I should commend your work much more were I myself less praised
in it; but I am unwilling to do so, lest my praises should seem
rather the effect of self-love than to be founded on reason and
justice. I am fearful that, like Themistocles, I should appear
to admire their eloquence the most who are most forward to praise
me. It is the usual frailty of our sex to be fond of flattery. I
blame this in other women, and should wish not to be chargeable
with it myself. Yet I confess that I take a pride in being painted
by the hand of so able a master, however flattering the likeness
may be. If I ever were possessed of the graces you have assigned
to me, trouble and vexation render them no longer visible, and
have even effaced them from my own recollection, So that I view
myself in your Memoirs, and say, with old Madame de Rendan, who,
not having consulted her glass since her husband's death, on
seeing her own face in the mirror of another lady, exclaimed, "Who
is this?". Whatever my friends tell me when they see me now, I am
inclined to think proceeds from the partiality of their affection.
I am sure that you yourself, when you consider more impartially
what you have said, will be induced to believe, according to
these lines of Du Bellay:
"C'est chercher Rome en Rome,
Et rien de Rome en Rome ne trouver."
('Tis to seek Rome, in Rome to go,
And Rome herself at Rome not know.)
But as we read with pleasure the history of the Siege of Troy,
the magnificence of Athens, and other splendid cities, which
once flourished, but are now so entirely destroyed that scarcely
the spot whereon they stood can be traced, so you please yourself
with describing these excellences of beauty which are no more,
and which will be discoverable only in your writings.
If you had taken upon you to contrast Nature and Fortune, you
could not have chosen a happier theme upon which to descant,
for both have made a trial of their strength on the subject of
your Memoirs. What Nature did, you had the evidence of your own
eyes to vouch for, but what was done by Fortune, you know only
from hearsay; and hearsay, I need not tell you, is liable to
be influenced by ignorance or malice, and, therefore, is not
to be depended on. You will for that reason, I make no doubt,
be pleased to receive these Memoirs from the hand which is most
interested in the truth of them.
I have been induced to undertake writing my Memoirs the more
from five or six observations which I have had occasion to make
upon your work, as you appear to have been misinformed respecting
certain particulars. For example, in that part where mention is
made of Pau, and of my journey in France; likewise where you
speak of the late Maréchal de Biron, of Agen, and of the sally
of the Marquis de Camillac from that place.
These Memoirs might merit the honourable name of history from the
truths contained in them, as I shall prefer truth to embellishment.
In fact, to embellish my story I have neither leisure nor ability;
I shall, therefore, do no more than give a simple narration of
events. They are the labours of my evenings, and will come to
you an unformed mass, to receive its shape from your hands, or
as a chaos on which you have already thrown light. Mine is a
history most assuredly worthy to come from a man of honour, one
who is a true Frenchman, born of illustrious parents, brought
up in the Court of the Kings my father and brothers, allied in
blood and friendship to the most virtuous and accomplished women
of our times, of which society I have had the good fortune to
be the bond of union.
I shall begin these Memoirs in the reign of Charles IX., and
set out with the first remarkable event of my life which fell
within my remembrance. Herein I follow the example of geographical
writers, who having described the places within their knowledge,
tell you that all beyond them are sandy deserts, countries without
inhabitants, or seas never navigated. Thus I might say that all
prior to the commencement of these Memoirs was the barrenness of
my infancy, when we can only be said to vegetate like plants,
or live, like brutes, according to instinct, and not as human
creatures, guided by reason. To those who had the direction of
my earliest years I leave the task of relating the transactions
of my infancy, if they find them as worthy of being recorded as
the infantine exploits of Themistocles and Alexander,--the one
exposing himself to be trampled on by the horses of a charioteer,
who would not stop them when requested to do so, and the other
refusing to run a race unless kings were to enter the contest
against him. Amongst such memorable things might be related the
answer I made the King my father, a short time before the fatal
accident which deprived France of peace, and our family of its
chief glory. I was then about four or five years of age, when
the King, placing me on his knee, entered familiarly into chat
with me. There were, in the same room, playing and diverting
themselves, the Prince de Joinville, since the great and unfortunate
Duc de Guise, and the Marquis de Beaupréau, son of the Prince
de la Roche-sur-Yon, who died in his fourteenth year, and by
whose death his country lost a youth of most promising talents.
Amongst other discourse, the King asked which of the two Princes
that were before me I liked best. I replied, "The Marquis." The
King said, "Why so? He is not the handsomest." The Prince de
Joinville was fair, with light-coloured hair, and the Marquis
de Beaupréau brown, with dark hair. I answered, "Because he is
the best behaved; whilst the Prince is always making mischief,
and will be master over everybody."
This was a presage of what we have seen happen since, when the
whole Court was infected with heresy, about the time of the
Conference of Poissy. It was with great difficulty that I resisted
and preserved myself from a change of religion at that time.
Many ladies and lords belonging to Court strove to convert me to
Huguenotism. The Duc d'Anjou, since King Henri III. of France,
then in his infancy, had been prevailed on to change his religion,
and he often snatched my "Hours" out of my hand, and flung them
into the fire, giving me Psalm Books and books of Huguenot prayers,
insisting on my using them. I took the first opportunity to give
them up to my governess, Madame de Curton, whom God, out of his
mercy to me, caused to continue steadfast in the Catholic religion.
She frequently took me to that pious, good man, the Cardinal
de Tournon, who gave me good advice, and strengthened me in a
perseverance in my religion, furnishing me with books and chaplets
of beads in the room of those my brother Anjou took from me and
burnt.
Many of my brother's most intimate friends had resolved on my
ruin, and rated me severely upon my refusal to change, saying
it proceeded from a childish obstinacy; that if I had the least
understanding, and would listen, like other discreet persons, to
the sermons that were preached, I should abjure my uncharitable
bigotry; but I was, said they, as foolish as my governess. My
brother Anjou added threats, and said the Queen my mother would
give orders that I should be whipped. But this he said of his
own head, for the Queen my mother did not, at that time, know of
the errors he had embraced. As soon as it came to her knowledge,
she took him to task, and severely reprimanded his governors,
insisting upon their correcting him, and instructing him in the
holy and ancient religion of his forefathers, from which she
herself never swerved. When he used those menaces, as I have
before related, I was a child seven or eight years old, and at
that tender age would reply to him, "Well, get me whipped if
you can; I will suffer whipping, and even death, rather than be
damned."
I could furnish you with many other replies of the like kind,
which gave proof of the early ripeness of my judgment and my
courage; but I shall not trouble myself with such researches,
choosing rather to begin these Memoirs at the time when I resided
constantly with the Queen my mother.
Immediately after the Conference of Poissy, the civil wars commenced,
and my brother Alençon and myself, on account of pur youth, were
sent to Amboise, whither all the ladies of the country repaired
to us. With them came your aunt, Madame de Dampierre, who entered
into a firm friendship with me, which was never interrupted until
her death broke it off. There was likewise your cousin, the Duchesse
de Rais, who had the good fortune to hear there of the death
of her brute of a husband, killed at the battle of Dreux. The
husband I mean was the first she had, named M. d'Annebaut, who
was unworthy to have for a wife so accomplished and charming a
woman as your cousin. She and I were not then so intimate friends
as we have become since, and shall ever remain. The reason was
that, though older than I, she was yet young, and young girls
seldom take much notice of children, whereas your aunt was of an
age when women admire their innocence and engaging simplicity.
I remained at Amboise until the Queen my mother was ready to
set out on her grand progress, at which time she sent for me to
come to her Court, which I did not quit afterwards.
Of this progress I will not undertake to give you a description,
being still so young that, though the whole is within my
recollection, yet the particular passages of it appear to me
but as a dream, and are now lost. I leave this task to others,
of riper years, as you were yourself. You can well remember the
magnificence that was displayed everywhere, particularly at the
baptism of my nephew, the Duc de Lorraine, at Bar-le-Duc; at
the meeting of M. and Madame de Savoy, in the city of Lyons;
the interview at Bayonne betwixt my sister, the Queen of Spain,
the Queen my mother, and King Charles my brother. In your account
of this interview you would not forget to make mention of the
noble entertainment given by the Queen my mother, on an island,
with the grand dances, and the form of the _salon_, which seemed
appropriated by nature for such a purpose, it being a large meadow
in the middle of the island, in the shape of an oval, surrounded
on every side by tall spreading trees. In this meadow the Queen
my mother had disposed a circle of niches, each of them large
enough to contain a table of twelve covers. At one end a platform
was raised, ascended by four steps formed of turf. Here their
Majesties were seated at a table under a lofty canopy. The tables
were all served by troops of shepherdesses dressed in cloth of
gold and satin, after the fashion of the different provinces of
France. These shepherdesses, during the passage of the superb
boats from Bayonne to the island, were placed in separate bands,
in a meadow on each side of the causeway, raised with turf; and
whilst their Majesties and the company were passing through the
great _salon_, they danced. On their passage by water, the barges
were followed by other boats, having on board vocal and instrumental
musicians, habited like Nereids, singing and playing the whole
time. After landing, the shepherdesses I have mentioned before
received the company in separate troops, with songs and dances,
after the fashion and accompanied by the music of the provinces they
represented,--the Poitevins playing on bagpipes; the Provençales
on the viol and cymbal; the Burgundians and Champagners on the
hautboy, bass viol, and tambourine; in like manner the Bretons
and other provincialists. After the collation was served and the
feast at an end, a large troop of musicians, habited like satyrs,
was seen to come out of the opening of a rock, well lighted up,
whilst nymphs were descending from the top in rich habits, who,
as they came down, formed into a grand dance,--when, lo! fortune
no longer favouring this brilliant festival, a sudden storm of
rain came on, and all were glad to get off in the boats and make
for town as fast as they could. The confusion in consequence of
this precipitate retreat afforded as much matter to laugh at
the next day as the splendour of the entertainment had excited
admiration. In short, the festivity of this day was not forgotten,
on one account or the other, amidst the variety of the like nature
which succeeded it in the course of this progress.