found the Protestants without 
 arms, whereas in my reign they had powerful armies, 
 statesmen, warriors, and all Germany on their side.' 
 At these words, slowly uttered, I felt an inward shudder 
 pass through me. I fancied I breathed the fumes of 
 
412 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 blood from I know not what great mass of victims. 
 Catherine was magnified. She stood before me like an 
 evil genius ; she sought, it seemed to me, to enter my 
 consciousness and abide there." 
 
 ''He dreamed all that,'' whispered Beaumarchais ; 
 " he certainly never invented it." 
 
 utjyjy reason is bewildered/ I said to the queen. 
 ' You praise yourself for an act which three generations 
 of men have condemned, stigmatized, and — ' ' Add/ 
 she rejoined, ' that historians have been more unjust 
 toward me than my contemporaries. None have de- 
 fended me. I, rich and all-powerful, am accused of 
 ambition ! I am taxed with cruelty', — I who have but 
 two deaths upon my conscience. Even to impartial 
 minds I am still a problem. Do you believe that I was 
 actuated by hatred, that vengeance and fury were the 
 breath of my nostrils ? ' She smiled with pity. ' No,' 
 she continued, 'I was cold and calm as reason itself. 
 I condemned the Huguenots without pity, but without 
 passion ; they were the rotten fruit in my basket and I 
 cast them out. Had I been Queen of England, I should 
 have treated seditious Catholics in the same way. The 
 life of our power in those days depended on there being 
 but one God, one Faith, one Master in the State. 
 Happily for me, I uttered my justification in one sen- 
 tence which history is transmitting. When Birago 
 falsel}' announced to me the loss of the battle of Dreux, 
 I answered : '' Well then ; we will go to the Protestant 
 churches." Did I hate the Reformers ? No, I esteemed 
 them much, and I knew them little. If I felt any aver- 
 sion to the politicians of my time, it was to that base 
 Cardinal de Lorraine, and to his brother the shrewd 
 
Catherine de' Medici, 413 
 
 and brutal soldier who spied upon my ever}^ act. They 
 were the real enemies of my children ; they sought to 
 snatch the crown ; I saw them daily at work and they 
 wore me out. If we had not ordered the Saint-Barthol- 
 omew, the Guises would have done the same thing by 
 the help of Rome and the monks. The League, which 
 was powerful only in consequence of my old age, would 
 have begun in 1573/ * But, madame, instead of or- 
 dering that horrible murder (pardon my plainness) why 
 not have emploj^ed the vast resources of your political 
 power in giving to the Reformers those wise institu- 
 tions which made the reign of Henri IV. so glorious and 
 so peaceful?' She smiled again and shrugged her 
 shoulders, the hollow wrinkles of her pallid face giv- 
 ing her an expression of the bitterest sarcasm. ' The 
 peoples,' she said, ' need periods of rest after savage 
 feuds ; there lies the secret of that reign. But Henri 
 IV. committed two irreparable blunders. He ought 
 neither to have abjured Protestantism, nor, after be- 
 coming a Catholic himself, should he have left France 
 Catholic. He, alone, was in a position to have changed 
 the whole face of France without a jar. Either not a 
 stole, or not a conventicle — that should have been his 
 motto. To leave two bitter enemies, two antagonistic 
 principles in a government with nothing to balance 
 them, that is the crime of kings ; it is thus that they 
 sow revolutions. To God alone belongs the rio;ht to 
 keep good and evil perpetually together in his work. 
 But it may be,' she said reflectively, ' that that sentence 
 was inscribed on the foundation of Henri IV. 's policy, 
 and it may have caused his death. It is impossible that 
 Sully did not cast covetous ejes on the vast wealth of 
 
414 Catherine cle' Medici, 
 
 the clerg}', — which the clerg}^ did not possess in peace, 
 for the nobles robbed them of at least two-thirds of 
 their revenue. Sully, the Reformer, himself owned 
 abbeys.* She paused, and appeared to reflect. ' But,* 
 she resumed, ' remember you are asking the niece of a 
 pope to justif}' her Catholicism.* She stopped again. 
 ' And yet, after all,* she added with a gesture of some 
 levit}', ' I should have made a good Calvinist ! Do the 
 wise men of 3'our centur}' still think that religion had 
 anything to do with that struggle, the greatest which 
 Europe has ever seen ? — a vast revolution, retarded by 
 little causes which, however, will not be prevented from 
 overwhelming the world because I failed to smother 
 it; a revolution,* she said, giving me a solemn look, 
 * which is still advancing, and which 3'ou might consum- 
 mate. Yes, 2/ow, who hear me ! * I shuddered. ' What ! 
 has no one yet understood that the old interests and 
 the new interests seized Rome and Luther as mere ban- 
 ners ? What ! do they not know that Louis IX., to escape 
 just such a struggle, dragged a population a hundredfold 
 more in number than I destroyed from their homes and 
 left their bones on the sands of Egypt, for which he was 
 made a saint? while I — But I,* she added, 'failed.* 
 She bowed her head and was silent for some moments. 
 I no longer beheld a queen, but rather one of those 
 ancient druidesses to whom human lives are sacrificed ; 
 who unroll the pages of tlie future and exhume the 
 teachings of the past. But soon she uplifted her regal 
 and majestic form. ' Luther and Calvin,* she said, 'b}^ 
 calling the attention of the burghers to the abuses of 
 the Roman Church, gave birth in Europe to a spirit of 
 investigation which was certain to lead the peoples to 
 
I 
 
 Catherine de* Medici. 415 
 
 examine all things. Examination leads to doubt. In- 
 stead of faith, which is necessarj^ to all societies, those 
 two men drew after them, in the far distance, a strange 
 philosopiiy, armed with hammers, liungr}^ for destruc- 
 tion. Science sprang, sparkling with her specious lights, 
 from the bosom of heresy. It was far less a question 
 of reforming a Church than of winning indefinite liberty 
 for man — which is the death of power. I saw that. 
 The consequence of the successes won by the religion- 
 ists in their struggle against the priesthood (already 
 better armed and more formidable than the Crown) 
 was the destruction of the monarchical power raised by 
 Louis XI. at such vast cost upon the ruins of feudalit}'. 
 It involved, in fact, nothing less than the annihilation 
 of religion and royalty", on the ruins of which the whole 
 burgher class of Europe meant to stand. The struggle 
 was therefore war without quarter between the new ideas 
 and the law, — that is, the old beliefs. The Catholics 
 were the emblem of the material interests of royalt}', of 
 the great lords, and of the clergy. It was a duel to 
 the death between two giants ; unfortunatel}', the Saint- 
 Bartholomew proved to be only a wound. Remember 
 this : because a few drops of blood were spared at that 
 opportune moment, torrents were compelled to flow at a 
 later period. The intellect which soars above a nation 
 cannot escape a great misfortune ; I mean the misfor- 
 tune of finding no equals capable of judging it when it 
 succumbs beneath the weight of untoward events. My 
 equals are few ; fools are in the majority : that state- 
 ment explains all. If my name is execrated in France, 
 the fault lies with the commonplace minds who form the 
 mass of all generations. In the great crises through 
 
416 Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 which I passed, the duty of reigning was not the mere 
 giving of audiences, reviewing of troops, signing of 
 decrees. I may have committed mistakes, for I was 
 but a woman. But why was there then no man who 
 rose above his age? The Duke of Alba had a soul 
 of iron; Philip II. was stupefied b}^ CathoHc belief; 
 Henri IV. was a gambling soldier and a libertine ; the 
 Admiral, a stubborn mule. Louis XI. lived too soon, 
 Kichelieu too late. Virtuous or criminal, guilty or not 
 in the Saint-Bartholomew, I accept the onus of it ; I 
 stand between those two great men, — the visible link 
 of an unseen chain. The day will come when some 
 paradoxical writer will ask if the peoples have not be- 
 stowed the title of executioner upon their victims. It 
 will not be the first time that humanity has preferred to 
 immolate a god rather than admit its own guilt. You 
 are shedding upon two hundred clowns, sacrificed for 
 a purpose, the tears you refuse to a generation, a cen- 
 tury, a world ! You forget that political liberty, the 
 tranquillit}' of a nation, nay, knowledge itself, are 
 gifts on which destiny has laid a tax of blood ! ' ' But,' 
 I exclaimed, with tears in my eyes, * will the nations 
 never be happy at less cost ? ' ' Truth never leaves 
 her well but to bathe in the blood which refreshes her,* 
 she replied. ' Christianity, itself the essence of all truth, 
 since it comes from God, was fed b^^ the blood of mar- 
 t3^rs, which flowed in torrents ; and shall it not ever 
 flow? You will learn this, you who are destined to be 
 one of the builders of the social edifice founded by the 
 Apostles. So long as you level heads you will be ap- 
 plauded, but take your trowel in hand, begin to recon- 
 struct, and your fellow^ will kill 30U/ Blood! blood! 
 
Catherine de' Medici. 411 
 
 the word sounded in my ears like a knell. * According 
 to you,' I cried, ' Protestantism has the right to reason 
 as you do ! * But Catherine had disappeared, as if some 
 puff of air had suddenly extinguished the supernatural 
 light which enabled mv mind to see that Figure whose 
 proportions had gradually become gigantic. And then, 
 without warning, I found within me a portion of myself 
 which adopted the monstrous doctrine delivered by the 
 Italian. I woke, weeping, bathed in sweat, at the mo- 
 ment when m}" reason told me firmly, in a gentle voice, 
 that neither kings nor nations had the right to apply 
 such principles, fit only for a world of atheists." 
 
 '' How would you save a falling monarchy? *' asked 
 Beaumarchais. 
 
 '' God is present," replied the little lawyer. 
 
 "• Therefore," remarked Monsieur de Calonne, with 
 the inconceivable levitv which characterized him, ^' we 
 have the agreeable resource of believing ourselves 
 the instruments of God, according to the Gospel of 
 Bossuet." 
 
 As soon as the ladies discovered that the tale related 
 only to a conversation between the queen and the 
 lawyer, they had begun to whisper and to show signs 
 of impatience, — interjecting, now and then, little phrases 
 through his speech. * How wearisome he is ! ' ' M}' 
 dear, when will he finish ? ' were among those which 
 reached my ear. 
 
 When the strange little man had ceased speaking 
 the ladies too were silent ; Monsieur Bodard was sound 
 asleep ; the surgeon, half drunk ; Monsieur de Calonne 
 was smiling at the lady next him. Lavoisier, Beau- 
 marchais, and I alone had listened to the lawyer's 
 
 27 
 
418 Catherine de' Medici, 
 
 dream. The silence at this moment had something 
 solemn about it. The gleam of the candles seemed to 
 me magical. A sentiment bound all three of us by 
 some mysterious tie to that singular little man, who 
 made me, strange to say, conceive, suddenlj^, the 
 inexplicable influences of fanaticism. Nothing less 
 than the hollow, cavernous voice of Beaumarchais's 
 neighbor, the surgeon, could, I think, have roused me. 
 
 '' I, too, have dreamed," he said. 
 
 I looked at him more attentivel}', and a feeling of 
 some strange horror came over me. His livid skin, his 
 features, huge and 3^et ignoble, gave an exact idea of 
 what 3'ou must allow me to call the scum of the earth. 
 A few bluish-black spots were scattered over his face, 
 like bits of mud, and his eyes shot forth an evil gleam. 
 The face seemed, perhaps, darker, more lowering than 
 it was, because of the white hair piled like hoarfrost on 
 his head. 
 
 " That man must have buried many a patient," I 
 whispered to m}^ neighbor the law3'er. 
 
 " I would n't trust him with my dog," he answered. 
 
 *' 1 hate him involuntaril}*." 
 
 " For my part, I despise him." 
 
 " Perhaps we are unjust," I remarked. 
 
 *' Ha ! to-morrow he may be as famous as Volange 
 the actor." 
 
 Monsieur de Calonne here motioned us to look at the 
 surgeon, with a gesture that seemed to sa}' : ''I think 
 he '11 be very amusing." 
 
 " Did 3'ou dream of a queen? " asked Beaumarchais. 
 
 " No, I dreamed of a People," replied the surgeon, 
 with an emphasis which made us laugh. " I was then 
 
Catherine de' Medici. 419 
 
 in charge of a patient wiiose leg I was to amputate the 
 next day — " 
 
 " Did you find the People in the leg of your patient? " 
 asked Monsieur de Calonne. 
 
 ''Precisely," replied the surgeon. 
 
 " How amusing ! " cried Madame de Genlis. 
 
 " I was somewhat surprised," went on the speaker, 
 without noticing the interruption, and sticking his 
 hands into the gussets of his breeches, " to hear 
 something talking to me within that leg. I then found 
 I had the singular faculty of entering the being of my 
 patient. Once within his skin I saw a marvellous 
 number of little creatures which moved, and thought, 
 and reasoned. Some of them lived in the body of the 
 man, others lived in his mind. His ideas were beings 
 which were born, and grew, and died ; they were sick 
 and well, and gaj^ , and sad ; they all had special 
 countenances ; they fought with each other, or the}'' 
 embraced each other. Some ideas sprang forth and 
 went to live in the world of intellect. I began to see 
 that there were two worlds, two universes, — the visible 
 universe, and the invisible universe ; that the earth 
 had, like man, a bod}' and a soul. Nature illumined 
 herself for me ; I felt her immensity when I saw the 
 oceans of beings who, in masses and in species, spread 
 everywhere, making one sole and uniform animated 
 Matter, from the stone of the earth to God. Magni- 
 ficent vision ! In short, I found a universe within 
 my patient. When I inserted my knife into his 
 gangrened leg I cut into a million of those little beings. 
 Oh ! you laugh, madame ; let me tell you that you 
 are eaten up by such creatures — " 
 
420 Catherine de' Medici, 
 
 '-'- No personalities !" interposed Monsieur de Calonne. 
 *' Speak for yourself and for your patient." 
 
 '' My patient, frightened by the cries of his ani- 
 malcules, wanted to stop the operation ; but I went on 
 regardless of his remonstrances ; telling him that those 
 evil animals were already gnawing at his bones. He 
 made a sudden movement of resistance, not under- 
 standing that what I did was for his good, and my 
 knife slipped aside, entered m}^ own body, and — " 
 
 " He is stupid," said Lavoisier. 
 
 *' No, he is drunk," replied Beaumarchais. 
 
 " But, gentlemen, my dream has a meaning," cried 
 the surgeon. 
 
 '' Oh ! oh ! " exclaimed Bodard, waking up ; " mj^leg 
 is asleep ! " 
 
 " Your animalcules must be dead," said his wife. 
 
 " That man has a vocation," announced m}" little 
 neighbor, who had stared imperturbably at the 
 surgeon while he was speaking. 
 
 " It is to yours," said the ugly man, " what the action 
 is to the word, the body to the soul." 
 
 But his tongue grew thick, his words were indistinct, 
 and he said no more. Fortunately for us the conver- 
 sation took another turn. At the end of half an hour 
 we had forgotten the surgeon of the king's pages, who 
 was fast asleep. Rain was falling in torrents as we 
 left the supper-table. 
 
 "The lawyer is no fool," I said to Beaumarchais. 
 
 " True, but he is cold and dull. You see, however, 
 that the provinces are still sending us worth}' men who 
 take a serious view of political theories and the history 
 of France. It is a leaven which will rise.'* 
 
Catherine de' Medici. 421 
 
 " Is your carriage here?" asked Madame de Saint- 
 James, addressing me. 
 
 '' No," I replied, '' I did not think that I should need 
 it to-night." 
 
 Madame de Saint- James then rang the bell, ordered 
 her own carriage to be brought round, and said to the 
 little lawyer in a low voice : — 
 
 " Monsieur de Robespierre, will you do me the kind- 
 ness to drop Monsieur Marat at his own door ? — for he 
 is not in a state to go alone." 
 
 "With pleasure, madame," replied Monsieur de 
 Robespierre, with his finical gallantr}-. " I only wish 
 you had requested me to do something more difficult." 
 
 THE END. 
 
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