ILLUSTRIOUS DAMES 
 
 OF THE COURT OF 
 
 THE 
 
 VALOIS KINGS 
 
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 KATHARINE PRESCOTT WORMELEY 
 
 TRANSLATOR 
 
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 Illustrious Dames 
 
 of tke Court of 
 
 Tke Valois Kings 
 
 by 
 
 PIERRE DE BOURDEILLE 
 
 and 
 
 C.-A. SAINT-BEUVE 
 
 5^' 
 
 I 5 - 
 
 Literally Translated by 
 
 KATHARINE PRESCOTT WORMELEY 
 
 Illustrated with Photogravure* from 
 the Original Paintings 
 
 NF.W YORK 
 
 The Lamb Publishing Co. 
 
 MCMXII
 
 Copyright 1912 by 
 
 THE LAMB PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 
 All Tiithti Rettrvtd
 
 FOREWORD 
 
 About twelve years ago this translation of the personal 
 recollections and records of the Abb6 de Brantome, who has 
 been called the ' ' Valet de Chambre' ' of history, by Katharine 
 Prescott Wormeley, was issued in a most elaborate and ex- 
 pensive style. The cost of translation and reproduction was 
 considerable and the work was sold at a correspondingly 
 high price, which practically placed it beyond the reach 
 of the ordinary reader. 
 
 The present issue, complete in every respect, with all 
 the illustrations of the costly original edition, is now pub- 
 lished to meet the demand for a less expensive form of this 
 realistic and intimate chronicle of the illustrious women of 
 the most luxurious European court at the most brilliant 
 epoch of its existence. 
 
 The Abbe left a priceless and artlessly written chronicle 
 of the Valois women who were largely responsible for the ruin- 
 ous extravagance and the colossal crimes of the period. He 
 introduces us to the crafty Florentine, Catharine de Medici ; 
 her beautiful daughters, Marguerite de Valois and Elizabeth 
 of Spain ; Diane de Poitiers, the woman of perennial youth 
 and beauty ; Jeanne d' Albert, mother of Henry IV, who was 
 poisoned by the revengeful Catharine ; and others more or 
 less prominent, with their attending satellites. 
 
 It was a time when were sown the earUest seeds which 
 two centuries later blossomed into the Terrors of the French 
 Revolution. 
 January 1912. G. E. C.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Paob 
 
 INTRODUCTION 1 
 
 DISCOUESE I. Anne de Bretagne, Queen of France .... 25 
 
 Sainte-Beuve's remarks upon her 40 
 
 DISCOURSE II. Catherine de' Medici, Queen, and mother of 
 
 our last kings 44 
 
 Sainte-Beuve's remarks upon her 86 
 
 DISCOURSE III. Marie Stuart, Queen of Scotland, formerly 
 
 Queen of our France 89 
 
 Sainte-Beuve's essay on her 121 
 
 DISCOURSE IV. :6lisabeth of France, Queen of Spain ... 138 
 
 DISCOURSE V. Marguerite, Queen of France and of Navarre, 
 
 sole daughter now remaining of the Noble House of France 152 
 
 Sainte-Beuve's essay on her 193 
 
 DISCOURSE VI. Mesdames, the Daughters of the Noble House 
 of France : 
 
 Madame Yoland 214 
 
 Madame Jeanne 215 
 
 Madame Anne 216 
 
 Madame Claude 219 
 
 Madame Rene'e 220 
 
 Mesdames Charlotte, Louise, Magdelaine, Marguerite .... 223 
 
 Mesdames Elisabeth, Claude, and Marguerite 229 
 
 Madame Diane 231 
 
 Marguerite de Valois, Queen of Navarre 234 
 
 Sainte-Beuve's essay on the latter 243
 
 iv CONTENTS. 
 
 DISCOUKSE VII. Of Various Illusteiotts Ladies: Paoe 
 
 Isabelle d'Autriche, wife of Charles IX 262 
 
 Jeanne d'Autriche, wife of the Infante of Portugal 270 
 
 Marie d'Autriche, wife of the King of Hungary 273 
 
 Louise de Lorraine, wife of Henri III 280 
 
 Marguerite de Lorraine, wife of the Due de Joyeuse 282 
 
 Christine of Denmark, wife of the Due de Lorraine 283 
 
 Marie d'Autriche, wife of the Emperor Maximilian II. .... 291 
 
 Blanche de Montferrat, Duchesse de Savoie 293 
 
 Catherine de Cleves, wife of Henri I. de Lorraine, Due de Guise 297 
 
 Madame de Bourdeille 297 
 
 APPENDIX 299 
 
 INDEX 306
 
 LIST OF 
 PHOTOGRAVURE ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Coronation of Marie de' Medici Frontispiece 
 
 With Portraits, by Rubens (Peter Paul) ; in the Louvre. See de- 
 scription in Note to the Discourse. 
 
 FACINa 
 PAGK 
 
 Catherine de' Medici, Queen of France 44 
 
 School of the sixteenth century ; in the Louvre. 
 
 Ball at the Court of Henri III 81 
 
 With Portraits, attributed to Frangois Clouet ; in the Louvre. See 
 description in Note to Discourse VIL 
 
 Marie Stuart 120 
 
 School of the sixteenth century ; Versailles. 
 
 Elisabeth de France, Queen of Spain 185 
 
 By Rubens ; in the Louvre. 
 
 Diane de France, Duchesse d'Angouleme 233 
 
 School of the sixteenth century; in the Louvre. 
 
 Isabelle d'Autriche, Wife op Charles IX 262 
 
 By Franjois Clouet; in the Louvre. 
 
 Louise de Lorraine, Wife of Henri HI 280 
 
 School of the sixteenth century ; in the Louvre.
 
 INTRODUCTION.* 
 
 The title, " Vie des Dames lUustres," given habitually to 
 one volume of Brantome's Works, is not that which was 
 chosen by its author. It was given by his first editor fifty 
 years after his death; Brantome himself having called his 
 work "The Book of the Ladies." 
 
 One of his earliest commentators, Castelnaud, almost a 
 cotemporary, says of him in his Memoirs : — 
 
 "Pierre de Bourdeille, Abb^ de Brantome, author of vol- 
 umes of which I have availed myself in various parts of this 
 history, used his quality as one of those warrior abb^s who 
 were called Ablates Milites under the second race of our 
 kings ; never ceasing for all that to follow arms and the 
 Court, where his services won him the Collar of the Order and 
 the dignity of gentleman of the Bedchamber to the King. 
 
 " He frequented, with unusual esteem for his courage and 
 intelligence, the principal Courts of Europe, such as Spain, 
 Portugal (where the king honoured him with his Order), 
 Scotland, and those of the Princes of Italy. He went to 
 Malta, seeking an occasion to distinguish himself, and after that 
 lost none in our wars of France. But, although he managed 
 perfectly all the great captains of his time and belonged to 
 them by alliance of friendship, fortune was ever contrary to 
 
 1 Taken chiefly from the Essays preceding the yarious editions of 
 Brantome's works published in tlie 18th and 19th centuries ; some of wliich 
 are anonymous ; the more recent being those of M. H. Vignaud and M. 
 Henri Moland. — Tr. ^
 
 2 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 him ; so that he never obtained a position worthy, not of his 
 merits only, but of a name so illustrious as his. 
 
 " It was this that made him of a rather bad humour in his 
 retreat at Brantome, where he set himself to compose his 
 books in different frames of mind, according as the persons 
 who recurred to his memory stirred his bile or touched his 
 heart. It is to be wished that lie had written a discourse on 
 himself alone, like other seigneurs of his time. He would 
 then have shown us much, if nothing were omitted in it ; 
 but perhaps he abstained from doing this in order not to 
 declare his inclinations for the House of Lorraine at the very 
 moment of the ruin of all its schemes ; for he was greatly 
 attached to that house, and it appears in various places that 
 he had more respect than affection for the House of Bourbon. 
 It was this that made him take part against the Salic law, in 
 behalf of Queen Marguerite, whom he esteemed infinitely, 
 and whom he saw, with regret, deprived of the Crown of 
 France. 
 
 " In many other matters he gives out sentiments which have 
 more of the courtier than the abb^ ; indeed to be a courtier 
 was his principal profession, as it still is with the greater 
 part of the abb(?s of the present day ; and in view of this 
 quality we must pardon various little liberties which would 
 be less pardonable in a sworn historian. 
 
 " I do not speak of the volume of the ' Dames Galantes ' in 
 order not to condemn the memory of a nobleman whose other 
 Works have rendered him worthy of so much esteem; I 
 attribute the crime of that book to the dissolute habits of the 
 Court of his time, about which more terrible tales could be 
 told than those he relates. 
 
 " There is something to complain of in the method with 
 which he writes; but perhaps the name of 'Notes' may 
 cover this defect. However that may be, we can gather from
 
 INTRODUCTION. 3 
 
 him much and very important knowledge on our History ; 
 and France is so indebted to him for this labour that I do 
 not hesitate to say that the services of his sword must yield 
 in value to those of his pen. He had much wit and was 
 well read in Letters. In youth he was very pleasing ; but 
 I have heard those who knew him intimately say that the 
 griefs of his old age lay heavier upon him than his arms, and 
 were more displeasing than the toils and fatigues of war by 
 sea or land. He regretted his past days, the loss of friends, 
 and he saw nothing that could equal the Court of the Valois, 
 in which he was born and bred. . . ." 
 
 " The family of Bourdeille is not only illustrious in tem- 
 poral prosperities, but it is remarkable throughout antiquity 
 for the valour of its ancestors. King Charlemagne held it 
 in great esteem,, which he showed by choosing, when the 
 splendid abbey of Brantome was founded in Pdrigord, that 
 the Seigneur de Bourdeille should be associated in that pious 
 work and be, with him, the founder of the Monastery. He 
 therefore made him its patron, and obliged his posterity to 
 defend it against all who might molest the monks and hinder 
 them in the enjoyment of their property. 
 
 " If we may rely on ancient deeds [pancartes'] still in pos- 
 session of this family, we must accord it a first rank among 
 those which claim to be descended from kings, inasmuch as 
 they carry back its origin to Marcomir, King of France, and 
 Tiloa Boardelia, daughter of a king of England. 
 
 "The same old deeds relate that Nicanor, son of this Mar- 
 comir, being appealed to by the people of Aquitaine to assist 
 them in throwing off the Roman yoke, and having come with 
 an army very near to Bordeaux, was compelled to withdraw 
 by the violence of the Eomans, who were stronger than he, 
 and also by a tempest that arose in the sea. Nicanor cast 
 anchor at an island, uninhabited on account of the wild be£,itj
 
 4 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 that peopled it, and especially certain griffins, animals with 
 four feet, and heads and wings like eagles. 
 
 " He had no sooner set foot on land with his men than he 
 was forced to fight these monsters, and after battling with 
 them a long time, not without loss of soldiers, he succeeded 
 in vanquishing them. With his own hand he killed the 
 largest and fiercest of them all, and cut off' his paws. This 
 victory greatly rejoiced all the neighbouring countries, which 
 had suffered much damage from these beasts. 
 
 " On account of this affair, Nicanor was ever after surnamed 
 ' The Griffin ' and honoured by every one, like Hercules 
 when he killed the Stymphalides in Arcadia, those birds of 
 prey that feed on human flesh. This is the origin of the 
 arms which the Seigneurs de Brantome bear to this day, to 
 wit: Or, two griffins' paws gules, onglde azure, counter 
 barred." 
 
 Pierre de Bourdeille, third son of Francois, Vicomte de 
 Bourdeille and Anne de Vivonne de la Chataignerie, was 
 born in the P^rigord in 1537, under the reign of Frangois I. 
 The family of Bourdeille is one of the most ancient and 
 respected in the P^rigord, which province borders on Gas- 
 cony and echoes, if we may say so, the caustic tongue and 
 rambling, restless temperaments that flourish on the banks of 
 the Garonne. " Not to boast of myself," says Brantome, " I 
 can assert that none of my race have ever been home-keeping ; 
 they have spent as much time in travels and wars as any, no 
 matter who they be, in France." 
 
 As for his father, Brantome gives an amusing account of 
 him as a true Gascon seigneur. He began Hfe by running 
 away from home to go to the wars in Italy, and roam the 
 world as an adventurer. He was, says Brantome, " a jovial 
 fellow, who could say his word and talk familiarly to the
 
 INTRODUCTION. 5 
 
 greatest personages.** Pope Julius II. took a fancy to him. 
 " One day they were playing cards together and the pope 
 won from my father three hundred crowns and his horses, 
 which were very fine, and all his equipments. After he had 
 lost all, he said : ' Chadieu henit ! ' (that was his oath when 
 he was angry ; when he was good-natured he swore : * Char- 
 don henit ! ') — ' Chadieu henit ! pope, play me five hundred 
 crowns against one of my ears, redeemable in eight days. If 
 I don't redeem it I '11 give you leave to cut it off, and eat it 
 if you Hke.' The pope took him at his word ; and confessed 
 afterwards that if my father had not redeemed his ear, he 
 would not have cut it off, but he would have forced him to 
 keep him company. They began to play again, and fortune 
 willed that my father won back everything except a fine 
 courser, a pretty httle Spanish horse, and a handsome mule. 
 The pope cut short the game and would not play any more. 
 My father said to him : ' Hey ! Chadieu ! pope, leave me my 
 horse for money * (for he was very fond of him) ' and keep the 
 courser, who will throw you and break your neck, for he is 
 too rough for you ; and keep the mule too, and may she rear 
 and break your leg ! ' The pope laughed so he could not stop 
 himself. At last, getting his breath, he cried out : * I '11 do 
 better ; I '11 give you back your two horses, but not the mule, 
 and I '11 give you two other fine ones if you wiU keep me 
 company as far as Eome and stay with me there two months ; 
 we '11 pass the time well, and it shall not cost you anything.' 
 My father answered: ' Chadieu! pope, if you gave me your 
 mitre and your cap, too, I would not do it ; I would n't quit 
 my general and my companions just for your pleasure. 
 Good-bye to you, rascal.' The pope laughed, while all the 
 great captains, French and Italians, who always spoke so rev- 
 erently to his Holiness, were amazed and laughed too at such 
 liberty of language. When the pope was on the point of
 
 6 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 leaving, he said to him, ' Ask what you want of me and you 
 shall have it,' thinking my father would ask for his horses ; 
 but my father did not ask anything, except for a hcense 
 and dispensation to eat butter in Lent, for his stomach could 
 never get accustomed to olive and nut oiL The pope gave it 
 him readily, and sent him a bull, which was long to be seen 
 in the archives of our house." 
 
 The young Pierre de Bourdeille spent the first years of 
 his existence at the Court of Marguerite de Valois, sister of 
 Francois I., to whom his mother was lady-in-waiting. After 
 the death of that princess in 1549 he came to Paris to begin 
 his studies, which he ended at Poitiers about the year 1556. 
 
 Being the youngest of the family he was destined if not 
 for the Church at least for church benefices, which he 
 never lacked through life. An elder brother. Captain de 
 Bourdeille, a valiant soldier, having been killed at the siege 
 of Hesdin by a cannon-ball which took off his head and the 
 arm that held a glass of water he was drinking on the breach, 
 King Henri II. desired, in recognition of so glorious a death, 
 to do some favour to the Bourdeille family ; and the abbey 
 of Brantome falling vacant at this very time, he gave it to the 
 young Pierre de BourdeiUe, then sixteen years old, who 
 henceforth bore the name of Seigneur and Abbd de Brantome, 
 abbreviated after a while to Brantome, by which name he is 
 known to posterity. In a few legal deeds of the period, 
 especially family documents, he is mentioned as " the rever- 
 end father in God, the Abb^ de Brantome." 
 
 Brantome had possessed his abbey about a year when he 
 began to dream of going to the wars in Italy ; this was the 
 high-road to glory for the young French nobles, ever since 
 Charles A^III. had shown them the way. Brantome obtained 
 from Francois I. permission to cut timber in the forest of 
 Saint-Trieix ; this cut brought him in five hundred golden
 
 INTRODUCTION. 7 
 
 crowns, with which he departed in 1558, "bearing," he says, 
 " a matchlock arquebuse, a fine powder-horn from Milan, 
 and mounted on a hackney worth a hundred crowns, fol- 
 lowed by six or seven gentlemen, soldiers themselves, well 
 set-up, armed and mounted the same, but on good stout 
 nags." 
 
 He went first to Geneva, and there he saw the Calvinist 
 emigration; continuing his way he stayed at Milan and 
 Ferrara, reaching Rome soon after the death of Paul IV. 
 There he was welcomed by the Grand-Prior of France, 
 FrauQois de Guise, who had brought his brother, the Cardinal 
 of Lorraine, to assist in the election of a new pontifif. 
 
 This was the epoch of the Renaissance, — that epoch when 
 the knightly king made all Europe resound with the fame 
 of his amorous and warlike prowess ; when Titian and 
 Primaticcio were leaving on the walls of palaces their im- 
 mortal handiwork; when Jean Goujon was carving his 
 figures on the fountains and the facades of the Louvre; 
 when Rabelais was inciting that mighty roar of laughter 
 which, in itself, is a whole human comedy ; when the Mar- 
 guerite of Marguerites was teUing in her "Heptameron" 
 those charming tales of love. Francois L dies ; his son suc- 
 ceeds him ; Protestantism makes serious progress. Mont- 
 gomery kills Henri II., and Frangois II. ascends the throne 
 only to hve a year ; and then it is that Marie Stuart leaves 
 France, the tears in her eyes, sadly singing as the beloved 
 shores over which she had reigned so short a while re- 
 cede from sight: "FareweU, my pleasant land of France, 
 farewell ! " 
 
 Returning to France without any warrior fame but closely 
 attached by this time to the Guises, Brantome took to a 
 Court life. He assisted in a tournament between the grand- 
 prior, Frangois de Guise, disguised as an Egyptian woman,
 
 8 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 " having on her arm a little monkey swaddled as an infant, 
 which kept its baby face there is no telling how," and M. de 
 Nemours, dressed as a bourgeoise housekeeper wearing at 
 her belt more than a hundred keys attached to a thick silver 
 chain. He witnessed the terrible scene of the execution of 
 the Huguenot nobles at Amboise (March, 1560); was at 
 Orleans when the Prince de Cond^ was arrested, and at 
 Poissy for the reception of the Knights of Saint-Michel. 
 In short, he was no more " home-keeping " in France than in 
 foreign parts. 
 
 Charles IX., then about ten years old, succeeded his brother 
 Frangois II. in December, 1560. The following year Due 
 FranQois de Guise was commissioned to escort his niece, 
 Marie Stuart, to Scotland. Brantome went with them, saw 
 the threatening reception given to the queen by her sullen 
 subjects, and then returned with the duke by way of Eng- 
 land. In London, Queen Elizabeth greeted them most 
 graciously, deigning to dance more than once with Due 
 FranQois, to whom she said : " Monsieur mon prieur " (that 
 was how she called him) " I like you very much, but not 
 your brother, who tore my town of Calais from me." 
 
 Brantome returned to France at the moment when the 
 edict of Saint-Germain granting to Protestants the exercise 
 of their religion was promulgated, and he was struck by 
 the change of aspect presented by the Court and the whole 
 nation. The two armed parties were face to face ; the Cal- 
 vinists, scarcely escaped from persecution, seemed certain of 
 approaching triumph ; the Prince de Cond6, with four hun- 
 dred gentlemen, escorted the preachers to Charenton through 
 the midst of a quivering population. " Death to papists ! " — 
 the very cry Brantome had first heard on landing in Scot- 
 land., where it sounded so ill to his ears — was beginnincr 
 to be heard in France, to which the cry of " Death to the
 
 INTRODUCTION. 9 
 
 Huguenots!" responded in the breasts of an irritated popu- 
 lace. Brantome did not hesitate as to the side he should 
 take, — he was abb6, and attached to the Guises ; he fought 
 through the war with them, took part in the sieges of Blois, 
 Bourges, and Eouen, was present at the battle of Dreux, 
 where he lost his protector the grand-prior, and attached 
 himself henceforth to FranQois de Guise, the elder, whom 
 he followed to the siege of Orldans in 1563, where the duke 
 was assassinated by Poltrot de Mer^ under circumstances 
 which Brantome has vividly described in his chapter on that 
 great captain. 
 
 In 1564 BrantSme entered the household of the Due 
 d'Anjou (afterwards Henri III.) as gentleman-in-waiting to 
 tlie prince, on a salary of six hundred livres a year. But, 
 being seized again by his passion for distant expeditions, he 
 engaged during the same year in an enterprise conducted 
 by Spaniards agamst the Emperor of Morocco, and went 
 with the troops of Don Garcia of Toledo to besiege and take 
 the towns on the Barbary coast. He returned by way of 
 Lisbon, pleased the king of Portugal, Sebastiano, who con- 
 ferred upon him his Order of the Christ, and went from 
 there to Madrid, where Queen Elisabeth gave him the cordial 
 welcome on which he plumes himself in his Discourse upon 
 that princess. He was commissioned by her to carry to 
 her mother, Catherine de' Medici, the desire she felt to have 
 an interview with her; which interview took place at 
 Bayonne, Brantome not failing to be present. 
 
 In that same year, 1565, Sultan Suleiman attacked the 
 island of Malta. The grand-master of the Knights of Saint- 
 John, Parisot de La Valette, calle'd for the help of all Chris- 
 tian powers. The French government had treaties with the 
 Ottoman Porte which did not allow it to come openly to 
 the assistance of the Knights ; but many gentlemen, both
 
 10 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Catholic and Protestant, took part as volunteers. Among 
 them went Brantome, naturally. " We were," he says, " about 
 three hundred gentlemen and eight hundred soldiers. ]VL 
 de Strozzi and M. de Bussac were with us, and to them we 
 deferred our own wills. It was only a little troop, but as 
 active and vaUant as ever left France to fight the Infidel." 
 
 While at Malta he seems to have had a fancy to enter 
 the Order of the Knights of Saint-John, but Philippe Strozzi 
 dissuaded him. " He gave me to understand," says Bran- 
 tome, " that I should do WTong to abandon the fine fortune 
 that awaited me in France, whether from the hand of my 
 king, or from that of a beautiful, virtuous lady, and rich, to 
 whom I was just then servant and welcome guest, so that I 
 had hope of marrying her." 
 
 He left Malta on a galley of the Order, intending to go 
 to Naples, according to a promise he had made to the " beau- 
 tiful and virtuous lady," the Marchesa del Vasto. But a 
 contrary wind defeated his project, which he did not re- 
 nounce without regret. In after years he considered this 
 mischance a strong feature in his unfortunate destiny. " It 
 was possible," he says, " that by means of Mme. la marquise 
 I might have encountered good luck, either by marriage or 
 otherwise, for she did me the kindness to love me. But I 
 believe that my unhappy fate was resolved to bring me back 
 to France, where never did fortune smile upon me ; I have 
 always been duped by vain expectations ; I have received 
 much honour and esteem, but of property and rank, none 
 at all. Companions of mine who would have been proud 
 had I deigned to speak to them at Court or in the chamber 
 of the king or queen, have long been advanced before me ; 
 I see them round as pumpkins and highly exalted, though 
 I will not, for all that, defer to them to the length of my 
 thumb-naiL That proverb, ' Xo one is a prophet in his
 
 INTRODUCTION. 11 
 
 own country/ was made for me. If I had served foreign 
 sovereigns as I have my own I should now be as loaded 
 with wealth and dignities as I am with sorrows and years. 
 Patience ! if Fate has thus woven my days, I curse her ! If 
 my princes have done it, I send them aU to the devil, if they 
 are not there already." 
 
 But when he started from Malta Brantome was still 
 young, being then only twenty-eight years of age. " Jog- 
 ging, meandering, vagabondizing," as he says, he reached 
 Venice ; there he thought of going into Hungary in search 
 of the Turks, whom he had not been able to meet in Malta. 
 But the death of Sultan Suleiman stopped the invasion for 
 one year at least, and Brantome reluctantly decided to return 
 to France, passing through Piedmont, where he gave a proof 
 of his disinterestedness, which he relates in his sketch of 
 Marguerite, Duchesse de Savoie. 
 
 Beaching his own land he found the war he had been so 
 far to seek without encountering it ; whereupon he recruited 
 a company of foot-soldiers, and took part in the third civil 
 war with the title of commander of two companies, though 
 in fact there was but one. Shortly after this he resigned 
 his command to serve upon the staff of Monsieur, com- 
 mander-in-chief of the royal army. After the battle of 
 Jarnac (March 15, 1569), being sick of an intermittent fever, 
 he retired to his abbey, where his presence throughout the 
 troubles was far from useless. But always more eager for 
 distant expeditions than for the dulness of civil war, Bran- 
 tome let himself be tempted by a grand project of Mardchal 
 Strozzi, who dreamed of nothmg less than a descent on 
 South America and the conquest of Peru. Brantome was 
 commissioned in 1571 to go to the port of Brouage and 
 direct the preparations for the armament. It was this en- 
 terprise that prevented him from being present at the battle
 
 12 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 of Lepanto (October 7, 1571). "I should have gone there 
 resolutely, as did that brave M. de Grillon," he says, " if it 
 had not been for M. de Strozzi, who amused me a whole 
 year with that fine embarkation at Brouage, which ended 
 in nothing but the ruin of our purses, — to those of us at 
 least who owned the vessels." But if the duties which kept 
 him at Brouage robbed him of the glory of being present at 
 the greatest battle of the age, it also saved him from being 
 a witness of the Saint Bartholomew. 
 
 The treaty of June 24, 1573, put an end to the siege of 
 Eochelle and the fourth civil war. Charles IX. died on 
 May 30, 1574. Monsieur, elected the year before to the 
 throne of Poland, was in that distant country when the 
 death of his brother made him king of France. He has- 
 tened to return. BrantOme went to meet him at Lyons 
 and was one of the gentlemen of his Bedchamber from 1575 
 to 1583. During the years just passed Brantome, besides the 
 principal events already named in which he participated, 
 took part in various little or great events in the daily hfe 
 of the Court, such as : the quarrel of Sussy and Saint-Fal, 
 the splendid disgrace of Bussy d'Amboise, the death and 
 obsequies of Charles IX., the coronation of Henri III., etc. 
 Throughout them all he played the part of interested 
 spectator, of active supernumerary without importance 5 
 discontented at times and sulky, but always unable to make 
 himself feared. 
 
 The years went by in this sterile round. He was now 
 thirty-five years old. The hope of a great fortune was 
 realized no more on the side of his king than on that of his 
 beautiful, virtuous, and rich lady. He is, no doubt, " liked, 
 known, and made welcome by the kings, his masters, by his 
 queens and his princesses, and all the great seigneurs, who held 
 him in such esteem that the name of Brantome had great
 
 INTRODUCTION. 13 
 
 reno-wn." But lie is not satisfied with the Court small- 
 change in which his services are paid. He is vexed that 
 his own lightheartedness is taken at its word ; he would be 
 very glad indeed if that love of liberty with which he 
 decked himself were put to greater trials. Philosopher in 
 spite of himself, he finds his disappointments all the more 
 painful because of his own opinion of his merits. He sees 
 men to whom he believes himself superior, preferred before 
 him. " His companions, not equal to him," he says in the 
 epitaph he composed for himself, " surpassed him in benefits 
 received, in promotions and ranks, but never in virtue or 
 in merit." And he adds, with posthumous resignation: 
 " God be praised nevertheless for all, and for his sacred 
 mercy ! " 
 
 Meantime, perchance a queen, Catherine de' Medici or 
 Marguerite de Valois, deigns to drop into his ear some trifling 
 word which he relishes with delight. Henri de Guise \le 
 Balafrd], who was ten years younger than himself, called him 
 " my son ; " and the Baron de Montesquieu, the one that 
 killed the Prince de Cond^ at Jarnac and was very much 
 older than Brantome, who had pulled him out of the water 
 during certain aquatic games on the Seine, called him 
 "father." Such were the familiarities with which he was 
 treated. 
 
 He was, it is true, chevalier of the Order of Saint-Michel, 
 but that was not enough to console his ambition. He com- 
 plained that they degraded that honour, no longer reserved 
 to the nobility of the sword. He thinks it bad, for instance, 
 that it was granted to his neighbour, Michel de Montaigne. 
 " We have seen," he says, " counsellors coming from the 
 courts of parliament, abandoning robes and the square cap to 
 drag a sword behmd them, and at once the king decks them 
 with the collar, without any pretext of their going to war.
 
 14 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 This is what was given to the Sieur de Montaigne, who 
 would have done much better to continue to write his Essays 
 instead of changing his pen into a sword, which does not suit 
 him. The Marquis de Trans obtained the Order very easily 
 from the king for one of his neighbours, no doubt in derision, 
 for he is a great joker." Brantome always speaks very 
 slightingly of Montaigne because the latter was of lesser 
 nobility than his own ; but that does not prevent the Sieur 
 de Montaigne from being to our eyes a much greater man 
 than the Seigneur de Brantome. 
 
 Brantome continued to follow the Court. He accompanied 
 the queen-mother when she went in 1576 to Poitou to bring 
 back the Due d'Alengon, who was dabbling in plots. He 
 accompanied her again when she conducted in 1578 her 
 daughter Marguerite to Navarre ; and at their solemn entry 
 into Bordeaux he had the honour of being near them on the 
 " scaffold," or, as we should say in the present day, the plat- 
 form. He had also the luck to hear at Saint-Germain-en- 
 Laye King Henri III. make during his dinner, in presence of 
 the Due de Joyeuse (on whose nuptials the fluent monarch 
 was destined to spend a million), a discourse worthy of Cato 
 against luxury and extravagance. 
 
 In 1582, his elder brother, Andre de Bourdeille, seneschal 
 and governor of the Perigord, died. He left a son scarcely 
 nine years old. Brantome had obtained from King Henri III. 
 a promise that he should hold those offices until the majority 
 of his nephew, on condition of transmitting them at that 
 time. The king confirmed this promise on several occasions 
 during the last illness of Andrd de Bourdeille. But at the 
 latter's death it was discovered that he had bound himself in 
 his daughter's marriage contract to resign those offices to his 
 son-in-law. The king considered that he ought to respect 
 this family arrangement. Brantome was keenly hurt. " On
 
 INTRODUCTION. 15 
 
 the second day of the year," he says, " as the king was 
 returning from his ceremony of the Saint-Esprit, I made my 
 complaint to him, more in anger than to implore him, as he 
 well understood. He made me excuses, although he was my 
 king. Among other reasons he said plainly that he could 
 not refuse that resignation when presented to him, or he 
 should be unjust. I made him no reply, except : ' Well, sire, 
 I ought not to have put faith in you ; a good reason never to 
 serve you again as I have served you.' On which I went 
 away much vexed. I met several of my companions, to 
 whom I related everything. I protested and swore that if 
 I had a thousand lives not one would I employ for a King of 
 France. I cursed my luck, I cursed life, I loathed the king's 
 favour, I despised with a curling lip those beggarly fellows 
 loaded with royal favours who were in no wise as worthy of 
 them as I. Hanging to my belt was the gilt key to the king's 
 bedroom ; I unfastened it and flung it from the Quai des 
 Augustins, where I stood, into the river below. I never again 
 entered the king's room ; I abhorred it, and I swore never to 
 set foot in it any more. I did not, however, cease to frequent 
 the Court and to show myself in the room of the queen, who 
 did me the honour to like me, and in those of her ladies and 
 maids of honour and of the princesses, seigneurs, and princes, 
 my good friends. I talked aloud about my displeasure, so 
 that the king, hearing of what I said, sent me a few words 
 by M. du Halde, his head valet de chamhre. I contented 
 myself with answering that I was the king's most obedient, 
 and said no more." 
 
 Monsieur (the Due d'Alengon) took notice of Brantome, 
 and made him his chamberlain. About this time it was that 
 he began to compose for this prince the " Discourses " after- 
 wards made into a book and called " Vies des Dames 
 Galantes," which he dedicated to the Due d'Alengon. The
 
 16 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 latter died in 1584, — a loss that dashed once more the hopes 
 of Brantome and of others who, like him, had pinned their 
 faith upon that prince. After all, BrantOme had some reason 
 to complain of his evil star. 
 
 Then it was that Brantome meditated vast and even 
 criminal projects, which he himself has revealed to us : "I 
 resolved to sell the little property I possessed in France and 
 go off and serve that great King of Spain, very illustrious 
 and noble remunerator of services rendered to him, not com- 
 pelling his servitors to importune him, but done of his own 
 free will and wise opinion, and out of just consideration. 
 Wliereupon I reflected and ruminated within myself that I 
 was able to serve him well ; for there is not a harbour nor 
 a seaport from Picardy to Bayonne that I do not know per- 
 fectly, except those of Bretagne which I have not seen ; and 
 I know equally well all the weak spots on the coast of Lan- 
 guedoc from Grasse to Provence. To make myself sure of 
 my facts, I had recently made a new tour to several of the 
 towns, pretending to wish to arm a ship and send it on a 
 voyage, or go myself. In fact, I had played my game so 
 well that I had discovered half a dozen towns on these 
 coasts easy to capture on their weak sides, which I knew 
 then and which I still know, I therefore thought I could 
 serve the King of Spain in these directions so well that I 
 might count on obtaining the reward of great wealth and 
 dignities. But before I banished myself from France T 
 proposed to sell my estates and put the money in a bank of 
 Spain or Italy. I also proposed, and I discoursed of it to 
 the Comte de La Rochefoucauld, to ask leave of absence 
 from the king that I might not be called a deserter, and to 
 be relieved of my oath as a subject in order to go wherever 
 I should find myself better off tlian in his kingdom. I be- 
 lieve he could not have refused my retj^uest ; because every-
 
 INTRODUCTION. 17 
 
 one is free to change his country and choose another. But 
 however that might be, if he had refused me I should have 
 gone all the same, neither more nor less like a valet who is 
 angry with his master and wants to leave him ; if the latter 
 will not give him leave to go, it is not reprehensible to take 
 it and attach himself to another master." 
 
 Thus reasoned BrantOme. He returns on several occa- 
 sions to these lawless opinions; he argues, apropos of the 
 Conn^table de Bourbon and La Noue, against the scruples 
 of those who are willing to leave their country, but not to 
 take up arms against her. " I'faith ! " he cries, " here are 
 fine, scrupulous philosophers ! Their quartan fevers ! While 
 I hold shyly back, pray who will feed me ? Whereas if I 
 bare my sword to the wind it will give me food and magnify 
 my fame." 
 
 Such ideas were current in those days among the nobles, 
 in whom the patriotic sentiment, long subordinated to that of 
 caste, was only developed later. These projects of treachery 
 should therefore not be judged altogether with the severity 
 of modern ideas. Besides, BrantOme is working himself 
 up ; it does not belong to every one to produce such grand 
 disasters as these he meditates. Moreover, thought is far 
 from action; events may intervene. People call them fate 
 or chance, but chance will often simply aid the secret im- 
 pulses of conscience, and bind our will to that it chooses. 
 
 " Fine Imman schemes I made ! " Brantome resumes. " On 
 the very point o£ their accomplishment the war of the 
 League broke out and turmoiled things in such a way that 
 no one would buy lands, for every man had trouble enough 
 to keep what he owned, neither would he strip himself of 
 money. Those who had promised to buy my property ex- 
 cused themselves. To go to foreign parts without resources 
 was madness, — it would only have exposed me to all sorts 
 
 2
 
 18 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 of misery ; I had too much experience to commit that folly. 
 To complete the destruction of my designs, one day, at the 
 height of my vigor and jollity, a miserable horse, whose 
 white skin might have warned me of nothing good, reared 
 and fell over upon me breaking and crushing my loins, so 
 that for four years I lay in my bed, maimed, impotent in 
 every limb, unable to turn or move without torture and all 
 the agony in the world ; and since then my health has never 
 been what it once was. Thus man proposes, and God dis- 
 poses. God does all things for the best ! It is possible that 
 if I had reaUzed my plans I should have done more harm 
 to my country than the renegade of Algiers did to his ; and 
 because of it, I might have been perpetually cursed of God 
 and man." 
 
 Consequently, this great scheme remained a dream; no 
 one need ever have known anything about it if Brantome 
 himself had not taken pains to inform us of it with much 
 complacency. 
 
 The cruel fall which stopped his guilty projects must nave 
 occurred in 1585. At the end of three years and a half of 
 suffering he met, he tells us, " with a very great personage 
 and operator, called M. Saint-Christophe, whom God raised 
 up for my good and cure, who succeeded in relieving me 
 after many other doctors had failed." As soon as he was 
 nearly well he began once more to travel. It does not appear 
 that he frequented the Court after the death of Catherine de' 
 Medici, which took place in January, 1589 ; but he was 
 present, in that year, at the baptism of the posthumous son 
 of Henri de Guise, whom the Parisians adopted after the 
 father's murder at Blois, and named Paris. Agrippa dAu- 
 bignd, in his caricature of the Procession of the League, gives 
 Brantome a small place as bearer of bells. But was he really 
 there? It seems doubtful ; he makes somewhere the judicious
 
 INTRODUCTION. 1& 
 
 reflection that : " One may well be surprised that so many 
 French nobles put themselves on the side of the League, for 
 if it had got the upper hand it is very certain that the clergy 
 would have deprived them of church property and wiped 
 their lips forever of it, which result would have cut the 
 wings of their extravagance for a very long while." The 
 secular Abb^ de Brantome had therefore as good reasons for 
 not being a Leaguer as for not being a Huguenot. 
 
 In 1590 he went to make his obeisance to Marguerite, 
 Queen of Navarre, then confined in the Chateau d'Usson in 
 Auvergne. He presented to her his " discourse " on " Spanish 
 Ehodomontades," perhaps also a first copy of the life of that 
 princess (which appears in this volume), and he also showed 
 her the titles of the other books he had composed. He was 
 so enchanted with the greeting Queen Marguerite, la Eeine 
 Margot, gave him, " the sole remainiag daughter of the noble 
 house of France, the most beautiful, most noble, grandest, 
 most generous, most magnanimous, and most accomplished 
 princess in the world" (when Brantome praises he does 
 not do it by halves), that he promised to dedicate to her 
 the entire collection of his works, — a promise he faithfully 
 fulfilled. 
 
 His health, now decidedly affected, confined more and 
 more to his own home this indefatigable rover, who had, as 
 he said, " the nature of a minstrel who prefers the house of 
 others to his own." Condemned to a sedentary life, he used 
 his activity as he could. He caused to be built the noble 
 castle of Eichemont, with much pains and at great expense. 
 He grew quarrelsome and litigious ; brought suits against his 
 relations, against his neighbours, against his monks, whom 
 he accused of ingratitude. By his will he bequeathed his 
 lawsuits to his heirs, and forbade each and all to compromise 
 them.
 
 20 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Difficult to live with, soured, dissatisfied with the world, 
 he was not, it would seem, in easy circumstances. He did 
 not spare posterity the recital of his plaints : " Favours, gran- 
 deurs, boasts, and vanities, all the pleasant things of the good 
 old days are gone like the wind. Nothing remains to me but 
 to have been all that; sometimes that memory pleases me, 
 and sometimes it vexes me. Nearing a decrepit old age, the 
 worst of all woes, nearing, too, a poverty which cannot be 
 cured as in our flourishing years when nought is impossible, 
 repenting me a hundred thousand times for the fine extrava- 
 gances I committed in other days, and regretting I did not 
 save enough then to support me now in feeble age, when I 
 lack all of which I once possessed too much, — I see, with a 
 bursting heart, an infinite number of paltry fellows raised to 
 rank and riches, while Fortune, treacherous and blind that 
 she is, feeds me on air and then deserts and mocks me. If 
 she would only put me quickly into the hands of death I 
 would still forgive her the wrongs she has done me. But 
 there is the worst of it ; we can neither hve nor die as we 
 wish. Therefore, let destiny do as it will, never shall I cease 
 to curse it from heart and lip. And worst of all do I detest 
 old age weighed down by poverty. As the queen-mother 
 said to me one day when I had the honour to speak to her 
 on this subject about another person, * Old age brings us 
 inconveniences enough without the additional burden of 
 poverty ; the two united are the height of misery, against 
 which there is one only sovereign cure, and that is death. 
 Happy he who finds it when he reaches fifty-six, for after 
 that our life is but labour and sorrow, and we eat but the 
 bread of ashes, as saith the prophet.'" 
 
 He continued, however, to write, retracing all that he had 
 seen and garnered either while making his campaigns with 
 the great captains of his time, or in gossiping with idle gen-
 
 INTRODUCTION. 21 
 
 tlemen in the halls of the Louvre. It was thus he composed 
 his biographical and anecdotical volumes, which he retouched 
 and rewrote at intervals, making several successive copies. 
 That he had the future of his writings much at heart, in spite 
 of a scornful air of indifference which he sometimes assumed, 
 appears very plainly from the following clause in his will : 
 
 " I will," he says, " and I expressly charge my heirs to 
 cause to be printed my Books, which I have composed from 
 my mind and invention with great toil and trouble, written 
 by my hand, and transcribed clearly by that of Mataud, my 
 hired secretary; the which will be found in five volumes 
 covered with velvet, black, tan, green, blue, and a large vol- 
 ume, which is that of ' The Ladies,' covered with green velvet, 
 and another covered with vellum and gilded thereon, which is 
 that of 'The Ehodomontades.' They will be found in one 
 of my wicker trunks, carefully protected. Fine things will 
 be found in them, such as tales, discourses, histories, and witti- 
 cisms ; which no one can disdain, it seems to me, if once they 
 are placed under his nose and eyes. In ordfer to have them 
 printed according to my fancy, I charge with that purpose 
 Madame la Comtesse de Duretal, my dear niece, or some 
 other person she may choose. And to do this I order that 
 enough be taken from my whole property to pay the costs of 
 the said printing, and my heirs are not to divide or use my 
 property until this printing is provided for. It is not probable 
 that it will cost much ; for the printers, when they cast their 
 eyes upon the books, would pay to print them instead of 
 exacting money ; for they do print many gratis that are not 
 worth as much as mine. I can boast of this; for I have 
 shown them, at least in part, to several among that trade, 
 who offered to print them for nothing. But I do not choose 
 that they be printed during my life. Above all, I will that 
 the said printing be in fine, large letters, in a great volume to
 
 22 iN-moDucTioN. 
 
 make tlie better show, with license from the king, who will 
 give it readily ; or without license, if that can be. Care 
 must also be taken that the printer does not put on another 
 name than mine ; otherwise I shall be frustrated of all my 
 trouble and of the fame that is my due. I also will that tlie 
 first book that issues from the press shall be given as a gift, 
 well bound and covered in velvet, to Queen Marguerite, my 
 very illustrious mistress, who did me the honour to read 
 some of my writings, and who thought them fine and 
 esteemed them." 
 
 This will was made about the year 1609. On the 15th of 
 July, 1614, Brantome died, after living his last years in com- 
 plete oblivion ; he was buried, according to his wishes, in the 
 chapel of his chateau of Eichemont. In spite of his ex- 
 press directions, neither the Comtesse de Duretal nor any 
 other of his heirs executed the clause in his will relating to 
 the publication of his works. Possibly they feared it might 
 create some scandal, or it may be that they could not obtain 
 the royal license. The manuscripts remained in the chateau 
 of Eichemont. Little by little, as time went on, they at- 
 tracted attention ; copies were made which found their way 
 to the cabinets and libraries of collectors. They were finally 
 printed in Holland; and the first volume, which appeared 
 in Leyden from the press of Jean Sambix the younger, sold 
 by r. Foppons, Brussels, 1665, was that which here follows: 
 " The Book of the Ladies," called by the publisher, not by 
 Brantome, " Lives of Illustrious Dames." 
 
 It is not easy to distinguish the exact periods at which 
 Brantome wrote his works. " The Book of the Ladies," first 
 and second parts, — Dames Illustres and Dames Galantes, — 
 were evidently the first written ; then followed " The Lives 
 of Great and Illustrious French Captains," " Lives of Great 
 Foreign Captains," " Anecdotes concerning Duels," " The
 
 INTRODUCTION. 23 
 
 Ehodomontades," and " Spanish Oaths." Brantome did not 
 write his Memoirs, properly so-called ; his biographical facts 
 and incidents are scattered throughout the above-named 
 volumes. 
 
 The following translation of the " Book of the Ladies " 
 does not pretend to imitate Brantome's style. To do so 
 would seem an affectation in English, and attract attention 
 to itself which it is always desirable to avoid in translating. 
 Wherever a few of BrantSme's quaint turns of phrase are 
 given, it is only as they fall naturally into English.
 
 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 DISCOUESE I 
 
 ANNE DE BRETAGNE, QUEEN OF FRANCE. 
 
 Inasmuch as I must speak of ladies, I do not choose to 
 speak of former dames, of whom the histories are full ; that 
 would be blotting paper in vain, for enough has been written 
 about them, and even the great Boccaccio has made a fine 
 book solely on that subject [De claris muUerihus]. 
 
 I shall begin therefore with our queen, Anne de Bretagne, 
 the most worthy and honourable queen that has ever been 
 since Queen Blanche, mother of the King Saint-Louis, and 
 very sage and virtuous. 
 
 This Queen Anne was the rich heiress of the duchy of 
 Bretagne, which was held to be one of the finest of Christen- 
 dom, and for that reason she was sought in marriage by 
 the greatest persons. M. le Due d'Orldans, afterwards King 
 Louis XII., in his young days courted her, and did for her 
 sake his fine feats of arms in Bretagne, and even at the 
 battle of Saint Aubin, where he was taken prisoner fighting 
 on foot at the head of his infantry. I have heard say that 
 this capture was the reason why he did not espouse her then ; 
 for thereon intervened Maximilian, Duke of Austria, since 
 emperor, who married her by the proxy of his uncle the 
 Prince of Orange in the great church at Nantes. But King 
 Charles VITL, having advised with his council that it was
 
 26 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 not good to have so powerful a seigneur encroach and gefc 
 a footing in his kingdom, broke off a marriage that had been 
 settled between himself and Marguerite of Flanders, took 
 the said Anne from Maximilian, her affianced, and wedded 
 her himself; so that every one conjectured thereon that a 
 marriage thus made would be luckless in issue. 
 
 Now if Anne was desired for her property, she was as 
 much so for her virtues and merits ; for she was beautiful 
 and agreeable ; as I have heard say by elderly persons who 
 knew her, and according to her portrait, which I have seen 
 from life ; resembling in face the beautiful Demoiselle de 
 ChSteauneuf, who has been so renowned at the Court for her 
 beauty ; and that is sufficient to tell the beauty of Queen 
 Anne as I have heard it portrayed to the queen mother 
 [Catherine de' Medici]. 
 
 Her figure was fine and of medium height. It is true that 
 one foot was shorter than the other the least in the world ; 
 but this was little perceived, and hardly to be noticed, so that 
 her beauty was not at all spoilt by it ; for I myself have seen 
 very handsome women with that defect who yet were ex- 
 treme in beauty, like Mme. la Princesse de Conde, of the 
 house of Longueville. 
 
 So much for the beauty of the body of this queen. That 
 of her mind was no less, because she was very virtuous, wise, 
 honourable, pleasant of speech, and very charming and sub- 
 tile in wit. She had been taught and trained by Mme. de 
 Laval, an able and accomplished lady, appointed her gov- 
 erness by her father. Due rran§ois. For the rest, she was 
 very kind, very merciful, and very charitable, as I have heard 
 my own folks say. True it is, however, that she was quick 
 in vengeance and seldom pardoned whoever offended her 
 maliciously ; as she showed to the Mardchal de Gi^ for the 
 affront he put upon her when the king, her lord and husband,
 
 ANNE DE BRETAGNE, QUEEN OF FRANCE. 27 
 
 lay ill at Blois and was held to be dying. She. wishing to 
 provide for her wants in case she became a widow, caused 
 three or four boats to be laden on the Kiver Loire with all 
 her precious articles, furniture, jewels, rings and money, — 
 and sent them to her city and chateau of Nantes. The said 
 marshal, meeting these boats between Saumur and Nantes, 
 ordered them stopped and seized, being much too wishful to 
 play the good officer and servant of the Crown. But fortune 
 willed that the king, through the prayers of his people, to 
 whom he was indeed a true father, escaped with his life. 
 
 The queen, in spite of this luck, did not abstain from her 
 vengeance, and having well brewed it, she caused the said 
 marshal to be driven from Court. It was then that having 
 finished a fine house at La Verger, he retired there, saying 
 that the rain had come just in time to let him get under 
 shelter in the beautiful house so recently built. But this 
 banishment from Court was not all ; through great researches 
 which she caused to be made wherever he had been in com- 
 mand, it was discovered he had committed great wrongs, 
 extortions and pillages, to which all governors are given ; so 
 that the marshal, having appealed to the courts of parliament, 
 was summoned before that of Toulouse, which had long been 
 very just and equitable, and not corrupt. There, his suit 
 being viewed, he was convicted. But the queen did not wish 
 his death, because, she said, death is a cure for all pains and 
 woes, and being dead he would be too happy ; she wished 
 him to live as degraded and low as he had been great ; so 
 that he might, from the grandeur and height where he had 
 been, live miserably in troubles, pains, and sadness, which 
 would do him a hundred-fold more harm than death, for 
 death lasted only a day, and mayhap only an hour, whereas 
 his languishing would make him die daily. 
 
 Such was the vengeance of this brave queen. One day she
 
 28 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 was so angry against M. d'OrMans that she could not for a 
 long time be appeased. It was in this wise : the death of her 
 son, M. le dauphin, having happened, King Charles, her hus- 
 band, and she were in such despair that the doctors, fearing 
 the debility and feeble constitution of the king, were alarmed 
 lest such grief should do injury to his health; so they coun- 
 selled the king to amuse himself, and the princes of the 
 Court to invent new pastimes, games, dances, and mum- 
 meries in order to give pleasure to the king and queen ; the 
 which M. d'Orldans having undertaken, he gave at the 
 Chateau d'Amboise a masquerade and dance, at which he did 
 such follies and danced so gayly, as was told and read, that 
 the queen, believing he felt this glee because, the dauphin 
 being dead, he knew himself nearer to be King of France, 
 was extremely angered, and showed him such displeasure that 
 he was forced to escape from Amboise, where the Court then 
 was, and go to his chateau of Blois. Nothing can be blamed 
 in this queen except the sin of vengeance, — if vengeance is a 
 sin, — because otherwise she was beautiful and gentle, and had 
 many very laudable sides. 
 
 When the king, her husband, went to the kingdom of 
 Naples [1494], and so long as he was there, she knew very 
 well how to govern the kingdom of France with those whom 
 the king had given to assist her; but she always kept her 
 rank, her grandeur, and supremacy, and insisted, young as she 
 was, on being trusted ; and she made herself trusted, so that 
 nothing was ever found to say against her. 
 
 She felt great regret for the death of King Charles [in 
 1498], as much for the friendship she bore him as for seeing 
 herself henceforth but half a queen, having no children. 
 And when her most intimate ladies, as I have been told on 
 good authority, pitied her for being the widow of so great a 
 king, and imable to return to her high estate, — for King
 
 ANNE DE BRETAGNE, QUEEN OF FRANCE. 29 
 
 Louis [the Due d'Orl^ans, her first lover] was then married 
 to Jeanne de France, — she replied she would " rather be the 
 widow of a king all her life than debase herself to a less than 
 he ; but still, she was not so despairing of happiness that she 
 did not think of again being Queen of France, as she had been, 
 if she chose." Her old love made her say so ; she meant to 
 relight it in the bosom of him in whom it was yet warm. 
 And so it happened ; for King Louis [XII.], having repudi- 
 ated Jeanne, his wife, and never having lost his early love, 
 took her in marriage, as we have seen and read. So here was 
 her prophecy accomplished; she having founded it on the 
 nature of King Louis, who could not keep himself from lov- 
 ing her, all married as she was, but looked with a tender eye 
 upon her, being stiU Due d' Orleans; for it is difficult to 
 quench a great fire when once it has seized the souL 
 
 He was a handsome prince and very amiable, and she did 
 not hate him for that. Having taken her, he honoured her 
 much, leaving her to enjoy her property and her duchy with- 
 out touching it himself or taking a single louis ; but she 
 employed it well, for she was very liberal And because 
 the king made immense gifts, to meet which he must have 
 levied on his people, which he shunned like the plague, she 
 supplied his deficiencies ; and there were no great captains 
 of the kingdom to whom she did not give pensions, or make 
 extraordinary presents of money or of thick gold chains 
 when they went upon a journey ; and she even made little 
 presents according to quality ; everybody ran to her, and 
 few came away discontented. Above all, she had the reputa- 
 tion of loving her domestic servants, and to them she did 
 great good. 
 
 She was the first queen to hold a great Court of ladies, 
 such as we have seen from her time to the present day. 
 Her suite was very large of ladies and young girls, for she
 
 30 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 refused none ; she even inquired of the noblemen of her 
 Court whether they had daughters, and what they were, and 
 asked to have them brought to her. I had an aunt de 
 Bourdeille who had the honour of being brought up by her 
 [Louise de Bourdeille, maid of honour to Queen Anne in 
 1494] ; but she died at Court, aged fifteen years, and was 
 buried behind the great altar of the church of the Fran- 
 ciscans in Paris. I saw the tomb and its inscription before 
 that church was burned [in 1580.] 
 
 Queen Anne's Court was a noble school for ladies ; she 
 had them taught and brought up wisely; and all, taking 
 pattern by her, made themselves wise and virtuous. Be- 
 cause her heart was great and lofty she wanted guards, and 
 so formed a second band of a hundred gentlemen, — for 
 hitherto there was only one; and the greater part of the 
 said new guard were Bretons, who never failed, when she 
 left her room to go to mass or to promenade, to await her 
 on that little terrace at Blois, still called the Breton perch, 
 "La Perche aux Bretons," she herself having named it so 
 by saying when she saw them : " Here are my Bretons on 
 their perch, awaiting me." 
 
 You may be sure that she did not lay by her money, but 
 employed it well on all high things. 
 
 She it was, who built, out of great superbness, that fine 
 vessel and mass of wood, called " La Cordelifere," which at- 
 tacked so furiously in mid-ocean the " Regent of England," 
 grappling to her so closely that both were burned and noth- 
 ing escaped, — not the people, nor anything else that was in 
 them, so that no news was ever heard of them on land ; 
 which troubled the queen very much.^ 
 
 The king honoured her so much that one day, it being 
 reported to him that the law clerks at the Palais [de Justice] 
 
 1 See Ai)pen(lix.
 
 ANNE DE BRETAGNE, QUEEN OF FRANCE. 31 
 
 and the students also were playing games in which there 
 was talk of the king, his Court, and all the great people, 
 he took no other notice than to say they needed a pastime, 
 and he would let them talk of him and his Court, though 
 not licentiously ; but as for the queen, his wife, they should 
 not speak of her in any way whatsoever ; if they did he 
 would have them hanged. Such was the honour he bore 
 her. 
 
 Moreover, there never came to his Court a foreign prince 
 or an ambassador that, after having seen and listened to 
 them, he did not send them to pay their reverence to the 
 queen ; wishing the same respect to be shown to her as to 
 him ; and also, because he recognized in her a great faculty 
 for entertaining and pleasing great personages, as, indeed, 
 she knew well how to do ; taking much pleasure in it her- 
 self ; for she had very good and fine grace and majesty in 
 greeting them, and beautiful eloquence in talking with them. 
 Sometimes, amid her French speech, she would, to make 
 herself more admired, mingle a few foreign words, which 
 she had learned from M. de Grignaux, her chevalier of 
 honour, who was a very gallant man who had seen the 
 world, and was accomplished and knew foreign languages, 
 being thereby very pleasant good company, and agree- 
 able to meet. Thus it was that one day. Queen Anne 
 having asked him to teach her a few words of Spanish to 
 say to the Spanish ambassador, he taught her in joke a little 
 indecency, which she quickly learned. The next day, while 
 awaiting the ambassador, M. de Grignaux told the story to 
 the king, who thought it good, understanding his gay and 
 lively humour. Nevertheless he went to the queen, and 
 told her all, warning her to be careful not to use those 
 words. She was in such great anger, though the king only 
 laughed, that she wanted to dismiss M. de Grignaux, and
 
 32 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 showed him her displeasure for several days. But M. de 
 Grignaux made her such humble excuses, telling her that 
 he only did it to make the king laugh and pass his time 
 merrily, and that he was not so ill-advised as to fail to warn 
 the king in time that he might, as he really did, warn her 
 before the arrival of the ambassador ; so that on these ex- 
 cuses and the entreaties of the king she was pacified. 
 
 Now, if the king loved and honoured her living, we may 
 believe that, she being dead, he did the same. And to mani- 
 fest the mourning that he felt, the superb and honourable 
 funeral and obsequies that he ordered for her are proof ; the 
 which I have read of in an old " History of France " that I 
 found lying about in a closet in our house, nobody caring for 
 it ; and having gathered it up, I looked at it. Now as this 
 is a matter that should be noted, I shall put it here, word 
 for word as the book says, without changing anything ; for 
 though it is old, the language is not very bad ; and as for 
 the truth of the book, it has been confirmed to me by 
 my grandmother, Mme. la Seneschale de Poitou, of the 
 family du Lude, who was then at the Court. The book re- 
 lates it thus : — 
 
 " This queen was an honourable and virtuous queen, and 
 very wise, the true mother of the poor, the support of gentle- 
 men, the haven of ladies, damoiselles, and honest girls, and 
 the refuge of learned men ; so that all the people of France 
 cannot surfeit themselves enough in deploring and regretting 
 her. 
 
 "She died at the castle of Blois on the twenty-first of 
 January, in the year 1513, after the accomplishment of a 
 thing she had most desired, namely : the union of the king, 
 her lord, with the pope and the Roman Church, abhorring as 
 she did schism and divisions. For that reason she had never 
 ceased urging the king to this step, for which she wag \s
 
 ANNE DE BRETAGNE, QUEEN OF FRANCE. 33 
 
 much loved and greatly revered by the Catholic princes and 
 prelates as the king had been hated. 
 
 " I have seen at Saint-Denis a grand church cope, all cov- 
 ered with pearls embroidered, which she had ordered to be 
 made expressly to send as a present to the pope, but death 
 prevented. After her decease her body remained for three 
 days in her room, the face uncovered, and nowise changed by 
 hideous death, but as beautiful and agreeable as when living. 
 
 " Friday, the twenty-seventh of the month of January, her 
 body was taken from the castle, very honourably accompanied 
 by all the priests and monks of the town, borne by persons 
 wearing mourning, with hoods over their heads, accompanied 
 by twenty-four torches larger than the other torches borne 
 by twenty-four officers of the household of the said lady, 
 on each of which were two rich armorial escutcheons bear- 
 ing the arms emblazoned of the said lady. After these 
 torches came the reverend seigneurs and prelates, bishops, 
 abb&, and M. le Cardinal de Luxembourg to read the office ; 
 and thus was removed the body of the said lady from the 
 Chateau de Blois. . . . 
 
 " Septuagesima Sunday, twelfth of February, they arrived 
 at the church of ISTotre-Dame des Champs in the suburbs of 
 Paris, and there the body was guarded two nights with great 
 quantities of lights ; and on the following Tuesday, the devout 
 services having been read, there marched before the body 
 processions with the crosses of all the churches and all the 
 monasteries of Paris, the whole University in a body, the 
 presidents and counsellors of the sovereign court of Parlia- 
 ment, and generally of all other courts and jurisdictions, 
 officers and advocates, merchants and citizens, and other 
 lesser officers of the town. All these accompanied the said 
 body reverentially, with the very noble seigneurs and ladies 
 aforenamed, just as they started from Blois, all keeping fine
 
 34 THE BOOK OF THE -SADIES. 
 
 order among themselves according to their several ranks. . . . 
 And thus was borne through Paris, in the order and manner 
 above, the body of the queen to be sepulchred in the pious 
 church of Saint-Denis of France ; preceded by these pro- 
 cessions to a cross which is not far beyond the place where 
 the fair of Landit is held. 
 
 "And to the spot where stands the cross the reverend 
 father in God, the abb^ and the venerable monks, with the 
 priests of the churches and parishes of Saint-Denis, vestured 
 in their great copes, with their crosses, came in procession, 
 together with the peasants and the inhabitants of the said 
 town, to receive the body of the late queen, which was then 
 borne to the door of the church of Saint-Denis, still accom- 
 panied honourably by all the above-named very noble princes 
 and princesses, seigneurs, dames, and damoiselles, and their 
 train as already stated. . . . 
 
 "And all being duly accomplished, the body of the said 
 lady, Madame Anne, in her lifetime very noble Queen of 
 France, Duchesse of Bretagne, and Comtesse d'fitampes, was 
 honourably interred and sepulchred in the tomb for her 
 prepared. 
 
 " After this, the herald-at-arms for Bretagne summoned all 
 the princes and officers of the said lady, to wit : the chevalier 
 of honour, the grand-master of the household, and others, 
 each and all, to fulfil their duty towards the said body, which 
 they did most piteously, shedding tears from their eyes. And, 
 this done, the aforenamed king-at-arms cried three times 
 aloud in a most piteous voice : * The very Christian Queen of 
 France, Duchesse de Bretagne, our Sovereign Lady, is dead ! ' 
 And then all departed. The body remained entombed. 
 
 " During her life and after her death she was honoured by 
 the titles I have before given : true mother of the poor ; the 
 comfort of noble gentlemen ; the haven of ladies and damoi-
 
 ANNE DE BRlfrAGNE, QUEEN OF FRANCE. 35 
 
 selles and honest girls ; the refuge of learned men and those 
 of good lives ; so that speaking of her dead is only renewing 
 the grief and regrets of all such persons, and also that of her 
 domestic servants, whom she loved singularly. She was veiy 
 rehgious and devout. It was she who made the foundation 
 of the * Bons-Hommes ' [monastery of the order of Saint- 
 Frangois de Paule at Chaillot], otherwise called the Minimes ; 
 and she began to build the church of the said * Bons-Hommes ' 
 near Paris, and afterwards that in Eome which is so beautiful 
 and noble, and where, as I saw myself, they receive no monks 
 but Frenchmen." 
 
 There, word for word, are the splendid obsequies of this 
 queen, without changing a word of the original, for fear of 
 doing worse, — for I could not do better. They were just like 
 those of our kings that I have heard and read of, and those 
 of King Charles IX., at which I was present, and which the 
 queen, his mother, desired to make so fine and magnificent, 
 though the finances of France were then too short to spend 
 much, because of the departure of the King of Poland, who 
 with his suite had squandered and carried off a great deal 
 [1574]. 
 
 Certainly I find these two interments much alike, save for 
 three things: one, that the burial of Queen Anne w^as the 
 most superb ; second, that all went so weU in order and so 
 discreetly that there was no contention of ranks, as occurred 
 at the burial of King Charles ; for his body, being about to 
 start for Notre-Dame, the court of parliament had some 
 pique of precedence with the nobility and tlie Church, claim- 
 ing to stand in the place of the king and to represent him 
 when absent, he being then out of the kingdom. [Henri III. 
 was then King of Poland]. On which a great princess, as 
 the world goes, who was very near to him, whom I know 
 but will not name, went about argumg and saying : " It was
 
 36 • THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 no wonder if, during the lifetime of the king, seditions and 
 troubles had been in vogue, ^seeing that, dead as he was, he 
 was still able to stir up strife." Alas ! he never did it, poor 
 prince ! either dead or living. We know well who were the 
 authors of the seditions and of our civil wars. That princess 
 who said those words has since found reason to regret 
 them. 
 
 The third thing is that the body of King Charles was 
 quitted, at the church of Saint-Lazare, by the whole pro- 
 cession, princes, seigneurs, courts of parliament, the Church, 
 and the citizens, and was followed and accompanied from 
 there by none but poor M. de Strozzi, de Fumel, and myself, 
 with two gentlemen of the bedchamber, for we were not 
 willing to abandon our master as long as he was above 
 ground. There were also a few archers of the guard, quite 
 XJitiable to see, in the fields. So at eight in the evening in 
 the month of July, we started with the body and its effigy 
 thus badly accompanied. 
 
 Eeaching the cross, we found all the monks of Saint- 
 Denis awaiting us, and the body of the king was honourably 
 escorted, with the ceremonies of the Church, to Saint-Denis, 
 where the great Cardinal de Lorraine received it most honour- 
 ably and devoutly, as he knew well how to do. 
 
 The queen-mother was very angry that the procession did 
 not continue to the end as she intended — save for Monsieur 
 her son, and the King of Navarre, whom she held a prisoner. 
 The next day, however, the latter arrived in a coach, with 
 a very good guard, and captains of the guard with him, to 
 be present at the solemn high service, attended by the 
 whole procession and company as at first, — a sight very sad 
 to see. 
 
 After dinner the court of parliament sent to tell and to 
 command the grand almoner Aniyot to go and say grace
 
 ANNE DE BRETAGNE, QUEEN OF FRANCE. 37 
 
 after meat for them as if for the king. To which he made 
 answer that he should do nothing of the kind, for it was 
 not before them he was bound to do it. They sent him 
 two consecutive and threatening commands ; which he still 
 refused, and went and hid himself that he might answer 
 no more. Then they swore they would not leave the table 
 till he came ; but not being able to find him, they were 
 constrained to say grace themselves and to rise, which they 
 did with great threats, foully abusing the said almoner, even 
 to calling him scoundrel, and son of a butcher. I saw the 
 whole affair; and I know what Monsieur commanded me 
 to go and tell to M. le cardinal, asking him to pacify the mat- 
 ter, because they had sent commands to Monsieur to send 
 to them, as representatives of the king, the grand almoner 
 if he could be found. M. le cardinal went to speak to them, 
 but he gained nothing ; they standing firm on their opinion 
 of their royal majesty and authority. I know what M. le 
 cardinal said to me about them, telling me not to say it, — 
 that they were perfect fools. The chief president, de Thou, 
 was then at their head ; a great senator certainly, but he had 
 a temper. So here was another disturbance to make that 
 princess say again that King Charles, either living or dead, 
 on earth or under it, that body of his stirred up the world 
 and threw it into sedition. Alas ! that he could not do. 
 
 I have told this little incident, possibly more at length than 
 I should, and I may be blamed ; but I reply that I have 
 told and put it here as it came into my fancy and memory ; 
 also that it comes in b, propos ; and that I cannot forget it, 
 for it seems to me a thing that is rather remarkable. 
 
 Now, to return to our Queen Anne : we see from this fine 
 last duty of her obsequies how beloved she was of earth and 
 heaven ; far otherwise than that proiid, pompous queen, Isa- 
 bella of Bavaria, wife of the late King Charles VI., who
 
 38 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 having died in Paris, her body was so despised it was put 
 out of her palace into a little boat on the river Seine, with- 
 out form of ceremony or pomp, being carried through a 
 little postern so narrow it could hardly go through, and 
 thus was taken to Saint-Denis to her tomb like a simple 
 damoiselle, neither more nor less. There was also a differ- 
 ence between her actions and those of Queen Anne : for she 
 brought the English into France and Paris, threw the king- 
 dom into flames and divisions, and impoverished and rumed 
 every one ; whereas Queen Anne kept France in peace, en- 
 larged and enriched it w4th her beautiful duchy and the fine 
 property she brought with her. So one need not wonder 
 that the king regretted her and felt such mourning that he 
 came nigh dying in the forest of Vincennes, and clothed 
 himself and all his Court so long in black ; and those who 
 came otherwise clothed he had them driven away ; neither 
 would he see any ambassador, no matter who he was, unless 
 he were dressed in black. And, moreover, that old History 
 which I have quoted, says : " When he gave his daughter to 
 M. dAngoul>5me, afterwards King Francois, mourning was 
 not left off by him or his Court ; and the day of the espousals 
 in the church of Saint-Germain-en-Laye, the bridegroom and 
 bride were vestured and clothed " — so this History says — 
 " in black cloth, honestly cut in mourning shape, for the death 
 of the said queen, Madame Anne de Bretagne, mother of 
 the bride, in presence of the king, her father, accompanied 
 by the princes of the blood and noble seigneurs and prel- 
 ates, princesses, dames, and damoiselles, all clothed in, black 
 cloth made in mourning shape." That is what the book 
 says. It was a strange austerity of mourning which should 
 be noted, that not even on the day of the wedding was it 
 dispensed with, to be renewed on the following day. 
 
 From this we may know how beloved, and worthy to be
 
 ANNE DE BRETAGNE, QUEEN OF FRANCE. 39 
 
 beloved this princess was by the king, her husband, who 
 sometimes in liis merry moods and gayety would caU her 
 "his Breton." 
 
 If she had lived longer she would never have consented 
 to that marriage of her daughter ; it was very repugnant to 
 her and she said so to the king, her husband, for she mor- 
 tally hated Madame d'Angouleme, afterwards Eegent, their 
 tempers being quite unlike and not agreeing together ; be- 
 sides which, she had wished to unite her said daughter to 
 Charles of Austria, then young, the greatest seigneur of 
 Christendom, who was afterwards emperor. And this she 
 wished in spite of ISL d'Angouleme coming very near the 
 Crown ; but she never thought of that, or would not think 
 of it, trusting to have more children herself, she being only 
 thirty-seven years old when she died. In her lifetime and 
 reign, reigned also that great and wise queen, Isabella of 
 Castile, very accordant in manners and morals with our 
 Queen Anne. For which reason they loved each other 
 much and visited one another often by embassies, letters, 
 and presents; 'tis thus that virtue ever seeks out virtue. 
 
 King Louis was afterwards pleased to marry for the third 
 time Marie, sister of the King of England, a very beautiful 
 princess, young, and too young for him, so that evil came of 
 it. But he married more from policy, to make peace with 
 the English and to put his own kingdom at rest, than for 
 any other reason, never being able to forget his Queen Anne. 
 He commanded at his death that they should both be covered 
 by the same tomb, just as we now see it in Saint-Denis, all in 
 white marble, as beautiful and superb as never was. 
 
 Now, here I pause in my discourse and go no farther; 
 referring the rest to books that are written of this queen 
 better than I could write ; only to content my own self have 
 I made this discourse.
 
 40 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 I will say one other little thing ; that she was the first of 
 our queens or prince 3ses to form the usage of putting a belt 
 round their arms and escutcheons, which until then were 
 borne not inclosed, but quite loose ; and the said queen was 
 the first to put the belt. 
 
 I say no more, not having been of her time ; although I 
 protest having told only truth, having learned it, as I have 
 said, from a book, and also from Mme. la Seneschale, my 
 grandmother, and from Mme. de Dampierre, my aunt, a true 
 Court register, and as clever, wise, and virtuous a lady as ever 
 entered a Court these hundred years, and who knew well how 
 to discourse on old things. From eight years of age she was 
 brought up at Court, and forgot nothing ; it was good to hear 
 her talk ; and I have seen our kings and queens take a singu- 
 lar pleasure in listening to her, for she knew all, — her own 
 time and past times ; so that people took word from her as 
 from an oracle. King Henri Til. made her lady of honour 
 to the queen, his wife. I have here used recollections and 
 lessons that I obtained from her, and I hope to use many 
 more in the course of these books. 
 
 I have read the epitaph of the said queen, thus made : — 
 
 " Here lies Anne, who was wife to two great kings, 
 Great a hundred-fold herself, as queen two times I 
 Never queen like her enriched all France ; 
 That is what it is to make a grand alliance." 
 
 Gui Patin, satirist and jovial spirit of his time [he was 
 born in 1601], attracted to Saint-Denis because a fair was 
 held there, visits the abbey, the treasury, " where " he says, 
 " there was plenty of silly stuff and rubbish," and lastly the 
 tombs of the kings, " where I could not keep myself from 
 weeping to see so many monuments to the vanity of humaa
 
 ANNE DE BRETAGNE, QUEEN OF FRANCE. 41 
 
 life ; tears escaped me also before the tomb of the great and 
 good king, Frangois I., who founded our College of Professors 
 of the King. I must own my weakness ; I kissed it, and 
 also that of his father-in-law, Louis XII., who was the Father 
 of his People, and the best king we have ever had in France." 
 Happy age ! still neighbour to beliefs, when those reputed 
 the greatest satirists had these touching naivetes, these 
 wholly patriotic and antique sensibilities. 
 
 Mezeray [born ten years later], in his natural, sincere and 
 expressive diction, his clear and full narration, into which he 
 has the art to bring speaking circumstances which animate 
 the tale, says in relation to Louis XII. [in his " History of 
 France "] : " When he rode through the country the good folk 
 ran from all parts and for many days to see him, strewing 
 the roads with flowers and foliage, and striving, as though he 
 were a visible God, to touch his saddle with their handker- 
 chiefs and keep them as precious relics." 
 
 And two centuries later, Comte Eoederer, in his Memoir 
 on Polite Society and the Hotel de Eambouillet, printed 
 in 1835, tells us how in his youth his mind was already busy 
 with Louis XII., and, returning to the same interest in after 
 years, he made him his hero of predilection and his king. 
 In studying the history of France he thought he discov- 
 ered, he says, that at the close of the fifteenth century and 
 the beginning of the sixteenth what has since been called the 
 " French Eevolution " was already consummated ; that liberty 
 rested on a free Constitution; and that Louis XII., the 
 Father of his People, was he who had accomplished it. 
 Bonhomie and goodness have never been denied to Louis XII., 
 but Eoederer claims more, he claims ability and skill. The 
 Italian wars, considered generally to have been mistakes, he 
 excuses and justifies by showing them in the king's mind as 
 a means of useful national policy ; he needed to obtain from
 
 42 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 Pope Alexander VI. the dissolution of his marriage with 
 Jeanne de France, in order that he might marry Anne de 
 Bretagne and so unite the duchy with the kingdom. Eoederer 
 makes King Louis a type of perfection ; seeming to have 
 searched in regions far from those that are historically bril- 
 liant, far from spheres of fame and glory, into " the depths 
 obscure," as he says himself, " of useful government for a 
 hero of a new species." 
 
 More than that : he thinks he sees in the cherished wife 
 of Louis XIL, in Anne de Bretagne, the foundress of a school 
 of polite manners and perfection for her sex. " She was," 
 Brantome had said, " the most worthy and honourable queen 
 that had ever been since Queen Blanche, mother of the King 
 Saint-Louis. . . . Her Court was a noble school for ladies ; 
 she had them taught and brought up wisely ; and all, 
 taking pattern by her, made themselves wise and virtuous." 
 Eoederer takes these words of Brantome and, giving them 
 their strict meaning, draws therefrom a series of conse- 
 quences : just as Frangois I. had, in many respects, over- 
 thrown the political state of things estabhshed by Louis XIL, 
 so, he believes, had the women beloved of Frangois over- 
 turned that honourable condition of society established by 
 Anne de Bretagne. Starting from that epoch he sees, as it 
 were, a constant struggle between two sorts of rival and 
 incompatible societies: between the decent and ingenuous 
 society of which Anne de Bretagne had given the idea, and 
 the licentious society of which the mistresses of the king, 
 women like the Duchesse d'Etampes and Diane de Poitiers, 
 procured the triumph. These two societies, to his mind, 
 never ceased to co-exist during the sixteenth century ; on 
 the one hand was an emulation of virtue and merit on the 
 part of the noble heiresses, alas, too eclipsed, of Anne de 
 Bretagne, on the other an emulation with high bidding of
 
 ANNE DE BRETAGNE, QUEEN OF FRANCE. 43 
 
 gallantry, by the giddy pupils of the school of Frangois I. 
 To Eoederer the Hotel de Eambouillet, that perfected salon, 
 founded towards the beginning of the seventeenth century, 
 is only a tardy return to the traditions of Anne de Bretagne, 
 the triumph of merit, virtue, and polite manners over the 
 license to which all the kings, from rran9ois I., including 
 Henri IV., had paid tribute. 
 
 Eeaching thus the Hotel de Eambouillet and holding 
 henceforth an unbroken thread in hand, Eoederer divides and 
 subdivides at pleasure. He marks the divers periods and the 
 divers shades of transition, the growth and the decline that 
 he discerns. The first years of Louis XIV.'s youth cause 
 him some distress ; a return is being made to the ways of 
 Frangois L, to the brilliant mistresses. Ecederer, not con- 
 cerning himself with the displeasure he wiU cause the classi- 
 cists, lays a little of the blame for this return on the four 
 great poets, Molifere, La Fontaine, Eacine, and Boileau himself, 
 all accomplices, more or less, in the laudation of victor and 
 lover. However, age comes on ; Louis XIV. grows temperate 
 in turn, and a woman, issuing from the very purest centre of 
 Mme. de Eambouillet's society, and who was morally its 
 heiress, a woman accomplished in tone, in cultivation of 
 mind, in precision of language, and in the sentiment of pro- 
 priety, — Mme. de Maintenon, — knows so well how to seize 
 the opportunity that she seats upon the throne, in a modest 
 half-light, all the styles of mind and merit which made the 
 perfection of French society in its better days. The triumph 
 of Mme. de Maintenon is that of polite society itself ; Anne 
 de Bretagne has found her pendant at the other extremity of 
 the chain after the lapse of two centuries. 
 
 Sainte-Beuve, Causeries du Lundi, Vol. VIII.
 
 DISCOUESE 11. 
 
 CATHEEINE DE' MEDICI, QUEEN, AND MOTHER OE OUR 
 LAST KINGS. 
 
 I HAVE wondered and been astonished a liundred times 
 that, so many good writers as we have had in our day in 
 France, none of them has been inquisitive enough to make 
 some fine selection of the life and deeds of the queen-mother, 
 Catherine de' Medici, inasmuch as she has furnished ample 
 matter, and cut out much fine work, if ever a queen did — 
 as said the Emperor Charles to Paolo Giovio [Italian histo- 
 rian] when, on his return from his triumphant voyage in 
 the " Goulette " intending to make war upon King Francois, 
 he gave him a provision of ink and paper, saying he would 
 cut him out plenty of work. So it is true that this queen 
 cut out so much that a good and zealous writer might make 
 an Iliad of it ; but they have all been lazy, — or ungrateful, 
 for she was never niggardly to learned men ; I could name 
 several who have derived good benefits from this queen, from 
 which, in consequence, I accuse them of ingratitude. 
 
 There is one, however, who did concern himself to write 
 of her, and made a little book which he entitled " The Life 
 of Catherine ; " ^ but it is an imposture and not worthy of 
 belief, as she herself said when she saw it; such falsities 
 being apparent to every one, and easy to note and reject. 
 He that wrote it wished her mortal harm, and was an enemy 
 to her name, her condition, her life, her honour, and nature ; 
 and that is why he should be rejected. As for me, I would 
 1 See Appendix,
 
 CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 45 
 
 I knew how to speak well, or that I had a good pen, well 
 mended, at my command, that I might exalt and praise her 
 as she deserves. At any rate, such as my pen is, I shall now 
 employ it at all hazards. 
 
 This queen is extracted, on the father's side, from the race 
 of the Medici, one of the noblest and most illustrious fami- 
 nes, not only in Italy, but in Christendom. Whatever may 
 be said, she was a foreigner to these shores because the 
 alliances of kings cannot commonly be chosen in their king- 
 dom ; for it is not best to do so ; foreign marriages being as 
 useful and more so than near ones. The House of the 
 Medici has always been allied and confederated with the 
 crown of France, which still bears the Jleur-de-li/s that King 
 Louis XI. gave that house in sign of alliance and perpetual 
 confederation [the Jleur de Louis, which then became the 
 Florentine lily]. 
 
 On the mother's side she issued originally from one of the 
 noblest families of France ; and so was truly French in race, 
 heart, and affection through that great house of Boulogne 
 and county of Auvergne ; thus it is hard to tell or judge 
 in which of her two families there was most grandeur and 
 memorable deeds. Here is what was said of them by the 
 Archbishop of Bourges, of the house of Beaune, as great a 
 learned man and worthy prelate as there is in Christendom 
 (though some say a trifle unsteady in belief, and little good in 
 the scales of M. Saint-Michel, who weighs good Christians 
 for the day of judgment, or so they say) : it is given in the 
 funeral oration which the archbishop made upon the said 
 queen at Blois : — 
 
 " In the days when Brennus, that great captain of the 
 Gauls, led his army throughout all Italy and Greece, there 
 were with him in his troop two French nobles, one named 
 Felsinus, the other named Bono, who, seeing the wicked
 
 46 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 design of Brennus, after liis fine conquests, to invade the 
 temple of Delphos and soil himself and his army with the 
 sacrilege of that temple, withdrew, both of them, and passed 
 into Asia with their vessels and men, advancing so far that 
 they entered the sea of the Medes, which is near to Lydia 
 and Persia. Thence, having made great conquests and ob- 
 tained great victories, they were returning through Italy, 
 hoping to reach France, when Felsinus stopped at a place 
 where Florence now stands beside the river Arno, which he 
 saw to be fine and delectable, and situated much as another 
 which had pleased him much in the country of the Medes. 
 There he built a city which to-day is Florence ; and his com- 
 panion. Bono, built another and named it Bononia, now called 
 Bologna, the which are neighbouring cities. Henceforth, in 
 consequence of the victories and conquests of Felsinus 
 among the Medes, he was called Medicus among his friends, a 
 name that remained to the family ; just as we read of Paulus 
 sumamed Macedonicus for having conquered Macedonia from 
 Perseus, and Scipio called Africanus for doing the same in 
 Africa." 
 
 I do not know where M. de Beaune may have taken this 
 history ; but it is very probable that before the king and 
 such an assembly, there convened for the funeral of the 
 queen, he would not have alleged the fact without good 
 authority. This descent is very far from the modern story 
 invented and attributed without grounds to the family of 
 jMedici, according to that lying book which I have men- 
 tioned on the life of the said queen. After this the said 
 Sieur de Beaune says further, he has read in the chronicles 
 that one named Everard de' Medici, Sieur of Florence, went, 
 with many of his subjects, to the assistance of the voyage 
 and expedition made by Charlemagne against Desiderius, 
 King of the Lombards ; and having very bravely succoured
 
 CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 47 
 
 and assisted him, was confirmed and invested with the 
 lordship of Florence. Many years after, one Anemond de* 
 Medici, also Sieur of Florence, went, accompanied by many 
 of his subjects, to the Holy Land, with Godefroy de Bouillon, 
 where he died at the siege of Nicaea in Asia. Such greatness 
 always continued in that family until Florence was reduced 
 to a republic by the intestine wars in Italy between the em- 
 perors and the peoples, the illustrious members of it mani- 
 festing their valour and grandeur from time to time ; as we 
 saw in the latter days Cosmo de' Medici, who, with his arms, 
 his navy, and vessels, terrified the Turks in the Mediterra- 
 nean Sea and in the distant East ; so that none since his 
 time, however great he may be, has surpassed him in strength 
 and valour and wealth, as Ptaffaelle Volaterano has written. 
 
 The temples and sacred shrines by him built, the hospitals 
 by him founded, even in Jerusalem, are ample proof of his 
 piety and magnanimity. 
 
 There were also Lorenzo de' Medici, surnamed the Great for 
 his virtuous deeds, and two great popes, Leo and Clement, 
 also many cardinals and grand personages of the name; 
 besides the Grand Duke of Tuscany, Cosmo de' Medici, a 
 wise and wary man, if ever there was one. He succeeded in 
 maintaining himself in his duchy, which he found invaded 
 and much disturbed when he came to it. 
 
 In short, nothing can rob this house of the Medici of its 
 lustre, very noble and grand as it is in every way. 
 
 As for the house of Boulogne and Auvergne, who will say 
 that it is not great, having issued originally from that noble 
 Eustache de Boulogne, whose brother, Godefroy de Bouillon, 
 bore arms and escutcheons with so vast a number of 
 princes, seigneurs, chevaliers, and Christian soldiers, even to 
 Jerusalem and the Sepulchre of our Saviour ; and would have 
 made himself, by his sword and the favour of God, king, not
 
 48 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 only of Jerusalem but of the greater part of the East, to the 
 confusion of Mahomet., the Saracens, and the Mahometans, 
 amazing all the rest of the world and replanting Christianity 
 in Asia, where it had fallen to the lowest ? 
 
 For the rest, this house has ever been sought in alliance 
 by all the monarchies of Christendom and the great families ; 
 such as France, England, Scotland, Hungary, and Portugal, 
 which latter kingdom belonged to it of right, as I have heard 
 President de Thou say, and as the queen herself did me the 
 honour to tell me at Bordeaux when she heard of the death 
 of King Sebastian [in Morocco, 1578], the Medici being 
 received to argue the justice of their rights at the last 
 Assembly of States before the decease of King Henry [in 
 1580]. This was why she armed M. de Strozzi to make an 
 invasion, the King of Spain having usurped the kingdom ; 
 she was arrested in so fine a course only by reasons which 1 
 will explain at another time. 
 
 I leave you to suppose, therefore, whether this house 
 of Boulogne was great ; yes, so great that I once heard Pope 
 Pius IV. say, sitting at table at a dinner he gave after his 
 election to the Cardinals of Ferrara and Guise, his creations, 
 that the house of Boulogne was so great and noble he knew 
 none in France, whatever it was, that could surpass it in 
 antiquity, valour, and grandeur. 
 
 All this is much against those malicious detractors who 
 have said that this queen was a Florentine of low birth. 
 Moreover, she was not so poor but what she brought to 
 France in marriage estates which are worth to-day twenty -six 
 thousand lirres, — such as the counties of Auvergne and Laura- 
 gais, the seigneuries of Leverons, iJonzenac, Boussac, Gorr^ges, 
 Hondecourt and other lands, — all an inheritance from her 
 mother. Besides which, her dowry was of more than two 
 hundred thousand ducats, which are worth to-day over four
 
 CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 49 
 
 hundred thousand ; with great quantities of furniture, precious 
 stones, jewels, and other riches, such as the finest and largest 
 pearls ever seen in so great a number, which she afterwards 
 gave to her daughter-in-law, the Queen of Scotland [Mary 
 Stuart], whom I have seen wearing them. 
 
 Besides all this, many estates, houses, deeds, and claims in 
 Italy. 
 
 But more than all else, through her marriage the affairs of 
 France, which had been so shaken by the imprisonment of 
 the king and his losses at Milan and Naples, began to get 
 firmer. King Frangois was very willing to say that the mar- 
 riage had served his interests. Therefore there was given to 
 this queen for her device a rainbow, which she bore as long 
 as she was married, with these words in Greek ^w? ^ipec 
 T/Se yaXijvTjv. Which is the same as saying that just as this 
 fire and bow in the sky brings and signifies good weather 
 after rain, so this queen was a true sign of clearness, serenity, 
 and the tranquillity of peace. The Greek is thus translated : 
 Lucem fert et serenitatem — • " She brings light and serenity." 
 
 After that, the emperor [Charles V.] dared push no longer 
 his ambitious motto : " Ever farther." For, although there 
 was truce between himself and King Francois, he was nurs- 
 ing his ambition with the design of gaining always from 
 France whatever he could ; and he was much astonished at 
 this alliance with the pope [Clement VII.], regarding the lat- 
 ter as able, courageous, and vindictive for his imprisonment 
 by the imperial forces at the sack of Eome [1527]. Such a 
 marriage displeased him so much that I have heard a truthful 
 lady of the Court say that if he had not been married to the 
 empress, he would have seized an alliance with the pope him- 
 self and espoused his niece [Catherine de' Medici], as much 
 for the support of so strong a party as because he feared the 
 pope would assist in making him lose Naples, Milan, and 
 
 4
 
 50 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 Genoa; for the pope had promised King Francois, in an 
 authentic document, when he delivered to him the money of 
 his niece's dowry and her rings and jewels, to make the dowry 
 worthy of such a marriage by the addition of three pearls of 
 inestimable value, of the excessive splendour of which all the 
 greatest kings were envious and covetous ; the which were 
 Naples, Milan, and Genoa. And it is not to be doubted that 
 if the said pope had lived out his natural life he would have 
 sold the emperor well, and made him pay dear for that im- 
 prisonment, in order to aggrandize his niece and the kingdom 
 to which she was joined. But Clement VII. died young, and 
 all this profit came to nought. 
 
 So now our queen, having lost her mother, Magdelaine de 
 Boulogne, and Lorenzo de' Medici, Duke of Urbino, her 
 father, in early life, was married by her good uncle the pope 
 to France, whither she was brought by sea to Marseille in 
 great triumph ; and her wedding was pompously performed, 
 at the age of fourteen. She made herself so beloved by the 
 king, her father-in-law, and by King Henri, her husband 
 [not king till the death of Francois I.], that on remaining ten 
 years without producing issue, and many persons endeavouring 
 to persuade the king and the dauphin, her husband, to repu- 
 diate her because there was such need of an heir to France, 
 neither the one nor the other would consent because they 
 loved her so much. But after ten years, in accordance with 
 the natural habit of the women of the race of Medici, who 
 are tardy in conceiving, she began by producing the little 
 King Francois II. After that, was born the Queen of 
 Spain, and then, consecutively, that fine and illustrious 
 progeny w^hom we have all seen, and also others no sooner 
 born than dead, by great misfortune and fatality. All this 
 caused the king, her husband, to love her more and more, 
 and in such a way that he, who was of an amorous tempera-
 
 CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 51 
 
 ment, and greatly liked to make love and to change his loves, 
 said often that of all the women in the world there was none 
 like his wife for that, and he did not know her equal. He 
 had reason to say so, for she was truly a beautiful and most 
 amiable princess. 
 
 She was of rich and very fine presence ; of great majesty, 
 but very gentle when need was; of noble appearance and 
 good grace, her face handsome and agreeable, her bosom 
 very beautiful, white and full ; her body also very white, 
 the flesh beautiful, the skin smooth, as I have heard from 
 several of her ladies ; of a fine plumpness also, the leg and 
 thigh very beautiful (as I have heard, too, from the same 
 ladies) ; and she took great pleasure in being well shod and 
 in having her stockings well and tightly drawn up. 
 
 Besides all this, the most beautiful hand that was ever 
 seen, as I believe. Once upon a time the poets praised 
 Aurora for her fine hands and beautiful fingers ; but I think 
 our queen would etface her in that, and she guarded and 
 maintained that beauty all her life. The king, her son, 
 Henri III., inherited much of this beauty of the hand. 
 
 She always clothed herself well and superbly, often with 
 some pretty and new invention. In short, she had many 
 charms in herself to make her beloved. I remember that 
 one day at Lyons she went to see a painter named Corneille, 
 who had painted in a large room all the great seigneurs, 
 princes, cavaliers, queens, princesses, ladies of the Court, and 
 damoiselles. Being in the said room of these portraits we 
 saw there our queen, painted very well in all her beauty 
 and perfection, apparelled ^ la Frangaise in a cap and her 
 great pearls, and a gown with wide sleeves of silver tissue 
 furred with lynx, — the whole so well represented to the life 
 that only speech was lacking ; her three fine daughters were 
 beside her. She took great pleasure at the sight, and all the
 
 52 THE BOOK OF THE L^ADIES. 
 
 company there present did the same, praising and admiring 
 her beauty above all. She herself was so ravished by the 
 contemplation that she could not take her eyes from the 
 picture until M. de Nemours came to her and said : " Madame, 
 I think you are there so well portrayed that nothing more 
 can be said ; and it seems to me that your daughters do you 
 proper honour, for they do not go before you or surpass you." 
 To this she answered : " My cousin, I think you can re- 
 member the time, the age, and the dress of this picture ; so 
 that you can judge better than any of this company, for 
 you saw me like that, whether I was estimated such as you 
 say, and whether I ever was as I there appear." There was 
 not one in the company that did not praise and estimate 
 that beauty highly, and say that the mother was worthy 
 of the daughters, and the daughters of the mother. And 
 such beauty lasted her, married and widowed, almost to her 
 death ; not that she was as fresh as in her more blooming 
 years, but always well preserved, very desirable and agreeable. 
 
 For the rest, she was very good company and of gay 
 humour ; loving all honourable exercises, such as dancing, in 
 which she had great grace and majesty. 
 
 She also loved hunting ; about which I heard a lady of 
 the Court tell this tale : King Francois, having chosen and 
 made a company which was called " the little band of tlie 
 Court ladies," the handsomest, daintiest, and most favoured, 
 often escaped from the Court and went to other houses to 
 hunt the stag and pass his time, sometimes staying thus 
 withdrawn eight days, ten days, sometimes more and some- 
 times less, as the humour took him. Our queen (who was 
 then only Mme. la dauphine) seeing such parties made with- 
 out her, and that even Mesdames her sisters-in-law were there 
 while she stayed at home, made prayer to the king, to take 
 her always with him, and to do her the honour to permit 
 that she should never budfje without him.
 
 CATHERINE DE' MEDICL 53 
 
 It was said that she, being very shrewd and clever, did 
 this as much or more to see the king's actions and get his 
 secrets and hear and know all things, as from liking for the 
 hunt. 
 
 King Francois was pleased with this request, for it showed 
 the good-will that she had for his company ; and he granted 
 it heartily ; so that besides loving her naturally he now 
 loved her more, and delighted in giving her pleasure in the 
 hunt, at which she never left his side, but followed him at 
 full speed. She was very good on horseback and bold; 
 sitting with ease, and being the first to put the leg around 
 a pommel ; which was far more graceful and becoming 
 than sitting with the feet upon a plank. Till she was sixty 
 years of age and over she liked to ride on horseback, and 
 after her weakness prevented her she pined for it. It was 
 one of her greatest pleasures to ride far and fast, though she 
 fell many times with damage to her body, breaking her leg 
 once, and wounding her head, which had to be trepanned. 
 After she was widowed and had charge of the king and the 
 kingdom, she took the king always with her, and her other 
 children ; but while her husband, King Henri, lived, she 
 usually went with him to the meet of the stag and the other 
 hunts. 
 
 If he played at pall-mall she watched him play, and played 
 herself. She was very fond of shooting with a cross-bow 
 ct jalct [ball of stone], and she shot right well; so that 
 always when she went to ride her cross-bow was taken 
 with her, and if she saw any game, she shot it. 
 
 She was ever inventing some new dance or beautiful ballet 
 when the weather was bad. Also she invented games and 
 passed her time with one and another intimately ; but always 
 appearing very grave and austere when necessary. 
 
 She was fond of seeing comedies and tragedies ; but after
 
 54 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 " Sophonisbe," a tragedy composed by M. de Saint-Gdlais. was 
 very well represented by her daughters and other ladies and 
 damoiselles and gentlemen of her Court, at Blois for the 
 marriages of M. du Cypi^re and the Marquis d'Elboeuf, she 
 took an opinion that it was harmful to the affairs of the king- 
 dom, and woiild never have tragedies played again. But she 
 listened readily to comedies and tragi-comedies, and even 
 those of " Zaui " and " Pantaloon," taking great pleasure in 
 them, and laughing with all her heart like any other ; for she 
 liked laughter, and her natural self was jovial, loving a witty 
 word and ready with it, knowing well when to cast her speech 
 and her stone, and when to withhold them. 
 
 She passed her time in the afternoons at work on her silk 
 embroideries, in which she was as perfect as possible. In 
 short, this queen liked and gave herself up to all honourable 
 exercises ; and there was not one that was worthy of herself 
 and her sex that she did not wish to know and practise. 
 
 There is what I can say, speaking briefly and avoiding pro- 
 lixity, about the beauty of her body and her occupations. 
 
 When she called any one " my friend " it was either 
 that she thought him a fool, or she was angry with him. 
 This was so well known that she had a serving gentleman 
 named M. de Bois-Fevrier, who made reply when she called 
 him " my friend " : " Ha ! madame, I would rather you 
 called me your enemy; for to call me your friend is as 
 good as saying I am a fool, or that you are in anger against 
 me ; for I know your nature this long time." 
 
 As for lier mind, it was very great and very admirable, as 
 was shown in so many fine and signal acts by which her life 
 has been made illustrious forever. The king, her husband, 
 and his council esteemed her so much that when the king 
 went his journey to Germany, out of liis kingdom, he estab- 
 lished and ordered her as regent and ":uvernor throughout
 
 CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 55 
 
 his dominions during his absence, by a declaration solemnly 
 made before a full parliament in Paris. And in this office 
 she behaved so wisely that there was no disturbance, change, 
 or alteration in the State by reason of the king's absence ; 
 but, on the contrary, she looked so carefully to business that 
 she assisted the king with money, means, and men, and other 
 kinds of succour ; which helped him much for his return, and 
 even for the conquest which he made of cities in the duchy 
 of Luxembourg, such as Yvoy, Montmedy, Dampvilliers, 
 Chimay, and others. 
 
 I leave you to think how he who wrote that fine life I 
 spoke of detracted from her in saying that never did the king, 
 her husband, allow her to put her nose into matters of State. 
 Was not making her regent in his absence giving her ample 
 occasion to have full knowledge of them ? And it was thus 
 she did during all the journeys that he made yearly in going 
 to his armies. 
 
 What did she after the battle of Saint-Laurens, when 
 the State was shaken and the king had gone to Compifegne 
 to raise a new army? She so espoused affairs that she 
 roused and excited the gentlemen of Paris to give prompt 
 succour to their king, which came most apropos, both in 
 money and in other things very necessary in war. 
 
 Also, when the king was wounded, those who were of that 
 time and saw it cannot be ignorant of the great care she took 
 for Ms cure : the watches she made beside him without ever 
 sleeping ; the prayers with which, time after time, she im- 
 portuned God ; the processions and visitation of churches 
 which she made ; and the posts which she sent about every- 
 where inquiring for doctors and surgeons. But his hour had 
 come ; and when he passed from this world into the other, 
 she made such lamentations and shed such tears that never did 
 she stanch them ; and in memory of him, whenever he was
 
 56 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 spoken of as long as she lived, they gushed from the depths 
 of her eyes ; so that she took a device proper and suitable to 
 her tears and her mourning, namely : a mound of quicklime, 
 on which the drops of heaven fell abundantly, with these 
 words writ in Latin: Adorem extincta testantur vivere 
 Jlamma ; the drops of water, like her tears, showing ardour, 
 though the flame was extinct. This device takes its allegory 
 from the nature of quicklime, which, being watered, burns 
 strangely and shows its fire though flame is not there. Thus 
 did our queen show her ardour and her affection by her 
 tears, though flame, which was her husband, was now ex- 
 tinct ; and this was as much as to say that, dead as he was, 
 she made it appear by her tears that she could never forget 
 him, but should love him always. 
 
 A like device was borne in former days by Madame Valen- 
 tine de Milan, Duchesse d'Orleans, after the death of her 
 husband, killed in Paris, for which she had such great re- 
 gret that for all comfort and solace in her moaning, she 
 took a watering-pot for her device, on the top of which was 
 an S, in sign, so they say, of seule, souvenir, soucis, soujpirer, 
 and around the said watering-pot were written these words : 
 Hien ne m'est jplus ; plus ne m'est rien — " Nought is more to 
 me ; more is to me nothing." This device can still be seen 
 in her chapel in the church of the Franciscans at Blois. 
 
 The good King Een^ of Sicily, having lost liis wife Isabel, 
 Duchesse de Lorraine, suffered such great grief that never 
 did he truly rejoice again; and when his intimate friends 
 and favourites urged him to consolation he led them to his 
 cabinet and showed them, painted by his own hand (for he 
 was an excellent painter), a Turkish bow with its string un- 
 strung, beneath which was written : Arco per lentare jnaga 
 nonsana — "The bow although unstrung heals not the wound." 
 Then he said to them : " My friends, with this picture
 
 CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 57 
 
 I answer all your reasons: by unstringing a bow or 
 breaking its string, the harm thus done by the arrow may 
 quickly be mended, but, the life of my dear spouse being by 
 death extinct and broken, the wound of the loyal love — the 
 which, her living, filled my heart — cannot be cured." And 
 in various places in Angers we see these Turkish bows with 
 broken strings and beneath them the same words, Arco -per 
 lentare piaga non sana ; even at the Franciscan church, in 
 the chapel of Saint-Bernardin which he caused to be deco- 
 rated. This device he took after the death of his wife ; for 
 in her lifetime he bore another. 
 
 Our queen, around her device which I have told of, 
 placed many trophies: broken mirrors and fans, crushed 
 plumes, and pearls, jewels scattered to earth, and chains in 
 pieces ; the whole in sign of quitting worldly pomp, her 
 husband being dead, for whom her mourning never was 
 remitted. And, without the grace of God and the fortitude 
 with which he had endowed her, she would surely have suc- 
 cumbed to such great sadness and distress. Besides, she saw 
 that her young children and France had need of her, as we 
 have since seen by experience; for, like a Semiramis, or 
 second Athalie, she foiled, saved, guarded, and preserved her 
 said young children from many enterprises planned against 
 them in their early years ; and this with so much industry 
 and prudence that everybody thought her wonderful She, 
 being regent of the kingdom after the death of her son King 
 Francois during the minority of our king by the ordering of 
 the Estates of Orleans, imposed her will upon the King 
 of Navarre, who, as premier prince of the blood, wished to 
 be regent in her place and govern all things ; but she gained 
 so well and so dexterously the said Estates that if the said 
 King of Navarre had not gone elsewhere she would have 
 caused him to be attainted of the crime of lese-inajcste.
 
 58 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 And possibly she would still have done so for the actions 
 which, it was said, he made the Prince de Conde do about 
 those Estates, but for Mme. de Montpeusier, who governed 
 her much. So the said king was forced to content himself 
 to be under her. Now there is one of the shrewd and subtle 
 deeds she did in her beginning. 
 
 Afterwards she knew how to maintain her rank and au- 
 thority so imperiously that no one dared gainsay it, however 
 grand and disturbing he was, for a period of three months 
 when, the Court being at Fontainebleau, the said King of 
 Navarre, wishing to show his feelings, took offence because 
 M. de Guise ordered the keys of the king's house brought to 
 him every evening, and kept them all night in his room like 
 a grand-master (for that is one of his offices), so that no one 
 could go out without his permission. This angered the King 
 of Navarre, who wished to keep the keys himself ; but, being 
 refused, he grew spiteful and mutinied in such a way that 
 one morning suddenly he came to take leave of the king 
 and queen, intending to depart from the Court, taking with 
 him all the princes of the blood whom he had won over, 
 together with M. le Conn^table de Montmorency and his 
 children and nephew. 
 
 The queen, who did not in any way expect this step, was 
 at first much astonished, and tried all she could to ward off 
 the blow, giving good hope to the King of Navarre that if 
 he were patient he would some day be satisfied. But fine 
 words gained her nothing with the said king, who was set 
 on departing. WTiereupon the queen bethought her of this 
 subtle point : she sent and gave commandment to M. le 
 conn^table, as the principal, first, and oldest officer of the 
 crown, to stay near the king, his master, as his duty and 
 office demanded, and not to leave him. M. le conndtable, 
 wise and judicious as he was, being very zealous for his
 
 CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 59 
 
 master and careful of his grandeur and honour, after reflect- 
 ing on his duty and the command sent to him, went to 
 see the king and present himself as ready to fulfil his 
 office ; which greatly astonished the King of Navarre, who 
 was on the point of mounting his horse expecting M. le 
 conndtable, who came instead to represent his duty and 
 office and to persuade him not to budge himself nor to de- 
 part ; and did this so well that the King of Navarre went 
 to see the king and queen at the instigation of the connd- 
 table, and having conferred with their Majesties, his journey 
 was given up and his mules were countermanded, they having 
 then arrived at Melun. So all was pacified to the great content 
 of the King of Navarre. Not that M. de Guise diminished in 
 any way his office, or yielded one atom of his honour, for 
 he kept his pre-eminence and all that belonged to him, with- 
 out being shaken in the least, although he was not the 
 stronger ; but he was a man of the world in such things, 
 who was never bewildered, but knew very well how to brave 
 all and hold his rank and keep what he had. 
 
 It is not to be doubted, as all the world knows, that, if the 
 queen had not bethought her of this ruse regarding M. le 
 conndtable, all that party would have gone to Paris and 
 stirred up things to our injury ; for which reason great praise 
 should be given to the queen for this shift. I know, for I was 
 there, that many persons said it was not of her invention, but 
 that of Cardinal de Tournon, a wise and judicious prelate ; but 
 that is false, for, old stager though he was, i' faith the queen 
 knew more of wiles than he, or all the council of the king 
 together; for very often, when he was at fault, she would 
 help him and put him on the traces of what he ought to 
 know, of which I might produce a number of examples ; but 
 it will be enough to give this instance, which is fresh, and 
 which she herself did me the honour to disclose to me. It is 
 as follows : —
 
 60 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 When she went to Guyenne, and lately to Coignac, to recon- 
 cile the princes of the Eeligion and those of the League, and 
 so put the kingdom in peace, for she saw it would soon be 
 ruined by such divisions, she determined to proclaim a truce 
 in order to treat of this peace ; at which the King of Navarre 
 and the Prince de Conde were very discontent and mutinous, 
 — all the more, they said, because this proclamation did them 
 great harm on account of their foreigners, who, having heard 
 of it, might repent of their coming, or delay it; and they 
 accused the said queen of having made it with that intention. 
 So they said and resolved not to see the queen, and not to 
 treat with her unless the said truce were rescinded. Xow 
 finding her council, whom she had with her, though com- 
 posed of good heads, very ridiculous and little to be honoured 
 because they thought it impossible to find means to rescind 
 the said truce, the queen said to them : " Truly, you are very 
 stupid as to the remedy. Know you not better ? There is 
 but one means for that. You have at Maillezais the regiment 
 of Neufvy and de Sorlu, Huguenots ; send me from here, from 
 Niort, all the arquebusiers that you can, and cut them to pieces, 
 and there you have the truce rescinded and undone without 
 further trouble." As she commanded so it was executed ; 
 the arquebusiers started, led by the Capitaine I'Estelle, and 
 forced their fort and their barricades so well that there they 
 were quite defeated, Sorlu killed, who was a valiant man, 
 Neufvy taken prisoner with many others, and all their ban- 
 ners captured and brought to Niort to the queen ; who, using 
 her accustomed turn of clemency, pardoned all and sent them 
 away with their ensigns and even with their flags, which, as 
 regards the flags, is a very rare thing. But she chose to do 
 this stroke, rare or not, so she told me, to the princes ; who 
 now knew they had to do with a very able princess, and that 
 it was not to her they sliould address such mockery as to
 
 CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 61 
 
 make her rescind a truce by the very heralds who had pro- 
 claimed it ; for while they were thinking to make her receive 
 that insult, she had fallen upon them, and now sent them 
 word by the prisoners that it was not for them to affront her 
 by asking unseemly and unreasonable things, because it was 
 in her power to do them both good and evil. 
 
 That is how this queen knew how to give and teach a les- 
 son to her council. I might tell of many such things, but I 
 have now to treat of other points : the first of which must be 
 to answer those whom I have often heard say that she was 
 the first to rouse to arms, and so was cause of our civil wars. 
 Whoso will look to the source of the matter will not believe 
 that ; for the triumvirate having been created, she, seeing 
 the proceedings which were preparing and the change made 
 by the King of Navarre, — who from being formerly Huguenot 
 and very reformed had made himself Catholic, — and knowing 
 that through that change she had reason to fear for the king, 
 the kingdom, and her own person that he would move against 
 them, reflected and puzzled her mind to discover to what such 
 proceedings, meetings, and colloquies held in secret tended. 
 Not being able, as they say, to come at the bottom of the 
 pot, she bethought her one day, when the secret council was 
 in session in the room of the King of Navarre, to go into the 
 room above his, and by means of a tube which she had caused 
 to be slipped surreptitiously under the tapestry she listened 
 unperceived to their discourse. Among other things she 
 heard one thing that was very terrible and bitter to her. 
 The Mardchal de Saint-Andr^, one of the triumvirate, gave it 
 as his opinion that the queen should be put in a sack and 
 flung into the river, for that otherwise they could never suc- 
 ceed in their plans. But the late M. de Guise, who was very 
 good and generous, said that must not be; for it were too 
 unjust to make the wife and mother of our kings perish thus
 
 62 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 miserably, and he opposed it all. For this the said queen 
 has always loved him, and proved it to his children after his 
 death by giving them his estates. 
 
 I leave you to suppose what this sentence was to the 
 queen, having heard it thus with her own ears, and whether 
 she had no occasion for fear, although she was thus defended 
 by M. de Guise. From what I have heard tell by one of 
 her most intimate ladies, she feared they would strike the 
 blow without the knowledge of M. de Guise, as indeed she 
 had reason to do ; for in deeds so detestable an upright man 
 should always be distrusted, and the act not communicated 
 to him. She was thus compelled to consider her safety, and 
 employ those she saw already under arms [the Prince de 
 Condd and other Protestant leaders], begging them to have 
 pity for a mother and her children. 
 
 That is the whole cause, just as it was, of the civil war. 
 She would never go to Orleans with the others, nor give 
 them the king and her children, as she could have done ; 
 and she was very glad that in the hurly-burly of arms she 
 and the king her son and her other children were in safety, 
 as was reasonable. Moreover, she requested and held the 
 promise of the others that whenever she should summon 
 them to lay down their arms they would do so ; which, 
 nevertheless, they would not do when the time came, no 
 matter what appeals she made to them, and what pains she 
 took, and the great heat she endured at Talsy, to induce 
 them to listen to the peace she could have made good and 
 secured for all France had they then listened to her ; and 
 this great fire and others we have since seen lighted from 
 this first brand would have been forever extinguished in 
 France if they would then have trusted her. I know what 
 I myself have heard her say, with the tears in her eyes, and 
 with what zeal she endeavoured to do it.
 
 CATHERINE DE' MEDICL G'^) 
 
 This is why they cannot charge her with the first spark 
 of the civil war, nor yet with the second, which was the day 
 of Meaux ; for at that time she was thinking only of a hunt, 
 and of giving pleasure to the king in her beautiful house at 
 Monceaux. The warning came that M. le Prince and others 
 of the Eeligion were in arms and advancing to surprise and 
 seize the king under colour of presenting a request. God 
 knows who was the cause of this new disturbance, and with- 
 out the six thousand Swiss then lately raised, who knows 
 what might have happened ? This levy of Swiss was only the 
 pretext of their taking up arms, and of saying and publishing 
 that it was done to force them to war. In fact it was they, 
 themselves, as I know from being at Court, who requested 
 that levy of the king and queen, on the passage of the Duke 
 of Alba and his army, fearing that under colour of reaching 
 Flanders he might descend upon the frontiers of France ; 
 and they urged that it was the custom to arm the frontiers 
 whenever a neighbouring State was arming. No one can be 
 ignorant how urgent for this they were to the king and 
 queen by letters and embassies, — even M. le Prince himself 
 and M. I'amiral [Coligny] coming to see the king on this 
 subject at Saint-Germain-en-Laye, where I saw them. 
 
 I would also like to ask (for all that I write here I saw 
 myself) who it was who took up arms on Shrove Tuesday, 
 and who suborned and solicited ]\Ionsieur the king's brother, 
 and the King of Navarre, to give ear to the enterprises for 
 which Mole and Coconas were executed in Paris. It was 
 not the queen, for it was by her prudence that she prevented 
 them from uprising, — by keeping Monsieur and the King of 
 Navarre so locked in to the forest of Vincennes that they 
 could not get out; and on the death of King Charles she 
 held them so tightly in Paris and the Louvre, barring their 
 windows one morning, — at any rate those of the King of
 
 64 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 Xavarre, who was lodged on the lower floor (the King of 
 Navarre, told me this himself with tears in his eyes), — that 
 they could not escape as they intended, which would greatly 
 have embroiled the State and prevented the return of Poland 
 to the King, which was what they were after. I know all 
 this from having been invited to the fricassee, which was one 
 of the finest strokes ever made by the queen. Starting from 
 Paris she conducted them to Lyons to meet the king so dex- 
 terously that no one who saw them would ever have sup- 
 posed them prisoners ; they went in the same coach with her, 
 and she presented them herself to the king, who, on his 
 side, pardoned them soon after. 
 
 Also, who was it that enticed Monsieur the king's brother 
 to leave Paris one fine night and the company of his brother 
 who loved him well, and whose affection he cast off to go 
 and take up arms and embroil all France ? M. de La None 
 knows well, and also the secret plots that began at the siege 
 of Eochelle, and what I said to him about them. It was 
 not the queen-mother, for she felt such grief at seeing one 
 brother banded against another brother and his king, that 
 she swore she would die of it, or else replace and reunite them 
 as before — which she did ; for I heard her say at Blois, in 
 conversation with Monsieur, that she prayed for nothing so 
 much as that God would grant her the favour of that re- 
 union, after which he might send her death and she would 
 accept it with all her heart ; or else she would gladly retire 
 to her houses of Monceaux and Chenonceaux, and never 
 mix further in the affairs of France, wishing to end her days 
 in tranquillity. In fact, she truly wished to do the latter ; 
 but the king implored her to abstain, for he and his kingdom 
 had great need of her. I am assured that if she had not 
 made this peace at that time, all was over with France, for 
 there were in the country fifty thousand foreigners, from
 
 CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 65 
 
 one region or another, who would have aided in humbling 
 and destroying her. 
 
 It was, therefore, not the queen who called to arms at this 
 time to satisfy the State-Assembly at Blois, the which, want- 
 ing but one religion and proposing to abolish that which was 
 contrary to their own, demanded, if the spiritual blade did 
 not suffice to abolish it, that recourse should be had to the 
 temporal. Some have said that the. queen had bribed them ; 
 that is false. I do not say that she did not bribe them later, 
 which was a fine stroke of policy and intelligence; but it 
 was not she who called together the said Assembly ; so far 
 from that, she blamed them for all, and also because tliey 
 lessened greatly the king's authority and her own. It was 
 the party of the Eeligion wdiich had long demanded that 
 Assembly, and required by the terms of the last peace that it 
 should be called together and assembled ; to which the queen 
 objected strongly, foreseeing abuses. However, to content 
 them because they clamoured for it so much, they had it, to 
 their own confusion and damage, and not to their profit and 
 contentment as they expected, so that finally they took up 
 arms. Thus it was still not the queen who did so. 
 
 IsTeither was it she who caused them to be taken up when 
 Mont-de-Marsan, La F^.re in Picardy, and Cahors were taken. 
 I remember what the king said to M. de Miossans, who 
 came to him on behalf of the King of Navarre ; he rebuffed 
 him harshly, and told him that while those princes were 
 cloying him with line words they were calling to arms and 
 taking cities. 
 
 Now that is how this queen was the instigator of all our 
 wars and civil fires, the which, while she never lighted them, 
 she spent her pains and labour in striving to extinguish, 
 abhorring to see so many of the nobles and men of honour 
 die. And without that, and without her commiseration, they 
 
 5
 
 66 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 who have hated her with mortal hatred would have been 
 ill-off, and their party underground and not flourishing as it 
 now is ; which must be imputed to her kindness, of which 
 we now have sore need, for, as every one says and the poor 
 people cry, " We have no longer the queen-mother to make 
 peace for us." It was not her fault that peace was not made 
 when she went to Guyenne lately to treat of it with the King 
 of Navarre and the Prince de Cond^. 
 
 They have tried to accuse her also of being an accomplice 
 in the wars of the League. Why, then, should she have 
 brought about the peace of which I speak if she were that ? 
 Why should she have pacified the riot of the barricades in 
 Paris ? Wliy should she have reconciled the king and the 
 Due de Guise only to destroy the latter and kill him ? 
 
 Well, let them launch into such foul abuse against her all 
 they will, never shall we have another queen in France so 
 good for peace. 
 
 They have accused her of that massacre in Paris [the 
 Saint-Bartholomew] ; all that is a sealed book to me, for at 
 that time I was preparing to embark at Brouage ; but I have 
 often heard it said that she was not the chief actress in it. 
 There were three or four others, whom I might name, who 
 were more ardent in it than she and pushed her on, making 
 her believe, from the threats uttered on the wounding of 
 M. I'amiral, that the king was to be killed, and she with all 
 her children and the whole Court, or else that the country 
 would be in arms much worse than ever. Certainly the 
 party of Pieligion did very wrong to make the threats it is 
 said they made ; for they brought on the fate of poor M. 
 I'amiral, and procured his death. If they had kept them- 
 selves quiet, said no word, and let M. I'amiral's wound heal, 
 he could have left Paris at his ease, and nothing further 
 would have come of it. ]\I. de La Xoue was of that opinion.
 
 CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 67 
 
 He and M. Strozzi and I have often spoken of it, he not 
 approving of such bravados, audacities, and threats as were 
 made at the very Court of the king in his city of Paris ; and 
 he greatly blamed M. de Theligny, his brother-in-law, who 
 was one of the hottest, calling him and his companions per- 
 fect fools and most incapable. M. I'amiral never used such 
 language as I have heard from others, at least not aloud. I 
 do not say that in secret and private with his intimate 
 friends he never spoke it. That was the cause of the death 
 of M. I'amiral and the massacres of his people, and not the 
 queen ; as I have heard say by those who know well, although 
 there are many from whose heads you could never oust the 
 opinion that this train was long laid and the plot long in 
 hatching. It is all false. The least passionate think as I 
 have said; the more passionate and obstinate believe the 
 other way ; and very often we give credit for the ordering of 
 events to kings and great princes, and say after those events 
 have happened how prudent and provident they were, and 
 how well they knew how to dissimulate, when all the while 
 they knew no more about them than a plum. 
 
 To return again to our queen ; her enemies have put it 
 about that she was not a good Frenchwoman. God knows 
 with what ardour I saw her urge that the English might be 
 driven from France at Havre de Grace, and what she said of 
 it to M. le Prince, and how she made him go with many 
 gentlemen of his party, and the crown-companies of M. 
 d'Andelot, and other Huguenots, and how she herself led the 
 army, mounted usually on a horse, like a second beautiful 
 Queen Marfisa, exposing herself to the arquebusades and the 
 cannonades as if she were one of her captains, looking to the 
 making of the batteries, and saying she should never be at 
 ease until she had taken that town and driven the English 
 out of France ; hating worse than poison those who had sold
 
 68 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 it to them. And thus she did so much that finally she made 
 the country French. 
 
 When Eouen was besieged, I saw her in the greatest anger 
 when she beheld supplies entering the town by means of a 
 French galley captured the year before, she fearing that the 
 place, failing to be taken by us, would come under the domin- 
 ion of the English. For this reason she pushed hard at the 
 wheel, as they say, to take it, and never failed every day to 
 come to the fort Sain te- Catherine to hold council and see 
 the firing. I have often seen her passing along the covered 
 way of Sainte-Catherine, the cannonades and arquebusades 
 raining roimd her, and she caring nothing for them. 
 
 Those who were there saw her as I did; there are still 
 many ladies, her maids of honour who accompanied her, to 
 whom the firing was not too pleasant ; I knew this for I saw 
 them there ; but when M. le connetable and j\I. de Guise 
 remonstrated with her, telling her some misfortune would 
 come of it, she only laughed and said : Why should she 
 spare herself more than they, inasmuch as she had as good 
 courage as they had, though not their strength, which her 
 sex denied her ? As for fatigue, she endured that well, 
 whether on foot or on horseback, I think that for long 
 there had never been a queen or a princess better on horse- 
 back, sitting with such grace, — not appearing, for all that, like 
 a masculine dame, in form and style a fantastic amazon, but 
 a comely princess, beautiful, agreeable, and gentle. 
 
 They said of her that she was very Spanish. Certainly 
 as long as her good daughter lived [Elisabeth, wife of 
 Philip II.] she loved Spain ; but after her daughter died 
 we knew, at least some of us, whether she had reason to 
 love it, either country or nation. True it is that she was 
 always so prudent that she chose to treat the King of 
 Spain as her good son-in-law, in order that he in turn should
 
 CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 69 
 
 treat better her good and beautiful daughter, as is the cu»tom 
 of good mothers ; so that he never came to trouble France, 
 nor to bring war there, according to his brave heart and 
 natural ambition. 
 
 Others have also said that she did not like the nobility 
 of France and desired much to shed its blood. I refer for 
 that to the many times that she made peace and spared that 
 blood; besides which, attention should be paid to this, 
 namely : that while she was regent, and her children minors, 
 there were not known at Court so many quarrels and combats 
 as we have seen there since ; she would not allow them, 
 and forbade expressly all duelling and punished those who 
 transgressed that order. I have seen her at Court, when 
 the king went away to stay some days and she was left 
 absolute and alone, at a time when quarrels had begun again 
 and were becoming common, also duelling, which she never 
 would permit, — I have known her, I say, give a sudden 
 order to the captain of the guards to make arrests, and to the 
 marshals and captains to pacify the quarrel ; so that, to tell 
 the truth, she was more feared than the king ; for she knew 
 how to talk to the disobedient and the dissolute, and rebuke 
 them terribly. 
 
 I remember that once, the king having gone to the baths 
 of Bourbon, my late cousin La Chastaignerie had a quarrel 
 with Pardailhan. She had him searched for, in order to 
 forbid him, on his hfe, to fight a duel ; but not being able 
 to find him for two whole days, she had him tracked so 
 well that on a Sunday morning, he being on the island of 
 Louviers awaiting his enemy, the grand provost arrived to 
 arrest him, and took him prisoner to the Bastille by order 
 of the queen. But he stayed there only one ^ight ; for she 
 sent for him and gave him a reprimand, partly sharp and partly 
 gentle, because she was really kind, and was harsh only when
 
 70 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 she chose to be. I know very well what she said to me 
 also when I was for seconding my said cousin, namely : that 
 as the older I ought to have been the wiser. 
 
 The year that the king returned to Poland a quarrel arose 
 between Messieurs de Grillon and d'Entraigues, two brave 
 and valiant gentlemen, who being called out and ready to 
 fight, the king forbade them through M. de Rambouillet, 
 one of his captains of the guard then in quarters, and he 
 ordered M. de Nevers and the Mar^chal de Retz to make 
 up the quarrel, which they failed in doing. That evening 
 the queen sent for them both into her room ; and as their 
 quarrel was about two great ladies of her household, she 
 commanded them with great sternness, and then besought 
 them both in all gentleness, to leave to her the settlement 
 of their differences ; inasmuch as, having done them the 
 honour to meddle in it, and the princes, marshals, and cap- 
 tains having failed in making them agree, it was now a 
 point of honour with her to have the glory of doing so : 
 by which she made them friends, and they embraced with- 
 out other forms, taking all from her ; so that by her prudence 
 the subject of the quarrel, which was delicate, and rather 
 touched the honour of the two ladies, was never known 
 publicly. That was the true kindness of a princess ! And 
 then to say she did not like the nobility ! Ha ! the truth 
 was, she noticed and esteemed it too much. I think there 
 was not a great family in the kingdom with whom she was 
 not acquainted ; she used to say she had learned from King 
 Francois the genealogies of the great families of his king- 
 dom ; and as for the king, her husband, he had this faculty, 
 that when he had once peen a nobleman he knew him 
 always, in face, in deeds, and in reputation. 
 
 I have seen the queen, often and ordinarily, while the king, 
 her son, was a minor, take the trouble to present to him her-
 
 CATHERINE DE' MEDICL 71 
 
 self the gentlemen of his kingdom, and put them in his 
 memory thus : " Such a one did service to the king your 
 grandfather, at such and such times and places ; and this one 
 served your father ; " and so on, — commanding him to remem- 
 ber all this, and to love them and do well by them, and rec- 
 ognize them at other times ; which he knew very well how 
 to do, for, through such instruction, this king recognized 
 readily all men of character and race and honour throughout 
 his kingdom. 
 
 Detractors have also said that she did not like her people. 
 What appears ? Were there ever so many tallies, subsidies, 
 imposts, and other taxes while she was governing during the 
 minority of her children as have since been drawn in a single 
 year ? Was it proved that she had all that hidden money in 
 the banks of Italy, as people said ? Far from that, it was 
 found after her death that she had not a single sou ; and, as 
 I have heard some of her financiers and some of her ladies 
 say, she was indebted eight thousand crowns, the wages of 
 her ladies, gentlemen, and household officers, due a year, and 
 the revenue of the whole year spent ; so that some months 
 before her death her financiers showed her these necessities • 
 but she laughed and said one must praise God for all and 
 find something to live on. That was her avarice and the 
 great treasure she amassed, as people said ! She never 
 amassed anything, for she had a heart wholly noble, liberal, 
 and magnificent, like her great uncle. Pope Leo, and that 
 magnificent Lorenzo de' Medici. She spent or gave away 
 everything ; erecting buildings, spending in honourable mag- 
 nificences, and taking pleasure in giving recreations to her 
 people and her Court, such as festivals, balls, dances, tourna- 
 ments and spearing the ring \couremens de hague], of which 
 latter she held three that were very superb during her life- 
 time : one at Fontainebleau on the Shrove Tuesday after the
 
 72 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 first troubles; where there were tourneys and breakmg of 
 lances and combats at the barrier, — in short, all sorts of 
 feats of arms, with a comedy on the subject of the beautiful 
 Genevra of Ariosto, which she caused to be represented by 
 Mme. d'Angouleme and her most beautiful and virtuous 
 princesses and the ladies and damoiselles of her Court, who 
 certainly played it very well, and so that nothing finer was 
 ever seen. The second was at Bayonne, at the interview 
 between the queen and her good daughter Elisabeth, Queen 
 of Spain, where the magnificence was such in all things that 
 the Spanish, who are very disdainful of other countries than 
 their own, swore they had never seen anything finer, and 
 that their own king could not approach it ; and thus they 
 returned to Spain much edified. 
 
 I know that many in France blamed this expense as being 
 superfluous ; but the queen said that she did it to show for- 
 eigners that France was not so totally ruined and poverty- 
 stricken because of the late wars as they thought ; and that 
 if for such tourneys she was able to spend so much, for mat- 
 ters of importance she could surely do better, and that France 
 was all the more feared and esteemed, whether through the 
 sight of such wealth and richness, or through that of the 
 prowess of her gentlemen, so brave and adroit at arms ; as 
 indeed there were many there very good to see and worthy 
 to be admired. Moreover, it was very reasonable tliat for 
 the greatest queen of Christendom, the most beautiful, the 
 most virtuous, and the best, some great solemn festival 
 above all others should be held. And I can assure you that 
 if this liad not been done, the foreigners would have mocked 
 us and gone back to Spain thinking and holding us all in 
 France to be beggars. 
 
 Therefore it was not without good and careful consideration 
 that this wise and judicious c|ueen made this outlay. She
 
 CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 73 
 
 made another very fine one on the arrival of the Poles in 
 Paris, whom she feasted most superbly in her Tuileries; 
 after which, in a great hall built on pvirpose and surrounded 
 by an infinite number of torches, she showed them the finest 
 ballet that was ever seen on earth (I may indeed say so) ; 
 the which was composed of sixteen of her best-taught ladies 
 and. damoiselles, who appeared in a great rock [_roc, grotto ? ] 
 all silvered, where they w^ere seated in niches, like vapours 
 around it. These sixteen ladies represented the sixteen 
 provinces of France, with the most melodious music ever 
 heard ; and after having made, in this rock, the tour of the 
 hall, like a parade in camp, and letting themselves be seen 
 of every one, they descended from the rock and formed them- 
 selves into a little battalion, fantastically imagined, with 
 violins to the number of thirty sounding a warlike air ex- 
 tremely pleasant ; and thus they marched to the air of the 
 violins, with a fine cadence they never lost, and so approached, 
 and stopped before their Majesties. After which they danced 
 their ballet, most fantastically invented, with so many turns, 
 counterturns, and gyrations, such twining and blending, such 
 advancing and pausing (though no lady failed to find her 
 place and rank), that all present were astonished to see how 
 in such a maze order was not lost for a moment, and that all 
 these ladies had their judgment clear and held it good, so 
 well were they taught ! This fantastic ballet lasted at least 
 one hour, the which being concluded, all these sixteen ladies, 
 representing, as I have said, the sixteen provinces, advanced 
 to the king, the queen, the King of Poland, Monsieur his 
 brother, the King and Queen of Navarre, and other grandees 
 of France and Poland, presenting to each a golden salver as 
 large as the palm of the hand, finely enamelled and beauti- 
 fully chased, on which were engraved the fruits and products 
 of each province in which they were most fertile, such as
 
 74 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 citrons and oranges in Provence, cereals in Champagne, wines 
 in Burgundy, and in Guyenne warriors, — great honour that 
 for Guyenne certainly ! And so on, through the other 
 provinces. 
 
 At Bayonne the like presents were made, and a combat 
 fought, which I could represent very well, with the presents 
 and the names of those who received them, but it would 
 be too long. At Bayonne it was the men who gave to the 
 ladies ; here, it was the ladies giving to the men. Take note 
 that all these inventions came from no other devising and 
 brain than that of the queen ; for she was mistress and in- 
 ventress of everything ; she had such faculty that whatever 
 magnificences were done at Court, hers surpassed all others. 
 For which reason they used to say there was no one hke 
 the queen-mother for doing fine things. If such outlays 
 were costly, they gave great pleasure ; and people often said 
 she wished to imitate the Eoman emperors, who studied to 
 exhibit games to their people and give them pleasures, and 
 so amuse them as not to leave them leisure to do harm. 
 
 Besides the pleasure she took in giving pleasure to her 
 people, she also gave them much to earn ; for she liked all 
 sorts. of artisans and paid them well ; employing them each 
 in his owTi art, so that they never wanted for work, es- 
 pecially masons and builders, as is shown by her beautiful 
 houses : the Tuileries (still unfinished), Saint-Maur, Mon- 
 ceaux, and Chenonceaux. Also she liked learned men, and 
 was pleased to read, and she made others read, the books 
 they presented to her, or those that she knew they had 
 written. AU were acceptable, even to the fine invectives 
 which were published against her, about which she scoffed 
 and laughed, without anger, calling those who wrote them 
 gabblers and " givers of trash " — that was her use of the 
 word
 
 CATHERINE DE' MEDICL - 75 
 
 She wished to know everything. On the voyage to Lor- 
 raine, during the second troubles, the Huguenots had with 
 them a fine culverin to which they gave the name of " the 
 queen-mother." They were forced to bury it at Villenozze, 
 not being able to drag it on account of its long shafts and 
 bad harness and weight ; after which it never could be 
 found again. The queen, hearing that they had given it 
 her name, wanted to know why. A certain person, having 
 been much urged by her to tell her, replied : " Because, 
 madame, it has a cahbre [diameter] broader and bigger than 
 that of others." The queen was the first to laugh at this 
 reply. 
 
 She spared no pains in reading anything that took her 
 fancy. I saw her once, having embarked at Blaye to go 
 and dine at Bourg, reading the whole way from a parchment, 
 like any lawyer or notary, a proces-verhal made on Derbois, 
 favourite secretary of the late M. le conndtable, as to cer- 
 tain underhand dealings and correspondence of which he 
 was accused and for which imprisoned at Bayonne. She 
 never took her eyes off it until she had read it through ; 
 and there were more than ten pages of parchment. When 
 she was not hindered, she read herself all letters of impor- 
 tance, and frequently with her own hand made' replies ; 
 I saw her once, after dinner, write twenty long letters 
 herself. 
 
 She wrote and spoke French very well, although an 
 Italian ; and even to persons of her own nation she usually 
 spoke it, so much did she honour France and its language ; 
 taking pains to exhibit its fine speech to foreigners, grandees, 
 and ambassadors, who came to visit her after seeing the 
 king. She always answered them very pertinently, with 
 great grace and majesty ; as I have also seen and heard her 
 do to the courts of parliament, both publicly and privately ;
 
 76 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 often controlling the latter finely when they rambled in talk 
 or were over-cautious, or would not comply with the edicts 
 made in her privy council and the ordinances issued by the 
 king and herself. You may be sure she spoke as a queen 
 and made herself feared as one. I saw her once at Bordeaux 
 when she took her daughter Marguerite to her husband, the 
 King of Navarre. She had commanded that court of parlia- 
 ment to come and be spoken to, — they not being willing to 
 abolish a certain brotherhood, by them invented and main- 
 tained, which she was determined to break up, foreseeing 
 that it would bring some results in the end which might be 
 prejudicial to the State. They came to meet her in the 
 garden of the Bishop's house, where she was walking one 
 Sunday morning. One among them spoke for all, and gave 
 her to understand the fruitfulness of this brotherhood and 
 the utility it was to the public. She, without being pre- 
 pared, replied so well and with such apt words, and apparent 
 and appropriate reasons to show it was ill-founded and 
 odious, that there was no one present who did not admire 
 the mind of the queen and remain confused and astonished 
 when, as her last word, she said ; " No, I will, and the king 
 my son wills that it be exterminated, and never heard of 
 again, for secret reasons that I shall not tell you, besides 
 those that I have told you ; and if not, I will make you feel 
 what it is to disobey the king and me." So each and all 
 went away and nothing more was said of it. 
 
 She did these turns very often to the princes and the 
 greatest people, when they had done some great wrong and 
 made her so angry that she took her haughty air, — no one 
 on earth being so superb and stately as she, when needful, 
 sparing no truths to any one. I have seen the late M. de 
 Savoie, who was intimate with the emperor, the King of 
 Spain, and so many grandees, fear and respect her more than
 
 CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 77 
 
 if she had been his mother, and M. de Lorraine the same, — 
 in short, all the great people of Christendom ; I could give 
 many examples ; but another time, in due course, I will tell 
 them ; just now it suffices to say what I have said. 
 
 Among other perfections she was a good Christian and 
 very devout ; always making her Easters, and never failing 
 any day to attend divine service at mass and vespers ; which 
 she rendered very agreeable to pious persons, by the good 
 singers of her chapel, — she being careful to collect the most 
 exquisite ; also she herself loved music by nature, and often 
 gave pleasure with it in her apartment, wdiich was never 
 closed to virtuous ladies and honourable men, she seeing all 
 and every one, not restricting it as they do in Spain, and also 
 in her own land of Italy; nor yet as our later queens, 
 Isabella of Austria and Louise of Lorraine, have done ; but 
 saying, like King Francois, her father-in-law (whom she 
 greatly honoured, he having set her up and made her free), 
 that she wished to keep her Court as a good Frenchwoman, 
 and as the king, her husband, would have wished; so that 
 her apartments were the pleasure of the Court. 
 
 She had, ordinarily, very beautiful and virtuous maids of 
 honour, who conversed with us daily in her antechamber, 
 discoursing and chatting so wisely and modestly that none of 
 us would have dared to do otherwise ; for the gentlemen who 
 failed in this were banished and threatened, and in fear of 
 worse until she pardoned and forgave them, she being kind 
 in herself and very ready to do so. 
 
 In short, her company and her Court were a true paradise 
 in the world, and a school of all virtue and honour, the orna- 
 ment of France, as the foreigners wdio came there knew well 
 and said ; for they were all most politely received, and her ladies 
 and maids of honour were commanded to adorn themselves 
 at their coming like goddesses, and to entertain these visitors,
 
 78 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 not amusing themselves elsewhere ; otherwise she taunted 
 them well and reprimanded them. 
 
 In fact, her Court was such that when she died the voices 
 of all declared that the Court was no longer a Court, and that 
 never again would France have a true queen-mother. What 
 a Court it was ! such as, I believe, no Emperor of Eome in 
 the olden time ever held for ladies, nor any of our Kings of 
 Prance. Though it is true that the great Emperor Charle- 
 magne, King of France, during his lifetime took great pleas- 
 ure in making and maintaining a grand and full Court of 
 peers, dukes, counts, palatines, barons, and knights of France ; 
 also of ladies, their wives and daughters, with others of all 
 countries, to pay court and lionour (as the old romances of 
 that day have said) to the empress and queen, and to see the 
 fine jousts, tournaments, and magnificences done there by 
 knights-errant coming from all parts. But what of that ? 
 These fine, grand assemblies came together not oftener than 
 three or four times a year; at the end of each fete they 
 departed and retired to their houses and estates until the 
 next time. Besides, some have said that in his old age 
 Charlemagne was much given over to women, though always 
 of good company ; and that Louis le Debonnaire, on ascend- 
 ing the throne, was obliged to banish his sisters to other 
 places for the scandal of their lives with men ; and also that 
 he drove from Court a number of ladies who belonged to the 
 joyous band. Charlemagne's Courts were never of long dura- 
 tion (I speak now of his great years), for he amused himself 
 in those days with war, according to our old romances, 
 and in his last years his Court was too dissolute, as I have 
 already said. But the Court of our King Henri II. and 
 the queen his wife, was held daily, whether in war or peace, 
 and whether it resided in one place or another for months, 
 or went to other castles and pleasure-houses of our kings.
 
 CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 79 
 
 who are not lacking in them, having more than the kings 
 of other countries. 
 
 This large and noble company, keeping always together, at 
 least the greater part of them, came and went with its queen, 
 so that usually her Court was filled by at least three hundred 
 ladies and damoiselles. The intendants of the king's houses 
 and the quartermasters affirmed that they occupied fully 
 one-half of the rooms, as I myself have seen during the 
 thirty-three years I lived at Court, except when at war or in 
 foreign parts. Having returned, I was always there ; for the 
 sojourn was to me most agreeable, not seeing elsewhere any- 
 thing finer ; in fact I think, since the world was, nothing has 
 ever been seen like it ; and as the noble names of these beau- 
 tiful ladies who assisted our queen in adorning her Court 
 should not be overlooked, I place them here, according as I 
 remember them from the end of the queen's married life and 
 throughout her widowhood, for before that time I was too 
 young to know them. 
 
 First, I place Mesdames the daughters of France. I place 
 them first because they never lost their rank, and go before 
 all others, so grand and noble is their house, to wit : — 
 
 Madame Elisabeth de France, afterwards Queen of Spain. 
 
 Madame Claude, afterwards Duchesse de Lorraine. 
 
 Madame Marguerite, afterwards Queen of Navarre. 
 
 Madame the king's sister, afterwards Duchesse de Savoie. 
 
 The Queen of Scots, afterwards dauphine and Queen of 
 France. 
 
 The Queen of Navarre, Jeanne d'Albret. 
 
 Madame Catherine, her daughter, to-day called Madame 
 the king's [Henri IV.] sister. 
 
 Madame Diane, natural daughter of the king [Henri II.], 
 afterwards legitimatized, the Duchesse d'Angouleme. 
 
 Madame d'Enghien, of the house of Estouteville.
 
 80 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 Madame la Princesse de Condd, of the house of Roye. 
 
 Madame de Nevers, of the house of Vendome. 
 
 Madame de Guise, of tlie house of Ferrara. 
 
 Madame Diane de Poitiers, Duchesse de Valentinois. 
 
 Mesdames d'Aumale and de Bouillon, her daughters.^ 
 
 Need I name more ? No, for my memory could not fur- 
 nish them. There are so many other ladies and maids that 
 I beg them to excuse me if I pass them by with my pen, — 
 not that I do not greatly value and esteem them, but I 
 should dream over them and amuse myself too much. To 
 make an end, I must say that in all this company there was 
 nothing to find fault with in their day ; beauty abounded, 
 all majesty, all charm, all grace ; happy was he who could 
 touch with love such ladies, and happy those who could 
 tliat love eseapar. I swear to you that I have named only 
 those ladies and damoiselles who were beautiful, agreeable, 
 very accomplished, and well sufficient to set fire to the 
 whole world. Indeed, in their best days they burned up 
 a good part of it, as much us gentlemen of the Court as 
 others who approached the flame ; to some of whom they 
 were gentle, aimable, favourable, and courteous. I speak of 
 none here, hoping to make good tales about them in this 
 book before I finish it, and of others whose names are not 
 comprised here ; but the whole told so discreetly, without 
 scandal, that nothing will be known, for the curtain of 
 silence will cover their names ; so that if by chance the}^ 
 should any of them read tales of themselves they will not 
 be annoyed. Besides, though the pleasures of love cannot 
 last forever, by reason of many inconveniences, hindrances, 
 and changes, the memories of the past are always pleasing. 
 
 ^ Here follow the names of ninety-three larlics and sixty-six damoiselles ; 
 amon^' the latter are "Mesdamoiselles Elaniniin (Fleming ?) Veton (Sea- 
 ton ? ) Beton ( Beaton ? ) Leviston, cscossoises." The three first-named on the 
 above list are the daughters of Henri TT. and Catherine de' Medici. — Tk.
 
 ^ 
 
 ^- 
 
 N 
 
 >::
 
 CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 81 
 
 [This refers to " Les Dames Galantes," and not to the present 
 volume.] 
 
 Now, to thoroughly consider how fine a sight was this 
 troupe of beautiful ladies and damoiselles, creatures divine 
 rather than human, we must imagine the entries into Paris 
 and other cities, the sacred and superlative bridals of our 
 kings of France, and their sisters, the daughters of France ; 
 such as those of the dauphin, of King Charles, of King 
 Henri III., of the Queen of Spain, of Madame de Lorraine, 
 of the Queen of Navarre, not to speak of many other grand 
 weddings of the princes and princesses, like that of M. de 
 Joyeuse, which would have surpassed them all if the Queen 
 of Navarre had been there. Also we must picture to our- 
 selves the interview at Bayonne, the arrival of the Poles, 
 and an infinite number of other and like magnificences, 
 which I could never finish naming, where I saw these ladies 
 appear, each more beautiful than the rest ; some more finely 
 appointed and better dressed than others, because for such 
 festivals, in addition to their great means, the king and 
 queen would give tliem splendid liveries. 
 
 In short, nothing was ever seen finer, more dazzling, 
 dainty, superb ; the glory of Niqude never approached it 
 [enchanted palace in " Amadis "J. All this shone in a ball- 
 room of the Tuileries or the Louvre as the stars of heaven 
 in the azure sky. The queen-mother wished and commanded 
 her ladies always to appear in grand and superb apparel, 
 though she herself during her widowhood never clothed herself 
 in worldly silks, unless they were lugubrious, but always 
 properly and so well-fitting that she looked the queen above 
 all else. It is true that on the days of the weddings of 
 her two sons Henri and Charles, she wore gowns of 
 black velvet, wishing, she said, to solemnize the event by so 
 signal an act. While she was married she always dressed 
 
 6
 
 82 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 xery richly and superbly, and looked what she was. And it 
 was fine to see and admire her in the general processions 
 that were made, both in Paris and other cities, such as 
 the Fete Dieu, that of the liameaux [Palm Sunday], bear- 
 ing palms and branches with such grace, and on Candlemas 
 Day, when the torches were borne by all the Court, the 
 flames of which contended against their own brilhancy. At 
 these three processions, which are most solemn, we certainly 
 saw nothing but beauty, grace, a noble bearing, a fine gait 
 and splendid apparel, all of which delighted the spectators. 
 
 It was fine also to see the queen in her married life going 
 through the country in her litter, being pregnant, or after- 
 wards on horsel)ack attended by forty or fifty ladies and 
 damoiselles mounted on handsome hackneys well caparisoned, 
 and sitting their horses with such good grace that the men 
 could not do better, either in equestrian style or apparel ; 
 their hats adorned with plumes which floated in the air as 
 if demanding either love or war. Virgil, who took upon 
 himself to write of the apparel of Queen Dido when she 
 went to the chase, says nothing that approaches the luxury 
 of that of our queen with her ladies, may it not displease 
 her, as I think I have said elsewhere. 
 
 Tliis queen (made by the act of the great King Frangois), 
 who introduced this beautiful pageantry, never forgot or let 
 slip anything of the kind she had once learned, but always 
 wanted to imitate or surpass it; I have heard her speak thiee 
 or four times in my life on this subject. Those who have 
 seen things as I did still feel their souls enchanted like 
 mine, for what I say is true ; I know it having seen it. 
 
 So there is the Court of our queen. Unhappy was tlie day 
 when she died ! I have heard tell that our present king 
 [Henri IV.], some eighteen months after he saw himself 
 more in hope and prospect of becoming King of France,
 
 CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 83 
 
 began one day to discourse with the late M. le Mar^chal 
 de Biron, on the plans and projects he would undertake to 
 make his Court prosperous and line and in all things like 
 that of our said queen, for at that time it was in its greatest 
 lustre and splendour. j\I. le marechal answered : '■' It is not 
 in your power, nor in that of any king who will ever reign, 
 unless you can manage with God that he shall resuscitate 
 the queen-mother, and bring her round to you." But that 
 was not what the king wanted, for when she died there was 
 no one whom he hated so much, but without grounds, as I 
 could see, and as he should have known better than I. 
 
 How luckless was the day on which such a queen died, at 
 the very point when we had such great necessity for her, and 
 still have ! 
 
 She died at Blois of sadness caused by the massacre whicli 
 there took place, and the melancholy tragedy there played, 
 seeing that, without reflection, she had brought the princes 
 to Blois thinking to do well ; whereas it was true, as M. le 
 Cardinal de Bourbon said to her : " Alas ! madame, you have 
 led us all to butchery without intending it." That so touched 
 her heart, and also the death of those poor men, that she took 
 to her bed, having previously felt ill, and never rose again. 
 
 They say that when the king announced to her the murder 
 of j\I. de Guise, saving that he was now absolutelv kincj, 
 without equal, or master, she asked him if he had put the 
 affairs of his kingdom in order before striking the blow. To 
 which he answered yes. " God grant it, my son," she said. 
 Very prudent that she was, she foresaw plainly what would 
 happen to him, and to all the kingdom.^ 
 
 Persons have spoken diversely as to her death, and even as 
 
 1 Henri III, convoked the States-General at Blois in 1588 ; the Due de 
 Guise (Henri, le Balafre) was tliere assassinated, hy the king's order, 
 December 23, 1588 ; his brotlier, Cardinal de Bourbon, the next day. — Tii.
 
 84 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 to poison. Possibly it was so, possibly not; but she was 
 held to have died of desperation, and she had reason to 
 do so. 
 
 She was placed on her state-bed, as one of her ladies told 
 me, neither more nor less like Queen Anne of whom I have 
 already spoken, clothed in the same royal garments that the 
 said Queen Anne wore, they not having served since her 
 death for any others ; and thus she was borne to the church 
 of the castle, with the same pomp and solemnity as Queen 
 Anne, where she lies and rests still. The king wished to 
 take her to Chartres and thence to Saint-Denis, to put her 
 with the king, her husband, in the same tomb which she had 
 caused to be made, built, and constructed, so noble and 
 superb, but the war which came on prevented it. 
 
 This is what I can say at this time of this great queen, 
 who has given assuredly such noble grounds to speak worthily 
 of her that this short discourse is not enough for her praise. 
 I know that well ; also that the quality of my speech does 
 not suffice, for better speakers than I would be insufficient. 
 At any rate, such as my discourse is, I lay it, in all humility 
 and devotion, at her feet ; also I would avoid too great pro- 
 lixity, for which indeed I feel myself too capable ; but I hope 
 I shall not separate from her much, although in my discourses 
 I shall be silent, and only speak of what her noble and 
 incomparable virtues command me, giving me ample matter 
 so to do, I having seen all that I have written of her ; and as 
 fur what had happened before my time, I heard it from persons 
 most illustrious ; and thus I shall do in all my books. 
 
 This queen, who was of many kings the mother, 
 Of queens also, belonging here to France, 
 Died wlien we had most need of her support ; 
 For none but she could give us true assistance.
 
 CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 85 
 
 M^zeray [in his "History of France"], who never thinks 
 of the dramatic, nevertheless makes known to us at the start 
 his principal personages ; he shows them more especially in 
 action, without detaching them too much from the general 
 sentiment and interests of which they are the leaders and 
 representatives, while, at the same time, he leaves to each his 
 individual physiognomy. The old Conn^table de Mont- 
 morency, the Guises, Admiral de Coligny, the Chancellor de 
 I'Hopital define themselves on his pages by their conduct and 
 proceedings even more than by the judgment he awards 
 them. Catherine de' Medici is painted there in all her dis- 
 simulation and her network of artifices, in which she was 
 often caught herself ; ambitious of sovereign power without 
 possessing either the force or the genius of it; striving to 
 obtain it by craft, and using for this purpose a continual sys- 
 tem of what we should call to-day see-sawing ; " rousing and 
 elevating for a time one faction, putting to sleep or lowering 
 another ; uniting herself sometimes with the feeblest side 
 out of caution, lest the stronger should crush her ; sometimes 
 with the stronger from necessity ; at times standing neutral 
 when she felt herself strong enough to command both sides, 
 but without intention to extinguish either." Far from being 
 always too CathoHc, there are moments when she seems to 
 lean to the Eeformed religion and to wish to grant too much 
 to that party ; and this with more sincerity, perhaps, than 
 belonged to her naturally. The Catherine de' Medici, such 
 as she presents herself and is developed in plain truth on the 
 pages of M^zeray is well calculated to tempt a modem writer. 
 As there is nothing new but that which is old, for often dis- 
 coveries are nothing more than that which was once known 
 and is forgotten, the day when a modern historian shall take 
 up the Catherine de' Medici of M^zeray and give her some 
 of the rather forced features which are to the taste of the
 
 S6 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 present day, there will come a great cry of astonishment and 
 admiration, and the critics will register a new discovery.^ 
 
 M. Xiel, librarian to the ministry of the Interior, an en- 
 lightened amateur of the arts and of history, has been 
 engaged since 1848 in publishing a series of Portraits or 
 " Crayons " of the celebrated personages of the sixteenth 
 century, hings, queens, mistresses of kings, etc., the whole 
 forming already a folio volume. M. Xiel has applied him- 
 self in this collection to reproduce none but authentic 
 portraits and soLly from the original, and he has confined 
 himself to a single form of portraiture, that which was 
 drawn in crayons of divers colours by artists of the sixteenth 
 century. " They designated in those days by the name of 
 ' crayons,' " he observes, " certain portraits executed on paper 
 in red chalk, in black lead, and in white chalk, shaded and 
 touched in a way to present the effect of painting." These 
 designs, faithfully reproduced, in which the red tone pre- 
 dominates, are for the most part originally due to un- 
 knovrn artists, who seem to have belonged to the true 
 French lineage of art. They resemble the humble com- 
 panions and followers of our chroniclers who simply sought 
 in their rapid sketches to catch physiognomies, such as they 
 saw them, with truth and candour; the likeness alone con- 
 cerned them. 
 
 FranQois I. leads the procession with his obscure wives, 
 and one, at least, of his obscure mistresses, the Comtesse de 
 Chateaubriant. Henri II. succeeds him, giving one hand to 
 Catherine de' jMedici, the other to Diane de Poitiers. "We 
 are shovrn a Marie Stuart, young, before and after her widow- 
 
 1 ITonore '1e BalzacV volume, in t?ie T'hilosophical Sprier of his " Com- 
 edy of Huiiiiin Life," on Catlierine de' Medici, while called a romance, is 
 really an admirable and carefully drawn historical portrait, iiiid might be 
 read to profit in connection with Brantome's account of her. — Tr.
 
 CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 87 
 
 hood. In general, the men gain most from this rapid repro- 
 duction of feature ; whereas with the women it needs an 
 effort of tlie imagination to catch tlieir delicacy and the 
 liower of their beauty. Charles IX. at twelve years of tige, 
 and again at eighteen and twenty, is there to the life and 
 caught from nature. Henri IV. is shown to us younger and 
 fresher than as we are wont to see him, — a Henri de Navarre 
 quite novel and before his beard grizzled. His first wife, 
 Marguerite de Valois, is portrayed at her most beauteous 
 age, but so masked by her costume and cramped in her ruff 
 that we need to be aware of her charm to be certain that the 
 doll-like figure had any. Gabrielle d'Estrdes, who stands 
 aloof, stiffly imprisoned in her gorgeous clothes, also needs 
 explanation and reflection before she appears what she really 
 was. Tlie testimony of " Notices " aids these portraits ; for 
 M. Niel accompanies his personages with remarks made with 
 erudition and an inquiring mind. 
 
 One of the brief writings of that period which make 
 known clearly the person and nature of Henri IV. is the 
 Memoir of the first president of Normandy, Claude Groulard, 
 at all times faithful to the king, who has left us a naive 
 account of his frequent journeys to that prince and the so- 
 journs he made with him. Among many remarks which 
 Groulard has collected from the lips of Henri IV. there is 
 one that paints the king well in his sound good sense, his 
 freedom from rancour, and his knowledge — always practical, 
 never ideal — of human beings. Groulard is relating the 
 approaching marriage of the king with a princess of Florence. 
 When Henri IV. announced it to him the worthy president 
 replied by an erudite comparison with the lance of Achilles, 
 saying that the Florentine house would thus repair the 
 wounds it had given to France in the person of Catherine 
 de' Medici. " But I ask you," said Henri IV., speaking there-
 
 88 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 upon of Catherine and excusing her, " I ask you what a poor 
 woman could do, left by the death of her husband, with five 
 little children on her arms, and two families in France who 
 were thinking to grasp the crown, — ours and the Guises. 
 Was she not compelled to play strange parts to deceive 
 first one and then the other, in order to guard, as she has 
 done, her sons, who have successively reigned through the 
 wise conduct of that shrewd woman ? I am surprised that 
 she never did worse." 
 
 Sainte-Beuve, Causeries du Lundi (1855).
 
 DISCOUESE III. 
 
 MARIE STUART, QUEEN OF SCOTLAND, FORMERLY QUEEN 
 OF OUR FRANCE. 
 
 Those who wish to write of this illustrious Queen of 
 Scotland have two very ample subjects : one her life, the 
 other her death ; both very ill accompanied by good fortune, 
 as I shall show at certain points in this short Discourse in 
 form of epitome, and not a long history, which I leave to 
 be written by persons more learned and better given to 
 writing than I. 
 
 This queen had a father, King James, of worth and 
 valour, and a very good Frenchman ; in which he was right. 
 After he was widowed of Madame Magdelaine, daughter of 
 France, he asked King Frangois for some honourable and 
 virtuous princess of his kingdom with whom to re-marry, 
 desiring nothing so much as to continue his alliance with 
 France, 
 
 King Frangois, not knowing whom to choose better to 
 content the good prince, gave him the daughter of M. de 
 Guise, Claude do Lorraine, then the widow of M. de Longue- 
 ville, wise, virtuous, and honourable, of which King James 
 was very glad and esteemed himself fortunate to take her ; 
 and after he had taken and espoused her he found himself 
 the same ; the kingdom of Scotland also, which she governed 
 very wisely after she was widowed ; which event happened in 
 a few years after her marriage, but not before she had pro- 
 duced a fine issue, namely this most beautiful princess in 
 the world, our queen, of whom I now speak, she being, as
 
 90 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 one might say, scarcely born and still at the breast, when the 
 English invaded Scotland. Her mother was then forced to 
 hide her from place to place in Scotland from fear of that 
 fury ; and, without the good succour King Henri sent her 
 she would scarce have been saved ; and even so they had to 
 put her on ves.^els and expose her to tlie waves, the storms 
 and winds of the sea and convey her to France for greater 
 security ; where certainly ill fortune, not being able to 
 cross the seas with her or not daring to attack her in France, 
 left her so alone that good fortune took her by the hand. 
 And, as her youth grew on, we saw her great beauty and her 
 great virtues grow likewise; so that, coming to her fifteenth 
 year, her beauty shone like the light at mid-day, effacing the 
 sun when it shines the brightest, so beauteous was her body. 
 As for her soul, that was equal ; she had made herself 
 learned in Latin, so that, being between thirteen and four- 
 teen years of age, she declaimed before King Flenri, the 
 queen, and all the Court, publicly in the hall of the Louvre, 
 an harangue in Latin, which she had made Iierself, main- 
 taining and defending, against common opinion, that it was 
 well l;ecoming to women to know letters and the liberal 
 arts. Think what a rare thing and admirable it wa=^, to see 
 this wise and beautiful young queen thus orate in Latin, 
 which she knew and understood right well, for I was tliere 
 and saw her. Also she made Antoine Fochain, of Chauny 
 in Yermandois, prepare for her a rhetoric in French, which 
 still exists, that she might the better understand it, and 
 make herself as eloquent in French as she had been in 
 Latin, and better than if she had been born in France. It 
 was good to see her speak to every one, whether to great or 
 small. 
 
 As long as she lived in France she always reser%-ed two 
 hours daily to study and read ; so that there was no human
 
 MARIE STUART. 91 
 
 knowledge she could not talk upon. Above all, she loved 
 poesy and poets, but especially M. de Eonsard, M. du Bellay, 
 and M. de Maison-Fleur,^ who all made beautiful poems and 
 elegies upon her, and also upon her departure from France, 
 which I have often seen her reading to herself, in France and 
 in Scotland, with tears in her eyes and sighs from her 
 heart. 
 
 She was a poet herself and composed verses, of which I 
 have seen some that were fine and well done and in no wise 
 resembling those they have laid to her account on her love 
 for the Earl of Bothwell, which are too coarse and too ill- 
 polished to have come from lier beautiful making. M. de 
 Itonsard was of my opinion as to this one day when we were 
 reading and discussing them. Those she composed were far 
 more beautiful and dainty, and quickly done, for 1 have 
 often seen her retire to her cabinet and soon return to show 
 them to such of us good folk as were there present. More- 
 over she wrote well in prose, especially letters, of which I 
 have seen many that were very fine and eloquent and lofty. 
 At all times when she tallied with others she used a most 
 gentle, dainty, and agreeable style of speech, with kindly 
 majesty, mingled, however, with discreet and modest reserve, 
 and above all with beautiful grace ; so that even her native 
 tongue, which in itself is very rustic, barbarous, ill-sounding, 
 and uncouth, she spoke so gracefully, toning it in such a way, 
 that she made it seem beautiful and agreeable in her, though 
 never so in others. 
 
 See what virtue there was in such beauty and grace that 
 they could turn coarse barbarism into sweet civility and 
 social grace. "SVe must not be surprised therefore that be- 
 ing dressed (as I have seen her) in the barbarous costume 
 of the uncivilized people of her country, she appeared, in 
 ^ See Appendix.
 
 92 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 mortal body and coarse ungainly clothing a true goddess. 
 Those who have seen her thus dressed will admit this truth ; 
 and those who did not see her can look at her portrait, in 
 which she is thus attired. I have heard the queen-mother, 
 and the king too, say that she looked more beautiful, more 
 agreeable, more desirable in that picture than in any of the 
 others. But how else could she look, whether in her beauti- 
 ful rich jewels, in French or Spanish style, or wearing her 
 Italian caps, or in her mourning garments ? — which latter 
 made her most beautiful to see, for the whiteness of her 
 face contended with the whiteness of her veil as to which 
 should carry the day ; but the texture of her veil lost it ; 
 the snow of her pure face dimmed the other, so that when 
 she appeared at Court in her mourning the following song 
 was made upon her : — 
 
 " L'on voit, sous blanc atour 
 En grand deuil et tristesse, 
 Se pourmener mainct tour 
 De beaute la deese, 
 Tenant le trait en main 
 De son fils inhumain ; 
 
 " Et Amour, sans fronteau, 
 Voletter autour d'elle, 
 Desguisant son bandeau 
 En un funebre voile, 
 Oil sont ces mots ecrits : 
 Mourir ou etre pris.''^ ^ 
 
 That is how this princess appeared under all fashions of 
 clothes, whether barbarous, worldly, or austere. She had 
 also one other perfection with which to charm the world, — a 
 voice most sweet and excellent ; for she sang well, attuning 
 her voice to the lute, which she touched very prettily with 
 that white hand and those beautiful fingers, perfectly made, 
 ^ See Appendix.
 
 MARIE STUART. 93 
 
 yielding in nothing to those of Aurora. What more remains 
 to tell of her beauty ? — if not this saying about her : that the 
 sun of her Scotland was very unlike her, for on certain days 
 of the year it shines but five hours, while she shone ever, so 
 that her clear rays illumined her land and her people, who of 
 all others needed light, being far estranged from the sun of 
 heaven. Ah ! kingdom of Scotland, I think your days are 
 shorter now than they ever were, and your nights the longer, 
 since you have lost the princess who illumined you ! But 
 you have been ungrateful ; you never recognized your duty 
 of fidelity, as you should have done ; which I shall speak of 
 presently. 
 
 This lady and princess pleased France so much that King 
 Henri was urged to give her in alliance to the dauphin, his 
 beloved son, who, for his part, was madly in love with her. 
 The marriage was therefore solemnly celebrated in the great 
 church and tlie palace of Paris ; where we saw this queen 
 appear more beauteous than a goddess from the skies, 
 whether in the morning, going to her espousals in noble 
 majesty, or leading, after dinner, at the ball, or advancing in 
 the evening with modest steps to offer and perform her vows 
 to Hymen ; so that the voice of all as one man resounded 
 and proclaimed throughout the Court and the great city that 
 happy a hundredfold was he, the prince, thus joined to such 
 a princess ; and even if Scotland were a thing of price its 
 queen out-valued it ; for had she neither crown nor sceptre, 
 her person and her glorious beauty were worth a kingdom ; 
 therefore, being a queen, she brought to Trance and to her 
 husband a double fortune. 
 
 This was what the world went saying of her ; and for this 
 reason she was called queen-dauphine and her husband the 
 king-dauphin, they living together in great love and pleasant 
 concord.
 
 94 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 Next, King Henri dying, they came to be King and Queen 
 of rrance, the king and queen of two great kingdoms, happy, 
 and most happy in themselves, had death not seized the king 
 and left her widowed in the sweet April of her finest youth, 
 having enjoyed together of love and pleasure and felicity but 
 four short years, — a felicity indeed of short duration, which 
 evil fortune might well have spared ; but no, malignant as 
 she is, she wished to miserably treat this princess, who made 
 a song herself upon her sorrows in this wise : — 
 
 En mon triste et doux chant, 
 D'un ton fort lamentable, 
 Je jette un deuil tranchant, 
 De perte incomparable, 
 Et en soupirs cuisans, 
 Passe mes meilleurs ans. 
 
 Fut-il uu tel mallieur 
 De dure destinde, 
 N'y si triste douleur 
 De dame fortunde, 
 Qui mon cceur et mon oeil 
 Vois en bierre et cercueil, 
 
 Qui en mon doux printemps 
 Et fleur de ma jeunesse, 
 Toutes les jjeiues sens 
 D'une extresme tristesse, 
 Et en rien n'ay plaisir 
 Qu'en regret et desir ? 
 
 Ce qui m'estoit plaisant 
 Ores m'est peine dure; 
 Le jour le plus luisant 
 INl'est unit noire et obscure. 
 Et n'est rien si cxquis 
 Qui de moy soit requis. 
 
 J'ay au ca'ur et k I'oeil 
 Un portrait et image
 
 MARIE STUART. 95 
 
 Qui figure mon deuil 
 Et mon pasle visage, 
 De violettes teiut, 
 Qui est I'amoureux teint. 
 
 Pour mon mal estranger 
 Je ne m'arreste en place ; 
 Mais j'en ay beau clianger, 
 Si ma douleur n'efface ; 
 Car mon pis et mon mieux 
 Sout les plus deserts lieux. 
 
 Si en quelque sejour, 
 Soit en bois ou en pree. 
 Soit sur I'aube du jour, 
 Ou soit sur la vespree, 
 Sans cesse mon coeur sent 
 Le regret d'un absent. 
 
 Si parfois vers les cieux 
 Tiens h dresser ma veue, 
 Le doux traict de ses yeux 
 Je vols en une nue ; 
 Ou bien je le vols en I'eau, 
 Comme dans un tombeau. 
 
 Si je suis en repos 
 Sommeillant sur ma couche, 
 J'oy qu'il me tient propos, 
 Je le sens qui me touche : 
 En labeur, en recoy 
 Tousjours est prfes de moy. 
 
 Je ne vois autre object, 
 Pour beau qu'il prdsente 
 A qui que soit subject, 
 Oncques mon coeur consente, 
 Exempt de perfection 
 A cetle affection. 
 
 Mets, chanson, icy fln 
 A si triste complainte,
 
 96 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 Dont sera le refrein : 
 Amour vraye et non feinte 
 Pour la separation 
 N'aura diminution.^ 
 
 Sucbi are the regrets which this sad queen went piteously 
 singing, and manifesting even more by her pale face ; for, from 
 the time she became a widow, I never saw her colour return 
 during the time I had the honour to see her in France and 
 in Scotland ; whither at the end of eighteen months she was 
 forced to go, to her great regret, to pacify her kingdom, 
 much divided on account of religion. Alas ! she had neither 
 wish nor will to go. I have often heard her say she dreaded 
 that journey like death ; and preferred a hundredfold to stay 
 in France a simple dowager, and would content herself 
 with Touraine and Poitou for her dowry, rather than go to 
 reign in her savage country ; but messieurs her imcles, at 
 least some of them, but not all, advised her, indeed they 
 urged her (I will not tell the occasions), for which they have 
 since repented sorely. 
 
 As to this, there is no doubt that if, at her departure King 
 Charles, her husband's brother, had been of age to marry, 
 and not so small and young (though much in love with her, 
 as I have seen), he would never have let her go, but resolutely 
 would have wedded her ; for I have seen him so in love 
 that never did he look upon her portrait that his eyes were 
 not fixed and ravished, as though he could not take them 
 from it nor yet be satisfied. And often have I heard him 
 call her the most beauteous princess ever born into the 
 world, and say how he thought the king, his brother, too 
 happy to have enjoyed the love of such a princess, and that 
 he ought in no wise to regret his death in the tomb since he 
 had possessed in this world such beauty and pleasure for 
 
 ^ See Appendix.
 
 MARIE STUART. 97 
 
 the little time he stayed here ; and also that such happiness 
 was worth a kingdom. So that had she remained in Trance 
 he would surely have wedded her ; he was resolved upon it, 
 although she was his sister-in-law, but the pope would never 
 have refused the dispensation, seeing that he had already in 
 like case granted one to his own subject, M. de Love, and 
 also to the Marquis d'Aguilar in Spain, and many others in 
 that country, where they make no difficulty in maintaining 
 their estates and do not waste and dissipate them, as we 
 do in France. 
 
 Much discourse on this subject have I heard from him, 
 and from many, which I shall omit, not to wander from the 
 topic of our queen, wlio was at last persuaded, as I have 
 said, to return to her kingdom of Scotland ; but her voyage 
 being postponed till the spring she did so much to delay it 
 from month to month that she did not depart until the end 
 of the month of August. I must mention that this spring, 
 in which she thought to leave, came so tardily, and was so 
 cold and grievous, that in the month of April it gave no 
 sign of donning its beautiful green robe or its lovely flowers. 
 On which the gallants of the Court augured and proclaimed 
 that the spring had changed its pleasant season for a hard 
 and grievous winter, and would not wear its beauteous 
 colours or its verdure because it mourned the departure of 
 this sweet queen, who was its lustre. M. de Maison-Fleur, 
 a charming knight for letters and for arms, made on that 
 theme a most fine elegy. 
 
 The beginning of the autumn having come, the queen, 
 after thus delaying, was forced to abandon France ; and 
 having travelled by land to Calais, accompanied by aU her 
 uncles, M. de Nemours, most of the great and honourable 
 of the Court, together with the ladies, like Mme. de Guise 
 and others, all regretting and weeping hot tears for the loss 
 
 7
 
 98 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 of such a queen, she found in port two galleys : one that of 
 M. de Mevillon, the other that of Captain Albise, with two 
 convoying vessels for sole armament. After six days' rest at 
 Calais, having said her piteous farewells all full of sighs to 
 the great company about her, from the greatest to the 
 least, she embarked, having her uncles with her. Messieurs 
 d'Aumale, the grand prior, and d'Elboeuf, and M. d'Amville 
 (now M. le Conn^table), together with many of us, all nobles, 
 on board the galley of M. de Mevillon, as being the best and 
 handsomest. 
 
 As the vessel began to leave the port, the anchor being up, 
 we saw, in the open sea, a vessel sink before us and perish, 
 and many of the sailors drown for not having taken the 
 channel rightly ; on seeing which the queen cried out in- 
 continently : " Ah, my God ! what an omen is this for my 
 journey!" The galley being now out of port and a fresh 
 wind rising, we began to make sail, and the convicts rested 
 on their oars. The queen, without thinking of other action, 
 leaned her two arms on the poop of the galley, beside the 
 rudder, and burst into tears, casting her beauteous eyes to 
 the port and land she had left, saying ever these sad 
 words : " Adieu, France ! adieu, France ! " — repeating them 
 again and again; and this sad exercise she did for nearly 
 five hours, until the night began to fall, when they asked 
 her if she would not come away from there and take some 
 supper. On that, her tears redoublmg, she said these words ; 
 " This is indeed the hour, my dear France, when I must 
 lose you from sight, because the gloomy night, envious of 
 my content in seeing you as long as I am able, hangs a 
 black veil before mine eyes to rob me of that joy. Adieu, 
 then, my dear France; I shall see you nevermore !" 
 
 Then she retired, saying she had done the contrary of 
 Dido, who looked to the sea when ^neas left her, while she
 
 MARIE STUARX 99 
 
 had looked to land. She wished to lie down without eating 
 more than a salad, and as she would not descend into the 
 cabin of the poop, they brought her bed and set it up on 
 the deck of the poop, where she rested a little, but did not 
 cease her sighs and tears. She commanded the steersman 
 to wake her as soon as it was day if he saw or could even 
 just perceive the coasts of France, and not to fear to call her. 
 In this, fortune favoured her ; for the wind having ceased 
 and the vessel having again had recourse to oars, but little 
 way was made during the night, so that when day appeared 
 the shores of France could still be seen ; and the steersman 
 not having failed to obey her, she rose in her bed and gazed 
 at France again, and as long as she could see it. But the 
 galley now receding, her contentment receded too, and again 
 she said those words : " Adieu, my France ; I think that I 
 shall never see you more." 
 
 Did she desire, this once, that an English armament (with 
 which we were threatened) should appear and constrain her 
 to give up her voyage and return to the port she had left ? 
 But if so, God in that would not favour her wishes, for, with- 
 out further hindrance of any kind we reached Petit-Lict 
 [Leith]. Of the voyage I must tell a little incident : the first 
 evening after we embarked, the Seigneur Chastellard (the 
 same who was afterwards executed for presumption, not for 
 crime, as I shall tell), being a charming cavalier, a man of 
 good sword and good letters, said this pretty thing when he 
 saw them lighting the binnacle lamp : " There is no need of 
 that lamp or this torch to light us by sea, for the eyes of our 
 queen are dazzling enough to flash their fine fires along the 
 waves and illume them, if need be." 
 
 I must note that the day before we amved at Scotland, 
 being a Sunday, so great a fog arose that we could not see from 
 the poop to the mast of the galley ; at which the pilot and tlio
 
 100 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 overseers of the galley-slaves were much confounded, — so 
 much so, that out of necessity we had to cast anchor in open 
 sea, and take soundings to know where we were. The fog 
 lasted all one day and all the night until eight o'clock on the 
 following morning, when we found ourselves surrounded hy 
 innumerable reefs ; so that had we gone forward, or even to 
 one side, the ship would have struck and we should have 
 perished. On which the queen said that, for her part, she 
 should not have cared, wishing for nothing so much as death ; 
 but that not for her whole kingdom of Scotland would she 
 have wished it or willed it for others. Having now sighted 
 and seen (for the fog had risen) the coast of Scotland, there 
 were some among us who augured and predicted upon the 
 said fog, that it boded we were now to land in a quarrel- 
 some, mischief-making, unpleasant kingdom {pvyauriie hrou- 
 ille, hrouillon, et mul plaiscint]. 
 
 We entered and cast anchor at Petit-Lict, where the prin- 
 cipal persons of that place and Islebourg [Edinburgh] were 
 gathered to meet their queen ; and then, having sojourned at 
 Petit-Lict only two hours, it was necessary to continue our 
 way to Islebourg, which was barely a league farther. The 
 queen went on horseback, and the ladies and seigneurs on 
 nags of the country, such as they were, and saddled and 
 bridled the same. On seeing which accoutrements the queen 
 began to weep and say that these were not the pomps, tlie 
 dignities, the magnificences, nor yet the superb horses of 
 France, which she had enjoyed so long ; but since she must 
 change her paradise for hell, she must needs take patience. 
 And what is worse was that when she went to bed, being 
 lodged on the lower floor of tlie abbey of Islebourg [Holy- 
 rood], which is certainly a noble building and is not like the 
 country, there came beneath her window some five or six 
 hundred scoundrels of the town, who gave her a serenade
 
 MARIE STUAET. 101 
 
 with wretched violins and little rebecks (of which there is 
 no lack in Scotland), to which they chanted psalms so badly 
 sung and so out of tune that nothing could be worse. Ha 1 
 what music and what repose for her first night ! 
 
 The next morning they would have killed her chaplain in 
 front of her lodging; had he not escaped quickly into her 
 chamber he was dead ; they would have done to him as they 
 did later to her secretary David [Eiccio] whom, because he 
 was clever, the queen liked for the management of her affairs ; 
 but they killed him in her room, so close to her that the 
 blood spurted upon her gown and he fell dead at her feet. 
 What an indignity ! But they did many other indignities to 
 her ; therefore must we not be astonished if they spoke ill of 
 her. On this attempt being made against her chaplain she 
 became so sad and vexed that she said : " This is a fine be- 
 ginning of obedience and welcome from my subjects ! I know 
 not what may be the end, but I foresee it will be bad." 
 Thus the poor princess showed herself a second Cassandra in 
 prophecy as she was in beauty. 
 
 Being now there, she lived about three years very dis- 
 creetly in her widowhood, and would have continued to do 
 so, but the Parliament of her kingdom begged her and en- 
 treated her to marry, in order that she might leave them a 
 fine king conceived by her, like him of the present day 
 [James I]. There are some who say that, during tlie first 
 wars, the King of Navarre desired to marry her, repudiating 
 the queen his wife, on account of the Religion ; but to this 
 she would not consent, saying she had a soul, and would not 
 lose it for all the grandeurs of the world, — making great 
 scruple of espousing a married man. 
 
 At last she wedded a young English lord, of a great house, 
 but not her equal [Henry Darnley, Earl of Lennox, her 
 cousin]. The marriage was not happy for either the one or
 
 102 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 the other. I shall not here relate how the king her husband, 
 having made her a very fine child, who reigns to-day, died, 
 being killed by a fougade [small mine] exploded where he 
 lodged. The history of that is written and printed, but not 
 with truth as to the accusations raised against the queen of 
 consenting to the deed. They are lies and insults ; for never 
 was that queen cruel ; she was always kind and very gentle. 
 Never in France did she any cruelty, nor would she take 
 pleasure or have the heart to see poor criminals put to death 
 by justice, like many grandees whom I have known ; and 
 when she was in her galley never would she allow a single 
 convict to be beaten, were it ever so little ; she bejrfjed her 
 uncle, the grand-prior, as to this, and commanded it to the 
 overseer herself, having great compassion for their misery, 
 so that her heart was sick for it. 
 
 To end this topic, never did cruelty lodge in the heart of 
 such great and tender beauty ; they are liars who have said 
 and written it ; among others M. Buchanan,-^ who ill returned 
 the kindnesses the queen had done him both in France and 
 Scotland in saving liis life and relieving him from banish- 
 ment. It would have been better had he employed his most 
 excellent knowledge in speaking better of her, and not about 
 the amours of Bothwell ; even to transcribing sonnets she had 
 made, which those who knew her poesy and her learning 
 have always said vrere never written by her ; nor did they 
 judge less falsely that amour, for Bothwell was a most ugly 
 man, with as bad a grace as could be seen. 
 
 But if this one [Buchanan] said no good, others have 
 written a noble book upon her innocence, wliich I have 
 seen, and which declared and proved it so that the poorest 
 minds took hold of it and even her enemies paid heed ; but 
 
 1 George Buchanan, historian and Scotch poet, who wrote libels and 
 calumnies against Marie Stuart in prison (French editor.)
 
 MARIE STUART 103 
 
 they, wishing to ruin her, as they did in the end, were obsti- 
 nate, and never ceased to persecute her until she was put 
 into a strong castle, which they say is that of Saint- Andrew 
 in Scotland. There, having lived nearly one year miserably 
 captive, she was delivered by means of a most honourable 
 and brave gentleman of that land and of good family, named 
 M. de Beton, wliom I knew and saw, and who related to 
 me the whole story, as we were crossing the river before the 
 Louvre, when he came to bring the news to the king. He 
 was nephew to the Bishop of Glasco, ambassador to France, 
 one of the most worthy men and prelates ever known, and 
 who remained a faithful servant to his mistress to her last 
 breath, and is so still, after her death. 
 
 So then, the queen, being at liberty, did not stay idle; 
 in less than no time she gathered an army of those whom 
 she thought her most faithful adherents, leading it herself, — 
 at its head, mounted on a good horse, dressed in a simple 
 petticoat of white taffetas, with a coif of crepe on her head ; 
 at which I have seen many persons wonder, even the queen- 
 mother, that so tender a princess, and so dainty as she was 
 and had been all her life, should accustom herself at once 
 to the hardships of war. But what would one not endure 
 to reign absolutely and revenge one's self upon a rebellious 
 people, and reduce it to obedience ? 
 
 Behold this queen, therefore, beautiful and generous, like 
 a second Zenobia, at the head of her army, leading it on to 
 face that of her enemies and to give battle. But alas ! what 
 misfortune ! Just as she thought her side would engage the 
 others, just as she was animating and exhorting them with 
 her noble and valorous words, which might have moved the 
 rocks, they raised their lances without fighting, and, first on 
 one side and then upon another, threw down their arms, em- 
 braced, and were friends ; and all, confederated and sworn
 
 104 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 together, plotted to seize the queen, and make her prisonei 
 and take her to England. M. Coste, the steward of her 
 household, a gentleman of Auvergne, related this to the 
 queen-mother, having come from there, and met her at 
 Saint-Maur, where he told it also to many of us. 
 
 After this she was taken to England, where she was 
 lodged in a castle and so closely confined in captivity that 
 she never left it for eighteen or tvventy years until her 
 death ; to which she was sentenced too cruelly for the 
 reasons, such as they were, that were given on her trial ; 
 but the principal, as I hold on good authority, was that the 
 Queen of England never liked her, Vjut was always and for 
 a long time jealous of her beauty, which far surpassed her 
 own. That is what jealousy is ! — and for religion too ! So 
 it was that this princess, after her long imprisonment, was 
 condemned to death and to have lier head cut off; this 
 judgment was pronounced upon her two months before she 
 was executed. Some say that she knew nothing of it until 
 they went to execute her. Others declare that it was told 
 to her two months earlier, as the queen-mother, who was 
 greatly distressed, was informed at Coignac, where she then 
 was ; and she was even told of this particular : no sooner 
 was the judgment pronounced than Queen Marie's chamber 
 and bed were hung with black. The queen-mother tiiereon 
 praised the firmness of the Queen of Scotland and said she 
 had never seen or heard tell of any queen more steadfast 
 in adversity. I was present when she said this, but I never 
 thought th-} Queen of England would let her die, — not 
 esteeming her so cruel as all that. Of her own nature she 
 was not (though she was in this). I also thought that M. 
 de Bellievre, whom the king despatched to save her life, 
 would have worked out something good ; nevertheless, he 
 gained nothing.
 
 MARIE STUART. 105 
 
 But to come to this pitiful death, which no one can 
 describe without great compassion. On the seventeenth of 
 February of the year one thousand five hundred and eighty- 
 seven, theie came to the place where the queen was prisoner, 
 a castle called Fodringhaye, the commissioners of the 
 Queen of England, sent by her (I shall not give their names, 
 as it would serve no end) about two or three o'clock in the 
 afternoon ; and in presence of Paulet, her guardian or jailer, 
 read aloud their commission to the prisoner touching her 
 execution, declaring to her that the next morning they should 
 proceed to it, and admonishing her to be ready between seven 
 and eight o'clock. 
 
 She, without in any way being surprised, thanked them 
 for their good news, saying that nothing could be better 
 for her than to come to the end of her misery ; and that for 
 long, ever since her detention in England, she had resolved 
 and prepared herself to die ; entreating, nevertheless, the 
 commissioners to grant her a little time and leisure to make 
 her will and put her affairs in order, — inasmuch as all de- 
 pended upon their will, as their commission said. To which 
 the Comte de Cherusbery [Earl of Shrewsbury] replied 
 rather roughly : " No, no, madame, you must die. Hold 
 yourself ready between seven and eight to-morrow morning. 
 We shall not prolong the delay by a moment." There was 
 one, more courteous it seemed to her, who wished to use 
 some demonstrations that might give her more firmness to 
 endure such death. She answered him that she had no need 
 of consolation, at least not as coming from him ; but tliat if 
 he wished to do a good office to her conscience he would 
 send for her almoner to confess her ; which would be an 
 obligation that surpassed all others. As for her body, she 
 said she did not think they would be so inhuman as to 
 deny her the right of sepulture. To this he replied that
 
 106 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 she must not expect it ; so that she was forced to write her 
 confession, which was as follows : — 
 
 " I have to-day been combated for my religion ard to make 
 me receive the consolation of heretics. You will hear from 
 Bourgoing and others that I have faithfully made protesta- 
 tion of my faith, in which I choose to die. I requested to 
 have you here, to make my confession and to receive my 
 sacrament ; this has been cruelly refused to me, also the 
 removal of my body, and the power to freely make my will, 
 or to write aught, except through their hands. In default 
 of that, I confess the grievousness of my sins in general, 
 as I had expected to make to you in particulars ; entreating 
 you, in God's name, to watch and pray with me this night 
 for the forgiveness of my sins, and to send me absolution 
 and pardon for all the offences which I have committed. I 
 shall endeavour to see you in their presence, as they have 
 granted me ; and if it is permitted I shall ask pardon of you 
 before them all. Advise me of the proper prayers to use 
 this night and to-morrow morning, for the time is short and 
 I have no leisure to write ; I shall recommend you like the 
 rest, and especially that your benefices may be preserved and 
 secured to you, and I shall commend you to the king. I 
 have no more leisure ; advise me in writing of all you think 
 good for my salvation." 
 
 That done, and having thus provided for the salvation of 
 her soul before all things else, she lost no time, though 
 little remained to her (yet long enough to have shaken the 
 firmest constancy, but in her they saw no fear of death, only 
 much content to leave these earthly miseries), in writing to 
 our king, to tlie queen-mother, whom she honoured much, 
 to Monsieur and Madame de Guise, and other private per- 
 sons, letters truly very piteous, but all aiming to let them 
 know that to her latest hour she had not lost memory of
 
 MARIE STUART. 107 
 
 friends ; and also the contentment she received in seeins 
 herself delivered from so many woes by which for one and 
 twenty years she had been crushed ; also she sent presents 
 to all, of a value and price in keeping with a poor, unfortu- 
 nate, and captive queen. 
 
 After this, she summoned her household, from the highest 
 to the lowest, and opened her coffers to see how much money 
 remained to her ; this she divided to each according to the 
 service she had had from them ; and to her women she 
 gave what remained to her of rings, arrows, headgear, and 
 accoutrements ; telling them that it was with much regret 
 she had no more with which to reward them, but assuring 
 them that her son would make up for her deficiency ; and 
 she begged her maitre d'hotel to say this to her said son ; 
 to whom she sent her blessing, praying him not to avenge 
 her death, leaving all to God to order according to His holy 
 will. Then she bade them farewell without a tear ; on the 
 contrary she consoled them, saying they must not weep to 
 see her on the point of blessedness in exchange for all the 
 sorrows she had had. After which she sent them from her 
 chamber, except her women. 
 
 It now being night, she retired to her oratory, where she 
 prayed to God two hours on her bare knees upon the ground, 
 for her women saw them ; then she returned to her room 
 and said to them : " I think it would be best, my friends, if 
 I ate something and went to bed, so that to-morrow I may 
 do nothing unworthy of me, and that my heart may not 
 fail me." What generosity and what courage I She did 
 as she said ; and taking only some toast with wine she went 
 to bed, where she slept little, but spent the night chiefly 
 in prayers and orisons. 
 
 She rose about two hours before dawn and dressed her- 
 self as properly as she could, and better than usual ; taking
 
 108 THE BOOK OF TIIE LADIES. 
 
 a gown of black velvet, which she had reserved from her 
 other accoutrements, saying to her women : " My friends, I 
 would rather have left you this attire than that of yesterday, 
 hut I think I ought to go to death a little honourably and 
 have upon me something more than common. Here is a 
 handkerchief, which I also reserved, to bind my eyes when 
 I go there ; I give it to you, ma mie (speaking to one of her 
 women), for I wish to receive that last office from you." 
 
 After this, she retired to her oratory, having bid them 
 adieu once more and kissed them, — giving them many par- 
 ticulars to tell the king, the queen, and her relations ; not 
 things that tended to vengeance, but the contrary. Then 
 she took the sacrament by means of a consecrated wafer 
 which the good Pope Pius V. had sent her to serve in some 
 emergency, the which she had always most sacredly pre- 
 served and guarded. 
 
 Having said her prayers, which were very long, it now 
 being fully morning she returned to her chamber, and sat 
 beside the fire ; still talking to her women and comforting 
 them, instead of their comforting her ; she said that the 
 joys of the world were nothing ; that she ought to serve as 
 a warninfT to the rrreatest of the earth as well as to the 
 
 o o 
 
 smallest, for she, having been cpeen of the kingdoms of 
 France and Scotland, one by nature, the other by fortune, 
 after triumphing in the midst of all honours and grandeurs, 
 was reduced to the hands of an executioner ; innocent, how- 
 ever, which consoled her. She told them their Ijcst pattern 
 was that she died in the Catholic religion, holy and good, 
 which she would never abandon to her latest brentli, having 
 been baptized therein ; and that she wanted no faiiie after 
 her death, except that they would publish her iiiinness 
 througliout all Prance when tliey returned tlierc, as she 
 be[i"ed of them ; and further, thou'ih she knew tbev would
 
 MARIE STUART. 109 
 
 have much heart-break to see her on the scaffold performing 
 this tragedy, yet she wished them to witness her death ; 
 knowing well that none would be so faithful in making the 
 report of what was now to happen. 
 
 As she ended these words some one knocked roughly on 
 the door. Her women, knowing it was the hour they were 
 coming to fetch her, wanted to make resistance ; but she said 
 to them : " My friends, it will do no good ; open the door." 
 
 First there entered a man with a white stick in his hand, 
 who, without addressing any one, said twice over as he ad- 
 vanced : " I have come — I have come." The queen, not 
 doubting that he announced to her the moment of execu- 
 tion, took a little ivory cross in her hand. 
 
 Next came the above-named commissioners ; and when 
 they had entered, the queen said to them : " Well, messieurs, 
 you have come to fetch me. I am ready and well resolved 
 to die ; and I think the queen, my good sister, does much 
 for me ; and you likewise who are seeking me. Let us go." 
 They, seeing such firmness accompanied by so extreme a 
 beauty and great gentleness, were much astonished, for never 
 had she seemed more beautiful, having a colour in her 
 cheeks which embellished her. 
 
 Thus Boccaccio wrote of Sophonisba in her adversity, after 
 the taking of her husband and the town, speaking to Massi- 
 nissa : " You would have said," he relates, " that her misfor- 
 time made her more beauteous ; it assisted the sweetness of 
 her face and made it more agreeable and desirable." 
 
 The commissioners were greatly moved to some compas- 
 sion. Still, as she left the room they would not let her 
 women follow her, fearing that by their lamentations, sighs, 
 and outcries they would disturb the execution. But the 
 queen said to them : " What, gentlemen ! would you treat 
 me with such rigour as not to allow my women to accom-
 
 110 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 pany me to death ? Grant me at least this favour." "W^iich 
 they did, on her pledging her word she would impose silence 
 upon them when the time came to admit tliem. 
 
 The place of execution was in the hall, where they had 
 raised a broad scaffold, about twelve feet square and two 
 high, covered with a shabby black cloth. 
 
 She entered this hall without any change of countenance 
 but with majesty and gi-ace, as though she were entering a 
 ballroom, where in other days she had so excellently shone. 
 
 As she neared the scaffold she called to her mattre d'hotel 
 and said, " Help me to mount ; it is the last service I shall 
 receive from you ; " and she repeated to him what she had 
 already told him in her chamber he was to tell her sou. 
 Then, being on the scaffold, she asked for her almoner, beg- 
 ging the officers who were there to permit him to come to 
 her, which they flatly refused, — the Earl of Kent saying to 
 her that he pitied her greatly for thus clinging to super- 
 stitions of a past age, and that she ought to bear the cross of 
 Christ in her heart and not in her hand. To which she made 
 answer that it w^as difficult to bear so beautiful an image in 
 the hand without the heart being touched bv emotion and 
 memory ; and that the most becoming thing in a Christian 
 person was to carry a real sign of the redemption to the 
 death before her. Then, seeing that she could not have her 
 almoner, she asked that her women might come as they had 
 promised her ; which was done. One of them, on entering 
 the hall, seeing her mistress on the scaffold among her execu- 
 tioners, could not keep from crying out and moaning and 
 losing her control; but the queen instantly laying her finger 
 on her lips, she restrained herself. 
 
 Her Majesty then began to make her protestations, namely: 
 that never had she plotted against the State, nor asainst the 
 life of the queen, her good sister, — except in trying to regain
 
 MARIE STUART. Ill 
 
 her liberty, as all captives may. But she saw plainly that 
 the cause of her death was religion, and she esteemed herself 
 very happy to finish her life for that cause. She begged 
 the queen, her good sister, to have pity upon her poor ser- 
 vants whom she held captive, because of the affection they 
 had shown in seeking the liberty of their mistress, inasmuch 
 as she was now to die for all. 
 
 They then brought to her a minister to exhort her [the 
 Dean of Peterborough], but she said to him in English, 
 " Ah I my friend, give yourself patience ; " declaring that she 
 would not hold converse with him nor hear any talk of his 
 sect, for she had prepared herself to die without counsel, and 
 that persons like him could not give her consolation or con- 
 tentment of mind. 
 
 Notwithstanding this, seeing that he continued his prayers 
 in his jargon, she never ceased to say her own in Latin, 
 raising her voice above that of the minister. After which 
 she said again that she esteemed herself very happy to shed 
 the last drop of her blood for her religion, rather than live 
 longer and wait till nature had completed the full course of 
 her life ; and that she hoped in Him whose cross she held in 
 her hand, before whose feet she was prostrate, that this tem- 
 poral death, borne for Him, would be for her the passage, the 
 entrance to, and the beginning of life eternal with the angels 
 and the blessed, who would receive her blood and present it 
 before God, in abolition of her sins ; and them she prayed 
 to be her intercessors for the obtaining of pardon and mercy. 
 
 Such were her prayers, being on her knees on the scaffold, 
 which she made with a fervent heart ; adding others for the 
 pope, the kings of France, and even for the Queen of England, 
 praying God to illuminate her with his Holy Spirit ; piaying 
 also for her son and for tlie islands of Britain and Scotland 
 that they might be converted.
 
 112 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 That done, she called her women to help her to remove 
 her black veil, her headdress, and other ornaments ; and as 
 the executioner tried to touch her she said, " Ah ! my friend, 
 do not touch me ! " But she could not prevent his doing so, 
 for after they had lowered her robe to the waist, that villain 
 pulled her roughly by the arm and took off her doublet 
 [pourpoinf] and the body of her petticoat [corps de cotte] with 
 its low collar, so that her neck and her beautiful bosom, more 
 white than alabaster, were bare and uncovered. 
 
 She arranged herself as quickly as she could, saying she 
 was not accustomed to strip before others, especially so large 
 a company (it is said there were four or five hundred persons 
 present), nor to employ the services of such a valet. 
 
 The executioner then knelt down and asked her pardon ; 
 on which she said that she pardoned him, and all who were 
 the authors of her death with as much good-will as she 
 prayed that God would show in forgiving her sins. 
 
 Then she told her woman to whom she had given the 
 handkerchief to bring it to her. 
 
 She wore a cross of gold, in which was a piece of the true 
 cross, with the image of Our Saviour upon it ; this she wished 
 to give to one of her ladies, but the executioner prevented 
 her, although Her Majesty begged him, saying that the lady 
 would pay him three times its value. 
 
 Then, all being ready, she kissed her ladies, and bade them 
 retire with her benediction, making the sign of the cross upon 
 them. And seeing that one of them could not re?^ train her 
 sobs she imposed silence, saying she was bound by a promise 
 that they would cause no trouble by their tears and moans ; 
 and she commanded them to withdraw quietly, and pray to 
 God for her, and bear faithful testimony to her death in the 
 ancient and sacred Catholic religion. 
 
 One of the women having bandaged her eyes with the
 
 MARIE STUART. 113 
 
 handkerchief, she threw herself instantly on her knees with 
 great courage and without the slightest demonstration or sign 
 that she feared death. 
 
 Her firmness was such that all present, even her enemies, 
 were moved ; there were not four persons present who could 
 keep from weeping ; they thought the sight amazing, and 
 condemned themselves in their consciences for such injustice. 
 
 And because the minister of Satan importuned her, trying 
 to kill her soul as well as her body, and troubling her prayers, 
 she raised her voice to surmount his, and said in Latin the 
 psalm : In te, Domine, speravi ; non confundar in cctermtm ; 
 which she recited throughout. Having ended it, she laid her 
 head upon the block, and, as she repeated once more the 
 words. In manus tuas, Domine, commendo spiritum meum, 
 the executioner struck her a strong blow with the axe, that 
 drove her headgear into her head, which did not fall until the 
 third blow, — to make her martyrdom the greater and more 
 glorious, though it is not the pain but the cause that makes 
 the martyr. 
 
 This done, he took the head in his hand, and showing it to 
 all present said : " God save the queen, Elizabeth ! Thus 
 perish the enemies of the gospel ! " So saying, he uncoifed 
 her in derision to show her hair, now white ; which, however, 
 she had never shrunk from showing, twisting and curling it 
 as when her hair was beautiful, so fair and golden ; for it was 
 not age had changed it at thirty-five years old (being now 
 but forty) ; it was the griefs, the woes, the sadness she had 
 borne in her kmgdom and in her prison. 
 
 This hapless tragedy ended, her poor ladies, anxious for 
 the honour of their mistress, addressed themselves to Paulet, 
 her jailer, begging him that the executioner should not touch 
 the body, but that they might be allowed to disrobe it after 
 all the spectators had withdrawn, so that no indignity might
 
 114 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 be done to it, promising to return all the clothing, and what- 
 ever else he might ask or claim ; but that cursed man sent 
 them roughly away and ordered them to leave the hall. 
 
 Then the executioner unclothed her and handled her at his 
 discretion, and when he had done what he wished the body 
 was carried to a chamber adjoining that of her serving-men, 
 and carefully locked in, for fear they should enter and en- 
 deavour to perform any good and pious office. And to their 
 grief and distress was added this : that they could see her 
 through a hole, half covered by a piece of green drugget torn 
 from her Ijilliard table. What brutal indifference ! What 
 animosity and indignity ! — not even to have bought her a 
 black cloth a little more worthy of her! 
 
 The poor body was left there loug in that state until it be- 
 gan to corrupt so that they were forced to salt and embalm 
 it, — but slightly, to save cost ; after which they put it in a 
 leaden coffin, where it was kept for seven months and then 
 carried to profane ground around the temple of Petersbrouch 
 [Peterborough Cathedral]. True it is that this church is dedi- 
 cated to the name of Saint Peter, and that Queen Catherine 
 of Spain is buried there as a Catholic ; but the place is now 
 profane, as are all the churches in England in these days. 
 
 There are some who have said and written, even the Eng- 
 lish who have made a book on this death and its causes, that 
 tlie spoils of the late queen were taken from the executioner 
 by paying him the value in money of her clothes and her 
 royal ornaments. The cloth with which the scaffold was 
 covered, even the boards of it were partly burned and partly 
 washed, for fear that in times to come they might serve 
 superstition ; that is to say, for fear that any careful Catholic 
 might some day buy and preserve them with respect, honour, 
 and reverence (a fear which may possibly serve as a prophecy 
 and augury), as the ancient Fathers had a practice of keep-
 
 MARIE STUART. 115 
 
 ing relics and of taking care with devotion of the monuments 
 of martyrs. In these days heretics do nothing of the kind. 
 Quia omnia quce martyt'um erant, cremabant, as Eusebius 
 says, et cineres in Mhodanum s^argebant, ut cum corporibus 
 interiret eorum quoque 7nemoria. Nevertheless, the memory 
 of this queen, in spite of all things, will live forever in glory 
 and in triumph. 
 
 Here, then, is the tale of her death, which I hold from the 
 report of two damoiselles there present, very honourable 
 certainly, very faithful to their mistress, and obedient to her 
 commands in thus bearing testimony to her firmness and to 
 her religion. They returned to France after losing her, for 
 they were French ; one was a daughter of Mme. de Eard, 
 whom I knew in France as one of the ladies of the late 
 queen. I think that these two honourable dpmoiselles 
 would have caused the most barbarous of men to weep at 
 hearing so piteous a tale ; which they made the more 
 lamentable by tears, and by their tender, doleful, and noble 
 language. 
 
 I also learned much from a book which has been pub- 
 lished, entitled " The Martyrdom of the Queen of Scotland, 
 Dowager of France." Alas ! that being our queen did her 
 no service. It seems to me that being such they ought 
 to have feared our vengeance for putting her to death; 
 and tliey would have thought a hundred times before they 
 came to it, if our king had chosen to take the mitiative. 
 But, because he hated the Messieurs de Guise, his cousins, 
 he took no pains except as formal duty. Alas ! what could 
 that poor innocent do ? This is what many asked. 
 
 Others say that he made many formal appeals. It is true 
 that he sent to the Queen of England M. de Bellievre, one 
 of the greatest and wisest senators of France and the ablest, 
 who did not fail to otl'er all his arguments, with the king's
 
 116 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 prayers and threats, and do all else that he could; and 
 among other things he declared that it did not belong to 
 one king or sovereign to put to death another king or 
 sovereign, over whom he had no power either from God or 
 man. 
 
 I have never known a generous person who did not say 
 that the Queen of England w^ould have won immortal glory 
 had she used mercy to the Scottish queen ; and also she 
 would be exempt from the risk of vengeance, however tardy, 
 which awaits her for the shedding of innocent blood that 
 cries aloud for it. It is said that the English queen was 
 well advised of this ; but not only did she pass over the 
 advice of many of her kingdom, but also that of many 
 great Protestant princes and lords both in France and 
 Germany, — such as the Prince de Conde and Casimir, since 
 dead, and the Prince of Orange and others, who had sub- 
 scribed to this violent death while not expecting it, but 
 afterwards felt their conscience burdened, inasmuch as it 
 did not concern them and brought them no advantage, and 
 they did it only to please the queen ; but, in truth, it did 
 them inestimable detriment. 
 
 They say, too, that Queen Elizabeth, when she sent to 
 notify that poor Queen Marie of this melancholy sentence, 
 assured her that it was done with great and sad regret on 
 her part, under constraint of Parhament whicli urgi/d it on 
 her. To which Queen Marie answered: "She has much 
 more power than that to make them ol)edient to her will 
 when it pleases her ; for she is the princess, or more truly 
 the prince, who has made herself tlie most feared and 
 reverenced." 
 
 Xow, I rely on the truth of all things, whicli time will 
 reveal. Queen Marie will live glorious in this world and in 
 the other ; and the time will come in a few years when some
 
 MARIE STUART. 117 
 
 good pope will canonize her in memory of the martyrdom 
 she suffered for the honour of God and of his Law. 
 
 It is not to be doubted that if that great, valiant, and 
 generous prince, the late M. de Guise, the last [Henri, le 
 Balafr^, assassinated at Blois], was not dead, vengeance for 
 so noble a queen and cousin thus murdered would not still 
 be unborn. I have said enough on so pitiful a subject, which 
 I end thus : — 
 
 This queen, of a beauty so incomparable. 
 Was, with too great injustice, put to death : 
 To sustain that heart of faith inviolable 
 Can it be there are none to avenge the wrong ? 
 
 One there is who has written her epitaph in Latin verses, 
 the substance of which is as follows : " Nature had produced 
 this queen to be seen of all the world : with great admira- 
 tion was she seen for her beauty and virtues so long as she 
 lived : but England, envious, placed her on a scaffold to be 
 seen in derision : yet was well deceived ; for the sight turned 
 praise and admiration to her, and glory and thanksgiving to 
 God." 
 
 I must, before I finish, say a word here in reply to those 
 whom I have heard speak ill of her for the death of Chastel- 
 lard, whom the queen condemned to death in Scotland, — lay- 
 ing upon her that she had justly suffered for making others 
 suffer. L^pon that count there is no justice, and it should 
 never have been made. Those who know the history will 
 never blame our queen ; and, for that reason, I shall here 
 relate it for her justification. 
 
 Chastellard was a gentleman of Dauphin^, of good family 
 and condition, for he was great-nephew on his mother's side 
 of that brave M. de Bayard, whom they say he resembled in 
 figure, which in him was medium, very beautiful and slender,
 
 118 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 as they say M. de Bayard had also. He was very adroit at 
 arms, and inclined in all ways to honourable exercises, such 
 as firing at a mark, playing at tennis, leaping, and dancing. 
 In short, he was a most accomplished gentleman ; and 
 as for his soul, it was also very noble ; he spoke well, and 
 "wrote of the best, even in rhyme, as well as any gentle- 
 man in France, using a most sweet and lovely poesy, like a 
 knight. 
 
 He followed M. d'Amville, so-called then, now M. le 
 Conndtable ; but when we v.'ere with M. le Grand Prieur, 
 of the house of Lorraine, who conducted the queen [to 
 Scotland] the said Chastellard was with us, and, in this 
 company became known to the queen for his charming 
 actions, above all for his rhymes ; among which he made 
 some to please her in translation from Italian (which he 
 spoke and knew well), beginning, Che giova posseder cittci e 
 rcrjni ; which is a very well made sonnet, the substance of 
 which is as follows : " AVhat serves her to possess so many 
 kingdoms, cities, towns, and provinces, to command so many 
 peoples, and be respected, feared, admired of all, if still to 
 sleep a widow, lone and cold as ice ? " 
 
 He made also other rhymes, most beautiful, which I have 
 seen written by his hand, for they never were imprinted, 
 that I know. 
 
 The queen, therefore, who loved letters, and principally 
 poems, for sometimes she made dainty ones herself, was 
 pleased in seeing those of Chastellard, and even made re- 
 sponse, and, for that reason, gave him good cheer and enter- 
 tained him often. But he, in secrecy, was kindled by a 
 flame too high, the which its object could not hinder, for 
 who can shield herself from love ? In times gone by the 
 most chaste goddesses and dames were loved, and still are 
 loved ; indeed we love their marble statues ; but for that
 
 MARIE STUART. 119 
 
 no lady has been blamed unless she yielded to it. There- 
 fore, kindle who will these sacred fires ! 
 
 Chastellard returned with all our troop to France, much 
 grieved and desperate in leaving so beautiful an object of his 
 love. After one year the civil war broke out in France. He, 
 who belonged to the Eeligion [Protestant], struggled within 
 himself which side to take, whether to go to Orleans with 
 the others, or stay with M. d'Amville, and make war against 
 his faith. On the one hand, it seemed to him too bitter to 
 go against his conscience ; on the other, to take up arms 
 against his master displeased him hugely ; wherefore he re- 
 solved to fight for neither the one nor yet the other, but to 
 banish himself and go to Scotland, let fight who would, 
 and pass the time away. He opened this project to M. 
 d'Amville and told him his resolution, begging him to write 
 letters in his favour to the queen ; which he obtained : then, 
 taking leave of one and all. he went ; I saw him go ; he 
 bade me adieu and told me in part his resolution, we being 
 friends. 
 
 He made his voyage, which ended happily, so that, having 
 arrived in Scotland and discoursing of his intentions to the 
 queen, she received him kindly and assured him he was wel- 
 come. But he, abusing such good cheer and seeking to 
 attack the sun, perished like Phaeton; for, driven by love 
 and passion, he was presumptuous enough to hide beneath 
 the bed of her Majesty, where he was discovered when she 
 retired. The queen, not wishing to make a scandal, par- 
 doned him ; availing herself of that good counsel which the 
 lady of honour gives to her mistress in the " Xovels of the 
 Queen of iSTavarre," when a seigneur of her brother's Court, 
 slipping through a trap-door made by him in the alcove, 
 seeking to win her, brought nothing back but shame and 
 scratches : she wishing to punish his temerity and complain
 
 120 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 of him to her brother, the lady of honour counselled her 
 that, since the seigneur had won nought but shame and 
 scratches, it was for her honour as a lady of such mark not 
 to be talked of ; for the more it was contended over, the 
 more it would go to the nose of the world and the mouth of 
 gossips. 
 
 Our Queen of Scotland, being wise and prudent; passed 
 this scandal by ; but the said Chastellard, not content and 
 more than ever mad with love, returned for the second 
 time, forgetting both his former crime and pardon. Then 
 the queen, for her honour, and not to give occasion to her 
 women to think evil, and also to her people if it w^ere known, 
 lost patience and gave him up to justice, which condemned 
 him quickly to be beheaded, in view of the crime of such an 
 act. The day having come, before he died he had in his 
 hand the hymns of M. de Eonsard ; and, for his eternal 
 consolation, he read from end to end the Hymn of Death 
 (which is well done, and proper not to make death abhorrent), 
 taking no help of other spiritual book, nor of minister or 
 confessor. 
 
 Having ended that reading wholly, he turned to the spot 
 where he thought the queen must be, and cried in a loud 
 voice : "Adieu, most beautiful, most cruel princess in all the 
 world ! " then, firmly stretching his neck to the executioner, 
 he let himself be killed very easily. 
 
 Some have wished to discuss why it was that he called 
 her cruel ; whether because she had no pity on his love, or on 
 his life. But what should she have done ? If, after her first 
 pardon she had granted him a second, she would on all sides 
 have been slandered ; to save her honour it was needful that 
 the law should take its course. That is the end of this 
 history.
 
 MARIE STUART. 121 
 
 " Well, they may say what they will, many a true heart 
 will be sad for Mary Stuart, e'en if all be true men say 
 of her." That speech, which Walter Scott puts into the 
 mouth of one of the personages in his novel of " The Abbot " 
 at the moment when he is preparing the reader for an intro- 
 duction to the beautiful queen, remains the last word of 
 posterity as it was of contemporaries, — the conclusion of 
 history as of poesy. 
 
 Elizabeth living triumphed, and her policy after her lives 
 and triumphs still, so that Protestantism and the British 
 empire are one and the same thing. Marie Stuart suc- 
 cumbed, in her person and in that of her descendants ; 
 Charles I. under the axe, James II. in exile, each continued 
 and added to his heritage of faults, imprudences, and 
 calamities ; the whole race of the Stuarts was cut off, and 
 seems to have deserved it. But, vanquished in the order 
 of things and under the empire of fact, and even under that 
 of inexorable reason, the beautiful queen has regained all 
 in the world of imagination and of pity. She has found, 
 from century to century, knights, lovers, and avengers. A 
 few years ago, a Russian of distinction, Prince Alexander 
 Labanoff, began, with incomparable zeal, a search through 
 the archives, the collections, the libraries of Europe, for 
 documents emanating directly from Marie Stuart, the most 
 insignificant as well as the most important of her letters, in 
 order to connect them and so make a nucleus of history, 
 and also an authentic shrine, not doubting that interest, 
 serious and tender interest, would rise, more powerful still, 
 from the bosom of truth itself. On the appearance of this 
 collection of Prince Labanoff, M. Mignet produced, from 
 1847 to 1850, a series of articles in the " Journal des Savants," 
 in which, not content with appreciating the prince's docu- 
 ments, he presented from himself new documents, hitherto
 
 122 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 unpublished and affording new ligMs. Since then, leaving 
 the form of criticism and dissertation, M. Mignard has taken 
 this fine subject as a whole, and has written a complete 
 narrative upon it, grave, compact, interesting, and definitive, 
 which he is now publishing [1851]. 
 
 In the meantime, about a year ago, there appeared a 
 " History of Marie Stuart " by M. Dargaud, a writer of talent, 
 whose book has been much praised and much read. M. 
 Dargaud made, in his own way, various researches about the 
 heroine of his choice ; he went expressly to England and 
 Scotland, and visited as a pilgrim all the places and scenes 
 of Marie Stuart's sojourns and captivities. While drawing 
 abundantly from preceding writers, M, Dargaud does them 
 justice with effusion and cordiality ; he sheds through every 
 line of his history the sentiment of exalted pity and poesy 
 inspired within him by the memory of that royal and 
 Catholic victim ; he deserves the fine letter which Mme. Sand 
 wrote him from Xohant, April 10, 1851, in which she congratu- 
 lates him, almost without criticism, and speaks of Marie Stuart 
 with charm and eloquence. If I do not dwell at greater 
 length upon the work of M. Dargaud, it is, I must avow, 
 becau-e I am not of that too emotional school which softens 
 and enervates history. I think that history should not neces- 
 sarily be dull and v/earisome, but still less do I think it 
 sliould be impassioned, sentimental, and as if magnetic. 
 Without wishing to depreciate the qualities of M. Dargaud, 
 which are too much in the taste of the day not to be their 
 own recommendation, I shall follow in preference a more 
 severe historian, whose judgment and whose method of 
 procedure inspire me with confidence. 
 
 ]\rarie Stuart, born December 8, 1542, six days before the 
 death of her father, who was then combating, like all the 
 kings his predecessors, a turbulent nobility, began as an
 
 MARIE STUART. 123 
 
 orphan her fickle and unfortunate destiny. Storms assailed 
 her in her cradle, — 
 
 " As if, e'en then, inhuman Fortune 
 Would suckle me with sadness and with pain," 
 
 as an old poet, in I know not what tragedy, has made her 
 say. Crowned at the age of nine months, disputed already 
 in marriage between the French and English parties, eacli 
 desiring to prevail in Scotland, she was early, through the 
 influence of her mother, Marie de Guise (sister of the illus- 
 trious Guises), bestowed upon the Dauphin of France, the son 
 of King Henri 11. August 13, 1548, Marie Stuart, then rather 
 less than six years old, landed at Brest. Betrothed to the 
 young dauphin, who, on his father's death became Frangois XL, 
 she was brought up among the children of Henri II, and 
 Catherine de' Medici, and remained in France, first as dau- 
 phine, then as queen, until the premature death of her 
 husband. She lived there in every respect as a French 
 princess. These twelve or thirteen years in France were 
 her joy and her charm, and the source of her ruin. 
 
 She grew up in the bosom of the most polished, most 
 learned, most gallant Court of those times, shining there in 
 her early bloom like a rare and most admired marvel, know- 
 ing music and all the arts (divince Palladis artcs), learning 
 the languages of antiquity, speaking themes in Latin, supe- 
 rior in French rhetoric, enjoying an intercourse with poets, 
 and being herself their rival with her poems. Scotland, 
 during all this time, seemed to her a barbaric and savage 
 land, which she earnestly hoped never to see again, or, at 
 any rate, never to inhabit. Trained to a policy wholly of 
 the Court and wholly personal, they made her sign at Fon- 
 tainebleau at the time of her marriage (1558) a secret deed 
 of gift of the kingdom of Scotland to the kings of France, 
 at the same time that she publicly gave adherence to the
 
 124 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 conditions which the commissioners from Scotland had 
 attached to the marriage, conditions under which she pledged 
 herself to maintain the integrity, the laws, and the liberties 
 of her native land. It was at this very moment that she 
 secretly made gift to the kings of France of her whole king- 
 dom by an act of her own good- will and power. The Court 
 of France prompted her to that imprudent treachery at the 
 age of sixteen. Another very impolitic imprudence, which 
 proclaimed itself more openly, was committed when Henri XL, 
 on the death of Mary Tudor, made Marie Stuart, the dauphine, 
 bear the arms of England beside those of Scotland, thus 
 presenting her thenceforth as a declared rival and com- 
 petitor of Elizabeth. 
 
 When Marie Stuart suddenly lost her husband (December 
 5, 1560), and it was decided that she, a widow at eighteen, 
 should, instead of remaining in her dowry of Touraine, re- 
 turn to her kingdom of Scotland to bring order to the civil 
 troubles there existing, universal mourning took place in 
 the world of young French seigneurs, noble ladies, and poets. 
 The latter consigned their regrets to many poems which pict- 
 ure Marie Stuart to the life in this decisive liour, the first 
 really sorrowful hour she had ever known. We see her 
 refined, gracious, of a delicate, fair complexion, the form and 
 bust of queen or goddess, — L'Hopital himself had said of 
 her, after his fashion, in a grave epithalamium : — 
 
 *' Adspectu veneranda, putes ut Numen inesse : 
 Tantus in ore decor, majestas regia tanta est ! " — 
 
 of a long hand, elegant and slender 'gracilis), an alabaster 
 forehead dazzling beneath the crape, and with golden hair — 
 which needs a brief remark. It is a poet (Eonsard) who 
 speaks of " the gold of lier ringed and braided hair," and 
 poets, as we know, employ their words a little vaguely. 
 Mme. Sand, speaking of a portrait she had seen as a child
 
 MARIE STUART. 125 
 
 in the English Convent, says, without hesitation, " Marie 
 was beautiful, but red-haired." M. Dargaud speaks of an- 
 other portrait, " in which a sunray lightens," he says rather 
 oddly, " the curls of her living and electric hair." But 
 Walter Scott, reputed the most correct of historical romance- 
 writers, in describing Marie Stuart a prisoner in Lochleven 
 Castle, shows us, as though he had seen them, her thick 
 tresses of " dark brown," which escaped now and then from 
 her coif. Here we are far from the red or golden tints, and 
 I see no other way of conciliating these differences than to rest 
 on " that hair so beautiful, so blond and fair " [si blonds et cen- 
 dres'l which Brantome, an ocular witness, admired, — -hair 
 that captivity whitened, leaving the poor queen of forty-six 
 " quite bald " in the hands of her executioner, as I'Estoile 
 relates. But at nineteen, the moment of her departure from 
 France, the young widow was in all the glory of her beauty, 
 except for a brilliancy of colour, which she lost at the death 
 of her first husband, giving place to a purer whiteness. 
 
 Withal a lively, graceful, and sportive mind, and French 
 raillery, an ardent soul, capable of passion, open to desire, 
 a heart which knew not how to draw back when flame or 
 fancy or enchantment stirred it. Such was the queen, ad- 
 venturous and poetical, who tore herself from France in 
 tears, sent by politic uncles to recover her authority amid 
 the roughest and most savage of " Frondes." 
 
 Scotland, since IMarie Stuart left it as a child, had under- 
 gone great changes ; the principal was the Eeformed religion 
 w^hich had taken root there and extended itself vigorously. 
 The great reformer Knox preached the new doctrine, whicli 
 found in Scotland stern, energetic souls ready made to receive 
 it. The old strug;Q;le of the lords and barons asjainst the 
 kings was complicated and redoubled now by that of cities 
 and people against the brilliant beliefs of the Court and the
 
 126 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 Catholic hierarchy. The birth of modern society, of civil 
 equality, of respect for the rights of all was painfully work- 
 ing itself out through barbaric scenes, and by means of 
 fanaticism itself. Alone and without counsel, contending 
 with the lords and the nobility as her ancestors had done, 
 Marie Stuart, quick, impulsive, subject to predilections and 
 to antipathies, was already insufficient for the work ; what 
 therefore could it be when she found herself face to face 
 with a religious party, born and growing during recent years, 
 face to face with an argumentative, gloomy party, moral and 
 daring, discussing rationally, Bible in hand, the right of 
 kings, and pushing logic even into prayer ? Coming from 
 a literary and artificial Court, there was nothing in her that 
 could comprehend these grand and voiceless movements of 
 the people, either to retard them or turn them to her own 
 profit by adapting herself to them. "She returned," says 
 M. Mignet, " full of regrets and disgust, to the barren moun- 
 tains and the uncultured inhabitants of Scotland. ]\Iore 
 lovable than able, very ardent and in no way cautious, she 
 returned with a grace that was out of keeping with her sur- 
 roundings, a dangerous beauty, a keen but variable intellect, 
 a generous but rash soul, a taste for the arts, a love of ad- 
 venture, and all the passions of a woman joined to the exces- 
 sive liberty of a widow." 
 
 And to complicate the peril of this precarious situation 
 she had for neighbour in England a rival queen, Elizabeth, 
 whom slie had first offended by claiming her title, and next, 
 and no less, by a feminine and proclaimed superiority of 
 beauty and grace, — a rival queen capable, energetic, rigid, 
 and dissimulating, representing the contrary religious opinion, 
 and surrounded by able counsellors, firm, consistent, and 
 committed to the same cause. The seven years that :\Iarie 
 Stuart spent in Scotland after her return from Erance
 
 MARIE STUART. 127 
 
 (August 19, 1561) to her imprisonment (May 18, 1568) are 
 filled with all the blunders and all the faults that could be 
 committed by a young and thoughtless princess, impulsive, 
 unreflecting, and without shrewdness or ability except in the 
 line of her passion, never in view of a general political pur- 
 pose. The policy of Mme. de Longueville, during the 
 Fronde, seems to me of the same character. 
 
 As to other faults, the moral faults of poor Marie Stuart, 
 they are as well known and demonstrated to-day as faults 
 of that kind can well be. Mme. Sand, always very indul- 
 gent, regards as the three black spots upon her life the 
 abandonment of Chastellard, her feigned caresses to the 
 hapless Darnley, and her forgetfulness of Bothwell. 
 
 Chastellard, as we know, was a gentleman of Dauphin^ 
 musician and poet, in the train of the servitors and adorers 
 of the queen, who at first was very agreeable to her, Chastel- 
 lard was one of the troop who escorted Marie Stuart to 
 Scotland, and sometime later, urged by his passion, he 
 returned there. But not knowing how to restrain himself, 
 or to keep, as became him, to poetic passion while waiting 
 to inspire, if he could, a real one, he was twice discovered 
 beneath the bed of the queen ; the second time she lost 
 patience and turned him over to the law. Poor Chastellard 
 was beheaded ; he died reciting, so they say, a hymn of 
 Eousard's, and crying aloud : " cruel Lady ! " After so 
 stern an act, to which she was driven in fear of scandal and 
 to put her honour above all attainder and suspicion, Marie 
 Stuart had, it would seem, but one course to pursue, namely : 
 to remain the most severe and most virtuous of princesses. 
 
 But her severity for Chastellard, though shown for effect, 
 is merely a peccadillo in comparison with her conduct to 
 Darnley, her second husband. By marrying this young- 
 man (July 29, 1565), her vassal, but of the race of the
 
 128 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 Stuarts and her own family, Marie escaped the diverse 
 political combinations which were striving to attract her 
 to a second marriage; and it would have been, perhaps, 
 a sensible thing to do, if she had not done it as an act of 
 caprice and passion. But she fell in love with Darnley in 
 a single day, and became disgusted in the next. This tall, 
 weakly youth, timid and conceited by turns, with a heart 
 " soft as wax," had nothing in him which subjugates a woman 
 and makes her respect him. A woman such as Marie 
 Stuart, changeable, ardent, easily swayed, with the sentiment 
 of her weakness and of her impulsiveness, likes to find 
 a master and at moments a tyrant in the man she loves, 
 whereas she soon despises her slave and creature when he is 
 nought but that ; she much prefers an arm of iron to an 
 effeminate hand. 
 
 Less than six months after her marriage Marie, wholly dis- 
 gusted, consoled herself with an Italian, David Eiccio, a man 
 thirty-two years of age, equally well fitted for business or 
 pleasure, who advised her and served her as secretary, and 
 was gifted with a musical talent well suited to commend him 
 to women in other ways. The feeble Darnley confided his 
 jealousy to the discontented lords and gentlemen, and 
 they, in the interests of their faction, prodded his vengeance 
 and offered to serve it with their sword. ^Ministers and 
 Presbyterian pastors took part in the affair. The whole was 
 plotted and managed with perfect unanimity as a chastise- 
 ment of Heaven, and, what is more, by help of deeds and 
 formal agreements which simulated legality. Tlie queen and 
 her favourite, apparently before they had any suspicions, 
 were taken in a net. David Eiccio was seized by the con- 
 spirators while supping in ^Marie's cabinet (March 9, 1566), 
 Darnley being present, and from there he was dragged into 
 the next room and stabbed. Marie, at this date, was six
 
 MAEIE STUART. 129 
 
 months pregnant by her husband. On that day, outraged in 
 honour and embittered in feeling, she conceived for Darnley 
 a deeper contempt mingled with horror, and swore to avenge 
 herself on the murderers. For this purpose she bided her 
 time, she dissimulated ; for the first time in her life she con- 
 trolled herself and restrained her actions. She became 
 politic — as the nature is of passionate women — only in 
 the interests of her passion and her vengeance. 
 
 Here is the gravest and the most in-eparable incident of 
 her life. Even after we have fully represented to ourselves 
 what the average morahty of the sixteenth century, with all 
 the treachery and atrocities it tolerated, was, we are scarcely 
 prepared for this. JNIarie Stuart's first desire was to revenge 
 herself on the lords and gentlemen who had lent their dag- 
 gers to Darnley, rather than on her weak and timid husband. 
 To reach her end she reconciled herself with the latter and 
 detached him from the conspirators, his accomphces. She 
 forced him to disavow them, thus degrading and sinking him 
 in his own estimation. At this point she remained as long 
 as a new passion was not added to her supreme contempt. 
 Meantime her child was born (June 19), and she made 
 Darnley the father of a son who resembled both parents on 
 their worst sides, the future James I. of England, that soul 
 of a casuist in a king. But by this time a new passion was 
 budding in the open heart of Marie Stuart. He whom she 
 now chose had neither Darnley's feebleness nor the salon 
 graces of a Riccio ; he was the Earl of Bothwell, a man of 
 thirty, ugly, but martial in aspect, brave, bold, violent, and 
 capable of daring all things. To him it was that this flexible 
 and tender will was henceforth to cling for its support. 
 Marie Stuart has found her master ; and him she will obey 
 in all things, without scruple, without remorse, as happens 
 always in distracted passion.
 
 130 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 But how rid herself of a husband henceforth odious ? 
 How unite herself to the man she loves and whose ambition 
 is not of a kind to stop half way ? Here again we need — 
 not to excuse, but to explain Marie Stuart — we need to 
 represent to our minds the morality of that day. A goodly 
 number of the same lords who had taken part in Eiccio's 
 murder, and who were leagued together by deeds and docu- 
 ments, offered themselves to the queen, and, for the purpose 
 of recovering favour, let her see the means of getting rid of a 
 husband who was now so irksome. She answered this over- 
 ture by merely speaking of a divorce and the difficulty of 
 obtaining it. But these men, little scrupulous, said to her 
 plainly, by the mouth of Lethington, the ablest and most 
 poHtic of them all : " Madame, give yourself no anxiety ; we, 
 the leaders of the nobility, and the heads of your Grace's 
 Council, will find a way to deliver you from him without 
 prejudice to your son ; and though my Lord Murray, here 
 present (the illegitimate brother of Marie Stuart), is little 
 less scrupulous as a Protestant than your Grace is as a Papist, 
 1 feel sure that he will look through his fingers, see us act, 
 and say nothing." 
 
 The word was spoken ; Marie had only to do as her brother 
 did, " look tlirough her fingers," as the vulgar saymg was, and 
 let things go on without taking part in them. She did take 
 a part however ; she led into the trap, by a feigned return of 
 tenderness, the unfortunate Darnley, then convalescing from 
 the small-pox. She removed his suspicions without much 
 trouble, and, recovering her empire over him, persuaded him 
 to come in a litter from Glasgow to Kirk-of-Pield, at the 
 gates of Edinburgh, where there was a species of parsonage, 
 little suitable for the reception of a king and queen, but very 
 convenient for the crime now to be committed. 
 
 There Darnley perished, strangled with his page, during
 
 MARIE STUART. 131 
 
 the night of February 9, 1567. The house was blown up by 
 means of a barrel of gunpowder, placed there to give the idea 
 of an accident. During this time Marie had gone to a masked 
 ball at Holyrood, not having quitted her husband until that 
 evening, when all was prepared to its slightest detail. Both- 
 well, who was present for a time at the ball, left Edinburgh 
 after midnight and presided at the killing. These circum- 
 stances are proved in an irrefragable manner by the testimony 
 of witnesses, by the confessions of the actors, and by the let- 
 ters of Marie Stuart, the authenticity of which M. Mignard, 
 with decisive clearness, places beyond all doubt. She felt 
 that in giving herself thus to Bothwell's projects she fur- 
 nished him with weapons against herself and gave him 
 grounds to distrust her in turn. He might say to himself, as 
 the Duke of Norfolk said later, that " the pillow of such a 
 woman was too hard " to sleep upon. During the preparation 
 of this horrible trap she more than once showed her repug- 
 nance to deceive the poor sick dupe who trusted her. "I 
 shall never rejoice," she writes, " through deceiving him who 
 trusts me. Nevertheless, command me in all things. But 
 do not conceive an ill opinion of me ; because you yourself 
 are the cause of this ; for I would never do anything against 
 him for my own particular vengeance." And truly this role 
 of Clytenmestra, or of Gertrude in Hamlet was not in accord- 
 ance with her nature, and could only have been imposed upon 
 her. But passion rendered her for this once insensible to 
 pity, and made her heart (she herself avows it) " as hard as 
 diamond." Marie Stuart soon put the climax to her ill- 
 regulated passion and desires by marrying Both well ; thus 
 revolting the mind of her whole people, whose morality, 
 fanatical as it was, was never in the least depraved, and was 
 far more upright than that of the nobles. 
 
 The crime was echoed beyond the seas. L'Hopital, that
 
 132 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES, 
 
 representative of the human conscience in a dreadful era, 
 heard, in his country retreat, of the misguided conduct of her 
 whose early grace and first marriage he had celebrated in his 
 stately epithalamium ; and he now recorded his indignation 
 in another Latin poem, wherein he recounts the horrors of 
 that funereal night, and does not shrink from calling the wife 
 and the young mother " the murderess, alas ! of a father 
 whose child was still at her breast." 
 
 On the 15th of May, three months — only three months 
 after the murder, at the first smile of spring, the marriage 
 with the murderer was celebrated. Marie Stuart justified 
 in all ways Shakespeare's saying : " Frailty, thy name is 
 Woman." For none was ever more a woman than Marie 
 Stuart. 
 
 Here I am unable to admit the third reproach of Mme. 
 Sand, that of Marie Stuart's forgetfulness of Bothwell. I 
 see, on the contrary, through all the ol^stacles, all the perils 
 immediately following this marriage, that Marie had no other 
 idea than that of avoiding separation from her violent and 
 domineering husband. She loved him so madly that she 
 said to whosoever might hear her (April, 1567) tliat " she 
 would quit France, England, and her own country, and follow 
 him to the ends of the earth in nought but a white petticoat, 
 rather than be parted from him." And soon after, forced by 
 the lords to tear herself from Bothwell, she reproaches them 
 bitterly, asking but one thing, " that both be put in a vessel 
 and sent away where Fortune led them." It was only en- 
 forced separation, final imprisonment, and the impossibility 
 of communication, which compelled the rupture. It is true 
 that Marie, a prisoner in England, solicited the Parliament 
 of Scotland to annul her marriage witli Bothwell, in the hope 
 she then had of marrying the Duke of Norfolk, who played 
 the lover to herself and crown, thousrh she never saw him.
 
 MAKIE STUART. 133 
 
 But, Bothwell being a fugitive and ruined, can we reproach 
 Marie Stuart for a project from which she hoped for restora- 
 tion and deliverance ? Her passion for Bothwell had been a 
 delirium, which drove her into connivance with crime. That 
 fever calmed, Marie Stuart turned her mind to the resources 
 which presented themselves, among which was the offer of 
 her hand. Her wrong-doing does not lie there; amid so 
 many infidelities and horrors, it would be pushing delicacy 
 much too far to require eternity of sentiment for the re- 
 mains of an unbridled and bloody passion. That which is 
 due to such passions, when they leave no hatred behind 
 them, that which becomes them best, is oblivion. 
 
 Such conduct, and such deeds, crowned by her heedless 
 flight into England and the imprudent abandonment of her 
 person to Elizabeth, seem little calculated to make the touch- 
 ing and pathetic heroine we are accustomed to admire and 
 cherish in Marie Stuart. Yet she deserves all pity ; and we 
 have but to follow her through the third and last portion of 
 her life, through that long, unjust, and sorrowful captivity 
 of nineteen years (May 18, 1568, to February 5, 1587) to 
 render it unconsciously. Struggling without defence against 
 a crafty and ambitious rival, liable to mistakes from friends 
 outside, the victim of a grasping and tenacious policy which 
 never let go its prey and took so long a time to torture before 
 devouring it, she never for a single instant fails towards her- 
 self ; she rises ever higher. That faculty of hope which so 
 often had misled her becomes the grace of her condition and 
 a virtue. She moves the whole world in the interest of her 
 misfortunes; she stirs it with a charm all-powerful. Her 
 cause transforms and magnifies itself. It is no longer that 
 of a passionate and heedless woman punished for her frailties 
 and her inconstancy ; it is that of the legitimate heiress of 
 the crown of England, exposed in her dungeon to the eyes of
 
 134 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 the world, a faithful, unshaken Catholic, who refuses to sac- 
 rifice her faith to the interests of her ambition or even to the 
 salvation of her life. The beauty and grandeur of such a 
 role were fitted to stir the tender and naturally believing 
 heart of Marie Stuart. She fills her soul with that role ; she 
 substitutes it, from the first moment of her captivity, for all 
 her former personal sentiments, which, little by little, subside 
 and expire within her as the fugitive occasions which aroused 
 them pass away. She seems to remember them no more than 
 she does the waves and the foam of those brilliant lakes that 
 she has crossed. For nineteen years the whole of Catholicity 
 is disquieted and impassioned about her ; and she is there, 
 half-heroine, half-martyr, making the signal and waving her 
 banner beliiud the bars. Captive that she was, do not accuse 
 her of conspiring against Elizabeth ; for with her ideas of right 
 divine and of absolute kingship from sovereign to sovereign, 
 it was not conspiring, she being a prisoner, to seek for the 
 triumph of her cause ; it was simply pursuing the war. 
 
 From the moment when Marie Stuart is a prisoner, when 
 we see her crushed, deprived of all that comforts and con- 
 soles, infirm, alas ! with whitened liair before her time, when 
 we hear her, in the longest and most remarkable of her 
 letters to Elizabeth (November 8, 1582), repeating for the 
 twentieth time : " Your prison, without right, without just 
 grounds, has already so destroyed my body that you will 
 soon see an end if this lasts much longer ; so that my 
 enemies have no great time to satisfy their cruelty against 
 me ; nought remains to me but my soul, the which it is not 
 in your power to render captive," — when we dwell on this 
 mixture of pride and plaint, pity carries us along ; our lienrts 
 speak ; the tender charm with which she was endowed, and 
 which acted upon all who approached her, asserts its power 
 and lays its spell upon us even at this distance. It is not
 
 MAKIE STUART. 135 
 
 by the text of a scribe, nor yet with the logic of a statesman 
 that we judge her ; it is with the heart of a knight, or rather, 
 let me say, with that of a man. Humanity, pity, religion, 
 supreme poetic grace, all those invincible and immortal 
 powers feel themselves concerned in her person and cry to 
 us across the ages. " Bear these tidings," she said to her 
 old Melvil at the moment of death : " that I die firm in 
 my religion, a true Catholic, a true Scotchwoman, a true 
 Frenchwoman." These behefs, these patriotisms and national- 
 ities thus evoked by Marie Stuart have made that long 
 echo that replies to her with tears and love. 
 
 What reproach can we make to one who, after nineteen 
 years of anguish and moral torture, searched, during the 
 night that preceded her death, in the " Lives of the Saints " 
 (which her ladies were accustomed to read to her nightly) 
 for some great sinner whom God had pardoned. She 
 stopped at the story of the penitent thief, which seemed to 
 her the most reassuring example of human confidence and 
 divine mercy ; and while Jean Kennedy, one of her ladies, 
 read it to her, she said : " He was a great sinner, but not so 
 great as I. I implore our Lord, in memory of His Passion, 
 to remember and liave mercy upon me, as He had upon liim, 
 in the hour of death." Tliose true and sincere feelings, that 
 contrite humility in her last and sublime moments, this per- 
 fect intelligence, and profound need of pardon, leave us with- 
 out means of seeing any stain of the past upon her except 
 through tears. 
 
 It was thus that old Etienne Pasquier felt. Having to 
 relate in his " Ptccherches " the death of ]\Iarie Stuart, he 
 compares it with the tragic history of the Conn^table de 
 Saint-Pol, and that of the Conndtable de Bourbon, which 
 left him under a mixture of conflicting sentiments. "But 
 in that of which I now discourse," he says, " methinks I see
 
 136 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 only tears ; and is there, by chance, a man who, reading 
 this, will not forgive his eyes ? " 
 
 M. Mignet, who examines all things as an historian, and 
 gives but short pages to emotion, has admirably distinguished 
 and explained the different pliases of Marie Stuart's cap- 
 tivity, and the secret springs which were set to work at 
 various periods. He has, especially, cast a new light, aided 
 by Spanish documents in the Archives of Simancas, on the 
 slow preparations of the enterprise undertaken by Philip 
 II., that fruitless and tardy crusade, delayed until after the 
 death of Marie Stuart, which ended in the disastrous shij)- 
 wreck of the invincible Armada. 
 
 Issuing from this brilliant and stormy episode of the history 
 of the sixteenth century, which has been so strongly and judi- 
 ciously set before us by M. Mignet, full of these scenes of 
 violence, treachery, and iniquity, and witliout having the inno- 
 cence to believe that humanity has done forever with such 
 deeds, we congratulate ourselves in spite of everything, and 
 rejoice that we live in an age of softened and amehoratcd 
 public morals. We exclaim with M. de Tavannes, when he 
 relates in his " Memoirs " the life and death of Marie Stuart : 
 " Happy he who lives in a safe State ; where good and e^■il 
 are rewarded and punished according to their deserts." 
 Happy the times and the communities where a certain general 
 morality and human respect for opinion, where a penal 
 ( 'ode, and especially the continual check of publicity, exist 
 to interdict, even to the boldest, those criminal resolutions 
 which every human heart, if left to itself, is ever tempted to 
 engender. 
 
 Sainte-Beuve, Causeries du Linidi (1851).
 
 DISCOUESE IV. 
 
 :feLISABETH OF FRANCE, QUEEN OF SPAIN. 
 
 I WKITE here of the Queen of Spain, Elisabeth of France, 
 a true daughter of France in everything, a beautiful, wise, 
 virtuous, spiritual, and good queen if ever there was one ; 
 and I believe since Saint Elisabeth no one has borne that 
 name who surpassed her in all sorts of virtues and per- 
 fections, although that beautiful name of Elisabeth has 
 been fateful of goodness, virtue, sanctity, and perfection to 
 those who have borne it, as many believe.^ 
 
 When she was born at Fontainebleau, the king her grand- 
 father, and her father and mother made very great joy of it ; 
 you would have said she was a lucky star bringing good 
 hap to France ; for her baptism brought peace to us, as did 
 her marriage. See how good fortunes are gathered in one 
 person to be distributed on diverse occasions ; for then it 
 was that peace was made with King Henry [VIII.] of Eng- 
 land ; and to confirm and strengthen it our king made him 
 her sponsor and gave to his goddaughter the beautiful name 
 of Elisabeth ; at whose birth and baptism the rejoicings 
 were as great as at those of the little King Francois the 
 last. 
 
 Child as she w^as, she jiromised to be some great thing at 
 a future day; and when she came to be grown up she 
 promised it more surely still ; for all virtue and goodness 
 
 1 She was the daughter of Henri II. and Catherine de' Medici, married 
 to Philip II., King of Spain, after the death of Queen Mary of England. — 
 Tr.
 
 138 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 abounded in her, so that the whole Court admired her, and 
 prognosticated a fine grandeur and great royalty to her in 
 time. So they say that when King Henri married his 
 second daughter, Madame Claude, to the Due de Lorraine, 
 there were some who remonstrated against the wrong done 
 to the elder in marrying the younger before her; but tlie 
 king made this response : " My daughter Elisabeth is such 
 that a duchy is not for her to marry. She must have a 
 kingdom ; and even so, not one of the lesser but one of the 
 greater kingdoms ; so great is she herself in all things ; 
 which assures me that she can miss none, wherefore she can 
 wait." 
 
 You would have said he prophesied the future. He did 
 not fail on his side to seek and procure one for her ; for when 
 peace was made between the two kings at Cercan she was 
 promised in marriage to Don Carlos, Prince of Spain, a brave 
 and gallant prince and the image of his grandfather, the 
 Emperor Charles, had he lived. But the King of Spain, his 
 father, becoming a widower by the death of the Queen of 
 England, his wife and cousin-german, and having seen the 
 portrait of Madame Elisabeth and finding her very beautiful 
 and much to his liking, cut the ground from under the feet 
 of his son and did himself the charity of wedding her him- 
 self. On which the French and Spaniards said with one 
 voice that one would think she was conceived and born be- 
 fore the world and reserved by God until his will had joined 
 her with this great king, her husband ; for it must have 
 been predestined that he, being so great, so powerful, 
 and thus approaching in all grandeur to the skies, should 
 marry no other princess than one so perfect and accom- 
 plished. When the Duke of Alba came to see her and 
 espouse her for the king, his master, he found her so ex- 
 tremely agreeable and suited to the said master that he said
 
 Elisabeth of France. 139 
 
 she was a princess who would make the King of Spain very 
 easily forget his grief for his last two wives, the English and 
 the Portuguese. 
 
 After this, as I have heard from a good quarter, the said 
 prince, Don Carlos, having seen her, became so distractedly 
 in love with her, and so full of jealousy, that he bore a great 
 grudge against his father, and was so angry with him for 
 having deprived him of so fine a prize that he never loved 
 him more, but reproached him with the great wrong and 
 insult he had done him in taking her who had been promised 
 to him solemnly in the treaty of peace. They do say that 
 this was, in part, the cause of his death, with other topics 
 which I shall not speak of at this hour ; for he could not 
 keep himself from loving her in his soul, honouring and 
 reverinfT her, so charminsr and ag[raeable did she seem in his 
 eyes, as certainly she was in everything. 
 
 Her face was handsome, her hair and eyes so shaded her 
 complexion and made it the more attractive that I have heard 
 say in Spain that the courtiers dared not look upon her for 
 fear of being taken in love and causing jealousy to the king, 
 her husband, and, consequently, running risk of their lives. 
 
 The Church people did the same from fear of temptation, 
 they not having strength to command their flesh to look at 
 her without being tempted. Although she had had the 
 small-pox, after being grown-up and married, they had so 
 well preserved her face with poultices of fresh eggs (a very 
 proper thing for that purpose) that no marks appeared. I 
 saw the queen, her mother, very much concerned to send 
 her by many couriers many remedies ; but this of the egg- 
 poultice was sovereign. 
 
 Her figure was very fine, taller than that of her sisters, 
 which made her much admired in Spain, where such tall 
 women are rare, and for that the more esteemed. And with
 
 140 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 this figure slie had a bearing, a majesty, a gesture, a gait and 
 grace that intermingled the Frenchwoman with the Spaniard 
 in sweetness and gravity ; so that, as I myself saw, when she 
 passed through her Court, or went out to certain places, 
 whether churches, or monasteries, or gardens, there was such 
 great press to see her, and the crowd of persons was so tliick, 
 there was no turning round in the mob ; and happy was he 
 or she who could say in the evening, " I saw the queen." 
 It was said, and I saw it myself, that no queen was ever 
 loved in Spain like her (begging pardon of the Queen Isabella 
 of Castile), and her subjects called her la reyna de la pa.z y 
 de la hojidad, that is to say, " the queen of peace and kind- 
 ness ; " but our Frenchmen called her " the olive-branch of 
 peace." 
 
 A year before she came to France to visit her mother at 
 Bayonne, she fell ill to such extremity that the physicians 
 gave her up. On which a little Italian doctor, who had no 
 great vogue at Court, presenting himself to the king, declared 
 that if he were allowed to act he would cure her ; which the 
 king permitted, she being almost dead. The doctor under- 
 took her and gave her a medicine, after which they suddenly 
 saw the colour return miraculously to her face, her speech 
 came back, and then, soon after, her convalescence began. 
 Nevertheless the whole Court and all the people of Spain 
 blocked the roads with processions and comings and goings to 
 churches and hospitals for her health's sake, some in sliirts, 
 others bare-footed and bare-headed, offering oblations, prayers, 
 orisons, intercessions to God, with fasts, macerations of the 
 body, and other good and saintly devotions for lier health ; 
 so that every one believes firmly that these good prayers, 
 tears, vows, and cries to God were the cause of her cure, 
 rather than the medicine of that doctor. 
 
 I arrived in Spain a month after this recovery of her
 
 ELISABETH OF FRANCE. 141 
 
 health ; but I saw so much devotion among the people in 
 giving thanks to God, by fetes, rejoicings, magnificences, fire- 
 works, that there was no doubting in any way how much 
 they felt. I saw nothing else in Spain as I travelled through 
 it, and reaching the Court just two days after she left her 
 room, I saw her come out and get into her coach, sitting at 
 the door of it, which was her usual place, because such beauty 
 should not be hidden within, but displayed openly. 
 
 She was dressed in a gown of white satin all covered with 
 silver trimmings, her face uncovered. I think that nothing 
 was ever seen more beautiful than this queen, as I had the 
 boldness to tell her ; for she had given me a right good wel- 
 come and cheer, coming as I did from France and the Court, 
 and bringing her news of the king, her good brother, and the 
 queen, her good mother ; for all her joy and pleasure was to 
 know of them. It was not I alone who thought her beautiful, 
 but all the Court and all the people of Madrid thought so 
 likewise ; so that it might be said that even illness favoured 
 her, for after doing her such cruel harm it embellished her 
 skin, making it so delicate and polished that she was cer- 
 tainly more beautiful than ever before. 
 
 Leaving thus her chamber for the first time, to do the 
 best and saintliest thing she could she went to the churches 
 to give thanks to God for the favour of her health ; and this 
 good work she continued for the space of fifteen days, not 
 to speak of the vow she made to Our Lady of Guadalupe ; 
 letting the whole people see her face uncovered (as was her 
 usual fashion) till you might have thought they worshipped 
 her, so to speak, rather than honoured or revered her. 
 
 So when she died [1568], as I have heard the late M. de 
 Lignerolles, who saw her die, relate, he having gone to carry 
 to the King of Spain the news of the victory of Jarnac, never 
 were a people so afflicted, so disconsolate ; none ever shed
 
 142 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 SO many tears, being unable to recover themselves in any 
 way, but mourning her with despair incessantly. 
 
 She made a noble end [a^. 23], leaving this world with 
 firm courage, and desiring much the other. 
 
 Sinister things have been said of her death, as having 
 been hastened. I have heard one of her ladies tell thot 
 the first time she saw her husband she looked at him so 
 fixedly that the king, not liking it, said to her : Que mirais ? 
 Si tengo canas ? which means : " What are you gazing at ? 
 Is my hair white ? " These words touched her so much to 
 the heart that ever after her ladies augured ill for her. 
 
 It is said that a Jesuit, a man of importance, speaking of 
 her one day in a sermon, and praising her rare virtues, 
 charities, and kindness, let fall the words that she had 
 wickedly been made to die, innocent as she was; for which 
 he was banished to the farthest depths of tlie Indies of 
 Spain. This is very true, as I have been told. 
 
 There are other conjectures so great that silence wm^i be 
 kept about them ; but very true it is that this princess was 
 the best of her time and loved by every one. 
 
 So long as she lived in Spain never did she forget the 
 affection she bore to France, and in that was not like Ger- 
 maine de Foix, second wife of King Ferdinand, who when 
 she saw herself raised to such high rank became so haugluy 
 that she made no account of her own country, and disdained 
 it so much that, when Louis XIL, her uncle, and Ferdinand 
 came to Savonne, she, being with her husband, held herself 
 so high that never would she notice a Frenchman, not eveii 
 her brother Gaston de Foix, Due de Xemours, neither would 
 she deign to speak or look at the greatest persons of France 
 who were present ; for which she was much ridiculed. But 
 after the death of her husband she suffered for this, having 
 fallen from her high e-tate and being held in no great ac-
 
 Elisabeth of France. 143 
 
 count, whereat she was miserable. They say there are none 
 so vainglorious as persons of low estate who rise to grandeur ; 
 not that I mean to say that princess was of low estate, being 
 of the house of Foix, a very illustrious and great house ; but 
 from simple daughter of a count to be queen of so great a 
 kingdom was a rise which gave occasion to feel much glory, 
 but not to forget herself or abuse her station towards a King 
 of France, her uncle, and her nearest relations and others 
 of the land of her birth. In this she showed she lacked 
 a great mind; or else that she was foolishly vainglorious. 
 For surely there is a difference between the house of Foix 
 and the house of France ; not that I mean to say the house 
 of Foix is not great and very noble, but the house of France 
 -hey! 
 
 Our Queen Ehsabeth never did like that. She was born 
 great in herself, great in mind and very able, so that a 
 royal grandeur could not fail her. She had, if she had 
 wished it, double cause over Germaine de Foix to be 
 haughty and arrogant, for she was daughter of a great King 
 of France, and married to the greatest king in tlie world, he 
 being not the monarch of one kingdom, but of many, or, as 
 one might say, of all the Spains, — Jerusalem, the Two 
 Sicilies, Majorca, Minorca, Sardinia, and the Western Indies, 
 which seem indeed a world, besides being lord of infinitely 
 more lands and greater seigneuries than Ferdinand ever had. 
 Therefore we should laud our princess for her gentleness, 
 which is well becoming in a great personage towards each 
 and ail ; and likew-ise for the affection she showed to 
 Frenchmen, w^ho, on arriving in Spain, were welcomed by 
 her with so benign a face, the least among them as well as 
 the greatest, that none ever left her without feeling honoured 
 and content. I can speak for myself, as to the honour she 
 did me in talking to me often during the time I stayed
 
 144 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 there ; asking me, at all hours, news of the king, the queen 
 her mother, messieurs her brothers, and madame her sister, 
 with others of the Court, not forgetting to name them., each 
 and all, and to inquire about them ; so that I wondered 
 much how she could remember these things as if she had 
 just left the Court of France ; and I often asked her how 
 it was possible she could keep such memories in the midst 
 of her grandeur. 
 
 When she came to Bayonne she showed herself just as 
 famihar with the ladies and maids of honour, neither more 
 nor less, as she was when a girl; and as for those who 
 were absent or married since her departure, she inquired 
 with great interest about them all. She did the same to 
 the gentlemen of her acquaintance, and to those who were 
 not, informing herself as to who the latter were, and say- 
 ini,' : " Such and such were at Court in my dav, I knew them 
 well ; but these were not, and I desire to know them." In 
 short, she contented every one. 
 
 When she made her entry into Bayonne she was mounted 
 on an ambling horse, most superbly and richly caparisoned 
 with pearl embroideries which had formerly been used by 
 the deceased empress when she made her entries into her 
 towns, and were thought to be worth one hundred tliousand 
 crowns, and some say more. She had a noble grace on horse- 
 back, and it was fine to see her ; slie showed herself so 
 beautiful and so agreeable that every one was charmed with 
 her. 
 
 We all had commands to go to meet her, and accompany 
 her on this entry, as indeed it was our duty to do ; and we 
 were gratified when, having made her our reverence, she did 
 us the honour to thank us ; and to me above all she gave 
 good greeting, because it was scarcely four months since I 
 had left her in Spain ; which touched me much, receiving
 
 I:lisabeth of france. 145 
 
 such favour above my companions and more honour than 
 belonged to me. 
 
 On my return from Portugal and from Pignon de Belis 
 [Penon de Velez], a fortress which was taken in Barbary, 
 she welcomed me very warmly, asking me news of the con- 
 quest and of the army. She presented me to Don Carlos, 
 who came into her room, together with the princess, and to 
 Don Juan [of Austria, Philip II.'s brother, the conqueror 
 of Lepanto]. I was two days without going to see her, on 
 account of a toothache I had got upon the sea. She asked 
 Eiberac, maid of honour, where I was and if I were ill, and 
 having heard what my trouble was she sent me her apothe- 
 cary, who brought me an herb very special for that ache, 
 which, on merely being held in the palm of the hand, cures 
 the pain suddenly, as it did very quickly for me. 
 
 I can boast that I was the first to bring the queen-mother 
 word of Queen Elisabeth's desire to come to France and see 
 her, for which she thanked me much both then and later ; 
 for the Queen of Spain was her good daughter, whom she 
 loved above the others, and who returned her the like ; for 
 Queen Elisabeth so honoured, respected, and feared her that 
 I have heard her say she never received a letter from 
 the queen, her mother, without trembling and dreading lest 
 she was angry with her and had written some painful 
 thing; though, God knows, she had never said one to her 
 since she was married, nor been angry with her ; but the 
 daughter feared the mother so much that she always had 
 that apprehension. 
 
 It was on this journey to Bayonne that Pompadour the 
 elder having killed Chambret at Bordeaux, wrongfully as 
 some say, the queen-mother was so angry that if she could 
 have caught him she would have had him beheaded, and no 
 one dared speak to her of mercy. 
 
 10
 
 146 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 M. Strozzi, who was fond of the said Pompadour, be- 
 thought him of employing his sister, Siguora Clarice Strozzi, 
 Comtesse de Tenda, wliom the Queen of Spain loved from 
 her earliest years, they having studied together. The said 
 countess, who loved her brother, did not refuse him, but 
 begged the Queen of Spain to intercede ; who answered that 
 she would do anytliing for lier except that, because she 
 dreaded to irritate and annoy the queen, her mother, and 
 displease her. But the countess continuing to importune 
 her, she employed a third person who sounded the ford 
 privately, telling the queen-mother that the queen, her 
 daugliter, would have asked this pardon to gratify the said 
 countess had she not feared to displease her. To which the 
 queen-mother replied that the thing must be wholly impos- 
 sible to make her refuse it. On which the Queen of Spain 
 made her little request, but still in fear ; and suddenly it was 
 granted. Such w^as the kindness of this princess, and her 
 virtue in honouring and fearuig the queen, her mother, she 
 being herself so great. Alas ! the Christian proverb did not 
 hold good in her case, namely : " He that would live long 
 years must love and honour and fear his father and mother ; " 
 for, in spite of doing all that, she died in the lovely and 
 pleasant April of her days ; for now, at the time I write, 
 [1591] she would have been, had she lived, forty-six years 
 old. Alas ! that this fair sun disappeared so soon in a dark- 
 some grave, when she might have lighted this fine world for 
 twenty good years without even then being touclied by age ; 
 for she was by nature and complexion fitted to keep her 
 beauty long, and even had old age attacked her, her beauty 
 was of a kind to be the stronger. 
 
 Surely, if lier death was hard to Spaniards, it was still 
 more b'ittiT to us Frenchmen, for as long as she lived France 
 was never invaded by those quarrels which, since then,
 
 Elisabeth of France. 147 
 
 Spain has put upon us ; so well did she know how to win 
 and persuade the king, her husband, for our good and our 
 peace ; the which should make us ever mourn her. 
 
 She left two daughters, the most honourable and virtuous 
 infantas in Christendom. When they were large enough, 
 that is to say, three or four years old, she begged her hus- 
 band to leave the eldest wholly to her that she might bring 
 her up in the French fashion. Which the king willingly 
 granted. So she took her in hand, and gave her a fine and 
 noble training in the style of her own country, so that to-day 
 that iafanta is as French as her sister, the Duchesse de Savoie, 
 is Spanish ; she loves and cherishes France as her mother 
 taught her, and you may be sure that all the influence and 
 power that she has with the king, her father, she employs 
 for the help and succour of those poor Frenchmen whom she 
 knows are suffering in Spanish hands. I have heard it 
 said that after the rout of M. Strozzi, very many French 
 soldiers and gentlemen having been put in the galleys, 
 she went, when at Lisbon, to visit all the galleys that were 
 then there ; and all the Frenchmen whom she found on 
 the chain, to the number of six twenties, she caused to be 
 released, giving them money to reach tlieir own land ; so 
 that the captains of the galleys were obliged to hide those 
 that remained. 
 
 She was a very beautiful princess and very agreeable, of 
 an extremely graceful mind, who knew all the affairs of the 
 kingdom of the king, her father, and was well trained in 
 them. I hope to speak of her hereafter by herself, for she 
 deserves all honour for the love she bears to France ; she 
 says she can never part with it, havhig good right to it ; and 
 we, if we have obligation to this princess for loving us, how 
 much more should we have to the queen, her mother, for 
 having thus brought her up and taught her.
 
 148 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 Would to God I were a good enough petrarchizer to exalt 
 as I desire this Elisabeth of France ! for, if the beauty of 
 her body gives me most ample ruatter, that of her fine soul 
 gives me still more, as these verses, which were made upon 
 her at Court at the time she was married, will testify : 
 
 Happy the prince whom Heaven ordains 
 To Elisabeth's sweet acquaintance : 
 IMore precious far than crown or sceptre 
 The glad enjoyment of so great a treasure- 
 Gifts most divine she had at birth, 
 The proof and the effect of which we see; 
 Her youthful years showed then- appearance, 
 But now her virtues bear their perfect fruit. 
 
 When this queen was put into the hands of the Due de 
 rinfantado and the Cardinal de Burgos, who were com- 
 missioned by their king to receive her at Eoncevaux in a 
 great hall, after the said deputies had made their reverence, 
 she rising ftom her chair to welcome them. Cardinal de 
 Burgos harangued her; to whom she made response so 
 honourably, and in such fine fashion and good grace that he 
 was quite amazed ; for she spoke in the best manner, having 
 been very well taught. 
 
 After which the King of Navan'e, who was there as her 
 principal conductor, and also leader of all the army which 
 was with her, was summoned to deliver her, according to 
 the order, which was shown to the Cardinal de Bourbon, to 
 receive her. The king replied, for he spoke well, and said : 
 " I place in your hands this princess, whom I have brought 
 from the house of the greatest kins in the world to be 
 placed in the hands of the most illustrious king on earth. 
 Knowing you to be very sufficient and chosen by the king 
 your master to receive her, I make no difficulty nor doubt 
 that you will acquit yourselves worthily of this trust, which
 
 Elisabeth of fkance. 149 
 
 I now discharge upon you ; begging you to have peculiar 
 care of her health and person, for she deserves it ; and I 
 wish you to know that never did there enter Spain so great 
 an ornament of all virtues and chastities, as in time you will 
 know well by results." 
 
 The Spaniards replied at once that already at first sight 
 they had very ample knowledge of this from her manner 
 and grave majesty ; and, in truth, her virtues were rare. 
 
 She had great knowledge, because the queen her mother 
 had made her study well under M. de Saint-Etienne, her 
 preceptor, whom she always loved and respected until her 
 death. She loved poesy, and to read it. She spoke well, 
 in either French or Spanish, with a very noble air and much 
 good grace. Her Spanish language was beautiful, as dainty 
 and attractive as possible ; she learned it in three or four 
 months after coming to Spain. 
 
 To Frenchmen she always spoke French ; never being 
 willing to discontinue it, but reading it daily in the fine 
 books they sent from France, which she was very anxious 
 to have brought to her. To Spaniards and all others she 
 spoke Spanish and very well. In short, she was perfect in 
 all things, and so magnificent and liberal that no one could 
 be more so. She never wore her gowns a second time, but 
 gave them to her ladies and maids ; and God knows what 
 gowns they were, so rich and so superb that the least was 
 reckoned at three or four hundred crowns ; for the king, her 
 husband, kept her most superbly in such matters ; so that 
 every day she had a new one, as I was told by her tailor, 
 who from being a very poor man became so rich that 
 nothing exceeded him, as I saw myself. 
 
 She dressed well, and very pompously, and her habili- 
 ments became her much ; among other things her sleeves 
 were slashed, with scollops which they call in Spanish ^puri'
 
 150 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES 
 
 tas ; her head-dress the same, where nothing lacked. Those 
 who see her thus in painting admire her ; I therefore leave 
 you to think what pleasure they had who saw her face to 
 face, with all her gestures and good graces. 
 
 As for pearls and jewels in great quantity, she never 
 lacked them, for the king, her husband, ordered a great estate 
 for her and for lier household. Alas ! what served her 
 that for such an end ? Her ladies and maids of honour felt 
 it. Those who, being French, could not constrain them- 
 selves to live in a foreign land, she caused, by a prayer 
 which she made to the king, her husband, to receive each 
 four thousand crowns on their marriage ; as was done to 
 Mesdaraoiselles Eiberac, sisters, otherwise called Guitigniferes, 
 de Fuinel, the two sisters de Thorigny, de Noyau, d'Arne, 
 de La ]\Iotte au Groin, Montal, and several others. Those 
 who were willing to remain were better off, like Mesdamoi- 
 selles de Saint-Ana and de Saint-Legier, who had the honour 
 to be governesses to Mesdames the infantas, and were mar- 
 ried very richly to two great seigneurs ; they were the 
 wisest, for better is it to be great in a foreign country than 
 little in your own, — - as Jesus said : " No one is a prophet in 
 his own land." 
 
 Tliis is all, at this time, that I shall say of this good, wise 
 and very virtuous queen, though later I may speak of her. 
 But I give this sonnet which was written to her praise by 
 an honourable gentleman, she being still Madame, though 
 promised in marriage : — 
 
 " Princess, to whom the skies give such advantage 
 That, for the part you liave in Heaven's divinity, 
 They grant you all the virtues of this eartli. 
 And crown you with the gift of immortality : 
 
 " And since it pleased them that in early years 
 Your heavenly gifts of deity be seen,
 
 :fcLISABETH OF FRANCE. 151 
 
 So that you temper with a humble gravity 
 The royal grandeur of your sacred heritage : 
 
 " And also since it pleases them to favour you, 
 And place in you the best of all their best, 
 So that your name is cherished every^,vhere : 
 
 " Methinks that name should undergo a change, 
 And though we call you now Elisabeth of France, 
 You should be named Elisabeth of Heaven." 
 
 I know that I may be reproved for putting into this Dis- 
 course and others preceding it too many little particulars 
 which are quite superfluous. I think so myself ; but I know 
 that if they displease some persons, they will please others. 
 Methinks it is not enough when we laud persons to say that 
 they are handsome, wise, virtuous, valorous, valiant, magnan- 
 imous, liberal, splendid, and very perfect ; those are general 
 descriptions and praises and commonplace sayings, borrowed 
 from everybody. AVe should specify such things and describe 
 particularly all perfections, so that one may, as it were, touch 
 them with the finger. Such is my opinion, and it pleases 
 me to retain and rejoice my memory with things that I 
 have seen. 
 
 Epitaph on the said Queen. 
 
 " Beneath this stone lies Elisabeth of France : 
 Who was Qu.een of Spain and queen of peace, 
 Christian and Catholic. Iler lovely presence 
 Was useful to us all. Now that her noble bones 
 Are dry and crumbling, lying under ground, 
 We have nought but ills and wars and troubles."
 
 DISCOURSE V. 
 
 MARGUERITE, QUEEN OF FRANCE AND OF NAVARRE, 
 
 SOLE DAUGHTER NOW REMAINING OF THE NOBLE 
 
 HOUSE OF FRANCE.i 
 
 When I consider the miseries and ill-adventures of that 
 beautiful Queen of Scotland of whom I have heretofore 
 spoken, and of other princesses and ladies whom I shall not 
 name, fearing by such digression to impair my discourse on 
 the Queen of Navarre, of whom I now speak, not being as 
 yet Queen of France, I cannot think otherwise than that 
 Fortune, omnipotent goddess of weal and woe, is the opposing 
 enemy of human beauty ; for if ever there was in the world a 
 being of perfect beauty it is the Queen of Navarre, and yet 
 she has been little favoured by Fortune, so far ; so that one 
 may indeed say that Fortune was so jealous of Nature for 
 having made this princess beautiful that she wished to run 
 counter in fate. However that may be, her beauty is sucli 
 that the blows of said Fortune have no ascendency upon her, 
 for the generous courage she drew at birth from so many 
 brave and valorous kings, her father, grandfather, great- 
 grandfather, and their ancestors, has enabled her hitherto to 
 make a brave resistance. 
 
 To speak now of the beauty of this rare princess : T think 
 that all those who are, will be, or ever have l:)een Ijeside it 
 are plain, and cannot have beauty; for the fire of licrs so 
 burns the wings of others that they dare not hover, or even 
 
 1 Daughter of Ht'iiri II. and Catherine de' Medici, — "La Reine 
 Margot." — Tk.
 
 MARGUERITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 153 
 
 appear, around it. If there be any unbeliever so chary of 
 faith as not to give credence to the miracles of God and 
 Nature, let him contemplate her fine face, so nobly formed, 
 and become converted, and say that Mother Nature, that 
 perfect workwoman, has put all her rarest and subtlest w^its 
 to the making of her. For whether she shows herself smil- 
 ing or grave, the sight of her serves to enkindle every one ; 
 so beauteous are her features, so well defined her lineaments, 
 so transparent and agreeable her eyes that they pass descrip- 
 tion ; and, what is more, that beautiful face rests on a body 
 still more beautiful, superb, and rich, — of a port and majesty 
 more like to a goddess of heaven than a princess of earth ; 
 for it is believed, on the word of several, that no goddess was 
 ever seen more beautiful ; so that, in order to duly proclaim 
 her beauty, virtues, and merit, God must lengthen the earth 
 and heighten the sky beyond where they now are, for space 
 in the airs and on tlie land is lacking for the flight of her 
 perfection and renown. 
 
 Those are the beauties of body and mind in this fair prin- 
 cess, which I at this time represent, like a good painter, 
 after nature and without art. I speak of those to be seen 
 externally ; for those that are secret and hidden beneath 
 white linen and rich accoutrements cannot be here depicted 
 or judged except as being very beautiful and rare ; but this 
 must be by faith, presumption, and credence, for sight is 
 interdicted. Great hardship truly to be forced to see so 
 beautiful a picture, made by the hand of a divine workman, 
 in the half only of its perfection ; but modesty and laudable 
 shamefacedness thus ordain it — for they lodge among prin- 
 cesses and great ladies as they do among commoner folk. 
 
 To bring a few examples to show how the beauty of this 
 queen was admired and held for rare : I remember that when 
 the Polish ambassadors came to France, to announce to our
 
 154 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 King Henri [then Due d'Anjou] his election to the kingdom 
 of Poland, and to render him homage and obedience, alter 
 they had made their reverence to King Charles, to the queen- 
 mother, and to their king, they made it, very particularly, 
 and for several days, to Monsieur, and to the King and Queen 
 of Navarre ; but the day when they made it to the said 
 Queen of Navarre she seemed to them so beautiful and so 
 superbly and richly accoutred and adorned, and with such 
 great majesty and grace that they were speechless at such 
 beauty. Among others, there was Lasqui, the chief of the 
 embassy, whom I heard say, as he retired, overcome by the 
 sight : " No, never do I wish to see such beauty again. Will- 
 ingly would I do as do the Turks, pilgrims to Mecca, where 
 the sepulchre of their prophet Mahomet is, and where they 
 stand speechless, ravished, and so transfixed at the sight of 
 that superb mosque that they wish to see nothing more and 
 burn their eyes out with hot irons till they lose their sight, 
 so subtly is it done ; saying that nothing more could be seen 
 as fine, and therefore would they see nothing." Thus said 
 that Pole about the beauty of our princess. And if the Poles 
 were won to admiration, so were others. I instance here 
 Don Juan of Austria, who (as I have said elsewhere), pass- 
 ing through Prance as stilly as he could, and reaching Paris, 
 knowing that that night a solemn ball was given at the 
 Louvre, went there disguised, as much to see Queen Mar- 
 guerite of Navarre as for any other purpose. He there had 
 means and leisure to see her at his ease, dancing, and led by 
 the king, her brother, as was usual. He gazed upon lier long, 
 admired her, and then proclaimed her high above the beauties 
 of Spain and Italy (two regions, nevertheless, most fertile in 
 beauty), saying these words in Spanish : " Thov?gh the beauty 
 of that queen is more divine than human, she is made to damn 
 and ruin men rather than to save them."
 
 MARGUERITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 155 
 
 Shortly after, he saw her again as she went to the baths of 
 Lifege, Don Juan being then at Namur, where she had to 
 pass ; tlie which crowned all his hopes to enjoy so fine a 
 sight, and he went to meet her with great and splendid 
 Spanish magnificence, receiving her as though she were the 
 Queen Elisabeth, her sister, in the latter's lifetime his queen, 
 and Queen of Spain. And though he was most enchanted 
 with the beauty of her body, he was the same with that of 
 her mind, as I hope to show in its proper place. But it was 
 not Don Juan alone who praised and delighted to praise her, 
 but all his great and brave Spanish captains did the same, 
 and even the very soldiers of those far-famed bands, who 
 went about saying among themselves, in soldierly chorus, 
 that " the conquest of such beauty was better than that of a 
 kingdom, and happy would be the soldiers who, to serve her, 
 would die beneath her banner." 
 
 It is not surprising that such people, well-born and noble, 
 should think this princess beautiful, but I have seen Turks 
 coming on an embassy to the king her brother, barbarians 
 that they were, lose themselves in gazing at her, and say 
 that the pomp of their Grand Signior in going to his mosque 
 or marching with his army was not so fine to see as the 
 beauty of this queen. 
 
 In short, I have seen an infinity of other strangers who 
 have come to France and to the Court expressly to behold 
 her whose fame had gone from end to end of Europe, so they 
 said. 
 
 I once saw a gallant ISTeapolitan knight, who, having come 
 to Paris and the Court, and not finding the said queen, de- 
 layed his return two months in order to see her, and having 
 seen her he said these words : " In other days, the Princess 
 of Salerno bore the like reputation for beauty in our city of 
 Naples, so that a foreigner who had gone there and had not
 
 156 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 seen her, when he returned and related his visit, and was 
 asked had he seen that princess, and answered no, was 
 told that in that case he had not seen Naples. Thus 
 I, if on my return without seeing this beautiful princess 
 I were asked had I seen Prance and the Court, could 
 scarcely say I had, for she is its ornament and enrichment. 
 But now, having seen and contemplated her so well, I can 
 say that I have seen the greatest beauty in the world, and 
 that our Princess of Salerno is as nothing to her. Now I 
 am well content to go, having enjoyed so fine a sight. 1 
 leave you Prenchmen to think how happy you should be 
 to see at your ease and daily her fine face ; and to approach 
 that flame divine, which can w^arni and kindle frigid hearts 
 from afar more than the beauty of our most beauteous 
 dames near-by." Such were the words said to me one day 
 by that charming Neapolitan knight. 
 
 An honourable Prench gentleman, whom I could name, 
 seeing her one evening, in her finest lustre and most stately 
 majesty in a ball-room, said to me these words : " Ah ! if 
 the Sieur des Essarts, who, in his books of ' Amadis ' forced 
 himself with such pains to well ajid richly describe to the 
 world the beautiful Nicquee and her glory, had seen this 
 queen in his day he would not have needed to borrow so 
 many rich and noble words to depict and set forth Nicqude's 
 beauty ; 't would have sufficed him to declare she was the 
 semblance and image of the Queen of Navarre, unique in 
 this world ; and thus the beauteous Nicquee would have 
 been better pictured than she has been, and without 
 superfluity of words." 
 
 Therefore, 'M. de Pionsard had good reason to compose 
 that glorious elegy found among his works in honour of 
 this beautiful Princess Marguerite of Prance, then not mar- 
 ried, in which he has introduced the goddess Venus askin^r
 
 MARGUERITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 157 
 
 her son whether in his rambles here below, seeing the ladies 
 of the Court of France, he had found a beauty that sur- 
 passed her own. " Yes, mother," Love replied, " I have found 
 one on whom the glory of the finest sky is shed since ever 
 she was born." Venus flushed red and would not credit it, 
 but sent a messenger, one of her Charites, to earth to ex- 
 amine that beauty and make a just report. On which Vv^e 
 read in the elegy a rich and fine description of the charms 
 of that accomplished princess, in the mouth of the Charite 
 Pasithea, the reading of which cannot fail to please the 
 world. But M. de Konsard, as a very honourable and able 
 lady said to me, stopped short and lacked a little sometliing, 
 in that he should have told how Pasithea returned to 
 heaven, and there, discharging her commission, said to Venus 
 that her son had only told the half ; the which so saddened 
 and provolvcd the goddess into jealousy, making her blame 
 Jupiter for the wrong he did to form on earth a beauty that 
 shamed those of heaven (and principally hers, the rarest of 
 them all), that henceforth she wore mourning and made ab- 
 stinence from pleasures and delights ; for there is nothing 
 so vexatious to a beautiful and perfect lady as to tell her 
 she has her equal, or that another can surpass her. 
 
 Now, we must note that if our queen was beauteous in 
 herself and in her nature, also she knew well how to array 
 herself; and so carefully and richly was she dressed, both 
 for her body and her head, that nothing lacked to give her 
 full perfection. 
 
 To the Queen Isabella of Bavaria, wife of King Charles VI., 
 belongs the praise of having brought to France the pomps 
 and gorgeousness that henceforth clothed most splendidly 
 and gorgeously the ladies ; ^ for in the old tapestries of that 
 
 1 Brantome's words are gnrgiasatcs and gorgiasment ; do they mark tlie 
 introduction of ruffs around the neck, gorge ? — Tk.
 
 158 JilE BOOK OF TIIE LADIES. 
 
 period iu the houses of our kings we see portrayed the 
 ladies attired as they then were, in nought but drolleries, 
 slovenliness, and vulgarities, in place of the beautiful, superb 
 fashions, dainty headgear, inventions, and ornaments of 
 our queen ; from which the ladies of the Court and Trance 
 take pattern, so that ever since, appearing in her modes, 
 they are now great ladies instead of simple madams, and so 
 a hundredfold more charming and desirable. It is to our 
 Queen Marguerite that ladies owe this obligation. 
 
 I remember (for I was there) that when the queen mother 
 took this queen, her daughter, to the King of Xavarre, her 
 husband, she passed through Coignac and made some st;.y. 
 While they were there, came various grand and honouraljle 
 ladies of the region to see them and do them reverence, who 
 were all amazed at the beauty of the princess, and could not 
 surfeit themselves in praising her to her mother, she being lost 
 in joy. "Wherefore she begged her daughter to array herself 
 one day most gorgeously in the fine and superb apparel that 
 she wore at Court for great and magnificent pomps and 
 festivals, in order to give pleasure to these worthy dames. 
 "WTiich she did, to obey so good a mother ; appearing robed 
 superbly in a gown of silver tissue and dove-colour, a la 
 holonnoise [houillomice — with puffs?], and hanging sleeves, 
 a rich head-dress with a white veil, neither too large nor yet 
 too small ; the whole accompanied with so noble a majesty 
 and good grace that she seemed more a goddess of lieaven 
 than a queen of earth. The queen-mother said to her: 
 "My daughter, you look well." To which she answered: 
 " Madame, I begin early to wear and to wear out my gowns 
 and the fashions I have brought from Court, because when 
 I return I shall bring notliing with me only sci.sors and 
 stuffs to dress me then according to current fashions." The 
 queen-mother asked her : " What do you mean by that, my
 
 MARGUERITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 159 
 
 daughter ? Is it not you yourself who invent and produce 
 these iasliions of dress ? Wherever you go the Court will 
 take them from you., not you from the Court." Which 
 was true ; for after she returned she was always in advance 
 of the Court, so well did she know how to invent in her 
 dumty mind all sorts of charming things. 
 
 But the Leauteous queen in whatsoever fashion she 
 dressed, were it db la franmise with her tall head-dress, or in 
 a simple coif, with her grand veil, or merely in a cap, could 
 never prove which of these fasliions became her most and 
 made her most beautiful, admirable, and lovable ; for she 
 well knew how to adapt herself to every mode, adjusting 
 each new device in a way not common and quite inimitable. 
 So that if other ladies took her pattern to form it for them- 
 selves they could not rival her, as I have noticed a hundred 
 times. I have seen her dressed in a robe of white satin that 
 shimmered much, a trifle of rose-colour minghug in it, with 
 a veil of tan crfpe or Roman gauze flung carelessly round her 
 head ; yet nothing was ever more beautiful ; and whatever 
 may be said of the goddesses of the olden time and the em- 
 presses as we see them on ancient coins, they look, though 
 splendidly accoutred, like chambermaids beside her. 
 
 I have often heard our courtiers dispute as to which attire 
 became and embellished her the most, about wdiich each had 
 his own opinion. For my part, the most becoming array in 
 which I ever saw her was, as I think, and so did others, on 
 the day when the queen-mother made a fete at the Tuileries 
 for the Poles. She was robed in a velvet gown of Spanish 
 rose, covered with spangles, with a cap of the same velvet, 
 adorned with plumes and jewels of such splendour as never 
 was. She looked so beautiful in this attire, as many told 
 her, that she wore it orten and was painted in it ; so that 
 among her various portraits this one carries the day over all
 
 160 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 others, as the eyes of good judges will tell, for there are 
 plenty of her pictures to judge by. 
 
 When she appeared, thus dressed, at the Tuileries, I said 
 to M. de lionsard, who stood next to me : " Tell the truth, 
 monsieur, do you not think that beautiful queen thus appar- 
 elled is like Aurora, as she comes at dawn with her fair white 
 face surrounded with those rosy tints ? — for face and gown 
 have much in sympathy and likeness." M. de Eonsard 
 avowed that I was right ; and on this my comparison, think- 
 ing it fine, he made a sonnet, which I would fain have now, 
 to insert it here. 
 
 I also saw this our great queen at the first States-general 
 at Blois on the day the king, her brother, made his harangue. 
 She was dressed in a robe of orange and black (the ground 
 being black with many spangles) and her great veil of cere- 
 mony ; and being seated according to her rank she appeared 
 so beautiful and admirable that I heard more than tliree 
 hundred persons in that assembly say tliey were better in- 
 structed and delighted by the contemplation of such divine 
 beauty than by listening to the grave and noble words of the 
 king, her brother, though he spoke and harangued his be«t. 
 I have also seen her dressed in her natural hair without any 
 artifice or peruke ; and though her hair was very black 
 (having derived that from her father, King Henri), slie knew 
 so well how to curl and twist and arrange it after the fashion 
 of her sister, the Queen of Spain, who wore none but her own 
 hair, that such coiffure and adornment became her as well as, 
 or better than, any other. That is what it is to have beauties 
 by nature, which surpasses all artifice, no matter what it may 
 be. And yet she did not Hke the fashion much and seldom 
 used it, but preferred perukes most daintily fashioned. 
 
 In short, I should never have done did I try to describe all 
 her adornments and forms of attire in which she was ever
 
 MARGUERITE OE FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 161 
 
 more and more beauteous ; for she changed them often, and 
 all were so becoming and appropriate, as though Nature and 
 Art were striving to outdo each other in making her beautiful. 
 But this is not all ; for her fine accoutrements and adornments 
 never ventured to cover her beautiful throat or her lovely 
 bosom, fearing to wrong the eyes of all the world that roved 
 upon so fine an object ; for never was there seen the like in 
 form and whiteness, and so full and plump that often the 
 courtiers died with envy when they saw the ladies, as I have 
 seen them, those who were her intimates, have license to kiss 
 her with great delight. 
 
 I remember that a worthy gentleman, newly arrived at 
 Court, who had never seen her, when he beheld her said to 
 me these words : " I am not surprised that all you gentlemen 
 should like the Court; for if you had no other pleasure than 
 daily to see that princess, you have as much as though you 
 lived in a terrestrial paradise." 
 
 Eoman emperors of the olden time, to please the people 
 and give them pleasure, exhibited games and combats in 
 their theatres ; but to give pleasure to the people of France 
 and gain their friendship, it was enough to let them often see 
 Queen Marguerite, and enjoy the contemplation of so divine 
 a face, which she never hid behind a mask like other ladies 
 of our Court, for nearly all the time she went uncovered ; 
 and once, on a flowery Easter Day at Blois, still being 
 Madame, sister of the king (although her marriage was then 
 being treated of), I saw her appear in the procession more 
 beautiful than ever, because, besides the beauty of her face 
 and form, she was most superbly adorned and apparelled ; her 
 pure white face, resembling the skies in their serenity, was 
 adorned about the head with quantities of pearls and jewels, 
 especially brilliant diamonds, worn in the form of stars, so 
 that the calm of the face and the sparkling jewels made one 
 
 11
 
 162 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 think of the heavens when starry. Her beautiful body with 
 its full, tall form was robed in a gown of crinkled cloth of 
 gold, the richest and most beautiful ever seen in France, 
 This stuff was a gift made by the Grand Signior to M. de 
 Grand-Champ, our ambassador, on his departure from Con- 
 stantinople, — it being the Grand Siguier's custom to present 
 to those who are sent to him a piece of the said stuff 
 amounting to fifteen ells, which, so Grand-Champ told me, 
 cost one hundred crowns the ell ; for it was indeed a master- 
 piece. He, on coming to France and not knowing how to 
 employ more worthily the gift of so rich a stuff, gave it to 
 Madame, the sister of the king, who made a gown of it, and 
 wore it first on the said occasion, when it became her well — 
 for from one grandeur to another there is only a hand's 
 breadth. She wore it all that day, although its weight was 
 heavy ; but her beautiful, rich, strong figure supported it well 
 and served it to advantage ; for had she been a little shrimp 
 of a princess, or a dame only elbow-high (as I have seen 
 some), she would surely have died of the weight, or else 
 have been forced to change her gown and take another. 
 
 That is not all : being in tlie procession and walking in 
 her rank, her visage uncovered, not to deprive the people of 
 so good a feast, she seemed more beautiful still by holding 
 and bearing in her hand her palm (as our queens of all time 
 have done) with royal majesty and a grace half proud half 
 sweet, and a manner little common and so different from 
 all the rest that whoso had seen her would have said: 
 " Here is a princess who goes above the run of all things in 
 the world." And we courtiers went about saying, with one 
 voice boldly, that she did well to bear a palm in her hand, 
 for she bore it away from others; surpassing them all in 
 beauty, in grace, and in perfection. And I swear to you 
 that in that procession we forgot our devotions, and did not
 
 MARGUERITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 103 
 
 make tliem while contemplating and admiring that divine 
 princess, who ravished lis more than divine service ; and yet 
 we thought we committed no sin ; for whoso contemplates 
 divinity on earth does not offend the divinity of heaven ; 
 inasmuch as He made lier such. 
 
 "When the queen, her mother, took her from Court 
 to meet her hushand in Gascoigne, I saw how all the 
 courtiers grieved at her departure as though a great 
 calamity had fallen on their heads. Some said : " The 
 Court is widowed of her beauty ; " others : " The Court 
 is gloomy, it has lost its sun ; " others again : " How dark 
 it is ; we have no torch." And some cried out : " Why 
 should Gascoime come here jrascoiojninf:' to steal our 
 beauty, destined to adorn all France and the Court, Fon- 
 tainebleau, Saint-Germain, the hotel du Louvre, and all the 
 other noble places of our kings, to lodge her at Pau and 
 X^rac, places so unlike the others ? " But many said : " The 
 deed is done ; the Court and France have lost the loveliest 
 flower of their garland." 
 
 In short, on all sides did we hear resound sucli little 
 speeches upon this departure, — half in vexed anger, half in 
 sadness, ■ — ■ although Queen Louise de Lorraine remained 
 behind, who was a very handsome and wise princess, and 
 virtuous (of whom I hope to speak more worthily in her 
 place) ; but for so long the Court had been accustomed to 
 that beauteous sight it could not keep from grieving and 
 proffering such words. Some there were who would have 
 liked to kill ]\I. de Duras, who came from his master the 
 King of Navarre to obtain her; and this I know. 
 
 Once there came news to Court that she was dead in 
 An^'ergne some eight days. On which a person whom I 
 met said to me : " That cannot be, for since that time the 
 sky is clear and fine; if she were dead we should have
 
 164 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 seen eclipse of sun, because of the great sympathy two suns 
 must have, and nothing could be seen but gloom and 
 clouds." 
 
 Enough has now been said, methinks, upon the beauty of 
 her body, though the subject is so ample that it deserves a 
 decade. I hope to speak of it again, but at present I must 
 say something of her noble soul, which is lodged so well in 
 that noble body. If it was born thus noble within her she 
 has known how to keep it and maintain it so ; for she loves 
 letters much and reading. "While young, she was, for her 
 age, quite perfect in them ; so that we could say of her : 
 This princess is truly the most eloquent and best-speaking 
 lady in the world, with the finest style of speech and the 
 most agreeable to be found. "When the Poles, as I have 
 said before, came to do her reverence they brought with 
 them the Bishop of Cracovie, the chief and head of the 
 embassy, who made the harangue in Latin, he being a 
 learned and accomplished prelate. The queen replied so 
 pertinently and eloquently without the help of an interpreter, 
 having well understood and comprehended the harangue, 
 that all were struck with admiration, calling her with one 
 voice a second Minerva, goddess of eloquence. 
 
 "When the queen her mother took her to the king her 
 husband, as I have said, she made her entry to Bordeaux, 
 as was proper, being daughter and sister of a king, and wife 
 of the King of Xavarre, first prince of the blood, and gov- 
 ernor of Guyenne. The queen her mother willed it so, for 
 she loved and esteemed her much. This entry was fine ; 
 not so much for the sumptuous magnificence there made 
 and displayed, as for the triumph of this most beautiful 
 and accomplished queen of the world, mounted on a fine 
 wdiite horse superbly caparisoned ; she herself dressed all in 
 orange and spangles, so sumptuously as never was ; so that
 
 MARGUERITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 165 
 
 none could get their surfeit of looking at her, admiring and 
 lauding her to the skies. 
 
 Before she entered, the State assembly of the town came 
 to do reverence and offer their means and powers, and to 
 harangue her at the Chartreux, as is customary. M. de 
 Bordeaux [tlie bishop] spoke for the clergy ; M. le Marechal 
 de Biron, as mayor, wearing his robes of office, for the town, 
 and for himself as lieutenant-general afterwards ; also M. 
 Largebaston, chief president for the courts of law. She 
 answered them all, one after the other (for I heard her, be- 
 ing close beside her on the scaffold, by her command), so 
 eloquently, so wisely and promptly and with such grace 
 and majesty, even changing her words to each, without 
 reiterating the first or the second, although upon the same 
 subject (which is a thing to be remarked upon), that 
 when I saw that evening the said president he said to me, 
 and to others in the queen's chamber, that he had never 
 in his life heard better speech from any one ; and that he 
 imderstood such matters, having had the honour to hear the 
 two queens. Marguerite and Jeanne, her predecessors, speak 
 at the like ceremonies, — they having had in their day the 
 most golden-speaking lips in France (those were the words he 
 used to me) ; and yet they were but novices and apprentices 
 compared to her, who truly was her mother's daughter. 
 
 I repeated to the queen, her mother, this that the presi- 
 dent had said to me, of which she was glad as never was ; 
 and told me that he had reason to think and say so, for, 
 though she was her daughter, she could call her, without 
 falsehood, the most accomplished princess in the world, able 
 to say exactly what she wished to say the best. And in like 
 manner I have heard and seen ambassadors, and sreat for- 
 eign seigneurs, after they had spoken with her, depart con* 
 founded by her noble speech.
 
 166 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 I have often heard her make such fine discourse, so grave 
 and so sententious, that could I put it clearly and correctly 
 here in writing I should delight and amaze the world ; but 
 it is not possible ; nor could any one transcribe her words, so 
 inimitable are they. 
 
 But if she is grave, and full of majesty and eloquence in 
 her high and serious discourses, she is just as full of charm- 
 ing grace in gay and witty speech ; jesting so prettily, with 
 give and take, that her company is most agreeable ; for, 
 though she pricks and banters others, 'tis all so dt -propos and 
 excellently said that no one can be vexed, but only glad of it. 
 
 But further : if she knows how to speak, she knows also 
 how to write ; and the beautiful letters we have seen from 
 her attest it. They are the finest, the best couched, whether 
 they be serious or familiar, and such that the greatest writers 
 of the past and present may hide their heads and not pro- 
 duce their own when hers appear ; for theirs are trifles near 
 to hers. No one, having read them, would fail to laugh 
 at Cicero with his familiar letters. And whoso would collect 
 Queen Marguerite's letters, together with her discourses, would 
 make a school and training for the world ; and no one should 
 feel surprised at this, for, in herself, her mind is sound and 
 quick, with great information, wise and solid. She is a 
 queen in all things, and deserves to rule a mighty kingdom, 
 even an empire, — about wliich T shall make the following 
 digression, all the more because it has to do with the present 
 subject. 
 
 When her marriage was granted at Blois to the King of 
 Navarre, difficulties were made by Queen Jeanne [d'Albret, 
 Henri IV.'s mother], very different then from what she M^rote 
 to my mother, who was her lady of honour, and at this time 
 sick m her own house. I have read the letter, writ by her 
 own hand, in the archives of our house ; it savs thus : —
 
 MARGUERITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 167 
 
 " I write you this, my great friend, to rejoice and give you 
 health with the good news my husband sends me. He hav- 
 ing had the boldness to ask of the king Madame, his young 
 daughter, for our son, the king has done him the honour to 
 grant it ; for which I cannot tell you the happiness I have." 
 
 There is much to be said thereon. At this time there was 
 at our Court a lady whom I shall not name, as silly as she 
 could be. Being with the queen-mother one evening at her 
 coucher, the queen inquired of her ladies if they had seen her 
 daughter, and whether she seemed joyful at the granting of 
 her marriage. This silly lady, who did not yet know her 
 Court, answered first and said : " How, madame, should she 
 not be joyful at such a marriage, inasmuch as it will lead to 
 the crown and make her some day Queen of France, when it 
 falls to her future husband, as it well may do in time." The 
 queen, hearing so strange a speech, replied : " 3Ia mie, you are 
 a great fool. I would rather die a thousand deaths than see 
 your foolish prophecy accomplished ; for I hope and wish 
 long life and good prosperity to the king, my son, and all my 
 other children." On which a very great lady, one of her 
 intimates, inquired : " But, madame, in case that great mis- 
 fortune — from which God keep us ! — happens, would you 
 not be very glad to see your daughter Queen of France, inas- 
 much as the crown would fall to her by right through that 
 of her husband ? " To which the queen made answer : 
 " Much as I love this daughter, I think, if that should hap- 
 pen, we should see France much tried with evils and misfor- 
 tunes. I would rather die (as she did in fact) than see her 
 in that position ; for I do not believe that France would obey 
 the King of Navarre as it does my sons, for many reasons 
 which I do not tell." 
 
 Behold two prophecies accomplished : one, that of the fool- 
 ish lady, the other, but only till her death, that of the able
 
 168 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 princess. The latter prophecy has failed to-day, by the grace 
 which God has given our king [Henri IV.], and by the force 
 of his good sword and the valour of his brave heart, which have 
 made him so great, so victorious, so feared, and so absolute 
 a king as he is to-day after too many toils and hindrances. 
 May God preserve him by His holy grace in such prosperity, 
 for we need him much, we his poor subjects. 
 
 The queen said further : " If by the abohtion of the Sahc 
 law, the kingdom should come to my daughter in her own 
 right, as other kingdoms have fallen to the distaff, certainly 
 my daughter is as capable of reigning, or more so, as most 
 men and kmgs whom I have known ; and I think that her 
 reign would be a fine one, equal to that of the king her 
 grandfather and that of the king her father, for she has a 
 great mind and great virtues for doing that thing." And 
 thereupon she went on to say how great an abuse was the 
 Salic law, and that she had heard M. le Cardinal de Lorraine 
 say that when he arranged the peace between the two kings 
 with the other deputies in the abbey of Cercan, a dispute 
 came up on a point of the Salic law touching the succession 
 of women to the kingdom of France ; and M. le Cardinal de 
 Grandvelle, otherwise called d'Arras, rebuked the said Cardinal 
 de Lorraine, declaring that the Salic law was a veritable abuse, 
 which old dreamers and chroniclers had written down, with- 
 out knowing why, and so made it accepted; although, in 
 fact, it was never made or decreed in France, and was only a 
 custom that Frenchmen had given each other from hand to 
 hand, and so introduced ; whereas it was not just, and, conse- 
 quently, was violable. 
 
 Thus said the queen-mother. And, when all is said, it 
 was Pharamond, as most people hold, who brought it from 
 his own country and introduced it in France ; and we cer- 
 tainly ought not to observe it, because he was a pagan ; and
 
 MARGUERITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 169 
 
 to keep so strictly among us Christians the laws of a pagan 
 is an offence against God. It is true that most of our laws 
 come from pagan emperors ; but those which are holy, just, 
 and equitable (and truly there are many), we ourselves have 
 ruled by them. But the Salic law of Pharamond is unjust 
 and contrary to the law of God, for it is written in the Old 
 Testament, in the twenty-seventh chapter of Numbers : " If 
 a man die and have no son ye shall cause his inheritance to 
 pass to his daughter." This sacred law demands, therefore, 
 that females shall inherit after males. Besides, if Scripture 
 were taken at its word on this Salic law, there would be no 
 such great harm done, as I have heard great personages say, 
 for they .speak thus : " So long as there be males, females can 
 neither inherit nor reign. Consequently, in default of males, 
 females should do so. And, inasmuch as it is legal in Spain, 
 Navarre, England, Scotland, Hungary, Naples, and Sicily that 
 females should reign, why should it not be the same in 
 France ? For what is right in one place is right everywhere 
 and ill all places ; places do not make the justice of the 
 law." 
 
 In all the fiefs we have in France, duchies, counties, 
 baronies, and other honourable lordships, which are nearly 
 and even greatly royal in their rights and privileges, many 
 women, married and unmarried, have succeeded; as in 
 Bourbon, Vendome, Montpensier, Nevers, Rh(5tel, Flandres, 
 Eu, Bourgogne, Artois, Zellande, Bretaigne ; and even like 
 Mathilde, who was Duchesse de Normandie ; Eldonore, 
 Duchesse de Guyenne, who enriched Henry II., King of 
 England ; Beatrix, Comtesse de Provence, who brought that 
 province to King Louis, her husband ; the only daughter of 
 Raimond, Comtesse de Thoulouse, who brought Thoulouse 
 to Alfonse, brother of Saint-Louis; also Anne, Duchesse de 
 Bretaigne, and others. Why, therefore, should not the king-
 
 170 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 dom of France call to itself in like manner the daughters of 
 France ? 
 
 Did not the beautiful Galatea rule in Gaul when Hercules 
 married her after his conquest of Spain ? — from which mar- 
 riage issued our brave, valiant, generous Gauls, who in the 
 olden time made themselves laudable. 
 
 Why should the daughters of dukes in this kingdom be 
 more capable of governing a duchy or a county and ad- 
 ministering justice (which is the duty of kings) than the 
 daughters of kings to rule the kingdom of France ? As if 
 the daughters of France were not as capable and fitted to 
 command and reign as those of other kingdoms and fiefs 
 that I have named ! 
 
 For still greater proof of the iniquity of the Salic law it 
 is enough to show that so many chroniclers, writers, and 
 praters, who have all written about it, have never yet agreed 
 among themselves as to its etymology and definition. Some, 
 like Postel, consider that it takes its ancient name and 
 origin from the Gauls, and is only called Salic instead of 
 Gallic because of the proximity and likeness in old type 
 between the letter S and the letter G. But Postel is as 
 visionary in that (as a great personage said to me) as he is 
 in other things. 
 
 Jean Ceval, Bishop of Avranches, a great searcher into 
 the antiquities of Gaul and France, tried to trace it to the 
 word salle, because this law was ordained only for salles and 
 royal palaces. 
 
 Claude Seissel thinks, rather inappropriately, that it comes 
 from the word sal in Latin, as a law full of salt, that of 
 sapience, wisdom, a metaphor drawn from salt. 
 
 A doctor of laws, named Ferrarius Montanus, will have it 
 that Pharamond was otherwise called Salicq. Others 
 derive it from Sallogast, one of the principal councillors of 
 Pharamond.
 
 MARGUERITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 171 
 
 Others again, wishing to be still more subtle, say that the 
 derivation is taken from the frequent sections in the said 
 law beginning with the words: si aliquis, si aliqua. But 
 some say it comes from Frangois Saliens ; and it is so men- 
 tioned in Marcellin.i 
 
 So here are many puzzles and musings ; and it is not to 
 be wondered at that the Bishop of Arras disputed the 
 matter with the Cardinal de Lorraine : just as those of his 
 nation in their jests and jugglings, supposing that this law 
 was a new invention, called Phihppe de Valois le roi trouve, 
 as if, by a new right never recognized before in France, 
 he had made himself king. On which was founded that, 
 the county of Flanders having fallen to a distaff. King 
 Charles V. of France did not claim any right or title to 
 it ; on the contrary, he portioned his brother Philippe 
 with Bourgogne in order to make his marriage with the 
 Countess of Flanders ; not wishing to take her for him- 
 self, thinking her less beautiful, though far more rich, than 
 her of Bourbon. Wliich is a great proof and assurance that 
 the Salic law was not observed except as to the crown. And 
 it cannot be doubted that women, could they come to the 
 throne, beautiful, honourable, and virtuous as the one of 
 whom I here speak, would draw to them the hearts of their 
 subjects by their beauty and sweetness far more than men 
 do by their strength. 
 
 M. du Tillet says that Queen Clotilde made France accept 
 the Christian religion, and since then no queen has ever 
 wandered from it ; which is a great honour to queens, for 
 it was not so with the kings after Clovis ; Chilperic I. 
 was stained with Arian error, and was checked only by 
 
 1 The Salic law : so called from being derived from the laws of the 
 ancient Salian Franks, — according to Storraonth, Littre, and Cassell's 
 Cyclopaedia. — Tb.
 
 172 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 the firm resistance of two prelates of the Galilean church, 
 according to the statement of Grdgoire de Tours. 
 
 Moreover, was not Catherine, daughter of Charles VI., 
 ordained Queen of France by the king, her father, and his 
 council [in 1420] ? 
 
 Du Tillet further says that the daughters of France were 
 held in such honour that although they were married to less 
 than kings they nevertheless kept their royal titles and were 
 called queens with their proper names ; an honour which was 
 given them for life to demonstrate forever that they were 
 daughters of the kings of France. This ancient custom 
 shows dumbly that the daughters of France can be sovereigns 
 as well as the sons. 
 
 In the days of the King Saint-Louis it is recorded of a court 
 of peers held by him that the Countess of Flanders was pres- 
 ent, taking part with the peers. This shows how the Salic 
 law was not kept, except as to the crown. Let us see still 
 further what M. du Tillet says : — 
 
 "By the Salic law, written for all subjects, where there 
 were no sons the daughters inherited the patrimony ; and this 
 should rule the crown also, so that ^lesdames the daughters 
 of France, in default of sons, should take it ; nevertlieless, 
 they are perpetually excluded by custom and the private law 
 of the house of France, based on the arrogance of Frenchmen, 
 who cannot endure to be governed by women." And else- 
 where he says : " One cannot help being amazed at the long 
 ignorance that has attributed this custom to the Salic law, 
 which is quite the contrary of it." 
 
 King Charles V., treating of the marriage of Queen INIarie 
 of France, his daughter, with Guillaume, Count of Hainault, 
 in the year 1374, stipulated for the renunciation by the said 
 count of all right to the kingdom and to Dauphint^ ; which 
 is a great point, for see the contradictions !
 
 MARGUERITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 173 
 
 Certainly if women could handle arms like men they could 
 make themselves accredited; but by way of compensation, 
 they have their beautiful faces ; which, however, are not 
 recognized as they deserve ; for surely it is better to be gov- 
 erned by beautiful, lovely, and honourable women than by 
 tiresome, conceited, ugly, and sullen men such as I have seen 
 in this France of ours. 
 
 I would like to know if this kingdom has found itself any 
 better for an infinitude of conceited, silly, tyrannical, foolish, 
 do-nothing, idiotic, and crazy kings — not meaning to accuse 
 our brave Pharamond, Clodion, Clovis, Pepin, Martel, Charles, 
 Louis, Philippe, Jean, Francois, Henri, for they are all brave 
 and magnanimous, those kings, and happy they w^ho were 
 under them — than it would have been with an infinitude of 
 the daughters of France, very able, very prudent, and very 
 worthy to govern. I appeal to the regency of the mothers 
 of kings to show this, to wit : — 
 
 Fr^d^gonde, liow did she administer the affairs of France 
 during the minority of King Clothaire, her son, if not so 
 wisely and dexterously that he found himself before he died 
 monarch of Gaul and of much of Germany ? 
 
 The like did Mathilde, wife of Dagobert, as to Clovis II., 
 her son ; and, long after, Blanche, mother of Saint-Louis, who 
 behaved so wisely, as I have read, that, just as the Eoman 
 emperors chose to call themselves " Augustus " in commemo- 
 ration of the luck and prosperity of Augustus, the great 
 emperor, so the former queen-mothers after the decease of 
 the kings, their husbands, desired each to be called " Reine 
 Blanche," in honourable memory of the government of that 
 wise princess. Though M. du Tillet contradicts this a little, 
 I have heard it from a very great senator. 
 
 And, to come lower down, Isabeau of Bavaria had the 
 regency of her husband, Charles VI. (who lost his good
 
 174 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 sense), by the advice of the Council ; and so had Madame de 
 Bourbon for little King Charles VIII. (hiring his minority ; 
 Madame Louise de Savoie for King Francois I.; and our 
 queen-mother for King Charles IX., her son. 
 
 If, therefore, foreign ladies (except Madame de Bourbon, 
 who was daughter of France) were capable of governing 
 France so well, why should not our own ladies do as much, 
 having good zeal and affection, they being born here and 
 suckled here, and the matter touching them so closely ? 
 
 I should like to know in what our last kings have sur- 
 passed our last three daughters of France, Elisabeth, Claude, 
 and Marguerite ; and whether if the latter had come to be 
 queens of France they would not have governed it (I do not 
 wish to accuse the regency, which was very great and very 
 wise) as well as their brothers. I have heard many great 
 personages, well-informed and far-seeing, say that possibly 
 we should not have had the evils we did have, now liave, 
 and shall have still ; adducing reasons too long to put liere. 
 Bat the common and vulgar fool says : " Must observe tlie 
 Salic law." Poor idiot that he is ! does he not know that 
 tlie Germans, from whose stock we issued, were wont to call 
 their women to affairs of State, as we learn from Tacitus ? 
 From that, we can see how this Salic law has been corrupted. 
 It is but mere custom ; and poor women, unable to enforce 
 their rights by the point of the sword, men have excluded, 
 and driven them from everything. Ah ! why have we no 
 more brave and valiant paladins of France, — a lioland, a 
 Renaud, an Ogier, a Deudon, an Olivier, a Graffon, an Yvon, 
 and an infinity of other braves, whose glory and profession it 
 was to succour ladies and support them in the troubles and 
 adversities of their lives, their honour, and their fortunes ? 
 Why are they here no longer to maintain the rights of our 
 Queen Marguerite, daughter of France, who barely enjoys
 
 MAEGUERITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 175 
 
 an inch of land in France, which she quitted in noble state, 
 though to her, perhaps, the whole belongs by right divine 
 and human ? Queen Marguerite, who does not even enjoy 
 her county of Auvergne, which is hers by law and equity 
 as the sole heiress of the queen, her mother, is now with- 
 drawn into the castle of Usson, amid the deserts, rocks, 
 and mountains of Auvergne, — a different habitation, verily, 
 from the great city of Paris, where she ought now to be 
 seated on her throne and place of justice, which belongs to 
 her in her own right as well as by that of her husband. 
 But the misfortune is that they are not there together. If 
 both were again united in body and soul and friendship, as 
 they once were, possibly all would go right once more, and 
 together they would be feared, respected, and known for 
 what they are. 
 
 (Since tliis was written God has willed that they be recon- 
 ciled, which is indeed great luck.) 
 
 I heard M. de Pibrac say on one occasion that these 
 Navarre marriages are fatal, because husband and wife are 
 always at variance, — as was the case with Louis Hutin, 
 King of Prance and of Navarre, and Marguerite de Bour- 
 gogne, daughter of Due Eobert III. ; also Philippe le Long, 
 King of France and Navarre, with Jeanne, daughter of Comte 
 Othelin of Bourgogne, who, being found innocent, was vindi- 
 cated well ; also Charles le Bel, King of France and of Navarre, 
 with Blanche, daughter of Othelin, another Comte de Bour- 
 gogne ; and further, King Henri d'Albret with ^Marguerite de 
 Valois, who, as I have heard on good authority, treated her 
 very ill, and would have done worse had not King Francois, 
 her brother, spoken sternly to him and threatened him for 
 honouring his sister so little, considering the rank she held. 
 
 The last King Antoine of Navarre died also on ill terms 
 with Queen Jeanne, his wife ; and our Queen Marguerite is
 
 176 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 now in dispute and separation from her husband ; but God 
 will some day happily unite them in spite of these evil 
 times. 
 
 I have heard a princess say that Queen Marguerite saved 
 her husband's life on the massacre of Saint-Bartholomew ; 
 for indubitably he was proscribed and his name written on 
 the " red paper," as it was called, because it was necessary, 
 they said, to tear up the roots, namely, the King of Navarre, 
 the Prince de Conde, Amiral de Coligny, and other great 
 personages ; but the said Queen Marguerite flung herself on 
 her knees before King Charles, to implore him for the life of 
 her husband and lord.^ King Charles would scarcely grant 
 it to her, although she was his good sister. I relate this for 
 what it is worth, as I know it only by hearsay. But she 
 bore this massacre very impatiently and saved several, among 
 them a Gascon gentleman (I think his name was Ldran), who, 
 wounded as he was, took refuge beneath her bed, she being 
 in it, and the murderers pursuing him to the door, from 
 which she drove them ; for she was never cruel, but kind, 
 like a daughter of France. 
 
 They say that the quarrel between herself and her hus- 
 band came more from the difference in their religion than 
 from anything else ; for they each loved his and her own, 
 and supported it strongly. The queen having gone to Pau, 
 the chief town of B^arn, she caused the mass to be said there ; 
 and a certain secretary of the king, her husband, named ]e Pin, 
 who had formerly belonged to M. I'Amiral, not being able to 
 stomach it, put several of the inhabitants of the town who 
 had been present at the mass into prison. The queen was 
 much displeased ; and he, wishing to remonstrate, spoke to 
 her much louder than he should, and very indiscreetly, even 
 
 ^ Marguerite was married to Henri, King of Navarre, six days before 
 the massacre of Saint-Bartholomew, August, 1572.
 
 MARGUERITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 177 
 
 before the king, who gave him a good rebuke and dismissed 
 him ; for King Henri knows well how to like and respect what 
 he ought ; being as brave and generous as his fine and noble 
 actions have always manifested ; of which I shall speak at 
 length in his life. 
 
 The said le Pin fell back upon the edict which is there 
 made, and to be observed under penalty, namely, that mass 
 shall not be said. The queen, feeling herself insulted, and 
 God knows she was, vowed and declared she would never 
 again set foot in that country because she chose to be free 
 in the exercise of her religion ; whereupon she departed, and 
 has ever since kept her oath very carefully. 
 
 I have heard it said that nothing lay so heavily on her 
 heart as tliis indignity of being deprived of the exercise of 
 her religion ; for which reason she begged the queen, her 
 good mother, to come and fetch her and take her to France 
 to see the king and Monsieur, his brother, whom she hon- 
 oured and loved much. Having arrived, she was not received 
 and seen by the king, her brother, as she should have been. 
 Seeing this great change since she had left France, and the 
 rise of many persons she would never have thought of to 
 grandeurs, it irked her much to be forced to pay court to 
 them, as others, her equals, were now doing ; and far from 
 doing so herself, she despised them openly, as I well saw, so 
 high was her courage. Alas ! too high, certainly, for it caused 
 her misfortunes : had she been willing to restrain herself 
 and lower her courage the least in the world she would not 
 have been thwarted and vexed as she has been. 
 
 As to which I shall relate this story : when the king, her 
 brother, went to Poland, he being there, she knew that 
 M. du Gua, much favoured l)y her brother, had made some 
 remarks to her disadvantage, enough to set brother and sister 
 at variance or enmity. At the end of a certain time M. du 
 
 12
 
 178 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 Gua returned from Poland and arrived at Court, bearing let- 
 ters from the king to his sister, which he went to her apart- 
 ment to give her and kiss hands. This I saw myself. When 
 she beheld him enter she was in great wrath, and as he came 
 to her to present the letter she said to him, with an angry 
 face : " Lucky for you, du Gua, that you come before me with 
 this letter from my brother, which serves you as a safeguard, 
 for I love him much and all who come from him are free 
 from me ; but without it, I would teach you to speak about 
 a princess like myself, the sister of your kings, your masters 
 and sovereigns." M. du Gua answered very huml)ly : " I 
 should never, madame, have presented myself before you, 
 knowing that you wish me ill, without some good messa^je 
 from the king, my master, who loves you, and whom you 
 love also; or without feeling assured, madame, that for love 
 of him, and because you are good and generous, you would 
 hear me speak." And then, after making her his excuses and 
 telling his reasons (as he knew well how to do), he denied 
 very positively that he had ever spoken against the sister of 
 his kings otherwise than very reverently. On which she 
 dismissed him with an assurance that she would ever be 
 his cruel enemy, — a promise which she kept until his 
 death. 
 
 After a while the king wrote to Mme. de Dampierre and 
 begged her, for the sake of giving him pleasure, to iiuluce 
 the Queen of Xavarre to pardon M. du Gua, which Mme. de 
 Dampierre undertook with very great regret, knowing well 
 the nature of the said queen ; but because the king loved 
 her and trusted her, she took the errand and went one day 
 to see the said queen in her room. Finding her in pretty 
 good humour, she opened the matter and made the appeal, 
 namely : that to keep the good graces, friendship, and favour 
 of the king, her brother, who was now about to become
 
 MARGUERITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 179 
 
 King of France, she ought to pardon M. dvi Gua, forget the 
 past, and take him again into favour ; for the king loved 
 and favoured him above his other friends ; and by thus 
 taking M. du Gua as a friend she would gain through him 
 many pleasures and good offices, inasmuch as he quietly 
 governed the king, his master, and it was much better to 
 have his help than to make him desperate and goad him 
 against her, because he could surely do her much harm ; 
 telling her how she had seen in her time during the reign 
 of Frangois I., IMesdames Madeleine and Marguerite, one 
 Queen of Scotland later, the other Duchesse de Savoie, her 
 aunts, although their hearts were as high and lofty as her 
 own, bring down their pride so low as to pay court to M. 
 de Sourdis, who was only master of the wardrobe to the 
 king, their father ; yet they even sought him, hoping by his 
 means, to obtain the favour of the king ; and thus, taking 
 example by her aunts, she ought to do the same herself in 
 relation to M. du Gua. 
 
 The Queen of Navarre, having listened very attentively 
 to Mme. de Dampierre, answered her rather coldly, but with 
 a smiling face, as her manner was : " Madame de Dampierre, 
 what you say to me may be good for you ; you need favours, 
 pleasures, and benefits, and were I you the words you say to 
 me might be very suitable and proper to be received and put 
 in practice ; but to me, who am the daughter of a king, the 
 sister of kings, and the wife of a king, they have no mean- 
 ing ; because with that high and noble rank I cannot, for my 
 honour's sake, be a beggar of favours and benefits from the 
 king, my brother ; and I hold him to be of too good a nature 
 and too well acquainted with his duty to deny me anything 
 unless I have the favour of a du Gua ; if otherwise, he will 
 do great wrong to himself, his honour, and his royalty. And 
 even if he be so unnatural as to forget himself and what he
 
 180 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 owes to me, I prefer, for my honour's sake and as my courage 
 tells me, to be deprived of his good graces, because I would 
 not seek du Gua to gain his favours, or be even suspected of 
 gaining them by such means and intercession ; and if the 
 king, my brother, feels himself worthy to be king, and to 
 be loved by me and by his people, I feel myself, as his 
 sister, worthy to be queen and loved, not only by him but 
 by all the world. And if my aunts, as you allege, degraded 
 themselves as you say, let them do as they would if such 
 was their humour, but their example is no law to me, nor 
 will I imitate it, or form myself on any model if not my 
 own." On that she was silent, and Mme. de Dampierre 
 retired ; not that the queen was angry with her or showed 
 her ill-will, for she loved her much. 
 
 Another time, when M. d'Epernon went to Gascoigne 
 after the death of Monsieur (a journey made for various 
 purposes, so they said), he saw the King of Kavarre at 
 Pamiers, and they made great cheer and caresses to each 
 other. I speak thus because at that time M. d'Epernon 
 was semi-king of France because of the dissolute favour 
 he had with his master, the King of France. After having 
 caressed and made good cheer together the King of Xavarre 
 asked him to go and see him at N^rac when he had been 
 to Toulouse and was on his way back ; which he promised 
 to do. The King of Navarre having gone there first to 
 make preparations to feast him well, the Queen of Xavarre, 
 wdio was then at Nerac, and who felt a deadly hatred to ]\r. 
 d'Epernon, said to the king, her husband, that she would 
 leave the place so as not to disturb or hinder the fete, not 
 being able to endure the sight of M. d'Epernon without some 
 scandal or venom of anger which she might disgorge, and so 
 give annoyance to the king, her husband. On which the 
 king begged her, by all the pleasures that she could give
 
 MARGUEKITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 181 
 
 him, not to stir, but to help him to receive the said Sieur 
 d'Epernon and to put her rancour against him underfoot 
 for love of him, her husband, and all the more because it 
 greatly concerned both of them and their grandeur. 
 
 " Well, monsieur," replied the queen, " since you are 
 pleased to command it, I will remain and give him good 
 cheer out of respect to you and the obedience that I owe 
 to you." After which she said to some of her ladies : " But 
 I will answer for it that on the days that man is here I 
 will dress in habiliments I never yet have worn, namely: 
 dissimulation and hypocrisy ; I will so mask my face with 
 shams that the king shall see there only good and honest 
 welcome and all gentleness ; and likewise I will lay discre- 
 tion on ray lips, so that externally I will make him think 
 my heart internally is kind, which otherwise I would not 
 answer for ; I do this being nowise in my own control, but 
 wholly in his, — so lofty is he and full of frankness, unable 
 to bear vileness or the venom of hypocrisy, or to abase 
 himself in any way. 
 
 Therefore, to content the king, her husband, for she 
 honoured him much, as he did her, she disguised her feelings 
 in such a way that, M. d'Epernon being brought to her 
 apartment, she received him in the same manner the king 
 had asked of her and she had promised ; so that all present, 
 the chamber being full of persons eager to see the entrance 
 and the interview, marvelled much, while the king and 
 M. d'Epernon were quite content. But the most clear- 
 sighted and those who knew the nature of the queen mis- 
 doubted something hidden within ; and she herself said 
 afterwards it was a comedy in which she played a part 
 unwillingly. 
 
 These are two tales by which to see the lofty courage of 
 this queen, the which was such, as I have heard the queen,
 
 182 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 her mother, say (discoursing of this topic), that she resembled 
 in this her father ; and that she, the queen-mother, had no 
 other child so like him, as much in ways, humours, linea- 
 ments, and features of the face as in courage and generosity ; 
 telling also how she had seen King Henri during King 
 Franc^ois' lifetime unal:>le for a kingdom to pay his court and 
 cringe to Cardinal de Tournon or to Amiral d'Annebault, 
 the favourites of King Francois, even though he might 
 often have had peace with Emperor Charles had he been 
 willing so to do ; but his honour could not submit to such 
 attentions. And so, like father, like daughter. Neverthe- 
 less, all that injured her much. I remember an infinite 
 number of annoyances and indignities she received at Court, 
 which I shall not relate, they are too odious ; until at last 
 she was sent away, with great affront and yet most innocent 
 of what they put upon her ; the proofs of which were known 
 to many, as I know myself; also the king, her husband, was 
 convinced of it, so that he brought King Henri to account, 
 which was very good of him, and henceforth there resulted 
 between the two brothers [-in-law] a certain hatred and 
 contention. 
 
 The war of the League happened soon after ; and because 
 the Queen of Xavarre feared some evil at Court, being a 
 strong Catholic, she retired to Agen, which had been given 
 to her with the region about it by her brothers, as nn ap- 
 panage and gift for life. As the Catholic religion was con- 
 cerned, which it was necessary to maintain, and also to 
 exterminate the other, she wished to fortify her side as best 
 she conld and repress the other side. But in this she was 
 ill-served by means of ^Mme. de Duras, who governed her 
 much, and made, in her name, great exactions and extor- 
 tions. The people of the town were embittered, and covertly 
 sought their freedom and a means to drive away their lady
 
 MARGUERITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 183 
 
 and her bailiffs. On whicli disturbance the Mardchal de 
 Matignon took occasion to make enterprise against the town, 
 as the king, having learned the state of things, commanded 
 him with great joy to do in order to aggravate his sister, 
 whom he did not love, to more and more displeasure. This 
 enterprise, which failed at first, was led the second time so 
 dexterously by the said marshal and the inhabitants, that 
 the town was taken by force with such rapidity and alarm 
 that the poor queen, in spite of all she could do, was forced 
 to mount in pillion behind a gentleman, and Mme. de Duras 
 behind another, and escape as quickly as they could, riding 
 a dozen leagues without stopping, and the next day as much 
 more, to find safety in the strongest fortress of France, 
 which is Carlat. Being there, and thinking herself in safety, 
 she was, by the manoeuvres of the king, her brother (who 
 was a very clever and very subtle king, if ever there was 
 one), betrayed by persons of that country and the fortress, 
 so that when she fled she became a prisoner in the hands of 
 the Marquis de Canillac, governor of Auvergne, and was 
 taken to the castle of Usson, a very strong fortress also, 
 almost impregnable, which that good and sly fox Louis XI. 
 had made such, in order to lodge his prisoners in a hundred- 
 fold more security than at Loches, Bois de Yincennes, or 
 Lusignan. 
 
 Here, then, was this poor princess a prisoner, and treated 
 not as a daughter of France or the great princess that she 
 was. But, at any rate, if her body was captive, her brave 
 heart was not, and it never failed her, but helped her well 
 and did not let her yield to her affliction. See what a great 
 heart can do, led by great beauty! For he who held her 
 prisoner became her prisoner in time, brave and valiant 
 though he was. Poor man ! what else could he expect ? 
 Did he think to hold subject and captive in his prison one
 
 184 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 whose eyes and beauteous face could subject the whole 
 world to her bonds and chains like galley-slaves I 
 
 So here was the marquis ravished and taken by her 
 beauty ; but she, not dreaming of the delights of love, only 
 of her honour and her liberty, played her game so shrewdly 
 that slie soon became the stronger, seized the fort, and drove 
 away the marquis, much dumfounded at such surprise and 
 military tactics. 
 
 There she has now been six or seven years,^ not, however, 
 with all the pleasures of life, being despoiled of the county 
 of Auvergne by M. le Grand Prieur de France, whom the 
 king induced the queen-mother to institute count and heir in 
 her wiU ; regretting much that she could not leave the queen, 
 her good daughter, anything of her own, so great was the 
 hatred that the king bore her. Alas ! what mutation was 
 this from the time when, as I saw myself, they loved each 
 other much, and were one in body, soul, and will ! Ah ! how 
 often was it fine to see them discourse togethei ; for, whether 
 they were grave or gay, nothing could be finer than to see 
 and hear them, for both could say what they wished to say. 
 Ah ' how changed the times are since we saw them in that 
 great ball-room, dancing together in such beautiful accord oi 
 dance and will ! The king always led her to the dance at 
 the great balls. If one had a noble majesty the other had 
 none the less ; the eyes of all were never surfeited or de- 
 lighted enough by so agreeable a sight ; for the sets were so 
 well danced, the steps so correctly periormed, the stops so 
 finely made that we knew not which to admire most, their 
 beautiful fashion of dancing or their majesty in pausing ; 
 representing now a gay demeanour and next a noble, grave 
 
 1 Marguerite lived eighteen years in the castle of Usson, from 1587 to 
 1605. She died in Paris, March 27, 1G15, at the age of sixty-two, rathei 
 less than one year after Brantonie. (French editor.)
 
 
 / v/y //■/•, 
 
 J / /
 
 MAKGUERITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 185 
 
 disdain ; for no one ever saw them in the dance that did not 
 say they had seen no dance so fine with grace and majesty 
 as this of the king-brother and the queen-sister. As for me, 
 I am of that opinion; and yet I have seen the Queen of 
 Spain and the Queen of Scotland dance most beautifully. 
 
 Also I have seen them dance the Itahan pazzemeno [the 
 minuet, menu 2^as], now advancing with grave port and 
 majesty, doing their steps so gravely and so well ; next glid- 
 ing only ; and anon making most fine and dainty and grave 
 passages, that none, princes or others, could approach, nor 
 ladies, because of the majesty that was not lacking. Where- 
 fore this queen took infinite pleasure in these grave dances 
 on account of her grace and dignity and majesty, which she 
 displayed the better in these than in others like bransles, and 
 volts, and courants. The latter she did not like, although she 
 danced them well, because they were not worthy of her 
 majesty, though very proper for the common graces of other 
 ladies. 
 
 I have seen her sometimes like to dance the hransle by 
 torchlight. I remember that once, being at Lyon, on the 
 return of the king from Poland, at the marriage of Besne 
 (one of her maids of honour) she danced the hransle before 
 many foreigners from Savoie, Piedmont, Italy, and elsewhere, 
 who declared they had never seen anything so fine as this 
 queen, a grave and noble lady, as indeed she is. One of 
 them there was who went about declaring that she needed 
 not, like other ladies, the torch she carried in her hand ; for 
 the light within her eyes, which could not be extinguished 
 like the other, was sufficient ; the which had other virtue 
 than leading men to dance, for it inflamed all those about 
 her, yet could not be put out like the one she had in hand, 
 but lit the night amid the darkness and the day beneath the 
 sun.
 
 186 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 For this reason must we say that Fortune has been to us 
 as great an enemy as to her, in that we see no longer that 
 bright torch, or rather that fine sun which lighted us, now 
 hidden among those hills and mountains of Auver'^me. If 
 only that light had placed itself in some fine port or haven 
 near the sea, where passing mariners might be guided, safe 
 from wreck and peril, by its beacon, her dwelhng would be 
 nobler, more profitable, more honourable for herself and us. 
 Ah ! people of Provence, you ought to beg her to dwell upon 
 your seacoasts or within your ports ; then would she make 
 them more famous than they are, more inhabited and richer ; 
 from all sides men in galleys, ships, and vessels would fiock 
 to see this wonder of the world, as in old times to that of 
 Ehodes, that they might see its glorious and far-shining 
 pharos. Instead of which, begirt by barriers of mountains, 
 she is hidden and unknown to all our eyes, except tlrnt we 
 have still her lovely memory. Ah ! beautiful and ancient 
 town of jMarseille, happy would you be if your port were 
 honoured by the flame and beacon of her splendid eyes ! 
 For the county of Provence belongs to her, as do several 
 other provinces in France. Cursed be the unhappy obstinacy 
 of this kingdom which does not seek to bring her hither with 
 the king, her husband, to be received, honoured and wel- 
 comed as they should be. (This I wrote at the very height 
 of the AVars of the League.) 
 
 '^^"e^e she a bad, malicious, miserly, or tyrannical princess 
 (as there have been a plenty in times past in France, and 
 will be, possibly, again), I should say nothiiig iu her favour; 
 but slie is good, most splendid, liberal, giving all to others, 
 keeping little for herself, most charitable, and giving freely 
 to the poor. The great she mode ashamed with liberalities; 
 for I have seen her make presents to all the Court on Xew 
 Year's Day such as the kings, her brotliers, could not equal
 
 MARGUERITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 187 
 
 On one occasion she gave Queen Louise de Lorraine a fan 
 made of mother-of-pearl enriched with precious stones and 
 pearls of price, so beautiful and rich that it was called a 
 masterpiece and valued at more than fifteen thousand crowns. 
 The other, to return the present, sent her sister those long 
 airjuillettes which Spaniards call puntas, enriched with certain 
 stones and pearls, that might have cost a hundred crowns ; 
 and with these she paid for that fine New Year's gift, wiiich 
 was, certainly, most dissimilar. 
 
 In short, this queen is in all things royal and liberal, 
 honourable and magnificent, and, let it not displease the 
 empresses of long past days, their splendours described by 
 Suetonius, Pliny, and others, do not approach her own in 
 any way, either in Court or city, or in her journeys through 
 the open country ; witness her gilded litters so superbly 
 covered and painted with fine devices, her coaches and car- 
 riages the same, and her horses so fine and so richly 
 caparisoned. 
 
 Those who have seen, as I have, these splendid appurte- 
 nances know what I say. And must she now be deprived 
 of all this, so that for seven years she has not stirred from 
 that stern, unpleasant castle ? — in which, however, she takes 
 patience ; such virtue has she of self-command, one of the 
 greatest, as many wise philosophers have said ! 
 
 To speak once more of her kindness : it is such, so noble, 
 so frank, that, as I believe, it has done her harm ; for though 
 she has had great grounds and great means to be revenged 
 upon her enemies and injure them, she has often withheld 
 her hand when, had she employed those means or caused 
 them to be employed, and commanded others, who were 
 ready enough, to chastise those enemies with her consent, 
 they would have done so wisely and discreetly ; but she 
 resigned all vengeances to God.
 
 188 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 This is what M. du Gua said to her once when she 
 threatened him : " Madame, you are so kind and generous 
 that I never heard it said you did harm to any one ; and 1 
 do not think you will begin with me, who am your very 
 humble servitor." And, in fact, although he greatly injured 
 her, she never returned him the same in vengeance. It is 
 true that when he was killed and they came to tell her, she 
 merely said, being ill : "I am sorry I am not well enough 
 to celebrate his death with joy." She had also this other 
 kindness in her : that when others had humbled themselves 
 and asked her pardon and favour, she forgave and pardoned, 
 with the generosity of a lion which never does harm to those 
 who are humble to him. 
 
 I remember that when M. le Mardchal de Biron was 
 lieutenant of the king in Guyenne, war having broken out 
 around him (possibly with his knowledge and intent), he 
 went one day before Nerac, where the King and Queen of 
 Navarre were living at that time. The marshal prepared 
 his arquebusiers to attack, beginning with a skirmish. The 
 King of Navarre brought out his own in person, and, in 
 a doublet like any captain of adventurers, he held his ground 
 so well that, having the best marksmen, nothing could pre- 
 vail against him. By way of bravado the marshal let fly 
 some cannon against the town, so that the queen, who had 
 gone upon the ramparts to see the pastime, came near hav- 
 ing her share in it, for a ball flew right beside her ; which 
 incensed her greatly, as much for the little respect Mardchal 
 de Biron showed in braving her to her face, as because he 
 had a special command from the king not to approach the 
 war nearer than five hundred leagues to the Queen of Navarre, 
 wherever she might be. The which command he did not 
 observe on this occasion ; for which she felt resentment 
 and revenge acfaiust the marshal
 
 MARGUERITE OF FRANCE A^D NAVARRE. 189 
 
 About a year and a half later she came to Court, where 
 was the marshal, whom the king had recalled from Guyenne, 
 fearing further disturbance ; for the King of Navarre had 
 threatened to make trouble if he were not recalled. The 
 Queen of Navarre, resentful to the said marshal, took no 
 notice of him, but disdained him, speaking everywhere very 
 ill of him and of the insult he had offered her. At last, 
 the marshal, dreading the hatred of the daughter and sister 
 of his masters, and knowing the nature of the princess, de- 
 termined to seek her pardon by making excuses and humbling 
 himself ; on which, generous as she was, she did not contra- 
 dict him, but took him into favour and friendship and 
 forgot the past. I knew a gentleman by acquaintance 
 who came to Court about this time, and seeing the good 
 cheer the queen bestowed upon the marshal was much as- 
 tonished; and so, as he sometimes had the honour of being 
 listened to by the queen, he said to her that he was much 
 amazed at the change and at her good welcome, in which 
 he could not have believed, in view of the affront and injury. 
 To which she answered that as the marshal had owned his 
 fault and made his excuses and sought her pardon humbly, 
 she had granted it for that reason, and did not desire further 
 talk about his bravado at N(drac. See how little vindictive 
 this good princess is, — not imitating in this respect her 
 grandmother. Queen Anne, towards the Marechal de Gi^, as 
 I have heretofore related. 
 
 I might give many other examples of her kindness in her 
 reconciliations and forgivenesses. 
 
 Eebours, one of her maids of honour, who died at Chenon- 
 ceaux, displeased her on one occasion very much. She did 
 not treat her harshly, but when she was very ill she went to 
 see her, and as she was about to die admonished her, and 
 then said : " This poor girl has done great harm, but she has
 
 190 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 suffered much. May God pardon her as I have pardoned 
 her." That was the vengeance and the harm she did her. 
 Through her generosity she was slow to revenge, and in all 
 things kind. 
 
 Alfonso, the great King of Xaples, who was subtle in 
 loving the beauties of women, used to say that beauty is 
 the sign manual of kindness and gentle goodness, as the 
 beautiful flower is tliat of a good fruit. As to that it cannot 
 be doubted that if our queen had been ugly and not com- 
 posed of her great beauty, she would have been very bad 
 in view of the great causes to be so that were given her. 
 Thus said the late Queen Isabella of Castile, that wise and 
 virtuous and very Catholic princess: "The fruit of clem- 
 ency in a (jueeu of great beauty and lofty heart, covetous of 
 honour, is sweeter far than any vengeance v/hatever, even 
 though it be undertaken for just claims and reason." 
 
 This queen most sacredly observes that rule, striving to 
 conform to tlie commandments of her God, whom she has 
 always loved and feared and served devotedly. Now that 
 the world has abandoned her and made war upon her, she 
 takes her sole resource in God, whom she serves daily, as I 
 am told by those who have seen her in her affliction ; for 
 never does she miss a mass, taking the communion often and 
 reading much in Holy Scripture, finding there her peace and 
 consolation. 
 
 She is most eager to obtain the fine new books that are 
 composed, as much on sacred subjects as on human ; and 
 when she undertakes to read a book, however large and long 
 it be, she never stops or quits it until she sees the end, and 
 often loses sleep and food in doing so. She herself composes, 
 both in prose and verse. As to which no one can tliink 
 otherwise than that her compositions are learned, beautiful, 
 and jjleasing, for she knows the art ; and could we bring
 
 MARGUERITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 191 
 
 tliem to the light, the world would draw great pleasure and 
 great profit from them. Often she makes very beautiful 
 verses and stanzas, that are sung to her by choir-boys whom 
 she keeps, and which she sings herself (for her voice is 
 beautiful and pleasant) to a lute, playing it charmingly. 
 And thus she spends her time and wears away her luckless 
 days, — offending none, and living that tranquil life she 
 chooses as the best. 
 
 She has done me the honour to write me often in her 
 adversity, I being so presumptuous as to send for news of 
 her. But is she not the daughter and sister of my kings, 
 and must I not wish to know her health, and be glad and 
 happy when I hear 't is good ? In her first letter she writes 
 thus : — 
 
 " By the remembrance you have of me, which is not less 
 new than } leasant to me, I see that you have well preserved 
 the affection you have always shown to our family and to 
 the few now left of its sad wreck, so that I, in whatever 
 state I be, shall ever be disposed to serve you ; feeling most 
 happy that ill fortune has not effaced my name from the 
 remembrance of my oldest friends, of whom you are, I 
 know that you have chosen, like myself, a tranquil life ; and 
 I count those happy who can maintain it, as God has given 
 me the grace to do these five years, He having brought me 
 to an ark of safety, where the storms of all these troubles 
 cannot, I thank God, hurt me ; so that if there remain to 
 me some means to serve my friends, and you particularly, 
 you will find me wholly so disposed with right good will" 
 
 Those are noble words ; and such was the state and resolu- 
 tion of our beautiful princess. That is what it is to be born 
 of a noble house, the greatest in the world, whence she drew 
 her courage by inheritance from many brave and valiant 
 kings, her father, grandfather, great-grandfather, and all their
 
 192 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 ancestors. And be it, as she says, that from so great a ship- 
 wreck she alone remains, not recognized and reverenced as 
 she should be by her people, I believe this people of France 
 has suffered much misery for that reason, and will suffer 
 more for this war of the League. But to-day this is not 
 so;i for by the valour and wisdom and fine government of 
 our king never was France more flourishing, or more pacific, 
 or better ruled ; w^hich is the greatest miracle ever seen, 
 having issued from so vast an abyss of evils and corruptions ; 
 by which it seems that God has loved our queen, — He being 
 good and merciful 
 
 Oh ! how ill-advised is he who trusts in the people of 
 to-day ! Oh ! how differently did the Eomans recognize the 
 posterity of Augustus Caesar, who gave them wealth and 
 grandeurs, from the people of France, who received so much 
 from their later kings these hundred years, and even from 
 FranQois I. and Henri IL, so that without them France 
 would have been tumbled topsy-turvy by her enemies watch- 
 ing for that chance, and even by the Emperor Charles, that 
 hungry and ambitious man. And thus it is they are so 
 ungrateful, these people, toward Marguerite, sole and only 
 remaining daughter and princess of France ! It is easy 
 to foresee the wrath of God upon them, because nothing is 
 to Him so odious as ingratitude, especially to kings and 
 queens, who here below fulfil the place and state of God. 
 And thou, disloyal Fortune, how plainly dost thou show 
 that there are none, however loved by heaven and blessed 
 by nature, who can be sure of thee and of thy favours a 
 
 1 It is noticeable in the course of this "Discourse" that Brantome 
 wrote it at one period, namely, about 1593 or 1594, and reviewed it at an- 
 other, -when Henri IV. -was in full possession of the kingdom, but before 
 the end of the century and before the divorce. (French editor.) 
 
 The passage to which the foregoing is a note is evidently an addition to 
 the text. — Tr.
 
 MARGUERITE OF FRANCE AND NAVAKRE. 193 
 
 single day ! Art thou not dishonoured in thus so cruelly 
 affronting her who is all beauty, sweetness, virtue, magna- 
 nimity and kindness ? 
 
 All this I wrote during those wars we had among us for 
 ten years. To make an end, did I not speak elsewhere of 
 this great queen in other discourses I would lengthen this 
 still more and all I could, for on so excellent a subject the 
 longest words are never wearisome ; but for a time I now 
 postpone them. 
 
 Live, princess, live in spite of Fortune ! Never can you 
 be other than immortal upon earth and in heaven, whither 
 your noble virtues bear you in their arms. If public voice and 
 fame had not made common praise of your great merits, or if 
 I were of those of noble speech, I would say further here ; 
 for never did there come into the world a figure so celestial. 
 
 This queen who should by good right order us 
 By laws and edicts and above us reign, 
 Till we behold a reign of pleasure under her, 
 As in her father's days, a Star of France, 
 Fortune hath hindered. Ha ! must rightful claim 
 Be wrongly lost because of Fortune's spite ? 
 
 Never did Nature make so fine a thing 
 As this great unique princess of our France ! 
 Yet Fortune chooses to undo her wholly. 
 Behold how evil balances with good ! 
 
 In the sixteenth century there were three Marguerites: 
 one, sister of Frangois I. and Queen of Navarre, celebrated 
 for her intellect, her Tales in the style of Boccaccio, and her 
 verses, which are less interesting ; another, Marguerite, niece 
 of the preceding, sister of Henri II., who became Duchesse 
 de Savoie, very witty, also a writer of verses, and, in her 
 youth, the patroness of the new poets at Court ; and lastly, 
 the third Marguerite, niece and great-niece of the first two, 
 
 13
 
 194 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 daughter of Henri II. and Catherine de' Medici, first wife of 
 Henri IV., and sister of the last Valois. It is of her that 
 I speak to-day as having left behind her most agreeable 
 historical pages and opened in our literature that graceful 
 series of women's Memoirs which henceforth never ceases, 
 but is continued in later years and lively vein by Mesdames 
 de La Fayette, de Caylus and others. All of these Memoirs 
 are books made without intending it, and the better for that. 
 The following is the reason why Queen Marguerite took the 
 idea of writing those in which she describes herself with so 
 lightsome a pen. 
 
 Brantume, who was making a gallery of illustrious French 
 and foreign ladies, after bringing Marie Stuart into it, be- 
 thought him of placing Marguerite beside her as another 
 example of the injustice and cruelty of Fortune. Marguerite, 
 at the period when Brantome indited his impulsive, enthu- 
 siastic portrait of her, flinging upon his paper that eulogy 
 which may truly be called delirious, was confined at the 
 castle of Usson in Auvergne (1593), where she was not so 
 much a prisoner as mistress. Prisoner at first, she soon 
 seduced the man who held her so and took possession of 
 the place, where she passed the period of the League troubles, 
 and beyond it, in an impenetrable haven. The castle of Usson 
 had been fortified by Louis XL, well-versed in precautions, 
 who wanted it as a sure place in which to lodge his prisoners. 
 There Marguerite felt herself safe, not only from sudden 
 attack, but also from the trial of a long siege and repeated 
 assault. Writing to her husband, Henri IV., in October, 
 1594, she says to him, jokingly, that if he could see the 
 fortress and the way in which she had protected herself 
 within it he would see that God alone could reduce it, and 
 she has good reason to believe that "this hermitage was 
 built to be her ark of safety."
 
 MAKGUERITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 195 
 
 The castle which she thus compares to ISToah's ark, and 
 which some of her panegyrists, convinced that she who lived 
 there was given to celestial contemplations, compare to 
 Mount Tabor, was regarded as a Caprea and an abominable 
 lair by enemies, who, from afar, plunged eyes of hatred into 
 it. It is very certain, however, that Queen Marguerite lost 
 nothing in that retreat of the delicate nicety of her mind, 
 for it was there that she undertook to write her Memoirs 
 in a few afternoons, in order to come to Brantome's assist- 
 ance and correct him on certain points. We will follow 
 her, using now and then some contemporary information, 
 without relying too much upon either, but endeavouring to 
 draw with simple truth a singular portrait in which there 
 enters much that was enchanting and, towards the end, 
 fantastic. 
 
 Marguerite, born at Saint-Germain-en-Laye, May 14, 1553, 
 was six years old when her father, Henri 11., was killed at 
 that fatal tournament which ruined the fortunes of the 
 house of Valois. She tells us several anecdotes of herself 
 and her childish repartees which prove a precocious mind. 
 She takes great pains to call attention to a matter which 
 in her is really a sign, a distinctive note through all ex- 
 cesses, namely : that as a child and when it was the fashion 
 at Court to be "Huguenot," and when all those who had 
 intelligence, or wished to pass for having it, had withdrawn 
 from what they called " bigotry," she resisted that influence. 
 In vain did her brother, d'Anjou, aftervv-ard Henri III., fling 
 her Hours into the fire and give her the Psalms and the 
 Huguenot prayers in place of it; she held firm and pre- 
 served herself from the mania of Huguenotism, which at 
 that date (1561) was a fancy at Court, a French and mun- 
 dane fashion, attractive for a time to even those who were 
 soon to turn against it and repress it. Marguerite, in the
 
 196 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 midst of a life that was little exemplary, will always be 
 found to have kept with sincerity this corner of good Cath- 
 olicism which she derived from her race, and which made her 
 in this respect and to this degree more of an Italian than a 
 Frenchwoman ; however, that which imports us to notice is 
 that she had it. 
 
 Still a child when the first religious wars began, she was 
 sent to Amboise with her young brother, d'Aleugon. There 
 she found herself in company with several of Brantome's 
 female relations : Mme. de Dampien-e, his aunt, ]\Ime. de 
 Eetz, his cousin ; and she began with the elder of tliese 
 ladies a true friendship ; with the younger, the cousin, tlie 
 affection came later. Marguerite gives the reason for this 
 very prettily : — 
 
 " At that time the advanced age of your aunt and my 
 childish youthfulness had more agreement; for it is the 
 nature of old people to love cliildren ; and those who are 
 in tlie perfection of their age, like your cousin, despise and 
 dislike their annoying simplicity." 
 
 Childhood passed, and the first awakening to serious 
 things was given to Marguerite about the time of the battle 
 of Moncontour (1569). She was then sixteen. The Due 
 d'Anjou, afterwards Henri III., aged eighteen, handsome, 
 brave, and giving promise of a virtue and a prudence lie 
 never justified, took his sister aside one day in one of the 
 alleys of the park at Plessis-lez-Tours to tell lier of his de- 
 sire, on starting for the army, to leave her as his confidant 
 and support with their mother, Catherine de' Medici, during 
 his absence at the wars. He made her a long speech, which 
 she reports in full with some complacency : — 
 
 " Sister, the nourishment we have taken together obliges 
 us, not less than proximity, to love each other. . . . Until 
 now we have naturally been guided to this without design
 
 MAEGUEEITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 197 
 
 and without tlie said union being of any utility beyond the 
 pleasure we have had in conversing together. That was 
 good for our childhood ; but now it is time to no longer 
 live like children." 
 
 He then points out to her the great and noble duties to 
 which God calls him, in which the queen, their mother, 
 brought him up, and which King Charles IX., their brother, 
 lays upon him. He fears that this king, courageous as he is, 
 may not always be satisfied with hunting, but will become 
 ambitious to put himself at the head of the armies, the com- 
 mand of wliich has been hitherto left to him. It is this that 
 he wishes to prevent. 
 
 " In this apprehension," he continues, " thinking of some 
 means of remedy, I believe that it is necessary to leave 
 some very faithful person behind me who will maintain my 
 side with the queen, my mother. I know no one as suitable 
 as you, whom I regard as a second myself. You have all 
 the qualities that can be desired, — intelligence, judgment, 
 and fidehty." 
 
 The Due d'Anjou then proposes to his sister to change 
 her manner of life, to be assiduous towards the queen, their 
 mother, at all hours, at her lever, in her cabinet during the 
 day, at her coucher, and so act that she be treated henceforth, 
 not as a child, but as a person who represents him during 
 his absence. " This language," she remarks, " was very new 
 to me, having lived until then without purpose, thinking of 
 nothing but dancing and hunting; and without much in- 
 terest even in dressing and in appearing beautiful, not hav- 
 ing yet reached the age of such ambitions." The fear she 
 always felt for the queen, her mother, and the respectful 
 silence she maintained in her presence, held her back still 
 further. " I came very near," she says, " replying to him as 
 Moses did to God in the vision of the bush: 'Who am I?
 
 198 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 Send, I pray thee, by him whom thou shoiildest send.' " 
 Nevertheless, she felt within her at her brother's words a 
 new courage, and powers hitherto unknown to her, and she 
 soon consented to all, entering zealously into her brother's 
 design. From that moment she felt herself " transformed." 
 
 This fraternal and politic union thus created by the Due 
 d'Anjou did not last. On his return from the victory of 
 Moncontour she found him changed, distrustful, and ruled 
 by a favourite, du Gua, who possessed him as so many others 
 possessed him later. Henceforth his sister was out of favour 
 with him, and it was with her younger brother, the Due 
 d'Alen^on, that Marguerite renewed and continued as long 
 as she could a union of the same kind, which gave room for 
 all the feelings and all the ambitious activities of youth. 
 
 Did she at that time give some ground for the coolness 
 of her brother d'Anjou by her Haison with the young Due 
 de Guise ? An historian who knew Marguerite well and was 
 not hostile to her, says: " She had long loved Henri, Due de 
 Guise, who was killed at Blois, and had so fixed the afl'ec- 
 tions of her heart from her youth upon that prince of many 
 attractions that she never loved the King of Xavarre, after- 
 wards King of France of happy memory, but hated him 
 from the beginning, and was married to him in spite of her- 
 self, and against canonical law." ^ However this may be, the 
 
 1 The story goes that slie refused to answer at the marriage ceremony ; 
 on wliich her brother, Charles IX., put his hand behind her head and made 
 her nod, which was taken for consent. In after years, tlie ground given for 
 her divorce was that of being married against her will. The marriage took 
 place on a stage erected before the west front of the cathedral of Xotre- 
 Dame; tlie King of Navarre being a Protestant, the service could not be 
 performed in the church. It was liero, in view of tlie assembled multi- 
 tude, that Marguerite's nod was forcibly given wlien she residutely re- 
 fused to answer. Following Brantoiue's delight in describing fine clothes, 
 the wedding gown shonld be mentioned here. It was cloth of gold, the 
 body so closely covered with pearls as to look like a cuirass ; over this 
 was a blue velvet mantle embroidered with ^/Jeurs-de-li/s, nearly five yards
 
 MARGUERITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE, 199 
 
 Due d'Anjou seized the pretext of the Due de Guise to break 
 with his sister, whose enemy he became insensibly, and he 
 succeeded in ahenating her from her mother. 
 
 Marguerite, in this flower of her youth, was, according to 
 all testimony, enchantingly beautiful. Her beauty was not 
 so much in the special features of her face as in the grace 
 and charm of her whole person, with its mingling of seduc- 
 tion and majesty. Her hair was dark, which was not thought 
 a beauty in those days ; blond hair reigned. " I have seen 
 her sometimes wearing her natural hair without any peruke 
 artifice," Brautome tells us, " and though it was black (hav- 
 ing inherited that colour from King Henri, her father), she 
 knew so well how to twist and curl and arrange it, in imita- 
 tion of her sister, the Queen of Spain, who never wore any 
 hair but her own, that such arrangement and coiffure be- 
 came her as well as, or better than, any other." Toward the 
 end of her life Marguerite, becoming in her turn antiquated, 
 with no brown hair to dress, made great display of blond 
 perukes. " For them she kept great, fair-haired footmen, 
 who were shaved from time to time ; " but in her youth, 
 when she dared to be dark-haired as nature made her, it 
 was not unbecoming to her; for she had a most dazzling 
 complexion and her " beautiful fair face resembled the sky 
 in its purest and greatest serenity " with its " noble forehead 
 of whitening ivory." ISTor must we forget her art of adorn- 
 ing and dressing herself to advantage, and the new inven- 
 tions of that kind she gave to women, she being then the 
 queen of the modes and fashion. As such she appeared on 
 all solemn occasions, and notably on that day when, at the 
 
 lonjT, which was borne by one hundred and twenty of the handsomest 
 women in France. ITcr dark hair was loose and flowing, and was studded 
 with diamond stars. The Due de Guise, le Balafrc, witli his family con- 
 nections and all his retainers, left Paris that morning, unable to bear the 
 spectacle of the marriage. — Tk,
 
 200 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 Tuileries, the queen-motlier feted the Polish seigneurs who 
 came to offer the crown of Poland to the Due d'Anjou. and 
 Eonsard, who was present, confesses that the beautiful god- 
 dess Aurora was vanquished ; but more notably still on that 
 flowery Easter at Blois, when we see her in procession, her 
 dark hair starred with diamonds and precious stones, wear- 
 ing a gown of crinkled cloth of gold from Constantmople, 
 the weight of which would have crushed any other w^oman, 
 but which her beautiful, rich, strong figure supported firmly, 
 bearing the palm in lier hand, her consecrated branch, " with 
 regal majesty, and a grace half proud, half tender." Such 
 was the Marguerite of the lovely years before the disasters 
 and tlie flights, before tlie castle of Usson, where she aged 
 and stiffened. 
 
 This beauty, so real, so solid, which liad so little need of 
 borrowed charms, had, like all her being, its fantasticalities 
 and its superstition. I have said already that she frequently 
 disguised her rich, brown hair, preferring a blond wig, " more 
 or less charmingly fashioned."' Her beautiful face was pre- 
 sented to view " all painted and stained." She took such 
 care of her skin that she spoiled it with washes and recipes 
 of many kinds, which gave her erysipelas and pimples. 
 In fact, she w^as the model and eke the slave of the fashions 
 of her time ; and as she survived tliose days she became in 
 the end a species of preserved idol and curiosity, such as 
 may be seen in a show-case. Tlie great Sully, when he one 
 day reappeared at the Court of Louis XIII. with his ruff and 
 his costume of the time of Henri IV., gave that crowd of 
 young courtiers something to laugh at ; and so, when Queen 
 Marguerite, having returned from Usson to Paris, showed 
 herself at the remodelled Court of Henri lY. she produced 
 the same effect on that young century, wliicli smiled at 
 beholdinfr this solemn survival of the Valois.
 
 MARGUERITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 201 
 
 Like all those Valois, a worthy granddaughter of Tran- 
 9ois I., she was learned. To the Poles who harangued in 
 Latin she showed that she understood them by replying on 
 the spot, eloquently and pertinently, without tlie help of 
 an interpreter. She loved poetry and wrote it, and had it 
 written for her by salaried poets whom she treated as friends. 
 When she had once begun to read a book she could not 
 leave it, or pause till she came to the end, " and very often 
 she would lose both her eating and drinking." But let us 
 not forestall the time. She herself tells us that this taste 
 for study and reading came to her for the first time during 
 a previous imprisonment in which Henri III. held her for 
 several months in 1575, and we are still concerned with her 
 cloudless years. 
 
 She was maiTied, in spite of her objections as a good 
 Catholic, to Llenri, King of Xavarre, six days before the 
 Saint-Bartholomew (August, 1572). She relates with much 
 naivete and in a simple tone the scenes of that night of horror, 
 of which she was ignorant until the last moment. We see in 
 her narrative that wounded and bleeding gentleman pursued 
 through the corridors of the Louvre, and taking refuge in 
 Marguerite's chamber, and flinging himself with the cry 
 " Navarre ! Navarre ! " upon her ; shielding his own body 
 from the murderers with that of his queen, she not know- 
 ing whether she had to do with a madman or an assailant. 
 When she did know what the danger was she saved the 
 poor man, keeping him in bed and dressing his wounds in 
 her cabinet until he was cured. Queen Marguerite, so little 
 scrupulous in morality, is better than her brothers ; of the 
 vanishing Valois she has all the good quahties and many of 
 their defects, but not their cruelty. 
 
 After this half-missed blow of the Saint-Bartholomew, 
 which did not touch the princes of the blood, an attempt
 
 202 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 was made to unmarry her from the King of Navarre. On 
 a feast day when she was about to take the sacrament, her 
 mother asked her to tell her under oath, truly, whether the 
 king, her husband, had behaved to her as yet like a husband, 
 a man, and whether there was not still time to break the 
 union. To this Marguerite played the ingenue, so she asserts, 
 apparently not comprehending. " I begged her," she says, 
 " to believe that I knew nothing of what she was speaking. 
 I could then say with truth as the lioman lady said, when 
 her husband was angry because she had not warned him his 
 breath was bad, ' that she had supposed all men were alike, 
 never having been near to any one but him.' " 
 
 Here Marguerite wishes to have it understood that she 
 had never, so far, made comparison of any man with another 
 man ; she plays the innocent, and by her quotation from the 
 Ptoman lady she also plays the learned ; which is quite in 
 the line of her intelligence. 
 
 It would be a great error of literary judgment to consider 
 these graceful Memoirs as a work of nature and simplicity ; 
 it is rather one of discrimination and subtlety. Wit sparkles 
 throughout ; but study and learning are perceptible. In the 
 third line we come upon a Gr^ek word : " I would praise 
 your work more," she writes to Brantome, " if you had praised 
 me less ; not wishing that the praise I give should be attrib- 
 uted to philautia TSiiher than to reason;" hy i^liilautia she 
 means self-love. Marguerite (she will remind us of it if we 
 forget it) is by education and taste of the school of Eonsard, 
 and a little of that of Du Bartas. During her imprisonment 
 in 1575, giving herself up, as she tells us, to reading and 
 devotion, she shows us tlie study wliich led her back to 
 religion; she talks to us of the "universal pape of Xature;" 
 the " ladder of knowledge ; " the " cliain of Homer ; " and of 
 " that agreeable Encyclopedia which, starting from God,
 
 MAKGUERITE OF TRANCE AND NAVARRE. 203 
 
 returns to God, the principle and the end of all things." All 
 that is learned, and even transcendental 
 
 She was called in her family Venus-Urania. She loved 
 fine discourses on elevated topics of philosophy or sentiment. 
 In her last years, during her dinners and suppers, she usually 
 had four learned men beside her, to whom she propounded 
 at the beginning of the meal some topic more or less sublime 
 or subtile, and when each had spoken for or against it and 
 given his reasons, she would intervene and renew the con- 
 test, provoking and attracting to herself at will their contra- 
 diction. Here Marguerite was essentially of her period, and 
 she bears the seal of it on her style. The language of her 
 Memoirs is not an exception to be counted against the man- 
 nerism and taste of her time ; it is only a more happy em- 
 ployment of it. She knows mythology and history; she 
 cites readily Burrhus, Pyrrhus, Timon, the centaur Chiron, 
 and the rest. Her language is by choice metaphorical and 
 lively with poesy. "When Catherine de' ]\Iedici, going to see 
 her son, the Due d'Anjou, travels from Paris to Tours in 
 three days and a half (very rapid in those times, and the 
 journey put that poor Cardinal de Bourbon, little accustomed 
 to such discomfort, entirely out of breath), it is because the 
 queen-mother is " borne," says Marguerite, " on the wings of 
 desire and maternal affection." 
 
 Marguerite likes and affects all comparisons borrowed 
 from fabulous natural history, and she varies them with 
 reminiscences of ancient history. When, in 1582, they recall 
 her to the Court of France, taking her from her husband 
 and from Xdrac, where she had then been three or four 
 years, she perceives a project of her enemies to blow up a 
 quarrel between herself and her husband during this ab- 
 sence. " They hoped," she says, " that separation would be 
 like the breaking of the ^Macedonian battalion." When tb*
 
 204 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 famous Phalanx was once broken entrance was easy. This 
 style, so ornate and figurative, usually delicate and graceful, 
 has also its outspokenness and firmness of tone. Speaking 
 of the expedition projected by her brother, the Due d' Alen- 
 ^on, in Flanders, she explains it in terms of energetic beauty, 
 representing to the king that "it is for the honour and 
 aggrandizement of France; it will prove an invention to 
 prevent civil war, all restless spirits desirous of novelty hav- 
 ing means to pass into Flanders and blow off their smoke 
 and surfeit themselves with war. This enterprise will also 
 serve, like Piedmont, as a school for the nobility in the 
 practice of arms ; we shall there revive the Montlucs and 
 Brissacs, the Termes and the Bellegardes, and all those great 
 marshals who, trained to war in Piedmont, have since then 
 so gloriously and successfully served their king and their 
 country." 
 
 One of the most agreeable parts of these Memoirs is the 
 journey in Flanders, Hainault, and the Lifege country which 
 Marguerite made in 1577 ; a journey undertaken ostensibly 
 to drink the waters of Spa, but in reality to gain partisans 
 for her brother d'Alengon, in his project of wrenching the 
 Low Countries from Spain. The details of her coquettish, 
 and ceremonial magnificence, so dear to ladies, are not 
 omitted : — 
 
 " I went," says ]\Iarguerite, " in a litter with columns cov- 
 ered with rose-coloured Spanish velvet, embroidered in gold 
 and shaded silks with a device ; this litter was enclosed in 
 glass, and each glass also bore a device, there being, whether 
 on the velvet or on the glass, forty different devices about 
 the sun and its effects, with the words in Spanish and 
 Italian." 
 
 Those forty devices and their explanation M'ere an ever 
 fresh subject of gallant conversation in the towns through
 
 MARGUERITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 205 
 
 which she passed. Amid it all, Marguerite, then in the full 
 bloom of her twenty-fourth year, went her way, winning 
 all hearts, seducing the governors of citadels, and persuad- 
 ing them to useful treachery. On this journey she meets 
 with charming Flemish scenes which she pictures delight- 
 fully. Take, for example, the gala festival at Mons, where 
 the beautiful Comtesse de Lalain (Marguerite, Princesse de 
 Ligne), whose beauty and rich costume are described most 
 particularly, has her child brought to her in swaddling- 
 clothes and suckles it before the company ; " which," re- 
 marks Marguerite, " would have been an incivility in any 
 one else ; but she did it with such grace and simplicity, like 
 all the rest of her actions, that she received as much praise 
 as the company did pleasure." 
 
 Leaving Namur, we have at Lifege a touching and pathetic 
 story of a poor young girl. Mile, de Tournon, who dies of 
 grief for being slighted and betrayed by her lover, to whom 
 she was going in the utmost confidence ; and who himself, 
 coming to a better mind too late, rushes to console her, and 
 finds her coffin on arrival. We have here from Queen Mar- 
 guerite's pen the finished sketch of a tale in the style of 
 Mme. de La Fayette, just as above we had the drawing of 
 a perfect little Flemish picture. On her return from this 
 journey, the scenes Marguerite passes through at Dinant 
 prove her coolness and presence of mind, and present us 
 with another Flemish picture, but not so graceful as that of 
 Mons and the beautiful nursing countess ; this time it is 
 a scene of public drunkenness, grotesque burgher rioting, 
 and burgomasters in their cups. A painter need only 
 transfer and copy the very lines which ]\Iarguerite has so 
 happily traced, to make a faithful picture. 
 
 After these journeys, being now reunited at her house of 
 La F^re in Picardy with her dear brother d'Alen^on, she
 
 206 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 realizes there for nearly two months, " which were to us," 
 she says, "like two short days," one of those terrestrial 
 paradises which were at all times the desire of her imagi- 
 nation and of her heart. She loved beyond all things those 
 spheres of enchantment, those Fortunate Isles, alike of 
 Urania and of Calypso, and she was ever seeking to repro- 
 duce them in all places and under all forms, whether at her 
 Court at N^rac or amid the rocks of Usson, or, at the last, 
 in that beautiful garden on the banks of the Seine (which 
 to-day is the Piue des Petits-Augustins) where she strove to 
 cheat old age. 
 
 ** my queen ! how good it is to be w^ith you ! " exclaims 
 continually her brother d'Alengon, enchanted with the tliou- 
 sand graceful imaginations with which she varied and em- 
 bellished this sojourn at La Ffere. And she adds naively, 
 mingling her Christian erudition with sentiment : " He 
 would gladly have said with Saint Peter : * Let us make our 
 tabernacle here,' if the regal courage he possessed and the 
 generosity of his soul had not called him to greater things." 
 As for her, we can conceive that she would gladly have re- 
 mained there, prolonging without weariness tlie enchant- 
 ment ; she would willingly have arranged her life like that 
 beautiful garden at Xdrac of which she constantly speaks, 
 " which has such charming alleys of laurel and cypress," or 
 like the park she had made tliere, " with paths three thou- 
 sand paces long beside the river;" the chapel being close 
 at hand for morning mass, and the violins at her orders for 
 the evening balL 
 
 AVhatever ability and shrewdness Queen Marguerite may 
 have shown in various political circumstances in tlie course 
 of her life, we nevertheless perceive plainly that she was not 
 a political woman ; she was too essentially of her sex for 
 that. There are verv few women who, like the Princess
 
 MAKGUEKITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 207 
 
 Palatine [Anne de Gonzaga] or the illustrious Catherine of 
 Russia, know how to be libertine yet sure of themselves ; 
 able to establish an impenetrable partition between the alcove 
 and the cabinet of public affairs. Nearly all the women who 
 have mingled in the intrigues of politics have introduced 
 and confused with them their intrigues of heart or senses. 
 Consequently, whatever intelligence they may have, they 
 elude or escape at a certain moment, and unless there be 
 a man who holds the tiller and gives them with decision 
 their course, we find them unfaithful, treacherous, not to 
 be relied on, and capable at any moment of colloguing 
 through a secret window with an emissary of the opposite 
 side. Marguerite, with infinite intelligence and gTace, was 
 one of those women. Distinguished but not superior, and 
 wholly influenced by passions, she had wiles and artifices 
 of a passing kind, but no views, and still less stability. 
 
 One of the remarkable features of her Memoirs is that 
 she does not tell all, nor even the half of all, and in the very 
 midst of the odious and extravagant accusations made against 
 her she sits, pen in hand, a delicate and most discreet woman. 
 Nothing can be less like confession than her Memoirs. " We 
 find there," says Baylo, " many sins of omission ; but could 
 we expect that Queen Marguerite would acknowledge the 
 things that would blast her ? Such avowals are reserved for 
 tlie tribunal of confession; they are not meant for history." 
 At the most, when enlightened by history and by the pam- 
 phlets of the period, we can merely guess at certain feel- 
 ings of which she presents to us only the superficial and 
 specious side. "When she speaks of Bussy d'Amboise she 
 scarcely restrains her admiration for that gallant cavalier, 
 and we fancy we can see in the abundance of that praise 
 that her heart overflows. 
 
 Even the letters that we have from her say little more.
 
 208 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 • 
 
 Among them are love letters addressed to him whom at one 
 time she loved the most, Harlay de Chanvalon. Here we 
 find no longer the charming, moderately ornate, and naturally 
 polished style of the Memoirs; this is all of the highest 
 metaphysics and purest fustian, nearly unintelligible and 
 most ridiculous. " Adieu, my beauteous sun ! adieu, my 
 noble angel ! fine miracle of nature ! " those are tlie most 
 commonplace and earthly of her expressions ; the rest mount 
 ever higher till lost in the Empyrean. It would really seem, 
 from reading these letters, as if Marguerite had never loved 
 with heart-love, only with the head and the imagination ; and 
 that, feeling truly no love but the physical, she felt herself 
 bound to refine it in expression and to petrarchize in words, 
 she, who was so practical in behaviour. She borrows from 
 the false poetry of her day its tinsel in order to persuade 
 herself that the fancy of the moment is an eternal worship. 
 A practical observation is quoted of her which tells us better 
 than her own letters the secret of her life. "Would you 
 cease to love ? " she said, " possess the thing beloved." It is 
 to escape this quick disenchantment, this sad and rapid 
 awakening, that she is so prodigal of her figurative, myth- 
 ological, impossible expressions ; she is trying to make her- 
 self a veil ; the heart counts for nothing. She seems to be 
 saying to love : " Thy base is so trivial, so passing a thing, 
 let us try to support it by words, and so prolong its image 
 and its play." 
 
 Her life well deduced and well related would make the 
 subject of a teeming and interesting volume. Having ob- 
 tained, after the persecutions and troubles, permission to 
 rejoin her husband in Gascogne (1578), she remained there 
 three and a half years, enjoying her liberty and leaving him 
 his. She counts these days at N(^rac, mingled, in spite of 
 the re-beginning wars, with balls, excursions, and " aU sorts
 
 MAKGUERITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 209 
 
 of virtuous pleasures," as an epoch of happiness. Henri's 
 weaknesses and her own harmonized remarkably, and never 
 clashed. But Henri soon crossed the limit of license, and 
 she, on her side, equally. It is not for us to hold the balance 
 or enter here into details which would soon become indelicate 
 and shameful. Marguerite, who had gone to spend some 
 time in Paris at her brother's Court (1582, 1583) did not 
 return to her husband until after an odious scandal had made 
 public her frailty. 
 
 From that time forth her life did not retain its early, 
 smiling joyfulness. She was now past thirty ; civil wars 
 were lighted, never to be extinguished until after the des- 
 perate struggles and total defeat of the League. Marguerite, 
 becoming a queen-adventuress, changed her abode from time 
 to time, until she found herself in the castle of Usson, that 
 asylum of which I have spoken, where she passed no less 
 than eighteen years (1587-1605). What happened there ? 
 Doubtless many common frailties, but less odious than are 
 told by bitter and dishonourable chroniclers, the only 
 authorities for the tales they put forth. 
 
 During this time Queen Marguerite did not entirely cease 
 to correspond with her husband, now become King of France. 
 If the conduct of the royal pair leaves much to be desired 
 with regard to each other, and also with regard to the public, 
 let us at least recognize that their correspondence is that of 
 honourable persons, persons of good company, whose hearts 
 are much better than their morals. When reasons of State 
 determined Henri to unmarry himself, to break a union 
 which was not only sterile but scandalous, ]\Iarguerite 
 agreed without resistance, — seeming, however, to be fully 
 conscious of what she was losing. To accomplish the 
 formalities of divorce, the pope delegated certain bishops 
 and cardinals to interrogate separately the husband and 
 
 14
 
 210 THE BOOK or THE LADIES. 
 
 wife. Marguerite expresses the desire, inasmuch as she 
 must be questioned, that this may be done " by more private 
 and familiar " persons, her courage not being able to endure 
 publicly so great a diminution ; " fearing that my tears," 
 she writes, " may make these cardinals think I am acting 
 from force or constraint, which would injure the effect the 
 king desires" (Oct. 21, 1599). King Henri was touched by 
 the feelings she showed throughout this long negotiation. 
 " I am very satisfied," he writes, " at the ingenuousness 
 and candour of your procedure ; and I hope that God will 
 bless the remainder of our days with fraternal affection, ac- 
 companied by the public good, which will render them very 
 happy." He calls her henceforth his sister ; and she herself 
 says to him : " You are father, brother, and king to me." 
 If their marriage was one of the least noble and the most 
 bourgeois, their divorce, at any rate, was royal 
 
 [Here Sainte-Beuve does not keep strictly to history. 
 Henri lY. had long urged Marguerite to consent to a 
 divorce ; but she, aware that he was taking steps to divorce 
 Gabrielle d'Estr^es from her husband, in order to marr}^ her, 
 and feeling the indignity of such a marriage, firmly refused, 
 and continued to do so until the sudden death of Gabrielle 
 in Paris during Holy Y^eek of 1599 ; on which Marguerite 
 consented at once to the divorce, and Henri married Marie 
 de' Medici, December 17 of the same year. 
 
 Five years later (1605) Marguerite returned from the 
 castle of Usson and held her Court in Paris at the hotel 
 de Sens (which still exists) and at her various chateaux in 
 Languedoc ; no longer, alas ! the Peine Margot of our ill- 
 regulated affections, and somewhat open to the malicious 
 comments of Tallemant dos Peaux, but appearing at times 
 with all her wonted spirit and regal dignity. These were
 
 MAEGUERITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 211 
 
 the days when she kept a brigade of golden-haired footmen 
 who were shorn for the wigs ; and the story goes that her 
 gowns were made with many pockets, in each of which she 
 kept the mummied heart of a lover. But such tales must 
 be taken for what they are worth, and a better chronicler 
 than the satirists of the Valois has given us ocular proof of 
 her last majestic presence at a public ceremony five years 
 before her death. 
 
 In 1610, Henri TV. preparing to leave France for the war 
 in Germany, and wishing to appoint Queen Marie de* Medici 
 regent, it became necessary to have the latter crowned. This 
 was done in the cathedral of Saint-Denis, May 13, 1610. The 
 Queen of oSTavarre, as Marguerite, daughter of France and 
 first princess of the blood, was required to be present at 
 the ceremony. Eubens' splendid picture (reproduced in this 
 volume) gives the scene. Marie de' Medici, kneeling before 
 the altar, is being crowned by Cardinal de Joyeuse, assisted 
 by his clergy and two other cardinals ; beside the queen are 
 the dauphin (Louis XIII.) and his sister, Ehsabeth, after- 
 wards Queen of Spain. The Princesse de Conti and the 
 Duchesse de Montpeusier carry the queen's train ; the Due 
 de Ventadour, his back to the spectator, bears the sceptre, 
 and the Chevalier de Vendome the sword of Justice. To 
 the left, leading the cortege of princesses and nobles, is the 
 Queen of Navarre, easily recognized by her small closed 
 crown, all the other princesses wearing coronets. In the 
 background, to right, in a gallery, sits Henri IV. viewing 
 the ceremony. As he did so he turned with a shudder 
 to the man behind him and said : " I am thinking how 
 this scene would appear if this were the Last Day and 
 the Judge were to summon us all before Him." Henri IV. 
 was killed by Eavaillac the following morning, while his 
 coach stood blocked in the streets by the crowds who
 
 212 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 were collecting for the public entry of Marie de* Medici 
 into Paris. 
 
 The young Elisabeth, eldest daughter of the king and 
 Marie de' Medici, who appears at the coronation of her 
 mother, was afterwards wife of Philip IV. of Spain, and 
 mother of the Infanta Maria Theresa, wife of Louis XIV., 
 also of Carlos II., at whose death Louis XIV. obtained the 
 crown of Spain for his grandson, the Due d'Anjou, Philip \. 
 This Elisabeth of France, Queen of Spain, is the original of 
 Piubens' magnificent portrait reproduced in this chapter. — Tii.] 
 
 Queen Marguerite returned from Usson to Paris in 1605; 
 and here we find her in her last estate, turned sli<zhtlv to 
 ridicule by Tallemant, the Qcho of the new century. Eigh- 
 teen years of confinement and solitude had given her singu- 
 larities, and even manias ; they now burst forth in open day. 
 She still had adventures both gallant and startling: an 
 equerry whom she loved was killed at her carriage door by 
 a jealous servant, and the poet Maynard, a young disciple 
 of ]\Ialherbe, one of Marguerite's heaux-esjjrits, wrote stanzas 
 and plaints about it. During the same period IMarguerite 
 had many sincere thoughts that were more than fits of 
 devotion. "With Maynard for secretary, slie had also Vincent 
 de Paul, young in those days, for her chaplain. She founded 
 and endowed convents, all the wdiile paying learned men to 
 instruct her in philosophy, and musicians to amuse her dur- 
 ing divine service and at hours more profane. She gave many 
 alms and gratuities and did not pay her debts. It was not 
 precisely good sense that presided over her life. Put amidst 
 it all she was loved. " On the 27th day of the month of 
 March " (1615), says a contemporary, " died in Paris Queen 
 Marguerite, sole remains of the race of Valois, — a princess 
 full of kindness and of ffood intentions for the good and the
 
 MARGUERITE OF FRANCE AND NAVARRE. 213 
 
 peace of the State, ivlio did no harm to any hut herself. She 
 was greatly regretted. She died at the age of sixty -two." 
 
 Certain persons have attempted to compare her for beauty, 
 for misfortunes, for intellect, with Marie Stuart. Certainly, 
 at a point of departure there was much in common between 
 the two queens, the two sisters-in-law, but the comparison 
 cannot be maintained historically. Marie Stuart, who had 
 in herself the wit, grace, and manners of the Valois, who 
 was scarcely more moral as a woman than Marguerite, and 
 was implicated in acts that were far more monstrous, had, 
 or seemed to have, a certain elevation of heart, which she 
 acquired, or developed, in her long captivity crowned by 
 her sorrowful death. Of the two destinies, the one repre- 
 sents definitely a great cause, and ends in a pathetic legend 
 of victim and martyr ; the reputation of the other is spent 
 and scattered in tales and anecdotes half smutty, half de- 
 vout, into which there enters a grain of satire and of gayety. 
 From the end of one comes many a tearful tragedy ; from 
 that of the other nought can be made but a./ahliaiL 
 
 That which ought to be remembered to Marguerite's hon- 
 our is her intelligence, her talent for saying the right word ; 
 in short, that which is said of her in the ]Memoirs of Cardinal 
 de Richelieu : " She was the refuge of men of letters ; she 
 loved to hear them talk ; her table was always surrounded 
 by them, and she learned so much from their conversation 
 that she talked better than any other woman of her time, and 
 wrote more elegantly than the ordinary condition of her sex 
 would warrant." It is in that way, by certain exquisite 
 pages which form a date in our language, that she enters, in 
 her turn, into literary history, the noble refuge of so many 
 wrecks, and that a last and a lasting ray shines from her 
 name. 
 
 C.-A. Sainte-Beuve, Causeries du Luridi (1852).
 
 DISCOUESE VI. 
 
 MESDAMES, THE DAUGHTERS OF THE NOBLE HOUSE 
 OF FRAXCE.i 
 
 1. Madame Yoland de France. 
 
 'T IS a thing that I have heard great personages, both men 
 and ladies of the Court, remark, that usually the daughters 
 of the house of France have been good, or witty, or gracious, 
 or generous, and in all things accomplished ; and to confirm 
 this opinion they do not go back to the olden time, but say 
 it of those of whom they have knowledge themselves, or 
 have heard their fathers and grandfathers who have been 
 at the Court talk of. 
 
 First, I shall name here Madame Yoland of France, 
 daughter of Charles YIL, and wife of the Due de Savoie 
 and Prince of Piedmont. 
 
 She was very clever ; true sister to her brother, Louis XT. 
 She leaned a little to the party of Due Charles de Bour- 
 gogne, her brother-in-law, he having married her elder sister 
 Catherhie, who scarcely lived after wedding her husband, so 
 that her virtues do not appear. Yoland, seeing that Due 
 Charles was her neighbour and might be feared, did what 
 she could to maintain his friendship, and he served her 
 much in the business of her State. But he dying, King 
 Louis XT. came down upon her grandeur and lier means, and 
 tho<e of Savoie. But ]\TndamG la duche:^se, clever lady 1 found 
 means of winning over her brother the king, and went to see 
 
 1 Meaninu- the dautrhters of the kings of T'ranee onlv. — Tu.
 
 MESDAMES, THE DAUGHTERS OF FKANCE. 215 
 
 him at; Plessis-lez-Tours to settle their affairs. She having 
 arrived, the king went dovv^n to meet her in the courtyard 
 and welcome her ; and having howed and kissed her and 
 put his arm around her neck, half laughing, half pinching 
 her, he said : " Madame la Bourgognian, you are very wel- 
 come." She, making him a great curtsey, replied : " ]\Ion- 
 sieur, I am not Bourgognian ; you will pardon me if you 
 please. I am a very good Frenchwoman and your humble 
 servant." On which the king took her by the arm and led 
 her to her chamber with very good welcome ; but Madame 
 Yoland, who was shrewd and knew the kinsj's nature, was 
 determined not to remain long with him, but to settle her 
 affairs as fast as she could and get away. 
 
 The king, on the other hand, who knew the lady, did not 
 press her to stay very long ; so that if one was displeased 
 with the other, the other was displeased with the first; 
 wherefore without staying more than eight days she returned, 
 very little content with the king, her brother. 
 
 Philippe de Commines has told about this meeting more 
 at length ; but the old people of those days said that they 
 thought this princess a very able female, who owed nothing 
 to the king, her brother, who twitted her often about being 
 a Bourgognian ; but she tacked about as gently and modestly 
 as she could, for fear of affronting him, knowing full well, 
 and better than even her brother, how to dissimulate, being 
 a hundred times slyer than he in face, and speech, and ways, 
 though always very good and very wise. 
 
 2. Madame Jeanne de France. 
 
 Jeanne de France, daughter of the aforesaid king, Louis XI., 
 was very witty, but so good that after her death she was 
 counted a saint, and even as doing miracles, because of the 
 sanctity of the life she led after her husband, Louis XII.,
 
 216 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 repudiated her [to marry Anne de Bretagne] ; after which 
 she retired to Bourges, which was given her as a dovry for 
 the term of her natural life ; where all her time was spent 
 in prayer and orisons and in serving God and his poor, \vith- 
 out giving any sign of the wrong that was done her by such 
 repudiation. But the king protested that he had been forced 
 to marry her fearing the wrath of her father, Loais XL, 
 a master-man, and declared positively that he had never 
 known her as his wife. Thus the matter was allowed to 
 pass ; in which this princess showed her wisdom, not mak- 
 ing the reply of Eicharde of Scotland, wife of Charles le Gros, 
 King of France, when her husband repudiated her, affirming 
 that he had never lived with her as his wife. " That is 
 well," she said, " since by the oath of my husband I am maid 
 and virgin." By those words she scofTed at her husband's 
 oath and her own virginity. 
 
 But the king was seeliing to recover his first loves, namely ; 
 Queen Anne and her noble duchy, which gave great tempta- 
 tions to his soul ; and that was why he repudiated liis wife. 
 His oath was believed and accepted by the pope, who sent 
 him the dispensation, which was received by the Sorbonne 
 and the parliament of Paris. In all of which this princess 
 was wise and virtuous, and made no scandal, nor uproar, 
 nor appeal to justice, because a king can do much and just 
 what he will ; but feeling herself strong to contain herself 
 in continence and chastity, she retired towards God and 
 espoused herself to Him so truly that never another husband 
 nor a better could she have. 
 
 3. Madame Anne de France. 
 
 After her comes her sister, Anne de France, a shrewd 
 woman and a cunning if ever there was one, and the true 
 image of King Louis, iier fatlier. Tlie choice made of her
 
 MESDAMES, THE DAUGHTERS OF FRANCE. 217 
 
 to be guardian and administrator of her brother, King 
 Charles [VIII.], proves this, for she governed him so wisely 
 and virtuously that he came to be one of the greatest of 
 the kings of France, who was proclaimed, by reason of his 
 valour, Emperor of the East. As to his kingdom she ad- 
 ministered that in like manner. True it is that because of 
 her ambition she was rather mischief-making, on account of 
 the hatred she bore to M. d'Orldans, afterwards King Louis 
 XII. I have heard say, however, that in the beginning she 
 loved him with love ; so that if M. d'Orldans had been will- 
 ing to hear to her, he might have had better luck, as I hold 
 on good authority. But he could not constrain himself, all 
 the more because he saw her so ambitious, and he wished 
 his wife to depend upon him as first and nearest prince to 
 the crown, and not upon herself ; while she desired the 
 contrary, for she wanted to hold the highest place and to 
 govern in all things. 
 
 She was very vindictive in temper like her father, and 
 always a sly dissembler, corrupt, full of deceit, and a great 
 hypocrite, who, for the sake of her ambition, could mask 
 and disguise herself in any way. So that the kingdom, 
 beginning to be angry at her humours, although she was 
 wise and virtuous, bore with them so impatiently that when 
 the king went to Naples she no longer had the title of regent, 
 but her husband, M. de Bourbon, received it. It is true, 
 however, that she made him do what she had in her head, 
 for she ruled him and knew how to guide him, all the 
 better because he was rather foolish, — indeed, very much 
 so ; but the Council opposed and controlled her. She en- 
 deavoured to use her prerogative and authority over Queen 
 Anne, but there she found the boot on the other foot, as 
 they say, for Queen Anne was a shrewd Bretonne, as I have 
 told already, who was very superb and haughty towards her
 
 218 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 equals ; so that Madame Anne was forced to lower her 
 sails and leave the queen, her sister-in-law, to keep her rank 
 and maintain her grandeur and majesty, as was reasonable ; 
 which made Madame Anne very angry ; for she, being 
 virtually regent, held to her grandeur terribly. 
 
 I have read many letters from her to our family in the 
 days of her greatness ; but never did I see any of our kings 
 (and I have seen many) talk and write so bravely and im- 
 periously as she did, as much to the great as to the small. 
 Of a surety, she was a maitresse femmc, though quarrelsome, 
 and if M. d'Orl^ans had not been captured and his luck had 
 not served him ill, she would have thrown Franco into 
 turmoil; and all for her ambition, which so long as she 
 Hved she never could banish from her soul, — not even when 
 retired to her estates, where, nevertheless, she pretended to be 
 pleased and where she held her Court, which was always, as I 
 have heard my grandmother say, very fine and grand, she 
 being accompanied by great numbers of ladies and maids of 
 honour, whom she trained very wisely and virtuously. In 
 fact she gave such fine educations (as I know from my grand- 
 mother) that there were no ladies or daughters of great 
 houses in her time who did not receive lessons from her, the 
 house of Bourbon being one of the greatest and most 
 splendid in Christendom. And indeed it was she who made 
 it so brilliant, for though she was opulent in estates and 
 riches of her own, she played her liand so well in the 
 regency that she gained a great deal more ; all of v/hich 
 served to make the house of Bourbon more daz/ling. Be- 
 sides being splendid and magnificent by nature and unwilling 
 to diminish by ever so little her early grandeur, she also did 
 many great kindnesses to those whom she liked and took 
 in hand. To end all, this Anne de Franco was very clever 
 and sufficiently good. I have now said enougli about her.
 
 MESDAMES, THE DAUGHTERS OF FRANCE. 219 
 
 4. Madame Claude de France. 
 
 I must now speak of Madame Claude de France, who was 
 very good, very charitable, and very gentle to all, never do- 
 ing any unkindness or harm to any one either at her Court 
 or in the kingdom. She was much beloved by King Louis 
 [XII.] and Queen Anne, her father and mother, being their 
 good and best-loved daughter, as they showed her plainly; 
 for after the king was peaceably Duke of Milan they de- 
 clared and proclaimed her, in the parliament of Paris with 
 open doors, duchess of the two finest duchies in Christen- 
 dom, to wit, Milan and Bretagne, the one coming from her 
 father, the other from her mother. What an heiress, if you 
 please ! These two duchies joined together made a noble 
 kingdom. 
 
 Queen Anne, her mother, desired to marry her to Charles 
 of Austria, afterwards emperor, and had she lived she would 
 have done so, for in that she influenced the king, her hus- 
 band, wishing always to have the sole charge and care of the 
 marriage of her daughters. Never did she call them other- 
 wise than by their names : " My daughter Claude," and " My 
 daughter Een^e." In these our days, estates and seigneuries 
 must be given to daughters of princesses, and even of ladies, 
 by which to call them ! If Queen Anne had lived, never 
 would Madame Claude have been married to King Frangois 
 [I.] for she foresaw the evil treatment she was certain to 
 receive ; the king, her husband, giving her a disease that 
 shortened her days. Also, Madame la regente treated her 
 harshly. But she strengthened her soul as much as she 
 could, by her sound mind and gentle patience and great 
 wisdom, to endure these troubles, and in spite of all, she 
 bore the king, her husband, a fine and generous progeny, 
 namely : three sons, Frangois, Henri, and Charles ; and four 
 daughters, Louise, Charlotte, Magdelaine, and Marguerite.
 
 220 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 She was mucli beloved by her husband, King Frangois [I.], 
 and well treated by him and by all France, and much re- 
 gretted when she died for her admirable virtues and good- 
 ness. I have read in the " Chronique d'Anjou " that after 
 her death her body worked miracles ; for a great lady of her 
 family being tortured one day with a hot fever, and having 
 made her a vow, recovered her health suddenly. 
 
 5. Madame Rence de France. 
 
 Madame Een^e, her sister, was also a very good and able 
 princess ; for she had as sound and subtle mind as could be. 
 She had studied much, and I have heard her discoursing 
 learnedly and gravely of the sciences, even astrology, and 
 knowledge of the stars, about which I heard her talking 
 one day with the queen-mother, who said, after hearing lier, 
 that the greatest philosopher in the world could not have 
 spoken better. 
 
 She was promised in marriage to the Emperor Charles, by 
 King Franqois ; but the war interrupting that marriage, she 
 was given to the Due de Ferrara, who loved her much and 
 treated her honourably as the daughter of a king. True it 
 is they were for a time rather ill together because of the 
 Lutheran religion he suspected her of liking. Possibly ; for 
 resenting the ill-turns the popes had done to her father in 
 every way, she denied their power and refused obedience, 
 not being able to do worse, she being a woman. I hold on 
 good authority that she said this often. Her husband, 
 nevertheless, having regard to her illustrious blood, respected 
 her always and honoured her much. Like her sister, Queen 
 Claude, she was fortunate in her issue, for she bore to her 
 husband the finest that was, I believe, in Italy, although she 
 herself was much weakened in body. 
 
 She had the Due de Ferrara, who is to-day one of the
 
 MESDAMES, THE DAUGHTERS OF FRANCE. 221 
 
 handsomest princes in Italy and very wise and generous; 
 the late Cardinal d'Est, the kindest, most magnificent and 
 liberal man in the world (of whom I hope to speak here- 
 after) ; and three daughters, the most beautiful women ever 
 born in Italy : Madame Anne d'Est, afterwards Mme. de 
 Guise ; Madame Lucrezia, Duchesse d'Urbino ; and Madame 
 Leonora, who died unmarried. The first two bore the names 
 of their grandmothers : one from Anne de Bretagne on her 
 mother's side ; the other, on the father's side, from Lucrezia 
 Borgia, daughter of Pope Alexander [VI.], both very different 
 in manners as in character, although the said lady Lucrezia 
 Borgia was a charming princess of Spanish extraction, 
 gifted with beauty and virtue (see Guicciardini). Madame 
 Leonora was named after Queen Leonora. These daughters 
 were very handsome, but their mother embellished them 
 still more by the noble education that she gave them, mak- 
 ing them study sciences and good letters, the which they 
 learned and retained perfectly, putting to shame the greatest 
 scholars. So that if they had beautiful bodies they had 
 souls that were beautiful also. I shall speak of them 
 elsewhere. 
 
 Kow, if Madame Een^e was clever, intelligent, wise, and 
 virtuous, she was also so kind and understood the subjects 
 of her husband so well that I never knew any one in 
 Ferrara who was not content or failed to say all the good 
 in the world of her. They felt above all her charity, which 
 she had in great abundance and principally for Frenchmen ; 
 for she had this good thing about her, that she never for- 
 got her nation ; and though she was thrust far away from 
 it, she always loved it deeply. No Frenchman passing 
 through Ferrara, being in necessity and addressing her, ever 
 left v/ithout an ample donation and good money to return 
 to his country and family,- and if he were ill, and could
 
 222 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 not travel, she had him treated and cured carefully and 
 then gave him money to return to France. 
 
 I have heard persons who know it well, and an infinite 
 number of soldiers who had good experience of it say that 
 after the journey of M. de Guise into Italy, she saved the 
 lives of at least ten thousand poor Frenchmen, who would 
 have died of starvation and want without her : and amon<T 
 the number were many nobles of good family. I have heard 
 some of them say that never could they have reached France 
 without her, so great was her charity and liberality to those 
 of her nation. And I have also heard her maitre d'hotel as- 
 sert that their food had cost her more than ten thousand 
 crowns ; and when the stewards of her household remon- 
 strated and showed her this excessive expense, she only 
 said : " How can I help it ? These are poor Frenchmen of 
 my nation, who, if God had put a beard on my chin and 
 made me a man, would now be my subjects ; and truly they 
 would be so now if that wicked Salic law did not hold me 
 in check." 
 
 She is all the more to be praised because, without her, the 
 old proverb would be still more true, namely, that " Italy is 
 the grave of Frenchmen." 
 
 But if her charity was shown at that time in this direction, 
 I can assure you that in other places she did not fail to 
 practise it. I have heard several of her household say that 
 on her return to France, having retired to her town and 
 house of Montargis about the time the civil wars began to 
 stir, she gave a refuge as long as she lived to a number of 
 persons of the TIeligion [Eeformers] who were driven or 
 banishel from their bouses and estates ; she aided, succoured, 
 and fed as many as she could. 
 
 I myself, at the time of the second troubles, was with 
 the forces in Gascoigue, commanded by MM. de Terridfes
 
 MESDAMES, THE DAUGHTERS OF FRANCE. 223 
 
 and de Montsalfes, amounting to eight thousand men, then 
 on their way to join the king. We passed through Mon- 
 targis and went, the leaders, chief captains, and gentlemen, 
 to pay our respects to Madame Ren^e, as our duty com- 
 manded. We saw in the castle, as I believe, more than 
 three hundred persons of the Religion, who had taken 
 refuge there from all parts of the country. An old maUre 
 d'hotel, a very honest man, whom I had known in Ferrara, 
 swore to me that she fed every day more than three hun- 
 dred mouths of these poor people. 
 
 In short, this princess was a true daughter of France in 
 kindness and charity. She had also a great and lofty heart. 
 I have seen her in Italy and at Court, hold her state as well 
 as possible; and though she did not have an external ap- 
 pearance of grandeur, her body being weakened, there was 
 so much majesty in her royal face and speech that she 
 showed plainly enough she was daughter of a king and of 
 France. 
 
 6. Mesdames Charlotte, Louise, Magdelaine, and Marguerite 
 
 de, France. 
 
 I have said that Madame Claude [wife of Frangois I.] 
 was fortunate in her fine progeny of daughters as well as of 
 sons. First she had Mesdames Charlotte and Louise, whom 
 death did not allow to reach the perfect age and noble fruit 
 their tender youth had promised in sweet flowers. Had 
 they come to the perfection of their years they would have 
 equalled their sisters in mind and goodness, for their promise 
 was great. Madame Louise was betrothed to the Emperor 
 when she died. Thus are lovely rosebuds swept away by 
 the wind, as well as full-blown flowers. Youth thus ravished 
 is more to be regretted than old age, which has had its day 
 and its loss is not great. Almost the same thing happened
 
 224 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 to Madame Magdelaine, their sister, who had no great time 
 allowed her to enjoy the thing in all the world she most 
 desired ; which was, to he a queen, so proud and lofty was 
 her heart. 
 
 She was married to the King of Scotland ; and when they 
 wanted to dissuade her — not, certainly, that he was not 
 a brave and handsome prince, hut because she thus con- 
 demned herself to make her dwelling in a barbarous land 
 among a brutal people — she replied : " At least I shall be 
 queen so long as I live ; that is what I have always wished 
 for." But when she amved in Scotland she found that 
 country just what they had told her, and very different 
 from her sweet France. Still, without one sign of repent- 
 ance, she said nothing except these words : " Alas ! I would 
 be queen," — covering her sadness and the fire of her ambition 
 with the ashes of patience as best she could. M. de Ron- 
 sard, who went with her to Scotland, told me all this ; he 
 had been a page of M. d'Orleans, who allowed him to go 
 with her, to see the world. 
 
 She did not live long a queen before she died, regretted 
 by the king and all the country, for she was truly good, and 
 made herself beloved, having, moreover, a fine mind, and 
 being wise and virtuous. 
 
 Her sister, Madame IVIarguerite de France [the second of 
 the three Marguerites], afterwards Duchesse de Savoie, was 
 so wise, virtuous, and perfect in learning and knowledge 
 that she was called the Minerva, or the Pallas, of France, 
 and for device she bore an olive branch with two serpents 
 entwining it, and the words : Rerum S"pientia custos : 
 signifying that all things are ruled, or should be, by wisdom 
 — of which she had much, and knowledge also ; improving 
 them ever by continual study in the afternoons, and by 
 lessons which she received from learned men, whom she
 
 ^^ '^ /// / /v // r ^/V
 
 MESDAMES, THE DAUGHTERS OF FRANCE. 225 
 
 loved above all other sorts of people. For which reason 
 they honoured her as their goddess and patron. The great 
 quantity of noble books which they wrote and dedicated to 
 her show this, and as they have said enough I shall say no 
 more about her learning. 
 
 Her heart was grand and lofty. King Henri wished to 
 marry her to M. de Vendome, first prince of the blood ; but 
 she made answer that never would she marry a subject of 
 the king, her brother. That is why she was so long with- 
 out a husband ; until, peace being made between the two 
 Christian and Catholic kings, she was married to M. de 
 Savoie, to whom she had aspired for a long time, ever since 
 the days of King Frangois, when Pope Paul III. and King 
 Prangois met at Nice, and the Queen of Navarre went, by 
 command of the king, to see the late Due de Savoie in the 
 castle of Nice, taking with her Madame Marguerite, her 
 niece, who was thought most agreeable by M. de Savoie, 
 and very suitable for his son. But the affair dragged on, 
 because of the great war, until the peace, when the mar- 
 riage was made and consummated at great cost to France ; 
 for all that we had conquered and held in Piedmont and 
 Savoie for the space of thirty years, was given back in one 
 hour ; so much did King Henri desire peace and love his 
 sister, not sparing anything to marry her well But all the 
 same, the greater part of France and Piedmont murmured 
 and said it was too much. 
 
 Others thought it very strange, and others very incredible, 
 until they had seen her ; and even foreigners mocked at us : 
 and those who loved France and her true good wept, and 
 lamented, especially those in Piedmont who did not wish to 
 return to their former masters. 
 
 As for the French soldiers, and the war companions who 
 had so long enjoyed the garrisons, charms, and fine living of 
 
 15
 
 226 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 that beautiful country, there is no need to ask what they 
 said, nor how they grumbled and were desperate and be- 
 moaned themselves. Some, more Gascon than the rest, said : 
 "Hey! cay de JDcoul for the little bit of flesh of that 
 woman, must we give back that large and noble piece of 
 earth ? " Others : " A fine thing truly to call her Minerva, 
 goddess of chastity, and send her here to Piedmont to change 
 her name at our expense ! " 
 
 I have heard great captains say that if Piedmont had 
 been left to us, and only Savoie and Bresse given up, the 
 marriage would still have been very rich and very fine ; and 
 if we could have stayed in Piedmont that region would 
 have served as a school and an amusement to the French 
 soldiers, who would have stayed there and not been so 
 eager after civil wars, — it being the nature of Frenchmen to 
 busy themselves always with the toils of Mars, and to hate 
 idleness, rest, and peace. 
 
 But such was now the unhappy fate of France. It was 
 thus that peace was bought, and Madame de Savoie could 
 not help it ; although she never desired the ruin of France ; 
 on the contrary, she loved nothing so much as the people 
 of her nation ; and if she received benefits from them she 
 was not ungrateful, but served them and succoured them 
 all she could ; and as long as she lived she persuaded and 
 won her husband. Monsieur de Savoie, to keep the peace, 
 and not combine, he being a Spaniard for life, against France, 
 which he did as soon as she was dead. For then he stirred 
 up, supported, and strengthened secretly M. le ]\Iar(?chal de 
 Bellegarde to do what he did and to rebel against the king, 
 and seize upon the marquisate of Saluces (which I shall 
 speak of elsewhere) ; in which certainly his Highness did 
 great wrong, and ill returned the benefits received from the 
 Kings of France his relatives, especially our late King
 
 MESDAMES, THE DAUGHTERS OF FRANCE. 227 
 
 Henri III., who, on his return from Poland, gave him so 
 liberally Pignerol and Savillan. 
 
 Many well-advised persons believe that if Madame de 
 Savoie had lived she would have died sooner than allow 
 that blow, so grateful did she feel to the land of her birth. 
 And I have heard a very great person say that he thought 
 that if Madame de Savoie were living and had seen her son 
 seize upon the marquisate of Saluces (as he did in the time 
 of the late king), she would have strangled him ; indeed* 
 the late king himself thought so and said so. That king, 
 Henri III., felt such wrath at that stroke that the morning 
 when the news reached him, as he was about to take the 
 sacrament, he put off that act and would not do it, so excited, 
 angry, and scrupulous was he, within as well as without ; 
 and he always said that if his aunt had lived it would never 
 have happened. 
 
 Such was the good opinion this good princess left in the 
 mxjnds of the king and of other persons. And to tell the 
 truth, as I know from high authority, if she had not been 
 so good never would the king or his council have portioned 
 her with such great wealth, which, surely, she never spared 
 for France and Frenchmen. No Frenchman could com- 
 plain, when addressing her for his necessities in going or 
 coming across the mountains, that she did not succour and 
 assist him and give him good money to help him on his 
 way. I know that when we returned from Malta, she did 
 great favours and gave much money to many Frenchmen 
 who addressed her and asked her for it ; and also, without 
 being asked, she offered it. I can say that, as knowing it 
 myself ; for Mme. de Pontcarlier, sister of M. de Eetz, who 
 was Madame de Savoie's favourite and lady of honour, asked 
 me to supper one evening in her room, and gave me, in a 
 purse, five hundred crowns on behalf of the said Madame,
 
 228 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 who loved my aunt, Mme. de Dampierre, extremely and had 
 also loved my mother. But I can swear with truth and 
 security that I did not take a penny of it, for I had enough 
 with me to take me back to Court ; and had I not, I would 
 rather have gone on foot than be so shameless and impudent 
 as to beg of such a princess. I knew many who did not do 
 like that, but took very readily what they could get. 
 
 I have heard one of her stewards say that every year she 
 put away in a coffer a third of her revenue to give to poor 
 Frenchmen who passed through Savoie. That is the good 
 Frenchwoman that she was ; and no one should complain 
 of the wealth she took from France; and it was all her joy 
 when she heard good news from there, and all her grief 
 when it was bad. 
 
 When the first wars broke out she felt such woe she thought 
 to die of it; and when peace was made and she came to 
 Lyon to meet the king and the queen-mother, she could not 
 rejoice enough, begging the queen to tell her all ; and show- 
 incr anger to several Huguenots, telling them and writing 
 them that they stirred up strife, and urging them not to do 
 so again ; for they honoured her much and had faith in her, 
 because she gave pleasure to many ; indeed M. I'Arairal 
 [Coligny] would not have enjoyed his estates in Savoie had 
 it not been for her. 
 
 When the civil wars came on in Flanders she was the 
 first to tell us on our arrival from Malta ; and you may be 
 sure she was not sorry for them ; " for," said she, " those 
 Spaniards rejoiced and scoffed at us for our discords, but now 
 that they have their share they will scoff no longer." 
 
 She was so beloved in the lands and countries of her hus- 
 band that when she died tears flowed from the eyes of all, 
 both great and small, so that for long they did not dry nor 
 cease. She spoke for every one to her husband when they
 
 MESDAMES. THE DAUGHTERS OF FRANCE. 229 
 
 "were in trouble and adversity, in pain or in fault, request- 
 ing favour or pardon, which without her intercessions they 
 would often not have had. Thus they called her their 
 patron-saint. 
 
 In short, she was the blessing of the world ; in all ways, 
 as I have said, charitable, munificent, liberal, wise, virtuous, 
 and so accessible and gentle as never was, principally to 
 those of her nation ; for when they went to do her reverence 
 she received them with such welcome they were shamed ; 
 the most unimportant gentlemen she honoured in the same 
 way, and often did not speak to them until they were cov- 
 ered. I know what I say, for, speaking with her on one 
 occasion, she did me this honour, and urged and commanded 
 me so much that I was constrained to say : " Madame, I 
 think you do not take me for a Frenchman, but for one v/ho 
 is ignorant who you are and the rank you hold ; but I must 
 honour you as belongs to me." She never spoke to any one 
 sitting down herself, but always standing ; unless they were 
 principal personages, and those I saw speaking to her she 
 obliged to sit beside her. 
 
 To conclude, one could never tell all the good of this 
 princess as it was ; it would need a worthier writer than I 
 to represent her virtues. I shall be silent, therefore, till 
 some future time, and begin to tell of the daughters of our 
 King Henri [II. and Catherine de' Medici], JMesdames 
 EHsabeth, Claude, and Marguerite de France. 
 
 7. Mesdames FlisahdJi, Claude, and 3Iarguerite de Fra.nce. 
 
 I begin by the eldest, Madame Elisabeth de France, or 
 rather I ought to call her the beautiful Elisabeth of the 
 world on account of her rare virtues and perfections, tlie 
 Queen of Spain, beloved and honoured by her people in her 
 lifetime, and deeply regretted and mourned by the sam^e after
 
 230 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 death, as I have said already in the Discourse I made upon 
 her. Therefore 1 shall content myself for the present in 
 writing no more, but will speak of her sister, the second 
 daughter of King Henri, Madame Claude de Prance (the 
 name of her grandmother), Duchesse de Lorraine, who was 
 a beautiful, wise, virtuous, good, and gentle princess. So 
 that every one at Court said that she resembled her mother 
 and aunt and was their real image. She had a certain 
 gayety in her face which pleased all those who looked at 
 her. In her beauty she resembled her mother, in her 
 knowledge and kindness she resembled her aunt; and the 
 people of Lorraine found her ever kind as long as she lived, 
 as I myself have seen when I went to that country ; and 
 after her death they found much to say of her. In fact, by 
 her death that land was filled with regrets, and M. de 
 Lorraine mourned her so much that, though he was young 
 when widowed of her, he would not marry again, saying he 
 could never find her like, though could he do so he would 
 remarry, not being disinclined. 
 
 She left a noble progeny and died in childbed, through 
 the appetite of an old midwife of Paris, a drunkard, in 
 whom she had more faith than in any other. 
 
 The news of her death reached Eeims the day of the 
 king's coronation, and all the Court were in mourning and 
 extreme sadness, for her kindness was shown to all when 
 she came there. The last time .she came, the king, her 
 brother, made her a gift of the ransoms of Guyenno, which 
 came from the confiscations that took place there ; but the 
 ransoms were made so heavy that often they exceeded the 
 value of the confiscations. 
 
 Mme. de Dampierre asked her for one, one day when I 
 was present, for a gentleman whom T know. The princess 
 made answer : " Mme. de Dampierre, T give it to you with
 
 MESDAMES, THE DAUGHTERS OF FRANCE. 231 
 
 all my heart, having merely accepted this gift from the 
 king, my brother, not having asked for it; he gave it to 
 me of his own good-will; not to injure France, for I am 
 French and love all those who are so like myself ; they will 
 have more courtesy from me than from another who might 
 have had that gift; therefore what they want of me and 
 ask of me I will give." And truly, those who had to do 
 with her found her all courtesy, gentleness, and goodness. 
 
 In short, she was a true daughter of France, having good 
 mind and ability, which she proved by seconding wisely and 
 ably her husband, M. de Lorraine, in the government of his 
 seigneuries and principalities. 
 
 After this Claude de France, comes that beautiful Mar- 
 guerite de France, Queen of Navarre, of whom I have 
 already spoken ; for which reason I am silent here, awaiting 
 another time ; for I think that April in its springtime never 
 produced such lovely flowers and verdure as this princess 
 of ours produced blooming at all seasons in noble and 
 diverse ways, so that all the good in the world could be 
 said of her. 
 
 8. Madame Diane de France. 
 
 Nor must I forget Madame Diane de France ; although 
 she was bastard and a natural child, we must place her in 
 the rank of the daughters of France, because she w^as ac- 
 kuowledLi'ed by the late King Henri [II.] and legitimatized 
 and afterwards dowered as daughter of France ; for she 
 was given the duchy of Chastellerault, which she quitted to 
 be Duehesse d'Angouleme, a title and estate she retains at 
 this day, with all the privileges of a daughter of France, 
 even to that of entering the cabinets and state business of 
 her brothers, King Charles and King Henri III. (where I 
 have often seen her), as though she were their own sister.
 
 232 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 Indeed, they loved her as such. She had much resemblance 
 to King Henri, her father, as much in features of the face 
 as in habits and actions. She loved all the exercises that 
 he loved, whether arms, hunting, or horses. I think it is 
 not possible for any lady to look better on horseback than 
 she did, or to have better grace in riding, 
 
 I have heard say (and read) from certain old persons, that 
 little King Charles YIII. being in his kingdom of Naples, 
 Mme. la Princesse de Melfi, coming to do him reverence, 
 showed him her daughter, beautiful as an angel, mounted 
 on a noble courser, managing him so well, with all the airs 
 and paces of the ring, that no equerry could have done 
 better, and the king and all his Court were in great admira- 
 tion and astonishment to see such beauty so dexterous on 
 horseback, yet without doing shame to her sex. 
 
 Those who have seen Madame d'Angouleme on horse- 
 back were as much delighted and amazed ; for she was so 
 born to it and had such grace that she resembled in that 
 respect the beautiful Camilla, Queen of the Volsci ; she was 
 so grand in body and shape and face that it was hard to 
 find any one at Court as superb and graceful at that exercise ; 
 nor did she exceed in any way the proper modesty and gen- 
 tleness ; indeed, hke the Princesse Melfi, she outdid modesty ; 
 except when she rode through the country, when she showed 
 some pretty performances that were very agreeable to those 
 who beheld them. 
 
 I remember that M. le Mar^chal d'Amville, her brother- 
 in-law, gave her, once upon a time, a very fine horse, which 
 he named le Docteur, because he stepped so daintily and ad- 
 vanced curveting with such precision and nicety that a 
 doctor could not have been wiser in his actions ; and that 
 is why he called him so. I saw Madame d'Angouleme 
 make that horse go more than three hundred steps pacing
 
 ^ 
 
 '' /'///// , //■ ■ '' /-f / // / r
 
 MESDAMES, THE DAUGHTERS OF FRANCE. 233 
 
 in that way ; and often the whole Court was amused to see 
 it, and could not tell which to admire most, her firm seat, 
 or her beautiful grace. Always, to add to her lustre, she 
 was finely attired in a handsome and rich riding-dress, not 
 forgetting a hat well garnished with plumes, worn ^ la 
 Guelfe, Ah ! what a pity it is when old age comes to spoil 
 such beauties and blemish such virtues; for now she has 
 left all that, and quitted those exercises, and also the hunt- 
 ing which became her so much ; for nothing was ever unbe- 
 coming to her in her gestures and manners, like the king, 
 her father, — she taking pains and pleasure in what she did, 
 at a ball, in dancing; indeed in whatever dance it was, 
 whether grave or gay, she was very accomplished. 
 
 She sang well, and played well on the lute and other in- 
 struments. In fact, she is her father's daughter in that, as 
 she is in kindness, for indeed she is very kind, and never 
 gives pain to any one, although she has a grand and lofty 
 heart, but her soul is generous, wise, and virtuous, and she 
 has been much beloved by both her husbands. 
 
 She was first married to the Due de Castro, of the house 
 of Farnese, who was killed at the assault at Hesdin ; secondly, 
 to M. de Montmorency, who made some difficulty in the 
 beginning, having promised to marry Mile, de Pienne, one 
 of the queen's maids of honour, a beautiful and virtuous 
 girl ; but to obey a father who was angry and threatened 
 to disinherit him, he obtained his release from his first 
 premise and married Madame Diane. He lost nothing by 
 the change, though the said Pienne came from one of the 
 greatest families in France, and was one of the most beautiful, 
 virtuous, and wise ladies of the Court, whom Madame Diane 
 loved, and has always loved without any jealousy of her 
 past afTections with her husband. She knows how to con- 
 trol herself, for she is very intelligent and of good under-
 
 234 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 standing. The kings, her brothers, and Monsieur loved her 
 much, and so did the queens and duchesses, her sisters, for 
 she never shamed them, being so perfect in all things. 
 
 King Charles loved her, because she went with him to his 
 hunts and other joyous amusements, and was always gay and 
 good-humoured. 
 
 King Henri [III.] loved her, because he knew that she 
 loved him and liked to be with him. When war arose so 
 cruelly on the death of M. de Guise, knowing the king, her 
 brother, to be in need, she started from her house at Isle- 
 Adam, in a diligence, not without running great risks, being 
 watched for on the road, and took him fifty thousand crowns, 
 which she had saved from her revenues, and gave them to 
 him. They arrived most h, propos and, as I believe, are still 
 owing to her ; for which the king felt such good-will that 
 had he lived he would have done great things for her, hav- 
 ing tested her fine nature in his utmost need. And since 
 his death she has had no heart for joy or profit, so much 
 did she regret and still regrets him, and longs for vengeance, 
 if her power were equal to her will, on those who killed him. 
 But never has our present king [Henri IV.] consented to it, 
 whatever prayer she makes, she holding Mme. de Montpen- 
 sier guilty of the death of the king, her brother, abhorring her 
 like the plague, and going so far as to tell her before IMadnme, 
 the king's sister, that neither Madame nor the king had any 
 honest reason to love her, except that through this murder 
 of the late king they held the rank they did liold. What 
 a hunt ! I hope to say more of this elsewhere ; therefore am 
 I silent now. 
 
 9. Marguerite de Valois, Queen of Navarre. 
 
 I must now speak somewhat of ]\rnro;nerite, Queen of 
 Navarre. Certainly she was not born daughter of a king of
 
 MESDAMES, THE DAUGHTERS OF FRANCE. 235 
 
 France, nor did she bear the name, except that of Valois or 
 d'Orl^ans, because, as M. du Tillet says in his Memoirs, the 
 surname of France does not belong to any but the daughters 
 of France; and if they are born before their fathers are 
 kings they do not take it until after their said fathers' 
 accession to the crown. Nevertheless this Marguerite, as 
 the greatest persons of those days have said, was held to be 
 daughter of France for her great virtues, although there 
 was some WTong in putting her in that rank. That is why 
 we place her here among the Daughters of France.^ 
 
 She was a princess of very great mind and ability, both 
 by nature and power of acquisition, for she gave herself to 
 letters in her early years and continued to do so as long as 
 she lived, liking and conversing with the most learned men 
 in her brother's kingdom in the days of her grandeur and 
 usually at Court. They all so honoured her that they 
 called her their Maecenas ; and most of tlieir books com- 
 posed at that period were dedicated eitlier to her brother, 
 the king, who was also learned, or to her. 
 
 She herself composed well, and made a book which she 
 entitled " La Marguerite des Marguerites " which is very 
 fine and can still be found in print.^ She often composed 
 comedies and moralities, which were called in those days 
 pastorals, and had them played and represented by the maids 
 of honour at lier Court. 
 
 She was fond of composing spiritual songs, for her heart 
 was much given to God ; and for that reason she bore as 
 her device a marigold, Avhich is the flower that has the most 
 affinity with the sun of any there is, whether in similitude 
 of its leaves to rays, or by reason of the fact that usually it 
 
 ^ She was daughter of Cliarles, Due d'AngouIGuie, and Louise de Savoie, 
 great-granddaughter of Charles V., and sister of Fran9ois I. — Tr. 
 2 See Appendix.
 
 236 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 turns to the sun wherever it goes from east to west, opening 
 and closing according to its rise and its setting. Also she 
 arranged this device with the words: Non inferiora secutun — 
 " It stops not for earthly things ; " meaning that she aimed 
 and directed all her actions, thoughts, will, and affections to 
 that great sun on high which is God ; and for that reason 
 was she suspected of being of Luther's religion. But out 
 of the respect and love she bore the king, her brother, wiio 
 loved her only and called her his darling [his mi'jnoiiiic~\ 
 she never made any profession or semblance of that religion ; 
 and if she believed it she kept it in her soul very secretly, 
 because the king hated it much, saying that that, and all 
 other new sects, tended more to the destruction of kingdoms, 
 monarchies, and civil dominions than to the edification of 
 souls. 
 
 The great sultan, Solyman, said the same; declaring that 
 however much it upset many points of the Christian religion 
 and the pope, he could not like it, " because," he said, " the 
 monks of this new faith are only seditious mischief- 
 makers, who can never rest unless they are stirring up 
 trouble." That is why King Francois, a wise prince if ever 
 tliere was one, foreseeing the miseries that would come in 
 many ways to Cliristianity, hated these people and was 
 rather ritrorous in burninir alive the heretics of his dav. 
 Nevertheless, he favoured the Protestant princes of Ger- 
 many against the emperor. That is how these great kings 
 govern as they please. 
 
 I have lieard a trustworthy person relate hov/ the Con- 
 netable de Montmorency, in the days of his greatij^t favour, 
 discoursing of this with the king, made nc) ditiiculty or 
 scruple in telling him that if he wanted to exterminate the 
 heretics of his kingdom he would have to begin with his 
 Court and his nearest relations, namuig tlie queen, his
 
 MESDAMES, THE DAUGHTERS OF FRANCE. 237 
 
 sister. To which the king replied : " Do not speak of her ; 
 she loves me too well. She will never believe except as I 
 believe, and never will she take any religion prejudicial to 
 my State." After which, hearing of it, she never liked M. 
 le conn^table, and helped much in his disfavour and banish- 
 ment from Court. Now it happened that the day on which 
 her daughter, the Princesse de Navarre, was married to the 
 Due de Clfeves at ChasteUerault, the bride was so weighted 
 with jewels and with her gown of gold and silver stuff that 
 her body was too weak to walk to church ; on which the 
 king commanded the conn^table to take his niece in his arms 
 and carry her to the church ; which amazed tlie Court very 
 much ; a duty like that being little suitable and honourable 
 for a connetable, and might have been given very well to 
 another. But the Queen of Navarre was in no wise displeased 
 and said : " The man who tried to ruin me with my brother 
 now serves to carry my daughter to church." 
 
 I have this story from the person I mentioned, who added 
 that M. le connetable was much displeased at this duty and 
 showed great vexation at being made such a spectacle, say- 
 ing : " It is all over with my favour, I bid it farewell." And 
 so it proved ; for after the fete and the wedding dinner, he 
 had his dismissal and departed immediately. I heard this 
 from my brother, who was then a page at Court and saw 
 the whole mystery and remembered it well, for he had a 
 good memory. Possibly I am wearisome in making this 
 digression; but as it came to my remembrance, may I be 
 forgiven. 
 
 To speak again of the learning of this queen : it was such 
 that the ambassadors who spoke with her were greatly 
 delighted, and made reports of it to their nations when 
 they returned ; in this she relieved the king, her brother, 
 for they always went to her after paying their chief embassy
 
 238 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 to him ; and often when great aifairs were concerned they 
 intrusted them to her. While they awaited the final and 
 complete decision of the king she knew well how to enter- 
 tain and content them with fine discourse, in which she 
 was opulent, besides being very clever in pumpmg them ; so 
 that the king often said she assisted him mucli and re- 
 lieved him a great deal. Therefore w^as it discussed, as I 
 liave heard tell, which of the two sisters served their 
 brothers best, — one the Queen of Hungary, the emperor ; 
 the other, ]\Iarguerite, King Frangois ; the one by the effects 
 of war, the other by the efforts of her charming spirit and 
 gentleness. 
 
 "When King Francois was so ill in Spain, being a prisoner, 
 she went to him like a good sister and friend, under the 
 safe-conduct of the emperor ; and finding her brother in 
 so piteous a state that had she not come he would surely 
 have died, and knowing his nature and temperament far 
 better than all liis physicians, she treated him and caused 
 him to be treated so well, according to her knowledge of 
 him, that she cured him. Therefore the king often said 
 that without her he would have died, and that forever 
 would he recognize his obligation and love her for it ; as he 
 did, until his death. She returned him the same love, so 
 that I have heard say how, hearing of his last illness, she 
 said these words : " Whoever conies to my door an<l an- 
 nounces the cure of the king, my brother, whoever may be 
 that messenger, be he lazy, ill-humoured, dirty or unclean, I 
 will kiss him as the neatest prince and gentleman of France, 
 and if he needs; a bed to repose his laziness upon, T vv-ill give 
 him mine and lie myself on the hardest floor for the good 
 news he brings me." But when she heard of his death her 
 lamentations were so great, her regrets so keen, that never 
 after did she recover from them, nor was she ever as before.
 
 MESDAMES, THE DAUGHTERS OF FRANCE. 239 
 
 When she was in Spain, as I have heard from my rela- 
 tions, she spoke to the emperor so bravely and so honestly 
 on the bad treatment he had given to the king, her brother, 
 that he was quite amazed ; for she showed him plainly the 
 ingratitude and felony he had practised, he, a vassal, to his 
 seigneur in relation to Flanders ; after which she reproached 
 him for his hardness of heart and want of pity to so great 
 and good a king ; saying that to use him in this way would 
 never win a heart so noble and royal and so sovereign as 
 that of her brother ; and that if he died of such treatment, 
 his death would not remain unpunished ; he having children 
 who would some day, when they grew up, take signal 
 vengeance. 
 
 Those words, pronounced so bravely and with such deep 
 anger, gave the emperor much to think of, — so much indeed 
 that he softened and visited the king and promised him 
 many fine things, which he did not, nevertheless, perform 
 at this time. 
 
 Xow^, if the queen spoke so well to the emperor, she 
 spoke still more strongly to his council, of whom she had 
 audience. There she triumphed in speaking and haranguing 
 nobly with that good grace she never was deprived of ; and 
 she did so well with her fine speech that she made herself 
 more pleasing than odious and vexatious, — all the more, 
 withal, that she was young, beautiful, the widow of M. 
 d'Alengon, and in the flower of her age ; which is very 
 suitable to move and bend such hard and cruel persons. In 
 short, she did so well that her reasons were thought good 
 and pertinent, and she was held in great esteem by the 
 emperor, his council, and the Court. Nevertheless he meant 
 to play her a trick, because, not reflecting on the expiration 
 of her safe-conduct and passport, she took no heed that the 
 time was elapsing. But getting wind that the emperor as
 
 240 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 soon as her time had expired meant to arrest her, she, always 
 courageous, mounted her horse and rode in eight days a dis- 
 tance that should have taken fifteen; which effort so well 
 succeeded that she reached the frontier of France very late 
 on the evening of the day her passport expired, circumvent- 
 ing thus his Imperial Majesty [_Sa Cccsaree Majestc'] wlio 
 would no doubt have kept her had she overstayed her safe- 
 conduct by a single day. She sent him word and wrote liini 
 this, and quarrelled with him for it when he passed through 
 France. I heard this tale from Mme. la seneschale, my 
 grandmother, who was with her at that time as lady of 
 honour. 
 
 During the imprisonment of the king, her brother, she 
 greatly assisted Mme. la regente, her mother, in governing 
 the kingdom, contenting the princes, the grandees, and win- 
 ning over the nobihty ; because she was very accessible, and 
 so won the hearts of many persons by the fine quahties 
 she had in her. 
 
 In short, she was a princess worthy of a great empire ; 
 besides being very kind, gentle, gracious, charitable, a great 
 alms-giver and disdaining none. Therefore was she, after 
 her death, regretted and bemoaned by everybody. The most 
 learned persons vied with each other in making her epi- 
 taph in Greek, Latin, French, Italian ; so much so that there 
 is still a book of them extant, quite complete and very 
 beautiful. 
 
 This queen often said to this one and that one who dis- 
 coursed of death, and eternal happiness after it : " All that 
 is true, but we sliall stay a long time under ground before 
 we come to that." I have heard my mother, who was one 
 of her ladies, and my grandmother, who was her lady of 
 honour, say that when they told her in the extremity of her 
 illness that she must die, she thought those words most
 
 MESDAMES, THE DAUGHTERS OF FRANCE. 241 
 
 bitter, and repeated what I have told above ; adding that she 
 was not so old but that she might live on for many years, 
 being only fifty-two or fifty-three years old. She was born 
 under the 10th degree of Aquarius, when Saturn was parted 
 from Venus by quaternary decumbiture, on the 10th of 
 April, 1492, at ten in the evening ; having been conceived 
 in the year 1491 at ten hours before mid-day and seventeen 
 minutes, on the 11th of July. Good astrologers can make 
 their computations upon that. She died in B^am, at the 
 castle of Audaus [Odos] in the month of December, 1549. 
 Her age can be reckoned from that. She was older than 
 the king, her brother, who was born at Cognac, September 
 12th, year 1494, at nine in the evening, under the 21st de- 
 gree of Gemini, having been conceived in the year 1493, 
 December 10th, at ten o'clock in the morning, became king 
 January 11th, 1514 [1515 new style], and died in 1547. 
 
 This queen took her illness by looking at a comet which 
 appeared at the death of Pope Paul III. ; slie herself thought 
 this, but possibly it only seemed so ; for suddenly her mouth 
 was drawn a little sideways ; which her physician, M. d'Es- 
 curanis, observing, he took her away, made her go to bed, 
 and treated her; for it was a chill [_caferre'], of which she 
 died in eight days, after having well prepared herself for 
 death. She died a good Christian and a Catliolic, against 
 the opinion of many ; but as for me, I can affirm, being a 
 little boy at her Court with my mother and my grandmother, 
 that we never saw any act to contradict it ; indeed, having 
 retired to a monastery of women in Angoumois, called 
 Tusson, on the death of the king, her brother, where she 
 made her retreat and stayed the whole summer, she built 
 a fine house there, and was often seen to do the office of 
 abbess, and chant masses and vespers with the nuns in the 
 choir. 
 
 16
 
 242 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 I have heard tell of her that, one of her waitinjj-maids 
 whom she liked much bemg near to death, she wished to see 
 her die ; and when she was at the last gasp and rattle of 
 death, she never stirred from beside her, gazing so fixedly 
 upon her face that she never took her eyes away from it 
 until she died. Some of her most privileged ladies asked 
 her why she took such interest in seeing a human being 
 pass away ; to which she answered that, having heard so 
 many learned persons discourse and say that the soul and 
 spirit issued from the body at the moment of death, she 
 wished to see if any wind or noise could be perceived, or 
 the shghtest resonance, but she had noticed nothing. She 
 also gave a reason she had heard from the same learned 
 persons, when slie asked them why the swan sang so well 
 before its death ; to which they answered it was for love 
 of souls, that strove to issue through its long throat. In like 
 manner, she said, she had hoped to see issue or feel rt-sound 
 and hear that soul or spirit as it departed ; but she did not. 
 And she added that if she were not firm in her faith she 
 should not know what to think of this dislodgment and de- 
 parture of the soul from the body ; but she believed in God 
 and in what her Church commanded, without seeking further 
 in curiosity ; for, in truth, she was one of tho=e ladies as 
 devotional as could ever be seen ; who had God upon her 
 lips and feared Him also. 
 
 In her gay moments she wrote a book which is entitled 
 Lcs Nouvelles de la Reine de Navarre, in wliich we find a 
 style so sweet and fluent, so full of fine discourse and noble 
 sentences that I have heard tell how the queen- mother and 
 ]\Iadame de Savoie, being young, wished to join in writing 
 tales themselves in imitation of the Queen of Xavarre ; for 
 they knew that she was writing them. But when they saw 
 hers, they felt such disgust that theirs could not approach
 
 MESDAMES, THE DAUGHTERS OF FRANCE, 243 
 
 them that they put their writings in the fire, and would 
 not let them be seen ; a great pity, however, for both being 
 very witty, nothing that was not good and pleasant could 
 have come from such great ladies, who knew many good 
 stories. 
 
 Queen Marguerite composed these tales mostly in her 
 litter travelling through the country ; for she had many 
 other great occupations in her retirement. I have heard 
 this from my grandmother, who always went with her in 
 her litter as lady of honour, holding the inkstand while she 
 wrote, which she did most deftly and quickly, more quickly 
 than if she had dictated. There was no one in the world so 
 clever at making devices and mottoes in French, Latin, and 
 other languages, of which we have a quantity in our house, 
 on the beds and tapestries, composed by her. I have said 
 enough about her at this time ; elsewhere I shall speak of 
 her a^ain. 
 
 The Queen of Navarre, sister of Francois I., has of late 
 years frequently occupied the minds of literary and learned 
 men. Her Letters have been published with much care ; in 
 the edition given of the Poems of Frangois I. she is almost 
 as much concerned as her brother, for she contributes a 
 good share to the volume. At the present time [1853] the 
 Soci(^td des Bibliophiles, considering that there was no cor- 
 rect edition of the tales and Nouvelles of this princess, — 
 because, from the first, the early editors have treated tlie 
 royal author with great freedom, so that it was difficult to 
 find the true text of that curious work, more famous than 
 read, — have assumed the task of filling this literary vacuum. 
 The Society has trusted one of its most conscientious members, 
 M. Le Roux de Lincy, with compiling an edition from the 
 original manuscripts ; and, moreover, wishing to give to
 
 244 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 this publication a stamp of solidity, that air of good old 
 quality so pleasing to amateurs, they have sought for old 
 type, obtaining some from Nuremberg dating back to the 
 first half of the eighteenth century, and have caused to be 
 cast the necessary quantity, which has been used in printing 
 the present work, and will serve in futui'e for other pubhca- 
 tions of this Society. The Xouvelles cle la Eeine de Navarre 
 are presented, with a portrait of the author and a fac-simile 
 of her signature, in a grave, neat, and elegant manner. Let 
 us therefore thank this Society, composed of lovers of fine 
 books, for having thus applied their good taste and muuiii- 
 cence, and let us come to the study of the personage whom 
 they have aided us to know. 
 
 Marguerite de Yalois, the first of the three Marguerites 
 of the sixteenth century, does not altogether resemble the 
 reputation made of her from afar. Born at the ca-tle of 
 Angouleme, April 11, 1492, two years before her brother, 
 who will in future be Frangois I., she received from her 
 mother, Louise de Savoie, early a widow, a virtuous and 
 severe education. She learned Spanish, Italian, Latin, and 
 later, Hebrew and Greek. All these studies were not made 
 at once, nor in her earliest youth. Contemporary of the great 
 movement of the Eenaissance, she shared in it gradually : 
 she endeavoured to comprehend it fully, and to follow it in 
 all its branches, as became a person of lofty and serious 
 spirit, with a full and facile understanding and more leisure 
 than if she had been born upon the throne. Brantome pre- 
 sents her to us as " a princess of ver}' great mind and ability, 
 both by nature and power of acquisition." She continued to 
 acquire as long as she lived ; she protected with all her heart 
 and with all her influence the learned and literary men of 
 all orders and kinds ; profiting by them and their intercourse 
 for her own advantage, — a woman who could cope witb
 
 MESDAMES, THE DAUGHTERS OF PRANCE. 245 
 
 Marot in the play of verses as well as she could answer 
 Erasmus on nobler studies. 
 
 We must not exaggerate, however ; and the writings of 
 Marguerite are sutiiciently numerous to allow us to justly 
 estimate in her the two distinct parts of originality and 
 simple intelligence. As poet and writer her originahty is 
 of small account, or, to speak more precisely, she has none at 
 alL Her intelligence, on the contrary, is great, active, eager, 
 generous. There was in her day an immense movement of 
 the human spirit, a Cause essentially literary and liberal, 
 which hlled all minds and hearts with enthusiasm as public 
 policy did much later. Marguerite, young, open to all good 
 and noble sentiments, to virtue under all its forms, grew pas- 
 sionate for this cause ; and w^hen her brother Francois came 
 to the throne she told herself that it was her mission to be 
 its good genius and interpreter beside him, and to show her- 
 self openly the patron and protectress of men who were ex- 
 citing against themselves by their learned innovations much 
 pedantic rancour and ill-wilL It was thus that she allowed 
 herself to be caught and won insensibly to the doctrines of 
 the Reformers, which appealed to her, in the first instance, 
 under a learned and literary form. Translators of Scripture, 
 they only sought, it seemed to her, to propagate its spirit 
 and make it better understood by pious souls ; she enjoyed 
 and favoured them in the light of learned men, and wel- 
 comed them as loviiig at the same time " good letters and 
 Christ ; " never suspecting any factious after-thought. And 
 even after she appeared to be undeceived in the main, she 
 continued to the last to plead for individuals to the king, 
 her brother, with zeal and humanity. 
 
 The passion that Marguerite had for that brother domi- 
 nated all else. Slie was his elder by two years and a half. 
 Louise de Savoie, the young widow, was only fifteen or six-
 
 246 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 teen years older than her daughter. These two women had, 
 the one for her son the other i'or her brother, a love that 
 amounted to worship ; they saw m him, who was really to 
 be the honour and crown of their house, a dauphin who 
 would soon, when his reign was uiautrurated at Marifj-nano 
 become a glorious and triumphant Caesar. 
 
 " The day of the Conversion of Saint Paul, January 2b, 
 1515," says Madame Louise in her Journal, " my son was 
 anointed and crowned in the church at Pieims. For this 1 
 am very grateful to the Divine mercy, by which I am amply 
 compensated for all the adversities and annoyances which 
 came to uie in my early years and in the flower of my youth. 
 Humility has kept me company, and Patience has never 
 abandoned me." 
 
 And a few months later, noting down with pride the day 
 of Marignano [victory of Frangois I. over the Swiss and the 
 Duke of Milan, making the French masters of Lombardy], 
 she writes in the transport of her heart : — 
 
 "September 13, which was Thursday, 1515, my son van- 
 quished and destroyed the Swiss near Milan ; beginning tlie 
 combat at five hours after mid-day, which lasted all tlie niglit 
 and the morrow till eleven o'clock before mid-day; and that 
 very day I started from Amboise to go on foot to Xotre- 
 Dame-de-Fontaines, to commend to her what I love better 
 than myself, my son, glorious and triumphant Citsar, su])ju- 
 gator of the Helvetians. 
 
 " Item. That same day, September 13, 1515, between seven 
 and eight in the evening, was seen in various parts of I'landers 
 a flame of fire as long as a lance, which seemed as though it 
 would fall u]ion the houses, but was so bright that a hundred 
 torches could not have cast so great a light." 
 
 ^Marguerite, learned and enlightened as she was, must 
 iiave believed the presage, for she writes the same words as
 
 MESDAMES, THE DAUGHTERS OF FRANCE. 247 
 
 her mother. Married at seventeen years of age to the Due 
 d'Alengon, an insignificant prince, she gave all her devotion 
 and all her soul to her brother ; therefore when, in the tenth 
 year of his reign, tlie disaster of Pavia took place (February 
 25, 1525), and Marguerite learned the destruction of the 
 French army and the captivity of their king, we can con- 
 ceive the blow it was to her and to her mother. While 
 Madame Louise, appointed regent of the kingdom, showed 
 strength and courage in that position, we can follow the 
 thoughts of Marguerite in the series of letters she wrote to 
 her brother, which M. Genin has published. Her first word 
 is written to console the captive and reassure him : "Madame 
 (Louise de Savoie) has felt such doubling of strength that 
 night and day there is not a moment lost for your affairs ; 
 therefore you need have no anxiety or pain about your 
 kingdom or your children." She congratulates herself on 
 knowing that he has fallen into the hands of so kind and 
 generous a victor as the A^iceroy of Xaples, Charles de Lan- 
 noy ; she entreats him, for the sake of his mother, to take 
 care of his health : " I have heard that you mean to do this 
 Lent without eating fiesh or eggs, and sometimes fast alto- 
 gether for the honour of God. Monseigneur, as much as 
 a very humble sister can implore you, I entreat you not to 
 do this, but consider how fish goes against you ; also believe 
 that if you do it Madame has sworn to do so too ; and I shall 
 have the sorrow to see you both give way." 
 
 Marguerite, about this time, sees her husband, who es- 
 caped from Pavia, die at Lyon. She mourns him ; but after 
 the first two days she surmounts her grief and conceals it 
 from her mother the regent, because, not being able to 
 render services herself, she should think she was most unfor- 
 tunate, she says, to hinder and shake the spirit of her who 
 can do such great things. When Marguerite is selected to
 
 248 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 go to her brother in Spain (September, 1525) and work for 
 his deliverance, her joy is great. At last she can be useful 
 to this brother, whom she considers " as him whom God has 
 left her in this world ; father, brother, and husband." She 
 mingles and varies in many ways those names of master, 
 brother, king, which she accumulates upon him, without 
 their sufficing to express her affection, so full and sincere is 
 it : " Whatever it may be, eve/i to casting to the winds the 
 ashes of my hones to do you service, nothing can seem to me 
 strange, or difficult, or painful, but always consolation, 
 repose, honour." Such expressions, exaggerated in others, 
 are true on Marguerite's lips. 
 
 She succeeded but little in her mission to Spain ; there, 
 where she sought to move generous hearts and make their 
 fibre of honour vibrate, she found crafty dissimulation and 
 policy. She was allowed to see her brother for a short time 
 only ; he himself exacted that she should shorten her stay, 
 thinking her more useful to his interests in France. She 
 tears herself from him in grief, above ail at leaving him ill, 
 and as low as possible in health. Oh ! how she longed to 
 return, to stay beside him, and to take the " place of lacquey 
 beside his cot." It is her opinion that he should buy his 
 Hberty at any price ; let him return, no matter on what con- 
 ditions ; no terms can be bad provided she sees him back in 
 France, and none can be good if he is still in Spain. As 
 soon as she sets foot in France she is received, she tells liim, 
 as a forerunner, " as the Baptist of Jesus Christ." Arriving 
 at B^ziers, she is surrounded by crowds. " I assure you, 
 Monseigneur," she writes, " that when I tried to speak of 
 you to two or three, the moment I named the king every- 
 body pressed round to listen to me ; in short, I am con- 
 strained to talk of you, and I never close my speech v*-ithout 
 an accompaniment of tears from persons of all classes."
 
 MESDAMES, THE DAUGHTERS OF FRANCE. 249 
 
 Such was at that time the true grief of France for the loss 
 of her king. 
 
 As Marguerite advances farther into the country she 
 observes more and more the absence of the master; the 
 kingdom is " hke a body without a head, Hving to recover 
 you, dying in the sense that you are absent." As for herself, 
 seemg this, she thinks that her toils in Spain were more 
 Ci durable than this stillness in France, " where fancies 
 torment me more than efforts." 
 
 In general, all Marguerite's letters do the greatest honour 
 to her soul, to her generous, solid qualities, filled with affec- 
 tion and heartiness. Eomance and drama have many a 
 time expended themselves, as was indeed their right, on this 
 captivity in Madrid and on those interviews of Frangois I, 
 and his sister, which lend themselves to the imagination ; 
 but the reading of these simple, devoted letters, laying bare 
 their feelings, tells more than all. Here is a charming pas- 
 sage in which she smiles to him and tries, on her return, to 
 brighten the captive with news of his children. Francois I. 
 at this date had five, all of whom, with one exception, were 
 recovering from the measles. 
 
 " And now," says Marguerite, " they are all entirely cured 
 and very healthy; M. le dauphin does marv^els in study- 
 ing, mingflin" with his studies a hundred other exercises : 
 and there is no question now of temper, but of all the 
 virtues. M. d'Orldans is nailed to his book and says he 
 wants to be wise ; but M. d'AngoulSme knows more than 
 the others, and does things that may be thought prophetic 
 as well as childish ; which, Monseigneur, you would be 
 amazed to hear of. Little Margot is like me, and will not 
 be ill ; they tell me here she has very good grace, and is 
 growing much handsomer than Mademoiselle d'Angoulem© 
 ever was."
 
 250 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 Mademoiselle d'Angouleme is herself; and the little Margot 
 who promises to be prettier than her aunt and godmother, 
 is the second of the Marguerites, who is presently to be 
 Duchesse de Savoie. 
 
 As a word has now been said about the beauty of ]\Iar- 
 guerite de Navan-e, what are we to think about it? Her 
 actual portrait lessens the exaggerated idea we might form 
 of it from the eulogies of that day. j\Iarguerite resembles 
 her brother. She has his slightly aquiline and very long 
 nose, the long, soft, and shrewd eye, the lips equally long, 
 refined and smiling. The expression of her countenance is 
 that of shrewdness on a basis of kindness. Her dress is 
 sinjple ; her cotte or gown is made rather high and flat, with- 
 out any frippery, and is trimmed with fur ; her rnoh-cap, 
 low upon her head, encircles the forehead and upper part of 
 the face, scarcely allowing any hair to be seen. She holds 
 a little dog in her arms. The last of the Marguerites, tliat 
 other Queen of Navarre, first wife of Henri IV., was the 
 queen of modes and fashions in her youth ; she gave the 
 tone. Our Marguerite did nothing of all that ; she left tliat 
 role to the Duchesse d'fitampes and her like. Marot him- 
 self, when praising her, insists particularly on her character- 
 istic of gentleness, " which effaces the beauty of the most 
 beautiful," on her chaste glance and that franl: spccrJi, iritk- 
 out disguise., vAtlwiU artifice. She was sincere, "joyous, 
 laughing readily," fond of all honest gayety, and when hhe 
 wanted to say a lively word, too risky in French, slie said it 
 in Italian or in Spanish. In other respects, full of religion, 
 morality, and sound training ; justifying the magnificent 
 eulogy bestowed upon her by Erasmus. That wise monarch 
 of literature, that true emperor of the Latinity of his period, 
 consoling ]Mar<::uerite at the moment when she was under 
 the blow of the disaster of Pavia, writes to lier : " I have
 
 MESDAMES, THE DAUGHTERS OF FRANCE. 251 
 
 long admired and loved in you many eminent gifts of God : 
 prudence wortliy of a philosopher, chastity, moderation, 
 piety, invincible strength of soul, and a wonderful contempt 
 for all perishable things. Who would not consider with 
 admiration, in the sister of a great king, qualities which we 
 can scarcely find in priests and monks ? " In this last stroke 
 upon the monks we catch the slightly satirical tone of the 
 Voltaire of those times. Eemark that in this letter addressed 
 to Marguerite in 1525, and in another letter which closely 
 followed the first, Erasmus thanks and congratulates her on 
 the services she never ceases to render to the common cause 
 of literature and tolerance. 
 
 These services rendered by Marguerite were real ; but that 
 which is a subject of eulogy on the part of some is a source 
 of blame on the part of others. Her brother having mar- 
 ried her for the second time, in 1527, to Henri d'Albret, 
 King of Navarre, she held her little Court at Pau w^hich 
 thenceforth became the refuge and haven of all persecuted 
 persons and innovators. " She favoured Calvinism, which 
 she abandoned in the end," says President H^nault, "and 
 was the cause of the rapid progress of that dawning sect." 
 It is very true that Marguerite, open to all the literary and 
 generous sentiments of her time, behaved as, later, a person 
 on the verge of '89 might have favoured liberty with all 
 her strength without wishing or even perceiving the ap- 
 proaching revolution. She did at this period as did the 
 whole Court of France, which, merely following fashion, 
 the progress of Letters, the pleasure of understanding Holy 
 Scripture and of chanting the Psalms in French, came near 
 to being Lutheran or Calvinistic without knowinfj it. Their 
 first awakening was on a morning (October 19, 1534) when 
 they read, affixed to every wall in Paris, those bloody 
 placards against the Catholic faith. The imprudent ones
 
 252 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 of the party had fired the train before the appointed time. 
 Marguerite, good and loyal, knowing nothing of parties and 
 judging only by honourable persons and the men of letters 
 of her acquaintance, leaned to the belief that those infamous 
 placards were the act, not of Protestants, but of those who 
 sought a pretext to compromise and persecute them. Char- 
 itable and humane, she never ceased to act upon her brother 
 in the direction of clemency. 
 
 It was thus that on two or three occasions she tried to 
 save the unfortunate Berquin, who persisted in dogmatizing, 
 and was, in spite of all the princess's efforts with the king, 
 her brother, burned on the Gr^ve, April 24, 1529. To read 
 the passages of the letters in which she commends Eerquin, 
 one would think she espoused his opinions and his beliefs ; 
 but we must not ask too much rigour and precision of Mar- 
 guerite in her ideas and their expression. There are mo- 
 ments, no doubt, in reading her verse or her prose, when 
 we might think that she had fully accepted the Eefonna- 
 tion ; she reproduces its language, even its jargon. Then, 
 side by side, we see her become once more, or rather continue 
 to be, a believer after the manner of the best Catholics of her 
 age, given to all their practices, and not fearing to couple 
 with them her inconsistencies. Montaigne, who had great 
 esteem for her, could not prevent himself from noting, for 
 example, her singular reflection about a young and very great 
 prince, whose history slie relates in her JS^ouvellcs, and wlio 
 has all the look of being Frangois I. ; she shows him on 
 his way to a rendezvous that is not edifying, and, to shorten 
 his way, lie obtains permission of the porter of a monastery 
 to cross its enclosure. On his return, being no longer so 
 hurried, the prince stops to pray in the church of the 
 cloister ; " for," she says, " although he led the life of which 
 I tell you, he was a yii'ince who loved and feared God."
 
 MESDAMES, THE DAUGHTERS OF FRANCE. 253 
 
 Montaigne takes up that remark, and asks what good she 
 found at such a moment in that idea of divine protection 
 and favour. "This is not the only proof to be adduced," 
 he adds, " that women are not fitted to treat of matters of 
 theology." 
 
 And, in truth. Marguerite was no theologian ; she was a 
 person of real piety, heart, knowledge, and humanity, who 
 mingled with her serious life a happy, enjoying tempera- 
 ment, making a most sincere harmony of it all ; which sur- 
 prises us a little in the present day. Brantome relates (in 
 his " Lives of Illustrious Captains ") an anecdote of Marguerite 
 which paints her very well in this connection and measure. 
 A hrotlier of BrantSme, the Capitaine de Bourdeille, had 
 known at Ferrara in the household of the duchess of that 
 country (daughter of Louis XII.) a French lady. Mile, de La 
 Eoche, by whom he had made himself beloved. He brought 
 her back with him to France, and she went to the Court of 
 the Queen of Navarre, where she died, he no longer caring 
 for her. One day, three months after this death, Capitaine 
 de Bourdeille passed through Pau, and having gone to pay 
 his respects to the Queen of Navarre as she returned from 
 vespers, was well received by her ; and talking from topic tc 
 topic as they walked, the princess led him quietly through the 
 church to the spot where the tomb of the lady he had lovetl 
 and deserted was placed. " Cousin," she said, " do you not 
 feel something moving beneath your feet?" " No, madame," 
 he replied. "But reflect a moment, cousin," she said. 
 " Madame, I do reflect," he answered, " but I feel no move- 
 ment, for I am walking on solid stone." " Then I inform 
 you," said the queen, without keeping him further in sus- 
 pense, " that you stand upon the grave and body of that poor 
 Mile, de La Eoche, who is buried beneath you, whom you 
 loved so much ; and, since souls have feelings after death, it
 
 254 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 cannot be doubted that so honest a being, dying of coldness, 
 felt your step above her ; and though you felt nothing, be- 
 cause of the thickness of tliat stone, she was moved, and 
 conscious of your presence. Now, inasmuch as it is a pious 
 deed to remember the dead, I request you to give her a 
 Pater nostcr, an Ave JIaria, and a De F7'ofundis, and t(J 
 sprinkle her with holy water; you will thus obtain the 
 name of a faithful lover and a good Christian." She left 
 him and went away, that he might fulfil with a collected 
 mind the pious ceremonies that were due to the dead. I 
 do not know why Brantome adds the remark that, in his 
 opinion, the princess said and did all this more from g'jcd 
 grace and by way of conversation than from conviction ; it 
 seems to me, on the contrary, that there was belief as well 
 as grace, the conviction of a woman of delicacy and a pious 
 soul, and that all is there harmonized. 
 
 In Marguerite's own time there were not lacking tliose 
 who blamed her for the protection she gave to the lettered 
 friends of the Eeformation ; she found denunciators in the 
 Sorbonne ; she found them equally at Court. The Conne- 
 table de ^Montmorency, speaking to the king of the necessity 
 of purging the kingdom of heretics, added that he must liegin 
 with the Court and his nearest relations, naming the Queen 
 of Xavarre. " Do not speak of her," said the king, " .'-die 
 loves me too well ; she will believe only what I believe ; slie 
 will never be of any religion prejudicial to my State." Idiat 
 saying sums up tlie truth : ]\Iarguerite could be of no other 
 religion than that of her brother ; and Bayle has very well 
 remarked, in a fine page of his criticism, that the more we 
 show that ^Marguerite was not united in doctrine with the 
 Protestants, the more we are forced to recognize her ^gener- 
 osity, her loftiness of soul, and her pure humanity. By her 
 womanly instinct she comprehended tolerance, like L'Hopital,
 
 MESDAMES, THE DAUGHTERS OF FRANCE. 255 
 
 like Henri lY., like Bayle himself. From the point of view 
 of the State there may have been some danger in the direc- 
 tion of this tolerance, too confiding and too complete ; it so 
 appeared, in Marguerite's time, at this critical moment when 
 the religion of the State, and with it the constitution of those 
 days, was in danger of overthrow. Nevertheless, it is good 
 that there should be such souls, — in love, before all else, with 
 humanity ; who insinuate, in the long run, gentleness into 
 public morals and into laws and justice hitherto cruel ; it is 
 good because later, in epochs when severity begins again, 
 repression, while it may be commanded by reasons of policy, 
 is still forced to reckon with that sj^irit of humanity intro- 
 duced into customs, and with acquired tolerance. Thus the 
 rigour of present ages, softened and tempered as it now is by 
 general manners and morals, would have been a blessing in 
 past centuries ; these are points gained in civil life which are 
 never lost afterv/ards. 
 
 The Contes et Nonvelles of the Queen of Xavarre have 
 nothing, as we can readily believe, tliat is much out of keep- 
 ing or contradictory with her life and the habitual character 
 of her thoughts. M. Genin has already made that judicious 
 remark, and an attentive reading will only justify it. Those 
 Tales are neither the gayeties nor the sins of youth; she 
 wrote them at a ripe age, for the most part in her litter while 
 travelling, and by way of amusement — but the amusement 
 had its serious side. Death prevented her from concluding 
 them ; instead of the seven Days which we actually have, 
 she intended to make ten, like Boccaccio; she wished to 
 give, not an Heptameron, but a French Decameron. In her 
 prologue she supposes that several persons of condition, 
 French and Spanish, having met, in the month of September, 
 at the baths of Cauterets, in the Pyrenees, separate after a 
 few weeks ; the Spaniards returning as best they can across
 
 256 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 the mountains, the French delayed on their way by floods 
 caused by the heavy rains. A certain number of these trav- 
 ellers, men and women, after divers adventures more extraor- 
 dinary than agreeable, find themselves again in company at 
 the Abbey of iN'otre-Dame-de-Serrance, and there, as the 
 river Gave is not fordable, they decide to build a bridge. 
 "The abbd," says the narrator, "who was very glad they 
 should make this outlay, because the number of pilgrims 
 would thus be increased, furnished the workmen, but not a 
 penny to the costs, such was his avarice. The workmen 
 declaring that they could not build the bridge under ten or a 
 dozen days, the company, half men, half women, began to 
 get very weary." It became necessary to find some " pleasant 
 and virtuous " occupation for those ten days, and for this 
 they consulted a certain Dame Oisille, the oldest of the 
 company. 
 
 Dame Oisille responded in a manner most edifying : " ]\Iy 
 children, you ask me a thing that I find very difficult, 
 namely : to teach you a pastime which shall deliver you 
 from ennui. Having searched for this remedy all my life, I 
 have found but one, and that is the reading of Holy Epistles, 
 in which will be found the true and perfect joy of the soul, 
 from which proceeds the repose and health of the body." But 
 the joyous company cannot keep wholly to so austere a sys- 
 tem, and it is agreed that the time shall be divided between 
 the sacred and the profane. Early in the morning the com- 
 pany assembled in the chamber of Dame Oisille to share in 
 her moral readings, and from there they went to mass. 
 They dined at ten o'clock, after which, having retired each to 
 his or her chamber for private affairs, they met again about 
 mid-day on the meadow : " And, if it please you, every day, 
 from mid-day till four o'clock, we went through the beautiful 
 meadow, on the banks of the river du Gave, where the trees
 
 MESDAMES, THE DAUGHTERS OF FRAXCE. 257 
 
 are so leafy that the sun cannot pierce the shadows, or heat 
 the coolness ; and there, seated at our ease, each told some 
 story he had known, or else heard from a trustworthy per- 
 son." For it was well understood that nothing should be 
 told that was not true; narrators must be content to dis- 
 guise, if necessary, the names of both persons and places. 
 The company numbered ten ; as many men as women, and 
 each told a story daily ; so it followed that in ten days the 
 hundred tales would be completed. Every afternoon, at four 
 o'clock, a bell was rung, giving notice that it was time to go 
 to vespers ; the company went, — not, however, without some- 
 times obliging the monks to wait for them ; to which delay 
 the latter lent themselves with very good grace. Thus 
 rolled the time away, no one believing that he or she had 
 passed the limits of sanctioned gayety or committed any sin. 
 The Tales of the Queen of Navarre have nothing abso- 
 lutely out of keeping with this framework and design. 
 Each story has a moral, a precept, either well or ill de- 
 duced ; each is related to support some maxim, some theory, 
 on the pre-eminence of one or other of the sexes, on the 
 nature and essence of love, with examples or proofs (often 
 very contestable) of what is advanced. Prudery apart, there 
 is not much in these tales that is really charming. The 
 subjects are tliose of the time. At moments we exclaim 
 with Dame Oisille : " Good God ! shall we never get out of 
 these stories of monks ? " We are made aware that even the 
 honourable men and well-bred women of those days were 
 contemporaries of Rabelais. However, it all turns to a good 
 end. There is wit and subtlety in the discussions which 
 serve as epilogue or prologue to the different tales. Most 
 of the histories, being true, are without art, composition, or 
 denouement. The Queen of Navarre has been very little 
 imitated in the tales and verses made since her day ; in 
 
 17
 
 258 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES 
 
 fact, she lends herself poorly to imitation. Only once does 
 La Fontaine put her under contribution, but then in what 
 is, as I think, the most piquant of her writings, namely : 
 the tale of La Servante justifih. In IMarguerite's story a 
 merchant, a carpet-dealer, emancipates himself with another 
 than his wife, and is discovered by a female neighbour. 
 Fearing that the latter will gabble, the merchant, " who knew 
 how to give any colour to carpets," arranges matters in such 
 a way that his wife is induced of her own accord to walk to 
 the same place ; so that when the gossiping neighbour 
 comes to tell the wife what slie has seen, the latter replies, 
 " Hey ! my crony, but that was I." This " that was I " re- 
 peated many times and in varying tones, becomes comical, 
 like the sayings of the farce called Patelin, or a scene of 
 Eegnard ; there are, however, not many such sayings in 
 Marguerite's Tales. 
 
 A question which arises on the reading of these Nouvclks, 
 the image and faithful reproduction of the good societ}' of 
 that day, is on the singularity that the tone of conversation 
 should have varied so much among honourable persons at 
 different epochs before it settled down upon the basis of 
 true delicacy and decency. Elegant conversation dates 
 much farther back than we suppose ; polished society began 
 much earlier than we think. The character of conversation 
 as we now understand it in society, and that which specially 
 distinguishes it amontr moderns, is that women are admitted 
 to it ; and this it was that led, during the finest period of 
 the middle ages, to charming conversations in certain 
 Courts of the South, and also in Xormandy, in France, and 
 in England. In those ca=tles of the South wliere trouba- 
 dours disported, and wlienee the echo of their sweet 
 songs comes to us, where exquisite and ravishing stories 
 were composed (like tliat of Avxassiii et Xkoh'tte), there
 
 MESDAMES, THE DAUGHTERS OF FRANCE. 259 
 
 must have been all the dehcacy, all the graces one could 
 wish for in conversation. But taking matters as they ap- 
 pear to us at the end of the loth century, we notice a 
 mixture, a very perceptible struggle between purity and 
 license, between coarseness and refinement. The pretty little 
 romance Jehan de Sainti^e, in which the chivalric ideal is 
 pictured from the start in the daintiest manner, and which 
 assumes to give us a little code in action of politeness, 
 courtesy and gallantry, — in a word, the complete education 
 of a young equerry of the day, — this pretty romance is also 
 full of pedantic precepts, essays on minute ceremonial, and 
 towards the end it suddenly turns into gross sensuality and 
 the triumph of the monk, after Eabelais. 
 
 The vein of license and w^anton language never ceased 
 its flow from the time it originated, disguising itself in bril- 
 liant moments and noble companies only to again unmask 
 at the beginning of the sixteenth century, when it seems 
 to borrow still further audacity from the Latin Renaissance. 
 This was the time when virtuous women told and openly 
 discoursed of tales cu la Eoquelaure. Such is the tone of 
 the society which the Nouvelles of Marguerite of Navarre 
 represent to us, all the more naively because their intention 
 is in no way indecent. Nearly a century was needed to 
 reform this vice of taste ; it was necessary that Mme. de 
 Eambouillet and her daughter should come to reprimand 
 and school the Court, that professors of good taste and polite 
 language, like Mile, de Scud(^ry and the Chevalier de M(^rd, 
 should apply themselves for years to preach decorum ; and 
 even then we shall find many backslidings and vestiges of 
 coarseness in the midst of even their refinement and 
 formalism. 
 
 The noble moment is that when, by some sudden change 
 of season, intellects and minds are spread, all of a sudden,
 
 260 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 in a richer and more equal manner over a whole generation 
 of vigorous souls who then return eagerly to that which is 
 natural, and give themselves up to it without restraint. That 
 noble moment came in the middle of the seventeenth century, 
 and nothing can be imagined comparable to the conversa- 
 tions of the youth of the Condes, the La Eochefoucaulds, 
 the Eetzes, the Saint-Evremonds, the S^vign^s, the Turennes. 
 What perfect hours were those when Mme. de La Fayette 
 talked with Madame Henriette, lying after dinner on the 
 cushions ! Thus we come, across the greatest of centuries, 
 to Mme. de Caylus, the smiling niece of Mme. de Maiiite- 
 non, to that airy perfection where the mind without reflect- 
 ing about it, denies itself nothing and observes all. 
 
 In the second half of the seventeenth century no one but 
 Mme. Cornuel was allowed to use coarse language and be 
 forgiven because of the spicy wit with which she seasoned it. 
 At all times virtuous women must have heard and listened to 
 more than they repeated; but the decisive moment (which 
 needs to be noted) is that when they ceased to say unseemly 
 things and fix them in writing without perceiving that they 
 themselves were lacking in a virtue. This moment is what 
 Queen Marguerite, as a romance-writer and maker of Nou- 
 velles, had not the art to divine. 
 
 As a poet she has nothing more than facility. She imi- 
 tates and reproduces the various forms of poesy in use at 
 that date. It is told how she often employed two secretaries, 
 one to write down the French verses she composed im- 
 promptu, the other to transcribe her letters. 
 
 Marguerite died at the Castle of Odos in Bigorre, December 
 21, 1549, in her fifty-eighth year ; in yielding her last breath 
 she cried out three times : " Jesus ! " She was the mother 
 of Jeanne d'Albret. 
 
 Such as I have shown her as a whole, endeavouring not to
 
 MESDAMES, THE DAUGHTERS OF FRANCE. 261 
 
 force her features and to avoid all exaggeration, she deserves 
 that name of gentil esprit [charming spirit] which has been 
 so universally awarded to her ; she was the worthy sister of 
 Francois I., the worthy patron of the Kenaissance, the worthy 
 grandmother of Henri IV., as much for her mercy as for her 
 joyousness, and one likes to address her, in the halo that 
 surrounds her, these verses which her memory calls forth 
 and which blend themselves so well with our thought of 
 her : — 
 
 " Spirits, charming and lightsome, who have been, from all 
 time, the grace and the honour of this land of France — ye 
 who were born and played in those iron ages issuing from bar- 
 baric horrors ; who, passing through cloisters, were welcomed 
 there ; the joyous soul of burgher vigils and the gracious 
 fetes of castles ; ye who have blossomed often beside the 
 throne, dispersing the weariness of pomps, giving to victory 
 politeness, and recovering your smiles on the morrow of 
 reverses ; ye who have taken many forms, tricksorae, mock- 
 ing, elegant, or tender, facile ever ; ye who have never failed 
 to be born again at the moment you were said to have van- 
 ished — the ages for us have grown stern, reason is more and 
 more accredited, leisure has fled ; even our pleasures eager- 
 ness has turned into business, peace is without repose, so 
 busy is she with the useful ; to days serene come after- 
 thoughts and cares to many a soul ; — ^ 't is now the hour, or 
 nevermore, for awakening ; the hour to once more grasp the 
 world and again delight it, as, throughout all time, ye have 
 known the way, eternally fresh and novel. Abandon not for- 
 ever this land of Franco, spirits glad and lightsome ! " 
 
 Saint-Beuve, Causeries du Lundi (1852).
 
 DISCOUESE YII. 
 
 OF VAKIOUS ILLUSTRIOUS LADIES.i 
 
 1. Isabelle d^Autriche, wife of Charles IX., King of France 
 [daughter of the Emperor Maximilian //.], 
 
 We have had our Queen of France, Isabelle d'Autriche, 
 who was married to King Charles IX., of whom it is every- 
 where said she was one of the best, the gentlest, the wisest, 
 and most virtuous queens who reigned since kings and queens 
 began to reign. I can say this, and every man who has 
 ever seen or heard of her will say it with me, and not do 
 wrong to others, but with the greatest truth. She was very 
 beautiful, having the complexion of her face as fine and deli- 
 cate as any lady of her Court, and very agreeable. Her 
 figure was beautiful also, though it was of only medium 
 height. She was extremely wise, and very virtuous and 
 kind, never giving pain to others, no matter who, nor offend- 
 ing any by a single word ; and as to that, she was very sober, 
 speaking little, and then in Spanish. 
 
 She was most devout, but in no way bigoted, not showing 
 her devotion by external acts too visible and too extreme, 
 such as I have seen in some of our paternosterers ; but, 
 without failing in her ordinary hours of praying to God, she 
 used them well, so that she did not need to borrow extraordi- 
 nary ones. It is true, as I have heard her ladies tell, that 
 when she was in bed and hidden, her curtains well-drawn, 
 she would kneel on her knees, in her shift, and pray to God 
 
 ^ See Appendix.
 
 
 //'/// /
 
 VAEIOUS ILLUSTRIOUS LADIES. 263 
 
 an hour and a half, beating her breast and macerating it in 
 her great devotion. Which they did not see by her consent, 
 and then not till her husband, King Charles, was dead ; at 
 which time, she haviag gone to bed and all her women with- 
 drawn, one of them remained to sleep in her chamber ; and 
 this lady, hearing her sigh one night, bethought her of look- 
 ing through the curtains and saw her in that state, and pray- 
 ing to God in that manner, and so continuing every night ; 
 until at last the waiting-woman, who was familiar with her, 
 began to remonstrate, and told her she did harm to her 
 health. On which the queen was angry at being dis- 
 covered and advised, and wished to conceal what she did, 
 commanding her to say no word of it, and, for that night, 
 desisted ; but the night after she made up for it, thinking 
 that her women did not perceive what she did, whereas they 
 saw and perceived her by her shadow thrown by the night- 
 lamp filled with wax which she kept lighted on her bed to 
 read and pray to God ; though other queens and princesses 
 kept theirs upon their sideboards. Such ways of prayer are 
 not like those of hypocrites, who, wishing to make an ap- 
 pearance before the world, say their prayers and devotions 
 publicly, mumbling them aloud, that others may think them 
 devout and saintly. 
 
 Thus prayed our queen for the soul of the king, her hus- 
 band, whom she regretted deeply, — making her plaints and 
 regrets, not as a crazed and despairing woman, with loud 
 outcries, wounding her face, tearing her hair, and playing 
 the woman who is praised for weeping; but mourning 
 gently, shedding her beautiful and precious tears so tenderly, 
 sighing so softly and lowly, that we knew she restrained 
 her grief, not to make pretence to the world of brave ap- 
 pearance (as I have seen some ladies do), but keeping in 
 her soul her greatest anguish. Thus a torrent of water if
 
 264 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 arrested is more violent than one that runs its ordinary 
 course. 
 
 Here I am reminded to tell how, during the illness of 
 the king, her lord and husband, he dying on his bed, and 
 she going to visit him ; suddenly she sat down beside him, 
 not by his pillow as the custom is, but a little apart and 
 facing him where he lay ; not speaking to him, as her habit 
 was, she held her eyes upon him so fixedly as she sat there 
 you would have said she brooded over him in her heart with 
 the love she bore him ; and then she was seen to shed tears 
 so quietly and tenderly that those who did not look at her 
 would not have known it, drying her eyes while making 
 semblance to blow her nose, causing pity to one (for I saw 
 her) in seeing her so tortured without yielcl,ing to her grief 
 or her love, and without the king perceiving it. Then she 
 rose, and went to pray God for his cure ; for she loved and 
 honoured him extremely, although she knew his amorous 
 complexion, and the mistresses that he had both for honour 
 and for pleasure. But she never for that gave him worse 
 welcome, nor said to him any harsh words ; bearing patiently 
 her little jealousy, and the robbery he did to her. She was 
 very proper and dignified with him ; indeed it was fire and 
 water meeting together, for as much as the king was quick, 
 eager, fiery, she was cold and very temperate. 
 
 I have been told by those who know that after her widow- 
 hood, among her most privileged ladies who tried to give 
 her consolation, there was one (for you know among a large 
 number tliere is always a clumsy one) who, tliinking to 
 gratify her said : " Ah, niadame, if God instead of a daughter 
 had given you a sou, you would now be queen-mother of 
 the king, and your grandeur would be increased and 
 strengthened." " Alas ! " she replied, " do not say to me such 
 grievous things. As if France had not troubles enough
 
 VARIOUS ILLUSTRIOUS LADIES. 265 
 
 without my producing her one which would complete her 
 ruin ! For, had I a son, there would be more divisions, 
 troubles, seditions to gain the government during his 
 minority ; from that would come more wars than ever ; and 
 each would be trying to get his profit in despoiling the 
 poor child, as they would have done to the late king, my 
 husband, when he was little, if the queen-mother and her 
 good servitors had not opposed it. If I had a son, I should 
 be miserable to think I had conceived him and so caused 
 a thousand maledictions from the people, whose voice is 
 that of God. That is why I praise my God, and take with 
 gratitude the fruit he gives me, whether it be to me myself 
 for better or for worse." 
 
 Such was the goodness of this good princess towards the 
 country and people to which she had been brought by 
 marriage. I have heard related how, at the massacre of 
 Saint-Bartholomew, she, knowing nothing of it nor even 
 hearing the slightest breath of it, went to bed as usual, and 
 did not wake till morning, at which time they told her of 
 the fine drama that was playing [le lean mystere qui sejouoit]. 
 " Alas ! " she said quickly, " the king, my husband, does he 
 know of it ? " " Yes, madame," they answered her ; " it was 
 he himself who ordered it." " my God ! " she cried, 
 " what is this ? What counsellors are those who gave him 
 such advice ? My God ! I implore thee, I beg thee to pardon 
 him ; for if thou dost not pity him, I fear that this offence 
 is unforgivable." Then she asked for her prayer-book and 
 began her orisons, imploring God with tears in her eyes. 
 
 Consider, I beg of you, the goodness and wisdom of this 
 queen in not approving such a festival nor the deed then 
 performed, although she had reasons to desire the total 
 extermination of M. I'amiral and those of his religion, not 
 only because they were contrary to hers, which she adored
 
 266 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 and honoured before all else in the world, but because she 
 saw how they troubled the States of the king, her husband ; 
 and also because the emperor, her father, had said to her 
 when she parted from him to come to France : " My 
 daughter, you will be queen of the finest, most powerful 
 and greatest kingdom in the world, and for that I hold 
 you to be very happy ; but happier would you be if you 
 could find that kingdom as flourishing as it once was ; but 
 instead you will find it torn, divided, weakened ; for though 
 the kmg, your husband, holds a good part of it, the princes 
 and seigneurs of the Eeligion hold on their side the other 
 part of it." And as he said to her, so she found it. 
 
 This queen having become a widow, many persons, men 
 and women of the Court, the most cluar-sighted that I know, 
 were of opinion that the king, on his return from Poland, 
 would marry her although she was his sister-in-law ; for he 
 could have done so by dispensation of the pope, who can do 
 much in such matters, and above all for great personages 
 because of the public good that comes of it. There were 
 many reasons why this marriage should be made ; I leave 
 them to be deduced by high discoursers, without alleging 
 them myself. But among others was that of recognizing by 
 this marriage the great oblicjations the kins; had received from 
 the emperor on his return from Poland and departure thence; 
 for it cannot be doubted that if the emperor had placed the 
 smallest obstacle in his way, he could never have left Poland 
 or reached France safely. The Poles would have kejot him 
 had he not departed without bidding them farewell ; and the 
 Germans lay in wait for him on all sides to catch him (as 
 they did that brave King Pdchard of England of whom we read 
 in the chronicles) ; they would surely have taken him prisoner 
 and held him for ransom, and perhaps worse ; for they were 
 bitter against him for the Saint-Bartholoiuew ; or, at least,
 
 VARIOUS ILLUSTRIOUS LADIES. 267 
 
 the Protestant princes were. But, voluntarily and without 
 ceremony, he threw himself in good faith upon the em- 
 peror, who received him very graciously and amiably, and 
 with much honour and privilege as though they w^ere 
 brothers, and feasted him nobly ; then, after having kept 
 him several days, he conducted him himself for a day 
 or two, giving him safe passage through his territory ; so 
 that King Henri, by his favour, reached Carinthia, the land 
 of the Venetians, Venice, and then his own kingdom. 
 
 This was the obligation the king was under to the em- 
 peror ; so that many persons, as I have said, were of opinion 
 tliat King Henri III. would meet it by drawing closer their 
 alliance. But at the time he went to Poland he saw at 
 Blamont, in Lorraine, Mademoiselle de Vaudemont, Louise 
 de Lorraine, one of the handsomest, best, and most accom- 
 plished princesses in Christendom, on whom he cast his 
 eyes so ardently that he was soon in love, and in such a 
 manner that (nursing his flame during the whole of his 
 absence) on his return to France he despatched from Lyon 
 M. du Gua, one of his prime favourites, to Lorraine, where 
 he arranged and concluded the marriage between him and 
 her very easily, and without altercation, as I leave you to 
 think ; because by the father and tlie daughter no such luck 
 was expected, the one to be father-in-law of a king of 
 France, and the daughter to be queen. Of her I shall speak 
 elsewhere. 
 
 To return now to our little queen, who, disliking to remain 
 in France for several reasons, especially because she was not 
 recognized and endowed as she sliould have been, resolved 
 to go and finish the remainder of her noble days with the 
 emperor and empress, her father and mother. When there, 
 the Catholic king being widowed of Queen Anne of Austria, 
 own sister to Queen Isabelle, he desired to espouse the latter,
 
 268 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 and sent to beg the empress, his own sister, to lay his pro- 
 posals before her. But she would not listen to them, not 
 the first, nor the second, nor the third time her mother the 
 empress spoke of them ; excusing herself on the honourable 
 ashes of the king, her husband, which she would not insult 
 by a second marriage, and also on the ground of too great 
 consanguinity and close parentage between them, which 
 might greatly anger God; on which the empress and her 
 brother the king urged her to lay the matter before a very 
 learned and eloquent Jesuit, who exhorted and preached to 
 her as much as he could, not forgetting to quote all the 
 passages of Holy and other Scripture, which might serve his 
 purpose. But the queen confounded him quickly by other 
 quotations as fine and more truthful, for, since her widow- 
 hood, she had given herself to the study of God's word ; 
 besides which, she told him her determined resolution, which 
 was her most sacred defence, namely, not to forget her hus- 
 band in a second marriage. On which the Jesuit was forced 
 to leave her without gaining anything. But, being urged to 
 return by a letter from the King of Spain, who would not 
 accept the resolute answer of the princess, he treated her 
 with rigorous words and even threats, so that she, not willing 
 to lose her time contesting against him, cut him short ])y 
 saying that if he meddled with her again she would make 
 liiui repent it, and even went so far as to threaten to have 
 liim whipped in her kitchen. I have also heard, but I do 
 not know if it be true, that this Jesuit having returned for 
 the third time, she turned away and had him chastised for 
 his presumption. I do not believe this ; for she loved persons 
 of holy lives, as those men are. 
 
 Such was the great constancy and noble firmness of this 
 virtuous queen, which she kept to the end of her days, towards 
 the venerated bones of the king her husl)and, which she
 
 VARIOUS ILLUSTRIOUS LADIES. . 269 
 
 honoured incessantly with regrets and tears ; and not being 
 able to furnish more (for a fountain must in the end dry up) 
 she succumbed, and died so young that she was only thirty- 
 five years old at the time of her deatL Loss most inesti- 
 mable ! for she might long have served as a mirror of virtue 
 to the honest ladies of all Christendom. 
 
 If, of a surety, she manifested love to the king her husband, 
 by her constancy, her virtuous continence, and her con- 
 tinual grief, she showed it still more in her behaviour to the 
 Queen of Navarre, her sister-in-law ; for, knowing her to be 
 in a great extremity of famine in the castle of Usson in 
 Auvergne, abandoned by most of her relations and by so 
 many others whom she had obliged, she sent to her and 
 offered her all her means, and so provided that she gave her 
 half the revenue she received in France, sharing with her 
 as if she had been her own sister ; and they say Queen Mar- 
 guerite would indeed have suffered severely without this 
 great liberality of her good and beautiful sister. Wherefore 
 she deferred to lier much, and honoured and loved her so 
 that scarcely could she bear her death patiently, as people 
 do in the world, but took to her bed for twenty days, weep- 
 ing continually with constant moans, and ever since has not 
 ceased to regret and deplore her ; expending on her memory 
 most beautiful words, which she needed not to borrow from 
 others, in order to praise her and to give her immortality. 
 I have been told that Queen Isabelle composed and printed 
 a beautiful book which touched on the word of God, and 
 also another concerning histories of what happened in France 
 during the time she was there. I know not if this be true, 
 but I am assured of it, and also that persons have seen that 
 book in the hands of the Queen of Navarre, to whom she 
 sent it before she died, and who set great store by it, calling 
 it a fine thing ; and if so divine an oracle said so, we must 
 believe it.
 
 270 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES 
 
 This is a summary of what I have to say of our good 
 Queen Isabelle, of her goodness, her virtue, her continence, 
 her constancy, and of her loyal love to the king her husband. 
 And were it not her nature to be good and virtuous (I 
 heard M. de Langeac, who was in Spain when she died, tell 
 how the empress said to him : " That which was best among 
 us is no more "), we might suppose that in all her actions 
 Queen Isabelle sought to imitate her mother and her aunts. 
 
 2. Jeanne d'Autriche, wife of Jean, Infante of Portugal, and 
 mother of the king, Don Sebastian. 
 
 This princess of Spain was of great beauty and very 
 majestic, or she would not have been a Spanish princess ; 
 for a fine carriage and good grace always accompany the 
 majesty of a Spanish woman. I had the honour of seeing 
 her and talking with her rather privately, being in Spain on 
 my way back from Portugal. I had gone to pay my respects 
 to our Queen of Spain, Elisabeth of France, and was talking 
 with her, she asking news both of France and Portugal, 
 when they came to tell her that Madame la Princesse Jeanne 
 was arriving. On which the queen said to me, "Do not 
 stir, M. de Bourdeille. You will see a beautiful and hon- 
 ourable princess. It will please you to see her, and she 
 will be very glad to see you and ask you news of the king 
 her son, since you have lately seen him." Whereupon, the 
 princess arrived, and I thought her ver}^ beautiful according 
 to my taste, very well attired, and wearing on her head a 
 Spanish toque of white crepe coming low in a point upon 
 her nose, and dressed as a Spanish widow, who wears silk 
 usually. I admired and gazed upon her so fixedly that I 
 was on the point of feeling ravished when the queen called 
 me and said that Madame la princesse wished to hear from 
 me news of her son the king ; I had overheard her telling
 
 VAKIOUS ILLUSTEIOUS LADIES. 271 
 
 the princess that she was talking with a gentleman of her 
 brother's Court who had just come from Portugal. 
 
 On which I approached the princess, and kissed her gown 
 in the Spanish manner. She received me very gently and 
 intimately ; and then began to ask me news of the king, her 
 son, his behaviour, and what I thought of him ; for at that 
 time they were thinking to make a marriage between him 
 and Madame Marguerite de France, sister of the king, and in 
 these days Queen of Navarre. I told her everything ; for at 
 that time I spoke Spanish as well as, or better than French. 
 Among her other questions she asked me this : " Was her 
 son handsome, and whom did he resemble ? " I told her he 
 was certainly one of the handsomest princes of Christendom 
 and resembled her in everything and was, in fact, the very 
 image of her beauty ; at which she gave a little smile and 
 the colour came into her face, which showed much gladness 
 at what I said. After talking with her some time they came 
 to call the queen to supper, and the two princesses separated ; 
 the queen saying to me with a smile : " You have given her 
 a great pleasure in what you said of the resemblance of her 
 son." 
 
 And afterwards she asked me what I thought of her; 
 whether I did not think her an honourable woman and such 
 as she had described her to me, adding : " I think she would 
 like much to marry the king, my brother [Charles IX.], and 
 I should like it, too." She knew I should repeat this to the 
 queen-mother on my return to Court, which was then at Aries 
 in Provence ; and I did so ; but she said she was too old for 
 him, old enough to be his mother. I told the queen-mother, 
 however, what had been said to me in Spain, on good author- 
 ity, namely : that the princess had said she was firmly re- 
 solved not to marry again unless with the King of France, 
 and failing that to retire from the world. In fact, she had
 
 272 THE BOOK or THE LADIES. 
 
 SO set her fancy on this high match and station, for her heart 
 was very lofty, that she fully believed in attaining her end 
 and contentment; otherwise she meant to end her days, as 
 I have said, in a monastery, where she was already building 
 a house for her retreat. Accordingly she kept this hope and 
 belief very long in her mind, managing her widowhood sagely, 
 until she heard of the marriage of the king to her niece [Isa- 
 belle], and then, all hope being lost, she said these words, or 
 something like them, as I have heard tell : " Thougli the 
 niece be more in her springtime and less weighed with 
 years than the aunt, the beauty of the aunt, now in its 
 summer, all made and formed by charming years, and bear- 
 ing fruit, is worth far more than the fruit her youthful 
 blooms give promise of ; for the slightest misadventure will 
 undo them, make them fall and perish, no more no less 
 than the trees of spring, which with their lovely blooms 
 promise fine fruits in summer ; but an evil wind may blow 
 and beat them down and nought be left but leaves. But 
 let it be done to the will of God, with whom I now shall 
 marry for all time, and not with others." 
 
 As she said, so she did, and led so good and holy a life 
 apart from the world that she left to ladies, both great and 
 small, a noble example to imitate. There may be some who 
 have said : " Thank God she could not marry King Charles, 
 for if she had done so she would have left behind the hard 
 conditions of widowhood and resumed all the sweetness of 
 marriage." That may be presumed. But may we not, on 
 the other hand, presume that the great desire she showed the 
 world to marry that great king was a form and maimer of 
 ostentation and Spanish pride, manifesting her lofty aspira- 
 tions which she would not lower ? — for seeing her sister Marie 
 Empress of Austria and wishing to equal her she aspired to 
 be Queen of France which is worth an empire — or more.
 
 VARIOUS ILLUSTRIOUS LADIES. 273 
 
 To conclude : slie was, to my thinking, one of the most 
 accomplished foreign princesses I have ever seen, though she 
 may be blamed for retreating from the world more from vex- 
 ation than devotion ; but the fact remains that she did it ; 
 and her good and saintly end has shown in her I know not 
 what of sanctity. 
 
 3. Marie cV Autriche, wife of Louis, King of Hungary 
 [sister of the Emperor Charles V.~\. 
 
 Her aunt, Queen Marie of Hungary, did the same, although 
 at a more advanced age, as irmch to retire from the world as 
 to help the emperor, her brother, to serve God well in his 
 retreat. This queen became a widow early, having lost 
 King Louis, her husband, who was killed, very young, in a 
 battle against the Turks, which he fought, not for good reason, 
 but by persuasion and pertinacity of a cardinal who governed 
 him much, assuring him that he must not distrust God and 
 His just cause, for if there were but ten thousand Hungarians, 
 they, being good Christians and fighting for God's quarrel, 
 could make an end of a hundred thousand Turks ; and that 
 cardinal so urged and pushed him to the point that he fought 
 and lost the battle, and in trying to retreat he fell into a 
 marsh and was smothered. Such are the blunders of men 
 who want to manage armies and do not know the business. 
 
 That was why the great Due de Guise, after he was so 
 greatly deceived on his journey to Italy, said frequently : 
 " I love the Church of God, but I will never undertake an 
 enterprise of war on the word or faith of a priest," — meanin^'j 
 by that to lay blame on Pope Paul IV., who had not kept 
 the promises he made him with great and solemn words, 
 and also on M. le Cardinal, his brother, who had sounded 
 the ford as far as Eome, and lightly pushed his brother 
 into it. 
 
 18
 
 274 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 To return to our great Queen Marie ; after this misfor- 
 tune to her husband she was left a widow very young, very 
 beautiful, as I have heard said by many persons who knew 
 her, and as I judge myself from the portraits I have seen, 
 which represent her without anything ugly to find fault with, 
 unless it be her large, projecting mouth like that of the house 
 of Austria ; though it does not really come from the house of 
 Austria, but from that of Bourgogne ; for I have heard a 
 lady of the Court of those times relate as follows : once 
 when Queen El^onore, passing through Dijon, went to make 
 her devotions at the Chartreux monastery of that town, she 
 visited the venerable sepulchres of her ancestors, the Dues 
 de Bourgogne, and was curious enough to have them opened, 
 as many of our kings have done with theirs. She found 
 them so well preserved that she recognized some by various 
 signs, among others by their mouths, on which she suddenly 
 cried out : " Ha ! I thought we got our mouths from Austria, 
 but I see we get them from Marie de Bourgogne and the 
 Dues de Bourgogne our ancestors. If I see my brother the 
 emperor again, I shall tell him so, or else I shall send him 
 word." The lady who was present told me that she heard 
 this, and also that the queen spoke as if taking pleasure in 
 it ; as indeed she had reason to do ; for the house of Bour- 
 gogne was fully worth that of Austria, since it came from 
 a son of France, Philippe the Bold, and had gained much 
 property and great generosities of valour and courage from 
 him ; for I believe there never were four greater dukes com- 
 ing one after the other than those four Dues de Bourgogne. 
 People may blame me sometimes for exaggerating ; but I 
 ought to be readily pardoned, because I do not know the art 
 of writing. 
 
 Our Queen Marie of Hungary was very beautiful and 
 agreeable, though she was always a trifle masculine ; but in
 
 VARIOUS ILLUSTRIOUS LADIES. 275 
 
 love she was none the worse for that, nor in war, which she 
 took as her principal exercise. The emperor, her brother, 
 knowing how fitted for war and very able she v/as, sent for 
 her to come to him, and there invested her with the office 
 which had belonged to her Aunt Marguerite of Flanders, 
 who had governed the Low Countries with as much mild- 
 ness as her successor now showed rigour. Indeed, so long 
 as Madame Marguerite lived King rran9ois never turned 
 his wars in that direction, though the King of England 
 urged it on him ; for he said that he did not wish to annoy 
 that honest princess, who had shown herself so good to 
 France and was so wise and virtuous, and yet so unfortunate 
 in her marriages ; the first of which was with King Charles 
 VIIL, by whom she was sent back very young to her father's 
 house ; another with the son of the King of Arragon named 
 Jean, by whom she had a posthumous child who died as 
 soon as he was born, and the third was with that handsome 
 Due Philibert of Savoie, by whom she had no issue ; and 
 for this reason she bore for her device the words Fortune 
 inforhtne, fors une. She lies with her husband in that 
 beautiful convent at Brou, which is so sumptuous, near the 
 town of Bourg in Bresse, where I liave seen it.^ 
 
 Queen Marie of Hungary was of great assistance to the 
 emperor, for he stood alone. It is true he had Ferdinand, 
 king of the Eomans, his brother ; but he was forced to 
 show front against that great Sultan Solyman ; also he 
 had upon his hands the affairs of Italy, which were then in 
 combustion ; of Germany, which were little better because 
 of the Grand Turk ; of Hungary ; of Spain, which had 
 revolted under M. de Chifevres ; besides the Indies, the Low 
 
 1 The tomb of Marguerite and Philibert is still to be seen in the beauti- 
 ful church, and the above motto, which is carved upon it, has been the 
 theme of much antiquarian discussioa — Tb.
 
 276 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 Countries, Barbary, and France, the greatest burden of all 
 In short, I may say the whole world almost. 
 
 He made this sister Marie, whom he loved above every- 
 thing, governor-general of all his Low Countries, where for tlie 
 space of twenty-two or three years she served him so well 
 that I know not how he could have done without her. 
 For this he trusted her with all the affairs of the govern- 
 ment, so that he himself, being in Flanders, left aU to her, 
 and the Coimcil was held by her in her own house. It is 
 true that she, being very wise and clever, deferred to him, 
 and reported to him all that was done at the Council when 
 he was not there, in which he took much pleasure. 
 
 She made great wars, sometimes by her lieutenants, some- 
 times in person, — always on horseback like a generrms 
 amazon. She was the first to light fires and conflagrations 
 in France, — some in very noble houses and chateaux like 
 that of FoUembray, a beautiful and charming house built 
 by our kings for their comfort and pleasure in liunting. 
 The king took this with such wrath and displeasure that 
 before long he returned her the change for it, and revenged 
 it on her beautiful mansion of Bains, held to be a miracle 
 of the world, shaming (if I may say so from what I 
 have heard those say who saw it in its perfection) the 
 seven wonders of the world renowned in antiquity. She 
 feted there the Emperor Charles and his whole Court, when 
 his son, King Philip, came from Spain to Flanders to see 
 him ; on which occasion its magnificences were seen in such 
 excellence and perfection that nothing was talked of at 
 that time but las fiestas de Bains, as the Spaniards say. I 
 remember myself that on the journey to Bayonne [where 
 Catherine de' ]\redici met her daughter Ehsabeth Queen 
 of Spain], however great was the magnificence there pre- 
 sented, in tourneys, combats, masquerades, and money ex-
 
 VARIOUS ILLUSTRIOUS LADIES. 277 
 
 pended, nothing came up to las fiestas de Bains ; so said 
 certain old Spanish gentlemen who had seen them, and also 
 as I saw it stated in a Spanish book written expressly about 
 them ; so that one could well say that nothing finer was 
 ever seen, not even, begging pardon of Koman magnificence, 
 the games of ancient times, barring the combats of gladiators 
 and wild beasts. Except for them, the fetes of Bains were 
 finer and more agreeable, more varied, more general. 
 
 I would describe them here, according as I could borrow 
 them from that Spanish book and as I heard of them from 
 some who were present, even from Mme. de Fontaine, born 
 Torcy, maid of honour at the time to Queen Eldonore ; but I 
 might be blamed for being too digressive. I will keep it for 
 a honne hoiicJie another time, for the thing is worth it. 
 Among some of the finest magnificences was this : Queen 
 Marie had a great fortress built of brick, which was assaulted, 
 defended, and succoured by six thousand foot-soldiers ; can- 
 nonaded by thirty pieces of cannon, whether in the batteries 
 or the defences, with the same ceremonies and doings as 
 in real war ; which siege lasted three days, and never was 
 anything seen so fine, the emperor taking great pleasure 
 in it. 
 
 You may be sure that if this queen played the sumptuous 
 it was because she wanted to show her brother that if she 
 held her States, pensions, benefits, even her conquests, through 
 him, all were devoted to his glory and pleasure. In fact, the 
 said emperor was greatly pleased and praised her much ; and 
 reckoned the cost very high ; especially that of his chamber 
 which was hung with tapestry of splendid w^arp, of silver 
 and gold and silk, on which were figured and represented, 
 the size of life, all his fine conquests, great enterprises, expe- 
 ditions of war, and the battles he had fought, given, and won, 
 above all, not forgetting the flight of Solyman before Vienna,
 
 278 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 and the capture of King Francois. In short, there was 
 nothing in it that was not exquisite. 
 
 But the noble house lost its lustre soon after, being totally 
 pillaged, ruined, and razed to the ground. I have heard say 
 that its mistress, when she heard of its ruin, fell into such 
 distress, anger, and rage that for long she could not be paci- 
 hed. Passing near there some time later she wished to see 
 the ruins, and gazing at them very piteously with tears in 
 her eyes, she swore that all France should repent of the deed, 
 for never should she be at her ease until that fine Fontaine- 
 bleau, of which they thought so much, was razed to tlie 
 ground with not one stone left upon another. In fact, 
 she vomited her rage upon poor Picardy, which felt it in 
 flames. And we may believe that if peace had not inter- 
 vened, her vengeance would have been greater still ; for she 
 had a stem, hard heart, not easily appeased, and was thought 
 to be, on her side as much as on ours, too cruel. But such is 
 the nature of women, even the greatest, who are very quick 
 to vengeance when offended. The emperor, it was said, loved 
 her the better for it. 
 
 I have heard it related how, w^hen at Brussels, the emperor, 
 in the great haU where he had called together the general 
 Assembly, in order to give up and despoil himself of his 
 States, after making an harangue and saying all he wished 
 to say to the Assembly and to his son, humbly thanked 
 Queen Marie, his sister, who was seated beside him. On 
 which she rose from her seat and, with a grand curtsey made 
 to her brother with great and grave majesty and composed 
 grace, she said, addressing her speech to the people : " Mes- 
 sieurs, since for twenty-three years it has pleased the em- 
 peror, my brother, to give me the charge and government of 
 all his Low Countries, I have employed and used therein all 
 that Crod, nature, and fortune have given me of means and
 
 VARIOUS ILLUSTRIOUS LADIES. 279 
 
 graces to acquit myself as well as possible. And if in any- 
 thing I have been in fault, I am excusable, thinking I have 
 never forgotten what I should remember, nor spared what 
 was proper. Nevertheless, if I have been lacking in any way 
 I beg you to pardon me. But if, in spite of this, some of you 
 will not do so, and remain discontented with me, it is the 
 least thing I care for, inasmuch as the emperor, my brother, 
 is content; for to please him alone has been my greatest 
 desire and solicitude." So saying, and having made another 
 grand curtsey to the emperor, she resumed her seat. I have 
 heard it said that this speech was thought too haughty and 
 defiant, both as relating to her office, and as bidding adieu to 
 a people whom she ought to have left with a good word and 
 in grief at her departure. But what did she care, — inasmuch 
 as she had no other object than to please and content her 
 brother and, from that moment, to quit the world and keep 
 company with that brother in his retreat and his prayers 
 [1556] ? 
 
 I heard all this related by a gentleman of my brother who 
 was then in Brussels, having gone there to negotiate the ran- 
 som of my said brother who was taken prisoner at Hesdin 
 and confined five years at Lisle in Flanders. The said gen- 
 tleman witnessed this Assembly and all these sad acts of the 
 emperor; and he told me that many persons were rather 
 scandalized under their breaths at this proud speech of the 
 queen ; though they dared say nothing, nor let it be seen, 
 for they knew they had to do with a maitresse-femme who 
 would, if irritated, deal them some blow as a parting gift. 
 But here she was, relieved of her office, so that she accom- 
 panied her brother to Spain and never left him again, she, 
 and her sister, Queen El^onore, until he lay in his tomb ; the 
 three surviving exactly a year one after the other. The 
 emperor died first, the Queen of France, being the elder, next,
 
 280 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 and the Queen of Hungary last, — both sisters having very 
 virtuously governed their widowhood. It is true that the 
 Queen of Hungary was longer a widow than her sister with- 
 out remarrjang ; for her sister married twice, as much to be 
 Queen of France, which was a fine morsel, as by prayer and 
 persuasion of the emperor, in order that she might serve as a 
 seal to secure peace and public tranquillity ; though, indeed, 
 this seal did not last long, for war broke out again soon after, 
 more cruel than ever ; but the poor princess could not help 
 that, for she had brought to Trance all she could; though 
 the king, her husband, treated her no better for that, but 
 cursed his marriage, as I have heard say. 
 
 4. Louise de Lorraine, icife of Henri LLL., King of France. 
 
 We can and should praise this princess who, in her mar- 
 riage, behaved to the king, her husband, so wisely, chastely, 
 and loyally that the tie wliich bound her to him remained 
 indissoluble and was never loosened or undone, although the 
 king her husband, loving change, went after others, as the 
 fashion is with these great persons, who have a liberty of 
 their own apart from other men. Moreover, within the first 
 ten days of their marriage he gave her cause for discontent- 
 ment, for he took away her waitiug-maids and the ladies 
 who had been with her and brought her up from childhood, 
 whom she regretted much ; and more especially the sting 
 went deep into her heart on account of Mile, de Changy, a 
 beautiful and very honourable young lady, who should never 
 have been banished from the company of her mistress, or 
 from Court. It is a great vexation to lose a good companion 
 and a confidante. 
 
 I know that one of the said queen's most intimate ladies 
 vras so presumptuous as t(j say to her one day, laiigliing and 
 joking, that since she had no children by the king and could
 
 //v/' . /'. //<///-/ ///
 
 VARIOUS ILLUSTRIOUS LADIES. 281 
 
 never have them, for reasons that were talked of in those 
 days, she would do well to borrow a third and secret means 
 to have them, in order not to be left without authority when 
 the king should die, but rather be mother to a king and 
 hold the rank and grandeur of the present queen-mother, her 
 mother-in-law. But she rejected this bouffonesque advice, 
 taking it in very bad part and nevermore liking the good 
 lady-counsellor. She preferred to rest her grandeur on her 
 chastity and virtue than upon a lineage issuing from vice : 
 counsel of the world ! which, according to the doctrine of 
 Macchiavelli, ought not to be rejected. 
 
 But our Queen Louise, so wise and chaste and virtuous, 
 did not desire, either by true or false means, to become 
 queen-mother; though, had she been willing to play such 
 a game, things would have been other than they are; for 
 no one would have taken notice, and many would have been 
 confounded. For this reason the present king [Henri IV.] 
 owes much to her, and should have loved and honoured her ; 
 for had she played the trick and produced the child, he 
 would only have been regent of France, and perhaps not 
 that, and such weak title would not have guaranteed us from 
 more wars and evils than we have so far had. Still, I have 
 heard many, religious as well as worldly people, say and hold 
 to this conclusion, namely : that Queen Louise would have 
 done better to play that game, for then France would not 
 have had the ruin and misery she has had, and will have, 
 and that Christianity would have been the better for it. I 
 make this question over to worthy and inquiring discoursers 
 to give their opinion on it ; it is a brave subject and an ample 
 one for the State ; but not for God, methinks, to whom our 
 queen was so inclined, loving and adoring Him so truly that 
 to serve Him she forgot herself and her high condition. For, 
 1)eing a very beautiful princess (in fact the king took her for
 
 2S2 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 her beauty and virtue), and young, delicate, and very lovable, 
 she devoted herself to no other purpose than serving God, 
 going to prayers, visiting the hospitals continually nursing 
 the sick, burying the dead, and omitting nothing of all the 
 good and saintly works performed by saintly and devoted 
 good women, princesses, and queens in the times past of the 
 primitive Church. After the death of the king, her husband, 
 she did the same, employing her time in mourning and 
 regretting him, and in praying to God for his soul ; so that 
 her widowed life was much the same as her married hfe. 
 
 She was suspected during the lifetime of her husband of 
 leaning a little to the party of the Union [League] because, 
 good Christian and Catholic that she was, she loved all who 
 fought and combated for her faith and her rehgion ; but she 
 never loved these and left them wholly after they killed her 
 husband ; demanding no other vengeance or punishment than 
 what it pleased God to send them, asking the same of men 
 and, above all, of our present king ; who should, however, have 
 done justice on that monstrous deed done to a sacred person. 
 
 Thus lived this princess in marriage and died in widovr- 
 hood. She died in a reputation most beautiful and worthy 
 of her, having linsrered and languished lonj?, without taking; 
 care of herself and giving way too much to her sadness. 
 She made a noble and religious end. Before she died she 
 ordered her crown to be placed on the pillow beside her, and 
 would not have it moved as long as she lived ; and after her 
 death she was crowned with it, and remained so. 
 
 5. Marguerite de Lorraine, wife of Anne, Dilc de Joyeusc} 
 
 Queen Louise left a sister, Madame de Joyeuse, who has 
 imitated her modest and chaste life, having made great 
 
 1 The picture of the Ball at Court, unrlcr Henri HI., attributed to Fran- 
 cois Clouet (see chapter ii. of this volume), was given in celebration of her
 
 VARIOUS ILLUSTRIOUS LADIES. 283 
 
 mourning and lamentation for her husband, a brave, valiant, 
 and accomplished seigneur. And I have heard say that 
 when the present king was so tightly pressed in Brest, where 
 M. du Maine with forty thousand men held him besieged and 
 tied up in a sack, that if she had been in the place of the 
 Due de Chartres, who commanded within, she would have 
 revenged the death of her husband far better than did the 
 said duke, who on account of the obligations he owed the 
 Due de Joyeuse, should have done better. Since when, she 
 has never liked him, but hated him more than the plague, 
 not being able to excuse such a fault; though there are 
 some who say that he kept the faith and loyalty he had 
 promised. 
 
 But a woman justly or unjustly offended does not listen 
 to excuses ; nor did this one, who never again loved our 
 present king ; but she greatly regretted the late one [Henri 
 III.] although she belonged to the League ; but she always 
 said that she and her husband were under extreme obliga- 
 tions to him. To conclude : she was a good and virtuous 
 princess, who deserves honour for the grief she gave to the 
 ashes of her husband for some time, although she remarried 
 in the end with M. de Luxembourg. Being a woman, why 
 should she languish ? 
 
 6. Christine of Denmark, niece of the Emperor Charles V. 
 Duchcsse de ZorraAne. 
 
 After the departure of the Queen of Hungary no great 
 princess remained near King Philip II. [to whom Charles 
 V. resigned the Low Countries, Naples, and Sicily 1555] 
 
 marriage. She advances, with lier sweet and modest face (evidently a 
 portrait) in the centre of the picture. Henri III. is seated under a red 
 dais; next him is Catherine de' Medici, his mother, and next to her is 
 Louise de Lorraine, liis wife ; leanins on the king's chair is Henri Due de 
 Guise, le Balafr6, murdered by Henri IIJ. at Blois in 1588. — Tb.
 
 284 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 except the Duchesse de Lorraine, Christine of Denmark, 
 his cousin-german, since called her Highness, who kept 
 him good company so long as he stayed in Flanders, and 
 made his Court shine ; for the Court of every king, prince, 
 emperor, or monarch, however grand it be, is of little 
 account if it be not accompanied and made desirable by 
 the Court of queen, empress, or great princess with numer- 
 ous ladies and damoiselles ; as I have well perceived myself 
 and heard discoursed of and said by the greatest personages. 
 
 This princess, to my thinking, was one of the most beauti- 
 ful and accomplished princesses I have ever seen. Her face 
 was very agreeable, her figure tall, and her carriage fine; 
 especially did she dress herself well, — so well that, in her 
 time, she gave to our ladies of France and to her own a 
 pattern and model for dressing the head with a coiffure and 
 veil, called tt la Lorraine; and a fine sight it was on our 
 Court ladies, who wore it only for fetes or great magnifi- 
 cences, in order to adorn and display themselves, as did all 
 Lorraine, in honour of her Highness. Above all, she had 
 one of the prettiest hands that were ever seen ; indeed 1 
 have heard our queen-mother praise it and compare it with 
 her own. She held herself finely on horseback with vei-y 
 good grace, and always rode with stirrup and pommel, as 
 she had learned from her aunt, Queen Mary of Hungary. 
 I have heard say tliat the queen-mother learned tliis fashion 
 from her, for up to that time she rode on tlie plank, which 
 certainly does not show the grace or the fine action with the 
 stirrup. She liked to imitate in riding the queen, her aunt, 
 and never mounted any but Spanish or Turkish horses, 
 barbs, or very fine jennets which went at an amble ; I 
 have known her have at one time a dozen very fine ones, 
 of which it would bo hard to say wliich was the finest. 
 
 Her aunt, the queen, Ir)^■ed her much, finding her suited to
 
 VARIOUS ILLUSTRIOUS LADIES. 285 
 
 her humour, whether in the exercises, hunting and other, that 
 she loved, or in. the virtues that she knew she possessed. 
 While her husband lived she often went to Flanders to sec 
 her aunt, as Mme. de Fontaine told me; but after she 
 became a widow, and especially after they took her son 
 away from her, she left Lorraine in anger, for her heart was 
 very lofty, and made her abode with the emperor her uncle, 
 and the queens her aunts, who gladly received her. 
 
 She bore very impatiently the parting from this son, 
 though King Henri made every excuse to her, and declared 
 he intended to adopt him as a son. But not being pacified, 
 and seeing that they were giving the old fellow M. de la 
 Brousse to her son as governor, taking away from him M. de 
 Montbardon, a very wise and honourable gentleman whom 
 the emperor had appointed, having known him for a very 
 long time, this princess, finding how desperate the matter 
 was, came to see King Henri on a Holy Thursday in the 
 great gallery at Nancy, where the Court then was ; and with 
 very composed grace and that great beauty which made her 
 so admired, and without being awed or abating in any way 
 her grandeur, she made him a great curtsey, entreating him, 
 and explaining with tears in her eyes (which only made her 
 the more beautiful) the wrong he did in taking her son from 
 her, — an object so dear to her heart and all she had in the 
 world ; also that she did not merit such treatment, in view 
 of the great family from which she came; besides which 
 she believed she had never done anything against his service. 
 She said these things so well, with such good grace and 
 reasoning, and made her complaint so gently that the king, 
 who was always courteous to ladies, had great compassion 
 for her, — not only he, but all the princes and the great and 
 the little people who saw that sight. 
 
 The king, who was the most respectful king to ladies
 
 286 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 that was ever in France, answered lier most civilly ; not 
 with a flourish of words or a great harangue, as Paradin in 
 his History of France represents, for of himself and by 
 nature he was not at all prolix, nor copious in words nor 
 a great haranguer. Moreover, there is no need nor would 
 it be becoming that a king should imitate in his speech a 
 philosopher or an orator; so that the shortest words and 
 briefest answers are best for a king ; as I have heard M. 
 de Pibrac say, whose instruction was very sound on account 
 of the learning that was in him. Therefore, whoever reads 
 that harangue of Paradin, made, or presumed to be made 
 by King Henri, should believe none of it, for I have heard 
 several great persons who were present declare that he could 
 not have heard that answer or that discourse as he says 
 he did. Very true it is that the king consoled her civilly 
 and modestly on the desolation she expressed, and told her 
 she had no reason to be troubled, because to secure his 
 safety, and not from enmity, did he wish to keep her son 
 beside him, and put him with his own eldest son to have 
 the same education, same manner of life, same fortune ; and 
 since he was of French extraction, and himself Frencli, he 
 could be better brought up at the Court of France, among 
 the French, where he had relations and friends. Kor did he 
 forget to remind her that the house of Lorraine was more 
 obliged to France than any house in Christendom, remind- 
 ing her of the obligation of the Due de Lorraine in respect 
 to Due Charles de Bourfjome, who was killed at Xanov. 
 
 But all these fine words and reasons could not console 
 her or make her bear her sorrow patiently. So that, hav- 
 ing made her curtsey, still shedding many precious tears, 
 she retired to her chamber, to the door of which the king 
 conducted her ; and the next day, before hi'^ departure, she 
 went to see him in hi? chamber to take leave of him, but
 
 VARIOUS ILLUSTRIOUS LADIES. 287 
 
 could not obtain her request. Therefore, seeing her dear 
 son taken before her eyes and departing for France, she 
 resolved, on her side, to leave Lorraine and retire to Flanders, 
 to her uncle, the emperor (how fine a word !), and to her 
 cousin King Philip and the queens, her aunts (what 
 alliance ! what titles !), which she did ; and never stirred 
 thence till after the peace made between the two kings, 
 when he of Spain crossed the seas and went away. 
 
 She did much for this peace, I might say all ; for the 
 deputies, as much on one side as on the other, as I have 
 heard tell, after much pains and time consumed at Cercan 
 [Cateau-Cambr^sis] without doing or concluding anything, 
 were all at fault and off the scent, like huntsmen, when 
 she, being either instinct with the divine spirit, or moved 
 by good Christian zeal and her natural good sense, under- 
 took this great negotiation and conducted it so well that 
 the end was fortunate throughout all Christendom. Also it 
 was said that no one could have been found more proper 
 to move and place that great rock ; for she was a very 
 clever and judicious lady if ever there was one, and of fine 
 and grand authority ; and certainly small and low persons 
 are not so proper for that as the great. On the other hand 
 the kmg, her cousin [PhiHp II.], believed and trusted her 
 greatly, esteeming her much, and loving her with a great 
 affection and love ; as indeed he should, for she gave his 
 Court great value and made it shine, when otherwise it 
 would have been obscure. Though afterwards, as I have 
 been told, he did not treat her too well in the matter of her 
 estates which came to her as dowry in the duchy of Milan ; 
 she having been married first to Due Sforza, for, as I have 
 heard say, he took and curtailed her of some. 
 
 I was told that after the death of her son she remained 
 ^n very ill terms with M. de Guise and his brother, the
 
 288 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 Cardinal, accusing them of having persuaded the king to 
 keep her son on account of their ambition to see and have 
 their near cousin adopted son and married to the house of 
 France ; besides which, she had refused some time before 
 to take M. de Guise in marriage, he having asked her to 
 do so. She, who was haughty to the very extreme, rephed 
 that she would never marry the younger of a house whose 
 eldest had been her husband ; and for that refusal M. de 
 Guise bore her a grudge ever after, — though indeed he lost 
 nothing by the change to Madame his wife, whom he mar- 
 ried soon after, for she was of very illustrious birth and grand- 
 daughter of Louis XII., one of the bravest and best kings 
 that ever wore the crown of France ; and, what is more, she 
 was the handsomest woman in Christendom. 
 
 I have heard tell that the first time these two handsome 
 princesses saw each other, they were each so contemplative 
 the one of the other, turning their eyes sometimes cross- 
 ways, sometimes sideways, that neither could look enough, 
 so fixed and attentive were they to watch each other. I 
 leave you to think what thoughts they were turning in 
 their fine souls ; not more nor less than those we read of 
 just before the great battle in Africa between Scipio and 
 Hannibal (which was the final settlement of the war be- 
 tween Eome and Carthage), when those two great captains 
 met together during a truce of two hours, and, having ap- 
 proached each other, they stood for a little space of time, lost 
 in contemplation the one of the other, each ravished by the 
 valour of his companion, both renowned for their noble 
 deeds, so well represented in their faces, their bodies, and 
 their fine and warlike ways and gestures. And then, hav- 
 ing stood for some time thus wrapt in meditation of each 
 other, they began to negotiate in the manner that Titus 
 Livius describes so well. That is what virtue is, which
 
 VARIOUS ILLUSTRIOUS LADIES. 289 
 
 makes itself admired amid hatreds and enmities, as beaiitj 
 among jealousies, like that of the two ladies and princesses 
 I have just been speaking of. 
 
 Certainly their beauty and grace may be reckoned equal, 
 though Mme. de Guise could slightly have carried the day ; 
 but she was content without it, — being not at all vain or 
 superb, but the sweetest, best, humblest, and most affable 
 princess that could ever be seen. In her way, however, she 
 was brave and proud, for nature had made her such, as much 
 by beauty and form as by her grave bearing and noble 
 majesty; so much so that on seeing her one feared to 
 approach her; but having approached her one found only 
 sweetness, candour, gayety ; getting it all from her grand- 
 father, that good father of his people, and the sweet air of 
 France. True it is, she knew well how to keep her grandeur 
 and glory when need was. 
 
 Her Highness of Lorraine was, on the contrary, very 
 vain-glorious, and rather too presumptuous. I saw that 
 sometimes in relation to Queen Marie Stuart of Scotland, 
 who, being a widow, made a journey to Lorraine, on which 
 I went ; and you would have said that very often her said 
 Highness was determined to equal the majesty of the said 
 queen. But the latter, being very clever and of great cour- 
 age, never let her pass the line, or make any advance ; 
 although Queen Marie was always gentle, because her uncle, 
 the Cardinal, had warned and instructed her as to the tem- 
 per of her said Highness. Then she, being unable to be rid 
 of her pride, thought to soothe it a little on the queen-mother 
 when they met. But that indeed was pride to pride and a 
 half ; for the queen-mother was the proudest woman on earth 
 when she chose to be. I have heard her called so by many 
 great personages ; for when it was necessary to repress the 
 vainglory of some one who wanted to seem of importance 
 
 19
 
 290 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 she knew how to abase him to the centre of the earth. How- 
 ever, she bore herself civilly to her Highness, deferring to 
 her much and honouring her ; but always holding the bridle 
 in hand, sometimes high, sometimes low, for fear she should 
 get away ; and I heard her myself say, two or three times : 
 " That is the most vainglorious woman I ever saw." 
 
 The same thing happened when her Highness came to the 
 coronation of the late King Charles IX. at Eeims, to which 
 she was invited. When she arrived, she would not enter the 
 town on horseback, fearing she could not thus show her 
 grandeur and high estate ; but she put herself into a most 
 superb carriage, entirely covered with black velvet, on account 
 of her widowhood, which was drawn by four Turk horses, 
 the finest that could be chosen, and harnessed all four abreast 
 after the manner of a triumphal car. She sat by the door, 
 very well dressed, but all in black, in a gown of velvet; but 
 her head was white and very handsomely and superbly 
 coiffed and adorned. At the other door of her carriage was 
 one of her daughters, afterwards Mme. la Duchesse de 
 Bavifere, and within was the Princesse de Mac^doine, her 
 lady of honour. 
 
 The queen-mother, wishing to see her enter the courtyard 
 in this triumphal manner, placed herself at a window and 
 said, quite low, " There 's a proud woman ! " Then her High- 
 ness having descended from her carriage and come upstairs, 
 the queen advanced to receive her at the middle of the room, 
 not a step beyond, and rather nearer the door than farther 
 from it. There she received her very well ; because at that 
 time she governed everything. King Charles being so young ; 
 and did all she wished, which was certainly a great honour 
 to her Highness. All the Court, from the highest to the 
 lowest, esteemed and admired her much and thought her 
 very handsome, although she was declining in years, being
 
 VARIOUS ILLUSTRIOUS LADIES. 291 
 
 at that time rather more than forty: but nothing as yet 
 showed it, her autumn surpassing the summer of others. 
 
 She died one year after hearing the news that she was 
 Queen of Denmark, from which she came, and that the king- 
 dom had fallen to her ; so that before her death she was able 
 to change the title of Highness, she had borne so long, to 
 that of Majesty. And yet, for all that, as I have heard, she 
 was resolved not to go to her kingdom, but to end her days 
 in her dower-house at Tortonia in Italy, where the country- 
 side called her only Madame de Tortonia ; she having retired 
 there some time before her death, as much because of cer- 
 tain vows she had made to the saints of those parts as to 
 be near the baths of Tortonia, she being feeble in health 
 and very gouty. 
 
 Her practices were fine, saintly, and honourable, to wit : 
 praying God, giving alms, and doing great charity to the poor, 
 above all to widows. This is a summary of what I have 
 heard of this great princess, who, though a widow and very 
 beautiful, conducted herself virtuously. It is true that one 
 might say she was married twice : first with Due Sforza, but 
 he died at once ; they did not live a year together before she 
 was a widow at fifteen. Then her uncle, the Emperor 
 Charles V., remarried her to the Due de Lorraine, to 
 strengthen his alliance with him ; but there again she was a 
 widow in the flower of her age, having enjoyed that fine 
 marriage but a very few years j and those that remained to 
 her, which were her finest and most precious in usefulness, 
 she kept and consumed in a chaste widowhood. 
 
 7. Marie d'Autriche, wife of the JEmperor Maximilian II. 
 
 This empress, though she was left a widow quite young 
 and very beautiful, would never marry again, but contained 
 herself and continued in widowhood very virtuously, having
 
 292 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 left Austria and Germany, the scene of her empire, after 
 the death of her husband. She returned to her brother, 
 Philip II. in Spain ; he having sent for her, and begged 
 her to come and assist him with the heavy burden of his 
 affairs, which she did ; being a very wise and judicious 
 princess. I have heard the late King Henri III. say, — and 
 he was a better judge of people than any man in his king- 
 dom, — that to his mind she was one of the ablest and most 
 honourable princesses in the world. 
 
 On her way to Spain, after crossing the Germanys, she 
 came to Italy and Genoa, where she embarked ; and as it was 
 winter and the month of December when she set sail, bad 
 weather overtook her near Marseille, where she was forced 
 to put in and anchor. But still, for all that, she would not 
 enter the port, neither her own galley nor the others, for 
 fear of causing suspicion or offence. Only once did she 
 enter the town, just to see it. She remained there eight 
 days awaiting fair weather. Her best exercise was in the 
 mornings, when she left her galley (where she slept) and 
 went to hear mass and service at the church of Saint- Victor, 
 with very ardent devotion. Then her dinner was brought 
 and prepared in the abbey, where she dined; and after 
 dinner she talked with her women or with certain gentle- 
 men from Marseille, who paid her all the honour and 
 reverence that were due to so great a princess ; for King 
 Henri had commanded them to receive her as they would 
 himself, in return for the good greeting and cheer she had 
 given him in Vienna. So soon as she perceived this she 
 showed herself most friendly, and spoke to them very freely 
 both in German and in French ; so that they were well con- 
 tent with her and she with them, selecting twenty especially ; 
 among them M. Castellan, called the Seigneur Altivity, cap- 
 tain of the galleys, who was distinguished for having mar-
 
 VAKIOUS ILLUSTRIOUS LADIES. 293 
 
 ried tlie beautiful Chateauneuf at Court, and also for having 
 killed the Grand-prior, as I shall relate elsewhere. 
 
 It was his wife who told me all that I now relate, and 
 discoursed to me about the perfections of this great princess ; 
 and how she admired Marseille, thinking it very fine, and 
 went about with her on her promenades. At night she re- 
 turned to her galley, so that if the fine weather and the 
 good wind came, she might quickly set sail. I was at our 
 Court when news was brought to the king of this passing 
 visit ; and I saw him very uneasy lest she should not be 
 received as she ought to be, and as he wished. This princess 
 still lives, and continues in all her fine virtues. She greatly 
 helped and served her brother, as I have been told. Since 
 then she has retired to a convent of women called the " bare- 
 footed " [CarmeHtes], because they wear neither shoes nor 
 stockings. Her sister, the Princess of Spain, founded them. 
 
 8. BlancJi4 de Montferrat, Duchesse de Savoie. 
 
 While I am on this subject of noble widows I must say 
 two words of one of past times, namely: that honourable 
 widow, Madame Blanche de Montferrat, one of the most 
 ancient houses in Italy, who was Duchesse de Savoie and 
 thought to be the handsomest and most perfect princess of 
 her time ; also very virtuous and judicious, for she governed 
 wisely the minority of her son and his estates ; she being 
 left a widow at the age of twenty-three. 
 
 It was she who received so honourably our young King 
 Charles ^T^II. when he went to his kingdom of Naples, 
 through all her lands and principally her city of Turin, 
 where she gave him a pompous entry, and met him in per- 
 son, very sumptuously accoutred. She showed she felt 
 herself a great lady ; for she appeared that day in magnifi- 
 cent state, dressed in a grand gown of crinkled cloth of
 
 294 THE BOOK OP THE LADIES. 
 
 gold, edged with large diamonds, rubies, sapphires, emeralds, 
 and other precious stones. Round her throat she wore a 
 necklace of very large oriental pearls, the value of which 
 none could estimate, with bracelets of the same. She was 
 mounted on a beautiful white ambling mare, harnessed most 
 superbly and led by six lacqueys dressed in figured cloth of 
 gold. A great band of damoiselles followed her, very richly, 
 daintily, and neatly dressed in the Piedmont fashion, which 
 was fine to see ; and after them came a very long troop of 
 noblemen and knights of the country. Then there entered 
 and marched King Charles, beneath a rich canopy, and went 
 to the castle, where he lodged, and where Madame de Savoie 
 presented to him her son, who was very young. After which 
 she made the king a fine harangue, offering her lands and 
 means, both hers and her son's ; which the king received 
 with very good heart, and thanked her much, feeUng greatly 
 obliged to her. Throughout the town were everywhere seen 
 the arms of France and those of Savoie interlaced in a great 
 lover's-knot, which bound together the two escutcheons and 
 the two orders, with these words : Sanguinis arctus amor ; 
 as may be read in the " Chronicles of Savoie." 
 
 I have heard several of our fathers and mothers, who got 
 it from their parents, and also Mademoiselle the Sdn^chale 
 de Poitou, my grandmother, then a damoiselle at Court, affirm 
 that nothing was talked of but the beauty, wisdom, and 
 wit of this princess, when the courtiers and gallants returned 
 from their journey ; and, above all, by the king, who seemed, 
 from appearance, to be wounded in his heart. 
 
 At any rate, even without her beauty, he had good reason 
 to love her ; for she aided him with all the means in her 
 power, and gave up her jewels and pearls and precious stones 
 to send them to him that he might use them and pledge 
 them as he pleased ; which was indeed a very great obliga-
 
 VARIOUS ILLUSTRIOUS LADIES. 295 
 
 tion, for ladies bear a great affection to their precious stones 
 and rings and jewels, and would sooner give and pledge 
 some precious piece of their person than their wealth of 
 jewels — I speak of some, not all. Certainly this obligation 
 was great; for without this courtesy, and that also of the 
 Marquise de Montferrat, a very virtuous lady and very hand- 
 some, he would have met in the long run a short shame, and 
 must have returned from the semi-journey he had under- 
 taken without money ; having done worse than that bishop 
 of France who went to the Council of Trent without money 
 and without Latin. "What an embarkation without biscuit ! 
 However, there is a difference between the two ; for what 
 one did was out of noble generosity and fine ambition, which 
 closed his eyes to all inconveniency, thinking nothing im- 
 possible to his brave heart ; while as for the other, he lacked 
 wit and ability, sinning in that through ignorance and 
 stupidity — if it was not that he trusted to beg them when 
 he got there. 
 
 In this discourse that I have made of that fine entry, 
 there is to be noted the superbness of the accoutrements 
 of this princess, which seem to be more those of a married 
 woman than a widow. Upon which the ladies said that for 
 so great a king she could dispense with mourning ; and also 
 that great people, men and women, gave the law to them- 
 selves ; and besides, that in those times the widows, so it 
 was said, were not so restricted nor so reformed in their 
 clothes as they have been since for the last forty years ; 
 like a certain lady whom I know, who, being in the good 
 graces and delights of a king [probably Diane de Poitiers] 
 dressed herself much d, la modest (though always in silk), the 
 better to cover and hide her game ; and in that respect, the 
 widows of the Court, wishing to imitate her, did the same. 
 But this lady did not reform herself so much, nor to such
 
 296 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 austerity, that she ceased to dress prettily and pompously, 
 though always in black and white ; indeed there seemed 
 more of worldliness than of widow's reformation about it : 
 for especially did she always show her beautiful bosom. I 
 have heard the queen, mother of King Henri, say the same 
 thing at the coronation and wedding of King Henri III., 
 namely : that the widows in times past did not have such 
 great regard to their clothes and to modesty of actions as 
 they have to-day ; the which she said she saw in the times 
 of King FranQois, who wanted his Court to be free in every 
 way ; and even the widows danced, and the partners took 
 them as readily as if they were girls or married women. 
 She said on this point that she commanded and begged 
 M. de Vaudemont to honour the fete by taking out Madame 
 la Prmcesse de Condd, the dowager, to dance ; which he did 
 to obey her ; and he took the princess to the grand ball ; 
 those who were at the coronation, like myself, saw it, and 
 remember it welL These were the liberties that widows 
 had in the olden time. To-day such things are forbidden 
 them like sacrilege ; and as for colours, tliey dare not wear 
 them, or dress in anything but black and white ; though 
 their skirts and petticoats and also their stockings they may 
 wear of a tan-gray, violet, or blue. Some that I see emanci- 
 pate themselves in flesh-coloured red and chamois colour, as 
 in times past, when, as I have heard said, all colours could 
 be worn in petticoats and stockings, but not in gowns. 
 
 So this duchess, about whom we have been speaking, 
 could very well wear this gown of cloth of gold, that being 
 her ducal garment and her robe of grandeur, the whicli was 
 becoming and permissible in her to show her sovereignty 
 and dignity of duchess. Our widows of to-day dare not wear 
 precious stones, except on their fingers, on some miiTors, on 
 some " Hours," and on their belts ; but never on their heads
 
 VARIOUS ILLUSTRIOUS LADIES. 297 
 
 or bodies, unless a few pearls on their neck and arms. But 
 I swear to you I have seen widows as dainty as could be 
 in their black and white gowns, who attracted quite as 
 many and as much as the bedizened brides and maidens of 
 France. There is enough said now of this foreign widow. 
 
 9. Catherine de CUves, wife of Henri I. de Lorraine, 
 Due de Guise. 
 
 Madame de Guise, Catherine de Cloves, one of the three 
 daughters of Nevers (three princesses who cannot be lauded 
 enough either for their beauty or their virtues, and of whom 
 I hope to make a chapter), has celebrated and celebrates 
 daily the eternal absence of her husband [Le Balafr^, killed 
 at Blois 1588]. But oh ! what a husband he was ! The 
 none-such of the world ! That is what she called him in 
 several letters which she wrote to certain ladies of her in- 
 timacy whom she held in esteem, after her misfortune ; 
 manifesting in sad and grievous words the regrets of her 
 wounded soul. 
 
 10. Madame de Bourdeille. 
 
 Madame de Bourdeille, issuing from the illustrious and 
 ancient house of Montb^ron, and from the Comtes de P^ri- 
 gord and the Vicomtes d'Aunay, became a widow at the 
 age of thirty-seven or thirty-eight, very beautiful (in Guyenne, 
 where she lived, it was believed that none surpassed her in 
 her day for beauty, grace, and noble appearance) ; and being 
 thus in fine estate and widowed, she was sought in marriage 
 and pursued by three very great and rich seigneurs, to whom 
 she answered : — 
 
 " I shall not say as many ladies do, who declare they will 
 never marry, and give their word in such a way that they 
 must be believed, after which nothing comes of it ; but I
 
 298 THE BOOK OF THE LADIES. 
 
 do say that, if God and flesh do not give me any other 
 wishes than I have at present, it is a very certain thing that 
 I have bade farewell to marriage forever." 
 
 And then, as some one said to her, " But, madame, would 
 you burn of love in the flower of your age ? " she answered : 
 " I know not what you mean. For up to this hour I have 
 never been even warmed, but widowed and cold as ice. Still, 
 I do not say that, being in company with a second husband 
 and approaching his fire, I might not bum, as you think. 
 But because cold is easier to bear than heat, I am resolved 
 to remain in my present quality and to abstain from a second 
 marriage." 
 
 And just as she said then, so she has remained to the 
 present day, a widow these twelve years, without the least 
 losing her beauty, but always nourishing it and taking care 
 of it, so that it has not a single spot. Which is a great 
 respect to the ashes of her husband, and a proof that she 
 loved him well ; also an injunction on her children to 
 honour her always. The late M. Strozzi was one of those 
 who courted her and asked her in marriage ; but great as 
 he was and allied to the queen-mother, she refused him and 
 excused herself kindly. But what a humour was this ! 
 to be beautiful, virtuous, a very rich heiress, and yet to end 
 her days on a solitary feather-bed and blanket, desolate and 
 cold as ice, and thus to pass so many widowed nights ! Oh ! 
 how many there be unlike this lady — but some are like her, 
 too.
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 (See page 30.) 
 
 Under Louis XII. the French fleet and the English fleet 
 met, August 10, 1513, off the heights of Saint-Mach^ in 
 Lower Bretagne. The Enghsh fleet, eighty vessels strong, 
 attacked that of France, which had but twenty. The French 
 made up for numbers by courage and ability. They seized 
 the advantage of the wind, fouled the enemy's ships and 
 shattered them, and sent more than half to the bottom. 
 The Breton Primauguet was captain of " La Cordehfere ;" the 
 vessel constructed after the orders of Queen Anne ; it could 
 carry twelve hundred soldiers besides the crew. He was 
 attacked by twelve English vessels, defended himself with 
 a courage that amounted to fury, sunk a number of the 
 enemy's vessels, and drove off the rest. One captain alone 
 dared approach him again, flinging rockets on board of him, 
 and so setting fire to the vessel. Primauguet might have 
 saved himself in the long-boat, as did some of the officers 
 and soldiers ; but that valiant sailor would not survive the 
 loss of his ship ; he only thought of selling his life dearly 
 and taking from the Enghsh the pleasure of enjoying the 
 defeat of the French. Though all a-fire, he sailed upon the 
 flag-ship of the enemy, the " Regent of England," grappled 
 her, set fire to her, and blew up with her an instant later. 
 More than three thousand men perished in this action by
 
 300 APPENDIX. 
 
 cannon, fire, and water. It is one of the most glorious pages 
 in our maritime annals. 
 
 French editor of " Vie des Dames Illustres," 
 Garniei>Frferes. Paris. 
 
 IL 
 
 (See page 44.) 
 This is doubtless the Discours merveilleux de la, vie, actions, 
 et cUportemens de la reine Catherine de Medicis, attributed to 
 Theodore de Bfeze, also to de Serres, but with more proba- 
 bility to Henri Etienne ; coming certainly from the hand of 
 a master. It was printed and spread about publicly in 
 1574 with the date of 1575 ; inserted soon after in the 
 Memoires d'etat sous Charles IX., printed in 1577 in three 
 volumes, 8vo, and subsequently in the various editions of 
 the Beceuil de diverses jpieces jpour servir d, Vhistoire du 
 
 rlgne de Henri III. 
 
 French editor. 
 
 III. 
 
 (See page 91.) 
 M. de Maison-Fleur was a gentleman of the Bordeaux 
 region, a Huguenot, and a somewhat celebrated poet in his 
 day, whose principal work, Les Divins Cantiques, was printed 
 for the first time at Antwerp in 1580, and several times 
 reprinted in succeeding years. For details on this poet, see 
 the Bihliotheque Frangaise of the Abb^ Goujet. 
 
 French editor. 
 
 lY. 
 
 (See page 92.) 
 
 We see, 'neath white attire, 
 In mourning great and sadness, 
 Passing, -with many a charm 
 Of beauty, this fair goddess, 
 Holding the shaft in hand 
 Of her son, heartless.
 
 APPENDIX. 301 
 
 And Love, without his frontlet, 
 Fluttering round her, 
 Hiding his bandaged eyes 
 With veil of mourning 
 On which these words are writ : 
 
 DiK OR BE CAPTURED. 
 
 V. 
 
 (See page 94.) 
 
 Translation as nearly literal as possible. 
 
 In my sad, sweet song, 
 In tones most lamentable 
 I cast my cutting grief 
 Of loss incomparable ; 
 And in poignant sighs 
 I pass my best of years. 
 
 Was ever such an ill 
 
 Of hard destiny. 
 
 Or so sad a sorrow 
 
 Of a happy lady. 
 
 That my heart and eye 
 
 Should gaze on bier and coffin? 
 
 That I, in my sweet springtide, 
 
 In the flower of youth, 
 
 All these pains should feel 
 
 Of excessive sadness, 
 
 With naught to give me pleasure 
 
 Except regret and yearning ? 
 
 That which to me was pleasant 
 Now is hard and painful ; 
 The brightest light of day 
 Is darkness black and dismal ; 
 Nothing is now delight 
 In that of me required. 
 
 I have, in heart and eye, 
 A portrait and an image
 
 302 APPENDIX. 
 
 That mark my mourning life 
 And my pale visage 
 With violet tones that are 
 The tint of grieving lovers. 
 
 For my restless sorrow 
 
 I can rest nowhere ; 
 
 Why should I change in place 
 
 Since sorrow will not efface? 
 
 My worst and yet my best 
 
 Are in the loneliest places. 
 
 ■\Vhen in some still sojourn 
 In forest or in field, 
 Be it by dawn of day, 
 Or in the vesper hour, 
 Unceasing feels my heart 
 Regret for one departed. 
 
 If sometimes toward the skies 
 My glance uplifts itself, 
 The gentle iris of his eyes 
 I see in clouds ; or else 
 I see it in the water, 
 As in a gTave. 
 
 If I lie at rest 
 Slumbering on my couch, 
 I hear him speak to me, 
 I feel his touch ; 
 In labour, in repose, 
 He is ever near me. 
 
 I see no other object. 
 Though beauteous it may be 
 In many a subject, 
 To which my heart consents. 
 Since its perfection lacks 
 In this affection. 
 
 End here, my song, 
 Thy sad complaint.
 
 APPENDIX. 303 
 
 Of which be this the burden : 
 True love, not feigned, 
 Because of separation 
 Shall have no diminution. 
 
 VL 
 
 (See page 235.) 
 
 This book, entitled Les Marguerites de la Marguerite des 
 princesses, is a collection of the poems of this princess, made 
 by Simon de La Haie, surnamed Sylvius, her valet de cham- 
 hre, and printed at Lyon, by Jean de Tournes, 1547, 8vo. 
 
 The Nouvelles of the Queen of Navarre appeared for the 
 first time without the name of the author, under the title : 
 Histoire des Amants fortunes, dediee h Villustre ^^^incesse, 
 Madame Marguerite de Bourbon, Duchesse de Nivernois, by 
 Pierre Boaistuau, called Launay. Paris, 1558 4to. This edi- 
 tion contains only sixty-seven tales, and the text has been 
 garbled by Boaistuau. The second edition is entitled : 
 Heptameron des Nouvelles de tres-illustre et tres-excellente 
 princesse Marguerite de Valois, reine de Navarre, remis en son 
 vrai ordre, by Charles Gruget, Paris, 1559, 4to. 
 
 French editor. 
 
 In 1841 M. Genin published a volume of Queen Margue- 
 rite's letters, and in the following year a volume of her letters 
 addressed to Frangois I. 
 
 Since then Comte H. de La Ferrifere-Percy has made her 
 the subject of an interesting " Study." This careful investi- 
 gator having discovered her book of expenses, kept by Frott^, 
 Marguerite's secretary, has developed from it a daily proof of 
 the beneficent spirit and inexhaustible liberality of the good 
 queen. The title of the book is : Marguerite d'Angouleme, 
 sceur de Francois F^. Aubry : Paris, 1862.
 
 304 APPENDIX. 
 
 The poems of Frangois I., with other verses by his sister and 
 mother, were published in 1847 by M. Aim^ Champollion. 
 
 Notes to Sainte-Beuve's Essay. 
 
 VIL 
 
 (See page 262.) 
 
 The Ladies given in Discourse VII. appear under the head 
 
 of " The Widows " in the volume of Les Dames Galantes, a 
 
 very different book from the Zivre des Dames, which is their 
 
 rightful place. As Brantome placed them under the title of 
 
 Widows, he has naturally enlarged chiefly upon the period 
 
 of their widowhood. 
 
 French editor.
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Anne de Bretagne, Queen of France, 
 wife of Charles VIII. and of Louis 
 XII., her inheritance, lovers, and 
 first marriage, 25, 26 ; her beauty, 
 wisdom, and goodness, 26 ; spirit of 
 revenge, 27, 28 ; second marriage, 
 29 ; the first queen to hold a great 
 court, a noble school for ladies, 29, 
 30; how King Louis honoured her, 
 30-32 ; her death and burial, 32-34 ; 
 her noble record, 34, 35, 37 ; her tomb 
 at Saint-Denis, 39 ; the founder of a 
 school of manners and perfection for 
 her sex, 42, 43; Sainte-Beuve's re- 
 marks upon her, 40-43, 219. 
 
 Anne de France (Madame), daughter 
 of Louis XL, 216-218. 
 
 Blanche de Montferrat, Duchesse 
 de Savoie, 293-297. 
 
 Book of the Ladies (The), Bran- 
 tome's own name for this volume, 1. 
 
 BouRDEiLLE (Madame de), 297, 298. 
 
 Bourdeille (Pierre de), Abbe de 
 Brant6m.e, his name for the present 
 volume, 1 ; origin and arms of his 
 family, 3, 4 ; general sketch of his 
 life and career, 4-19; his retirement, 
 20 ; his books, his will, 21 ; titles of 
 his books, when first printed, 22, 
 23. 
 
 Caste LNAUD (Pierre de), his account 
 
 of Brantome, 1- 3. 
 Catherine de Cloves, wife of Henri 
 
 de Lorraine, Due de Guise, " le 
 
 Balafre," 297. 
 Catherine de' Medici, Queen of 
 
 France, wife of Henri II., 44 ; sketch 
 
 of the Medici, 45-48; her marriage 
 to the dauphin, 48-50; personal ap- 
 pearance and tastes, 51-54; her mind, 
 54 ; conduct as regent and queen- 
 mother, Brantome's defence of it, 
 57-72 ; her liberality and public 
 works, 74 ; her accomplishments and 
 majesty, 75-77 ; her court, 77-80, 
 81, 82 ; Henri IV. 's opinion of it, 83 ; 
 her death at Blois, 83 ; Sainte-Beuve's 
 estimate of her, 85-88 ; H. de Balzac's 
 novel upon her, 86 ; Mezeray's opinion 
 of her, 85 ; her daughter Elisabeth's 
 fear of her, 145, 146; 164, 165, 167, 
 289, 290, 300. 
 
 Charles IX., King of France, his 
 funeral attended by Brantome, 35- 
 37; 198, 264, 265, 271, 272. 
 
 Charlotte de France (Madame), 
 daughter of Francois I. and Queen 
 Claude, died young, 223. 
 
 Chastellard (Seigneur de), his jour- 
 ney with Brantome in attendance on 
 Marie Stuart to Scotland, 99 ; his 
 story and death, 117-120. 
 
 Christine of Denmark, wife of the 
 Due de Lorraine, 283-291. 
 
 Claude de France (Madame), daugh- 
 ter of Louis XII. and Anne de 
 Bretagne, wife of Francois I., died 
 young, 223. 
 
 Claude de France (Madame), daugh- 
 ter of Henri II. and Catherine de' 
 Medici, wife of the Due de Lorraine, 
 229-231. 
 
 CoRDELii:RE (La), man-o'-war built 
 by Anne de Bretagne, which fought 
 the " Regent of England," both shipa 
 destroyed, 30, 299. 
 
 20
 
 306 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Daegattd (M.), his impulsive history 
 of Marie Stuart, 122. 
 
 Diane de Feance (Madame), Du- 
 chesse d'Angouleme, illegitimate 
 daughter of Henri II., 231-234. 
 
 ^feLisABETH DB France, Queeu of 
 Spain, daughter of Henri II. and 
 Catherine de' Medici, second wife of 
 Philip II. of Spain, 137-151, 229, 
 230, 270, 271. 
 
 fiLiSABETH DE France, Queeu of 
 Spain, daughter of Henri IV. and 
 Marie de' Medici, her portraits by 
 Kubens, 212. 
 
 Fleur-de-lis, how connected with the 
 
 Florentine lily, 45. 
 Francois I., King of France, 219, 220, 
 
 236, 237, 238, 241, 245-249, 254. 
 
 Germai\e de Foix, wife of King 
 Ferdinand of Spain, 142, 143. 
 
 Guise (Henri I., Due de), le Balafre, 
 117, 198, 199, 273, 283, 288. 
 
 Guise (Catherine de Cleves, Duchesse 
 de), 288, 289. 
 
 Henri II., King of France, 231, 232. 
 Henri III., King of France, 177, 178, 
 
 180, 184, 196-198, 234, 267, 280, 283, 
 
 285, 286, 292. 
 Henri IV., Kin g of Fr ance, opinion 
 
 of Catherine"de' Medici, 83, 87, 88 ; 
 
 176, 180, 181, 201, 209; remark at 
 
 the coronation of Marie de' Medici, 
 
 210; 234. 
 
 IsABELLE d'Autriche, Quccn of 
 France, daughter of Maximilian II., 
 wife of Charles IX. of France, 262- 
 270. 
 
 Isabella of Bavaria, wife of Charles 
 VI. of France, first brought the pomps 
 and fashions of dress to France, 157. 
 
 Jeanne d'Autriche, wife of Jean, 
 
 Infante of Portugal, 270-273, 
 Jeanne db France (Madame), daugh- 
 
 ter of Louis XI., married to and di- 
 vorced by Louis XII., 215, 216. 
 
 Labanoff (Prince Alexander), his 
 careful research into the history of 
 Marie Stuart, 121. 
 
 L'HopiTAL (Michel de), chancellor of 
 France, epithalamium on the mar- 
 riage of Marie Stuart and Fran9ois II., 
 124; his changed feeling, 131, 132. 
 
 Louis_XII., King of France, 25, 29, 30, 
 31, 32, 39, 41-43. 
 
 Louise db France (Madame), daugh- 
 ter of Fran9ois I. and Queen Claude, 
 died young, 223. 
 
 Louise de Lorraine, Queen of 
 France, wife of Henri III., 280-282, 
 283. 
 
 Magdelaine de France (Madame), 
 daughter of Francois I. and Queen 
 Claude, wife of James V. of Scot- 
 land, 223, 224. 
 
 Maintenon (Madame de), a pendant 
 to Anne de Bretagne, 43. 
 
 Maison-Fleur (M. de), 91, 97, 300. 
 
 Marguerite de Valois, Queen of 
 Navarre, sister of Francois I., wife 
 of Henri d'Albret, King of Navarre, 
 grandmother of Henri IV., 234 ; her 
 poems, 235 ; her devotion to her 
 brother, 237-240, 245, 249; interest 
 in the phenomenon of death, 242 ; 
 her "Nouvelles," 242, 243, 244; 
 Sainte-Beuve's essay on her, 243- 
 261 ; her learning and comprehension 
 of the Renaissance, 244, 245 ; her 
 letters, 249 ; Erasmus' opinion of her, 
 250, 251 ; favours, but does not be- 
 long to, the Religion, 251-255 ; her 
 writings, the Heptameron, 255-260 ; 
 the patron of the Renaissance, 261 ; 
 her works, 303. 
 
 Marguerite de France (Madame), 
 daughter of Francois I. and Queen 
 Claude, wife of the Due de Savoie, 
 224-229. 
 
 Marguerite, Queen of France and of 
 Navarre, daughter of Henri II. and 
 Catherine de' Medici, wife of Henri 
 
 r
 
 INDEX. 
 
 307 
 
 rv,, Brantome visits her at the Castle 
 of Usson and dedicates his work to her, 
 19; mention of her in his will, 22; 
 his discourse, 152-193; her beauty 
 and style of dress, 153-163 ; her mind 
 and education, 164-166; marriage to 
 Henri IV., 167 ; Brantome's argu- 
 ment in favour of the Salic law, 168- 
 175; difficulty of religion between 
 herself and her husband, 176; her 
 dignity and sense of honour, 178- 
 180; retirement in the Castle of 
 Usson, 183; on ill terms with her 
 brother Henri III., 184; her beauti- 
 ful dancing, 185 ; her liberality and 
 generosity, 186-190; love of reading, 
 191 ; corresponds with Brantome, 
 191; Sainte-Beuve's essay on her, 
 1 93 ; reasons why she began her 
 Memoirs, 1 95 ; faithfulness to the 
 Catholic religion, 195 ; intimacy with 
 her brother d'Anjou, Henri III., 
 196, 197; her love for Henri Due de 
 Guise, le Balafre, her marriage to 
 Henri IV., 198; the Saint-Bartholo- 
 mew, 201 ; her Memoirs, 202, etc. ; 
 anecdote of a Princesse de Ligne, 
 205 ; friendship with her brother, 
 Due d'Alen9on, 206 ; her letters, 
 208; her life at Ugson, 209 ; divorce 
 from Henri IV., 209, 210; return to 
 Paris, eccentricities, appearance at 
 the coronation of Marie de' Medici, 
 210-212 ; comparison with Marie 
 Stuart, 213; her real merit, 213, 
 231. 
 Marguerite be Lorraine, wife of 
 
 the Due de Joyense, 282, 283. 
 Marie b'Actriche, wife of the Em- 
 peror Maximilian II., 291-293. 
 Marib d'Autrichb, sister of the Em- 
 peror Charles V. and wife of Louis, 
 King of Hungary, 273-280. 
 Marie Stuart, Queen of France and 
 Scotland, her parentage, 89 ; youth- 
 ful accomplishments and beauty, 90- 
 93 ; marriage to Fran9ois II., and 
 widowhood, 93, 94 ; her poem on her 
 widowhood, 94-96, 294 ; Charles IX.'s 
 love for her, 96 ; returns to Scotland, 
 
 Brantome accompanies her, 97-lGl * 
 marriage to Darnley, 101 ; Bran- 
 tome's defence of her, 102 ; her 
 disasters, 103; her imprisonment in 
 England, 104; her death, as related 
 to Brantome by one of her ladies 
 there present, 105-115; Sainte- 
 Beuve's essay on Marie Stuart and 
 summing up of her life, 121-136, 289 ; 
 her poem on her widowhood, transla- 
 tion, 301. 
 
 Mezerat (Fran9oi3 Eudes de), his 
 History of France, his picture of 
 Catherine de' Medici, 85. 
 
 MiGNET (Francois Auguste), his in- 
 valuable History of Marie Stuart, 
 121, 122, 136. 
 
 MoLAND (M. Henri), his essay on 
 Brantome used in the introduction 
 to this volume, 1. 
 
 NiEi, (M.), librarian to Ministry of the 
 Interior, his collection of original 
 portraits and crayons of celebrated 
 persons of the 16th century, 86, 87. 
 
 Patin (Gui), his feelings in Saint. 
 Denis before the tomb of Louis XIL 
 and Anne de Bretagne, 40, 41. 
 
 Philip IL of Spain, 138, 139, 142. 
 
 Kenee de France (Madame), daugh- 
 ter of Louis XII. and Anne de Bre- 
 tagne, wife of the Duke of Ferrara, 
 220-223. 
 
 RcEDEREK (Comte), his Memoirs on 
 Polite Society, study of Louis XII. 
 and Anne de Bretagne, 41-43. 
 
 RoNSARD (Pierre de), 91, 124, 156, 
 157, 160, 185, 224. 
 
 Sainte-Beuve (Charles- Augustin), his 
 remarks on Anne de Bretagne, 40- 
 43 ; his estimate of Catherine de' 
 Medici, 85-88 ; his essay on Marie 
 Stuart, 121-136; on Marguerite de 
 Navarre, 193-213; oa Marguerite de 
 Valois, 243-261. 
 
 Salic Law (the), Brantome's argument 
 about it, 168-175.
 
 308 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Tavannes (Vicomte de). Memoirs, 136, 
 
 ■ViGNAUD (M. H.), his introduction 
 to Brantome's "Vie des Dames 
 ninstres " used in the introduc- 
 tion to this volume, 1. 
 
 Vincent de Paul (Saint), chaplain to 
 Queen Marguerite de Kavarre, 212. 
 
 YoLAND DE Fkancb (Madame), daugh- 
 ter of Charles VII. and wife of the 
 Due de Savoie, 214, 215.
 
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