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, Élisabeth 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 honourable
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 very beautiful
according to my taste, very well attired, and wearing on her head a
Spanish toque of white crêpe 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 the princess
that she was talking with a gentleman of her brother Court who had just
come from Portugal.
[Illustration: Charles IX]
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 Arles 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 authority, namely: that the princess had said
she was firmly resolved not to marry again unless with the King of
France, and failing that to retire from the world. In fact, she had 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
[Isabelle], and then, all hope being lost, she said these words, or
something like them, as I have heard tell: “Though 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
bearing 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 manner of ostentation and Spanish pride, manifesting her lofty
aspirations 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.
To conclude: she 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 vexation 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 d’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 much 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 Duc 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,”--meaning 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 Rome,
and lightly pushed his brother into it.
To return to our great Queen Marie; after this misfortune 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 Éléonore, passing through
Dijon, went to make her devotions at the Chartreux monastery of that
town, she visited the venerable sepulchres of her ancestors, the Ducs 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 Ducs 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 Bourgogne 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 coming one after the other than those four Ducs 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 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 was, 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 mildness as her successor now showed rigour.
Indeed, so long as Madame Marguerite lived King François 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
VIII., 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 Duc Philibert of Savoie, by whom she had no issue;
and for this reason she bore for her device the words _Fortune
infortune, 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 have seen it.[23]
Queen Marie of Hungary was of great assistance to the emperor, for he
stood alone. It is true he had Ferdinand, king of the Romans, 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
Chièvres; besides the Indies, the Low 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 everything,
governor-general of all his Low Countries, where for the 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 government, so that he himself, being in Flanders, left
all to her, and the Council 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, sometimes in
person,--always on horseback like a generous amazon. She was the first
to light fires and conflagrations in France,--some in very noble houses
and châteaux like that of Follembray, a beautiful and charming house
built by our kings for their comfort and pleasure in hunting. 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 fêted 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’ Medici met her daughter
Élisabeth Queen of Spain], however great was the magnificence there
presented, in tourneys, combats, masquerades, and money expended,
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 Roman
magnificence, the games of ancient times, barring the combats of
gladiators and wild beasts. Except for them, the fêtes 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
Éléonore; but I might be blamed for being too digressive. I will keep it
for a _bonne bouche_ 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; cannonaded 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 warp, of silver and
gold and silk, on which were figured and represented, the size of life,
all his fine conquests, great enterprises, expeditions of war, and the
battles he had fought, given, and won, above all, not forgetting the
flight of Solyman before Vienna, and the capture of King François. 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 pacified. 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 Fontainebleau,
of which they thought so much, was razed to the 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 intervened, her vengeance would have been greater still; for she had
a stern, 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, when at Brussels, the emperor, in the great
hall 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: “Messieurs, since for twenty-three years it has
pleased the emperor, my brother, to give me the charge and government of
all his Low Countries, I have employed and used therein all that God,
nature, and fortune have given me of means and graces to acquit myself
as well as possible. And if in anything 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 ransom of my said brother
who was taken prisoner at Hesdin and confined five years at Lisle in
Flanders. The said gentleman 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 _maîtresse-femme_ who would, if irritated, deal them
some blow as a parting gift. But here she was, relieved of her office,
so that she accompanied her brother to Spain and never left him again,
she, and her sister, Queen Éléonore, 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, 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
without remarrying; 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 France 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, wife of Henri III., King of France._
We can and should praise this princess who, in her marriage, behaved to
the king, her husband, so wisely, chastely, and loyally that the tie
which 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 discontentment, for he took away her
waiting-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 Mlle. 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.
[Illustration: Louise de Lorraine
wife of Henry III]
I know that one of the said queen’s most intimate ladies was so
presumptuous as to say to her one day, laughing and joking, that since
she had no children by the king and could 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, being a very beautiful princess (in fact the
king took her for 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 life.
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 religion; 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 widowhood. She died in
a reputation most beautiful and worthy of her, having lingered and
languished long, 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, Duc de Joyeuse.[24]_
Queen Louise left a sister, Madame de Joyeuse, who has imitated her
modest and chaste life, having made great 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 Duc 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 Duc 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.