own parents as eye-witnesses, and in especial of the noble lady, the
Séneschale de Poitou, my grandmother, who was then a maid of honour
at the Court, declare how in those days naught else was talked of but
the beauty, wisdom and prudence of this same Princess, and how all the
Courtiers and gallants of the King’s suite, when they were returned
back to France from their journey thither, were forever discoursing of
her and entertaining the dames and damsels of the Court with praises of
her beauty and virtue, and the King more than any, which did show every
sign of being smit to the heart with love for so beautiful a lady.
Yet apart from her beauty altogether, he had much occasion to love her
well; for she did help him by every means she could, and did even strip
her of all her precious stones, pearls and jewelry, to lend them him to
raise money on in whatsoever way seemed good to him. This was indeed a
great obligation and sacrifice, seeing what great attachment women do
always have for their precious stones, rings and jewelry, so as they
would almost rather lend and put in pawn some precious part of their
own body than their wealth of such things; I mean some would, though
not of course all. At any rate the kindness done was a very great
one; for but for this generosity, and likewise that of the Marquise
de Montferrat, another very noble and very fair lady, he would have
come to downright shame in no long time, and must have returned from
his expedition before it was half done, having undertaken the same
without money. Herein he was in the like sorry case with a certain
French Bishop that went to the Council of Trent without money and
without Latin. Verily a putting to sea without biscuit! Yet is there
a difference ’twixt the two; for what the one did was of his fine,
high spirit and noble ambition, the which did close his eyes to all
inconveniences, finding naught impossible to a brave heart, whereas the
other was in lack both of mother wit and proper experience, offending
out of sheer ignorance and stupidity, unless indeed it were that he
hoped to send round the bag when he got to his destination.
In the description given of this magnificent entry I have spoke of
just above, is to be noted the splendour of the attire and adornments
of this same Princess, which were more in accord (some will say) with
what is becoming a wife than a widow. On this the ladies did say at
the time that, to welcome so great a King, she might well be excused
so far, albeit he did hardly claim so great expenditure; and further
that great folk, men and women, be a law to themselves, and that in
those days widows, so they said, were not so straightlaced and exact
in their dress as they have been for the last forty years. The fact
is a certain great lady I wot of, being in high favour with a King,
indeed his mistress, did dress her somewhat in more quiet and modest
garb than most, yet always in silk, to the end she might the better
conceal and hide her game; wherefore the widows then at Court, being
fain to imitate her, did adopt the same fashion. Natheless was she by
no means so strict with herself, nor so stern in her moderation, but
that she dressed both prettily and richly, only all in black and white,
displaying more worldliness therein than did exactly accord with strict
widow’s weeds, and in especial ever making a point of showing her
beautiful bosom.
Myself did hear the Queen, mother of King Henri III., on occasion
of the coronation and marriage of that monarch, say the same: how
that widows in days gone by had not the same carefulness as to their
attire, modest bearing and strict life, as nowadays. She had seen this
in the time of King Francis, who did love an easy-going Court in all
respects. Widows did even dance thereat, and were taken as partners
as readily as maids or wives. In fact she did once command and beg M.
de Vaudemont,[113*] by way of honouring the occasion, to lead out the
Dowager Princess of Condé to the dance. This he did, and danced a full
round with her, as they which were present for the coronation, as I was
myself, did see and well remember. Such the freedom widows did then
enjoy. Nowadays all this is forbid them as if ’twere a sacrilege, as
also the wearing of colours, for none now dare wear aught but black
and white; though as for underskirts and petticoats, these as well
as their stockings, may be grey, drab, violet or blue. Some indeed I
have seen which have so far indulged them as to adopt red, scarlet and
chamois-yellow, as in former days; for they could then wear any colour
for bodices and stockings, though not for robes, by what I am told.
Moreover this same Duchess we have been speaking of might well enough
wear such a robe of cloth of gold, seeing ’twas her proper ducal habit
and state costume, and therefore becoming and lawful, for to display
the sovranty and high dignity of her exalted rank. And this is even now
done by our Countesses and Duchesses, the which can and do wear the
robes belonging to their several orders on state occasions. Only our
widows of to-day dare under no circumstances wear jewelry, except only
in rings, and on mirrors and _Books of Hours_ and the like, and set in
handsome belts, but not on neck or arms, or even any great display of
pearls in necklaces and bracelets. Yet I do declare solemnly I have
seen widows as becomingly attired in their white and black, and every
whit as attractively, as some of our tawdrily dressed wives and maids.
5.
However enough said concerning this foreign Princess. ’Tis time to
say somewhat of our French Princesses, and I would wish first to deal
with our fair and unsullied Queen, Louise de Lorraine,[114*] wife of
King Henri III., late deceased. This Princess can and ought to be
commended on many grounds. In her marriage she did bear her towards
the King her husband so wisely, modestly and loyally, as that the knot
wherewith she was bound in wedlock with him did always remain so firm
and indissoluble, no breaking or slackness of the same was ever found,
and this although the King did sometimes wander elsewhither to satisfy
his passions, as great folks will, the which have a special freedom
accorded them. Beside this, quite at the very beginning of their
married life, in fact within ten days of their union, he did give her
no slight cause for displeasure, for that he did deprive her of her
women of the chamber and maids of honour, which had ever been with her
and in her service, when still a girl, whereat she was exceeding sorry.
’Twas a heavy blow to her affection, in especial for Mlle. de Changy,
a very fair and most honourable damsel, and one little deserving to be
banished the company of her mistress and expelled the Court. Indeed
’tis ever a sore despite to lose a trusty companion and confidante.
I have heard how one day a lady, one of her most privy friends, was
presuming enough to chide her and urge, by way of jest and half-serious
flaunt, that, seeing she could never have children by the King, for
many reasons then commonly alleged, she would do well to borrow secret
aid of some third person, for to have offspring, to the end she might
not be left without authority, supposing her husband did chance to die,
but might some day very like be Queen Mother of a King of France, and
hold the same rank and high estate as the Queen mother-in-law. But the
lady did long regret her counsel, semi-burlesque as it was; for the
Queen took the same exceeding ill, and did never after like her worthy
adviser, preferring to base her dignity on her chastity and virtuous
life rather than on a lineage sprung of evil-doing. Still the advice,
in a worldly point of view and according to Machiavelli’s doctrine, was
not to be despised.
Very different was the behaviour, so ’tis said, of Queen Mary of
England, third wife of King Louis XII. Being but ill-content and
distrustful of the feebleness of the King her husband, she was fain to
sound these waters for herself, taking for guide in crossing the ford
the noble Comte d’Angoulême, the same which was afterward King Francis,
then a young, handsome and charming Prince, to whom she did show much
favour, always addressing him as “My excellent son-in-law;” as indeed
he was, having already married Madame Claude, daughter of King Louis.
The fact is she was smit with love for him; and he on seeing her was
in much the same case. The end was the pair were very nigh coming
together, the which they would surely have done but for the late M.
de Grignaux,[115*] a nobleman of honour and good birth from Périgord,
a prudent and well advised man, who had been gentleman in waiting to
the Queen Anne, as we have above said, and was so still to Queen Mary.
He seeing the play was very like to come off, did chide the aforesaid
Comte d’Angoulême for the fault he was about to commit, saying with an
angry energy: “Nay! by the Risen God (this was his favourite oath),
what would you be at? See you not this woman, keen and cunning as she
is, is fain to draw you to her, to the end you may get her with child?
But an if she come to have a son, what of you? You are still plain
Comte d’Angoulême, and never King of France, as you do hope to be. The
King her husband is old, and cannot now make her children. You must
needs meddle and go with her, you with your young hot blood, and she
the same, and by the Risen Lord! the end will be she will just catch on
like a limed bird, conceive you a child, and there you are! After that
you’ve only to say, ‘Goodbye! my chance of the fair Kingdom of France!’
Wherefore I say, reflect.”
In fact the said Queen was for practising and proving true the Spanish
saw or proverb, which saith, _munca muger aguda murio sin herederos_,
“no clever woman ever died without heirs;” or in other words, an if
her husband make her none, she will call in other help to get her end.
Now M. d’Angoulême _did_ reflect and sware he was going to be wise
and refrain; yet tried and tempted again and again with the wiles
and advances of the fair Englishwoman, did presently throw him more
fiercely than ever into the pursuit of her. Such the effects of love
and passion! such the power of a mere bit of flesh and blood, that for
its sake men will surrender kingdoms and empires, and altogether lose
the same, as we find over and over again in History. Eventually M. de
Grignaux, seeing the young man was bent on his own undoing and the
carrying further of his amour, told Madame d’Angoulême, his mother, of
the matter, which did so reprove and smartly chide him, as that he gave
up the sport once and for all.
None the less ’tis said the Queen did all she could to live and reign
as Queen Mother for some little while before and after the death of the
King her husband. However she lost him too soon, and had no sufficient
time to carry through her purpose. Yet even so, she did spread the
report, after the King’s death, that she was pregnant. Accordingly,
albeit naught really inside her belly, ’tis said she would swell out
the outside thereof by means of linen wrappages gradually more and more
every day, and that when her full time was come, she did propose to
have ready a supposititious child of another woman, and produce this
at the instant of her pretended delivery. But the Queen Regent, which
was from Savoy and knew somewhat about child-bearing and the like,
seeing things were going somewhat too fast for her and her son, had
her so well watched and examined of physicians and midwives, that her
wrappages and clouts being noted, she was found out and baulked in her
design, and instead of being Queen Mother was incontinently sent back
to her own country.
See the difference betwixt this Princess Mary and our good Queen
Louise, which was so wise, chaste and virtuous, she did never desire,
whether by true or false pretence, to be Queen Mother. But an if she
had wished to play the like game as other, there would have been little
difficulty, for there was none to watch her with any care,—and ’twould
have sore surprised not a few. And for her behaviour our present King
doth owe her much thanks, and should love and honour her greatly; for
an if she had played this game, and had brought forward an infant, her
own or another’s, the King instead of being what he is, would have been
but a Regent of France, mayhap not even that. And this feeble title
would ill have guarded him from many more wars and troubles than he
hath actually had.
I have heard some, both men of religion and of the world, hold and
maintain this opinion: that our Queen would have done better to have
played this part, and that in that case France would never have endured
so much wretchedness, poverty and ruin as she hath now, and is like
to have, and the True Faith better supported into the bargain. As to
this I can but refer me to those gallant and curious questioners which
do debate these points (but myself do believe never a word of it, for
we be all right well satisfied with our King, God save him!) for them
to pronounce judgment thereon; for they have a fine subject, and one
admitting wide discussion as to the State’s best interests, though
not as to God’s, as seemeth me. To Him our Queen hath always been
deeply devoted, loving and adoring Him so well, that to serve Him,
she would e’en forget herself and her high estate. For being a very
beauteous Princess (the King indeed did choose her for her beauty and
high virtues), and young, tender and most charming, she did give up
herself to naught else but only to serve God, do her devotions, visit
constantly the hospitals, heal the sick and bury the dead, forgetting
nor omitting any of the good and holy works which in this province the
holy devout and righteous ladies, Princesses and Queens of days of
yore, did practise in the early Church. After the death of her husband,
she did ever lead the same life, spending her time in weeping and
mourning for him, beseeching God for his soul; and in fact her life as
a widow was of the same holy character as her married life had been.
’Tis true she was supposed, during her husband’s lifetime, to have
leaned somewhat to the side of the party of the _Union_, because, being
so good a Christian and Catholic as she was, she did naturally prefer
them which were fighting and contending for her Faith and Religion; yet
did she never more favour them, but quitted their faction altogether,
after their assassination of her husband, though claiming no other
vengeance of punishment as a right but what it should please God to
inflict, not that she did not duly petition men, and above all our
King, with whom lieth the performing of justice for this monstrous deed
of a man of religion.[116] Thus both an married life and widowhood,
did this excellent Princess live blameless. Eventually she died in the
enjoyment of a most noble and worthy repute, having long languished
in sickness and grown hectic and parched,—’twas said owing to her
overmuch indulgence in sorrow. She made a very excellent and pious end.
Just before her death, she had her crown placed at the head of her bed
close beside her, and would never have it removed from there so long as
she yet lived, directing that after her death she should be crowned and
so remain till her body was laid beneath the ground.
She did leave behind her a sister, Madame de Joyeuse,[117*] which was
her counterpart in her chaste and modest life, and did make great
mourning and lamentation for her husband; and verily he was a brave,
valiant and well accomplished Lord. Beside, I have heard say, how when
our present King was in such straits, and shut up and imprisoned as
in a bag in Dieppe, which the Duc du Maine held invested with forty
thousand men, that an if she had been in the place of the Commander of
the town De Chastes, she would have had revenge of the death of her
husband in a very different fashion from the said worthy Commander,
who for the obligations he lay under to M. de Joyeuse, ought never
to have surrendered, in her opinion. Nor did she ever like the man
afterward, but did hate him worse than the plague, being unable to
excuse a fault as he had committed, albeit others deem him to have
kept faith and loyalty according to his promises. But then an angry
woman, be the original cause of offence just or unjust, will take no
satisfaction; and this was the way with this Princess, who could never
bring herself to like our reigning monarch, though she did sore regret
the late King and wore mourning for him, and this although she did
belong to the _League_; for she always declared both her husband and
she did lie under many obligations to him. In fine, she is a good and
a wise Princess, and one that is honoured by the grief and respect
she did show to the ashes of her husband,—for some while that is, for
eventually she did marry again with M. de Luxembourg. So young as she
was, was she to consume away in vain regrets forever?
6.
The Duchesse de Guise, Catherine of Clèves, one of the three daughters
of the house of Nevers (all three Princesses that can surely never be
enough commended, no less for their beauty than for their virtue and on
whom I have writ a separate chapter in another place), hath celebrated
and doth celebrate all her days in right worthy fashion the irreparable
loss of her noble husband; but indeed what a husband was he! He was
truly the nonpareil of the world, and this and no less she did call
him in sundry of her letters, the which she writ to some of her most
familiar friends and lady companions, which myself also did see after
her bereavement, showing them plainly therein by the sad and mournful
words she used with what sore regrets her soul was wounded.
Her noble sister-in-law, Madame de Montpensier,[118*] of whom I do
hope to speak further elsewhere, did also bewail her husband bitterly.
Albeit she did lose him when still very young, and beautiful and
charming for many perfections both of mind and body, she did never
think of marrying again,—and this although she had wedded him when a
mere child in years, and he might have been her grandfather, so that
she had tasted but sparely with him of the fruits of wedlock. Yet
would she never consent to indulge a second taste of the same and make
up her defect and arrears in that kind by another marriage.
I have heard not a few noblemen, gentlemen and great ladies oftentimes
express their wonder that the Princesse de Condé, the Dowager Princess
I mean, of the house of Longueville, did always refuse to marry again,
seeing how she was one of the most beautiful ladies in all France,
and one of the most desirable. But she did remain satisfied with her
condition of widowhood, and would never take a second husband, and this
though left a widow very young.
The Marquise de Rothelin, her mother, did the like, who beautiful
woman as she was, died a widow. Verily mother and daughter both might
well have set afire a whole kingdom with their lovely eyes and sweet
looks, the which were renowned at Court and through France for the
most charming and alluring ever seen. And doubtless they did fire many
hearts; yet never a word was ever to be spoke of love or marriage, both
having loyally kept the faith once pledged to their dead husbands, and
never married again.
I should never have done if I were to name all the Princesses of our
Kings’ Courts in similar case. I must e’en defer their panegyric to
another place. So I will leave them now, and say somewhat of sundry
other ladies, which though no Princesses, be yet of as illustrious race
and generous heart as they.
Fulvia Mirandola, Madame de Randan, of the noble house of Admirande,
did remain unwed, though left a widow in the flower of her age and
her exquisite beauty. So great mourning did she make over her loss,
that never more would she deign to look at herself in her mirror,
but refused the sight of her lovely face to the pellucid crystal that
was so fain to see the same. Her act though not her words were like
those of an ancient dame, which breaking her mirror and dedicating the
fragments to Venus, spake these words to the Goddess:
Dico tibi Veneri speculum, quai cernere talem
Qualis sum nolo, qualis eram nequeo.
(To thee, Venus, I do dedicate my mirror, for such as I am now, I
care not to see myself, and such as I was, I cannot more.)
Not that Madame de Randan did scorn her mirror for this reason, for
indeed she was very beautiful, but by reason of a vow she had made to
her husband’s shade, who was one of the best and noblest gentlemen of
all France. For his sake she did altogether leave the world and its
vanities, dressing her always very soberly. She wore a veil habitually,
never showing her hair; yet spite of careless head-dress and her
neglect of appearances, her great beauty was none the less manifest.
The late M. de Guise, late deceased, was used always to call her naught
but _the nun_; for she was attired and put on like a religious. This he
would say by way of jest and merriment with her; for he did admire and
honour her greatly, seeing how well affectioned and attached she was to
his service and all his house.
Madame de Carnavalet, twice a widow, did refuse to wed for the third
time with M. d’Espernon, then known as M. de la Valette the younger,
and at the commencement of his high favour at Court. So deep was he
in love with her, that unable to get of her what he would so fain have
had, for truly she was a very lovely widow and very charming, he did
follow her up persistently and press her sore to marry him, inducing
the King three or four times over to speak to her in his favour. Yet
would she never put herself again under a husband’s yoke. She had been
married twice, her first husband being the Comte de Montravel, the
second M. de Carnavalet. And when her most privy friends, myself first
and foremost, who was much her admirer, did chide her for her fault
she was committing in refusing so high a match, one that would place
her in the very midmost and focus of greatness, wealth, riches, favour
and every dignity, seeing how M. de la Valette was chiefest favourite
of the King, and deemed of him only second to himself, she would
answer: that her delight lay not at all in these things, but in her own
free-will and the perfect liberty and satisfaction.
Madame de Bourdeille, sprung of the illustrious and ancient house of
Montbron and of the Counts of Périgord and Viscounts of Aunay, being
left a widow at the age of seven or eight and thirty, a very beautiful
woman (and I do think that in all Guienne, of which province she was,
was never another that in her day did surpass her in beauty, charm and
good looks, for indeed she had one of the finest, tallest and most
gracious figures could anywhere be seen, and if the body was fair the
mind was to match), being so desirable and now widowed, was wooed and
sought after in marriage by three great and wealthy Lords. To them all
she made reply as follows: “I will not say, as many dames do, that they
will never, never marry again, adding such asseverations you can in
no wise doubt their firm intention. But I am ready to declare that,
unless God and my carnal being give me not very different desire to
what I feel at this present, and change me utterly, I have very surely
said farewell forever to matrimony.” Then when another did further
object: “Nay! Madam, but would you wish to burn away in the flower of
your age?” she added: “I wot not what you mean by burning away; but
I do assure you that up to the present hour, it hath never yet been
possible for me to warm me even, all alone in my bed which is widowed
and cold as ice. Yet in the company of a second husband, I say not but
that, coming nigh his fire, I might not mayhap burn as you say. But
forasmuch as cold is more easy to endure than heat, I am resolved to
continue in my present condition, and abstain from a second marriage.”
And this resolve she did so express, she hath kept to this day, having
remained a widow twelve years, without losing aught of her beauty, ever
maintaining and holding sacred one fixed determination. This is truly a
great obligation to her husband’s ashes, and a testimony how well she
loved him, as well as an exceeding binding claim on her children to
honour her memory forever, seeing how she did end her days a widow.