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 “Sophonisbe,”
a tragedy composed by M. de Saint-Gélais, 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 Cypière and the Marquis
d’Elbœuf, she took an opinion that it was harmful to the affairs of
the kingdom, and would never have tragedies played again. But she
listened readily to comedies and tragi-comedies, and even those of
“Zani” 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 prolixity, 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 her 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 his kingdom, he
established and ordered her as regent and governor throughout 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 Compiègne 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 his cure: the watches
she made beside him without ever sleeping; the prayers with which, time
after time, she importuned God; the processions and visitation of
churches which she made; and the posts which she sent about everywhere
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 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 flamma_; 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 extinct; 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 Valentine de Milan,
Duchesse d’Orléans, after the death of her husband, killed in Paris, for
which she had such great regret 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_,
_soupirer_, and around the said watering-pot were written these words:
_Rien ne m’est plus; 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 René of Sicily, having lost his 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 unstrung, beneath which was written: _Arco per lentare piaga non
sana_--“The bow although unstrung heals not the wound.” Then he said to
them: “My friends, with this picture 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 decorated. 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 succumbed 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 François during the minority of our king by the ordering
of the Estates of Orléans, 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 lèse-majesté. And
possibly she would still have done so for the actions which, it was
said, he made the Prince de Condé do about those Estates, but for Mme.
de Montpensier, 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 authority 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 Connétable 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. Whereupon the queen bethought her of this subtle
point: she sent and gave commandment to M. le connétable, 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 connétable, wise and judicious as he was, being very zealous for
his master and careful of his grandeur and honour, after reflecting 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
connétable, who came instead to represent his duty and office and to
persuade him not to budge himself nor to depart; and did this so well
that the King of Navarre went to see the king and queen at the
instigation of the connétable, 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, without 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 connétable, 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:--
When she went to Guyenne, and lately to Coignac, to reconcile the
princes of the Religion 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 Condé 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. Now finding her council, whom she had with her, though
composed 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 l’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 banners 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 should address such mockery as
to make her rescind a truce by the very heralds who had proclaimed 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 lesson 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
Maréchal de Saint-André, 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 succeed 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
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 Condé 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 Orléans 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.
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 Religion 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 without 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. l’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
Monsieur 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 set 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 Navarre,
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 _fricassée_, 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 dexterously that no one who saw them
would ever have supposed 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 Noue knows well, and also the secret plots that began
at the siege of Rochelle, 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
reunion, 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 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, wanting 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 they lessened greatly the king’s authority and
her own. It was the party of the Religion which 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.
Neither was it she who caused them to be taken up when Mont-de-Marsan,
La Fère 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 fine 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 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 Condé.
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? Why should she have reconciled the king and the Duc
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.