Catherine de Medici has variously been called ‘The Maggot from Italy’s Tomb’, ‘The Black Queen’ and ‘Madame La Serpente’. To many she is the very incarnation of evil. It is, I believe, as mistaken a judgement as it is bigoted. Yet it is not far removed from the overall verdict of history on one of the most remarkable women of the sixteenth century.
To the extent that Catherine’s name evokes any response today, it is as a Florentine, a patron of the Renaissance, and as a poisoner and intriguer of the stamp of Lucrezia Borgia, with whom she is often confused. Throughout her life her enemies condemned her for her country of origin, described by Thomas Nashe as ‘The Academie of man-slaughter, the sporting place of murther, the Apothecary-shop of poison for all Nations’. Insofar as she is connected to any historical event in the public imagination, it is the Saint Bartholomew’s Day Massacre in Paris, that infamous act of violence that so stained the name of the House of Valois and of Catherine in particular. When the admittedly terrible events of 24 August 1572 in Paris are placed in their proper historical context, however, I believe they can be explained in terms of a surgical operation that went wrong rather than an act of premeditated genocide.
During the course of her life, this indomitable woman faced a series of personal tragedies and setbacks, and when not being condemned as evil, she is pitied for the seemingly endless series of blows she suffered. Orphaned at birth and imprisoned during childhood, her marriage to Henry of Orléans (later King Henry II of France), whom she loved passionately, caused her years of unhappiness as she was ignored by him in favour of his mistress, the mesmerising Diane de Poitiers. After a decade of childlessness and near-repudiation, Catherine finally produced ten children – who were almost without exception rotten, sickly and corrupt. The sudden death of her husband brought this forty-year-old political neophyte to the centre of power and, forced by necessity, she became the skilful and doughty defender of her dynasty and adopted country.
Rather than deeming her evil, it would be equally mistaken to label Catherine as a victim of her terrible circumstances. She was, above all, a courageous survivor and a true product of her times. The life, the character, the personal details, the contradictions, the passions, the strengths, the weaknesses and the sheer guts of this incomparable woman constitute the main thread of my story. Catherine was not guided by religious beliefs, nor by ideological conviction. A sceptic at heart and a pragmatist by nature, neither morals nor remorse encumbered her fight for the survival of her children, her dynasty and France. To understand this complex woman one must recognise that to Catherine these three represented the same thing. After her husband’s death, and based on her hitherto silent observation of the political and religious struggles in France, she tried to steer a middle course between the opposing parties. Yet if reason and conciliation failed, she did not hesitate to avail herself of the ‘regalian right of summary execution’ to preserve the kingdom.
I am, of course, not the first person to attempt to tell Catherine’s story objectively. I would like to take this opportunity fully to acknowledge the invaluable recent contributions made by M. Ivan Cloulas and Professor Robert Knecht to the canon of Catherine de Medici scholarship. It is only by standing on the shoulders of great historians such as they that biographers can discern the landscape and, in my case, the genetic imperative that led Catherine to advance the interests of her husband and progeny.
In her biography of William the Silent, the historian C. V. Wedgwood wrote, ‘History is lived forwards but is written in retrospect. We know the end before we consider the beginning and we can never wholly recapture what it was to know the beginning only.’ This book has been written with that seminal historiographical fact in mind: the reader will be presented with Catherine’s often limited political and personal options. How would we, or could we, have acted otherwise?
There is much that is absurdly ultra-nationalist about the contempt that many French writers have, until recently, expressed for the Italian-born Queen of France. That she was a woman who wielded power in the name of her feeble sons, was foreign-born butruled France, and of non-royal blood but nonetheless became Queen, has been enough to condemn her in the eyes of many eighteenth- and nineteenth-century French historians. Her constant struggle first to accommodate the Huguenots and later to contain their threat, culminating in the Massacre of Saint Bartholomew, has damned her in the eyes of both Catholic and Protestant writers and propagandists. There is also much that is factually inaccurate in their melodramatic accounts of Catherine’s alleged wickedness, her appetite for vengeance, the quaint tales of her cabinet of poisons and above all a simple but lethal lust for power.
I have endeavoured to write a biography that redresses history’s almost entirely anti-Catherine bias and objectively sees her for what she was: a woman of intelligence, courage and indefatigable spirit who did her best for her beloved if adopted country when it was – through no fault of hers – beset by a long series of dangers rarely experienced by any nation state before or since.
Catherine was a woman of fascinating contradictions, both a pragmatist and an idealist. Despite her own adherence to the Roman Church she approached the differences between Catholic and Protestant as though they could be resolved by sensible discussion. Her surprising capacity for sentimentality was matched by an ability to detach herself ruthlessly when required. Though usually a practical and enlightened woman, she sought solace and guidance from her soothsayers, astrologers and the occult. Her love of the arts, sumptuous grandeur and exploration of new ideas lay alongside her knowledge that behind the curtain of the glorious Court displays that she created, there was also a place for judicious bloodlettings, vendettas and the assassin’s dagger.
After the death of her adored husband, Henry II, Catherine wore her widow’s weeds with pride. As the famous beauties of her ‘flying squadron’ seduced information from their admirers at Court, Catherine stood, majestic and veiled, her perpetually black-clad figure a stark counterpoint to the nymphs in white. Mysterious and enigmatic when she wanted to be, the Queen Mother exasperated many of her political opponents.
The sixteenth century is notable for many reasons, but in particular the number of powerful women who dominated it. Of John Knox’s ‘monstrous regiment’ the most obvious and familiar examples to English readers are Elizabeth I, Mary Tudor and Mary,Queen of Scots. Less well known to us are Marie of Guise, regent of Scotland, Margaret of Austria, regent of the Spanish Netherlands, Margaret of Parma – who also ruled there from 1559 to 1567 – and Juana ‘La Loca’ (the mad), daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain, who inherited the throne of Castile from her mother in 1504. Italy also produced fascinating women such as Isabella d’Este, the beautiful Duchess of Mantua, who played a central cultural role not only in her husband’s duchy, but far beyond it too. There is no doubt, however, that by far the most important, notorious and influential Italian woman of this period was Catherine de Medici, daughter of Florence and Queen of France.
This book could not have been written without the help and active collaboration of a large number of people who have generously given of their expertise and time with no thought to recompense or reward. I am tremendously grateful to them. Foremost among them is M. Ivan Cloulas, Conservateur Général Honoraire at the Archives Nationales in Paris and his staff. M. Cloulas encouraged me to undertake this project. He and his staff have been unfailingly efficient and courteous. Professor Robert Knecht’s superb scholarship and works on Catherine de Medici, King Francis I and sixteenth-century France have proved a huge source of inspiration to me.
Along with M. Cloulas and Professor Knecht I would like to thank my friend of many years Mr Paul Johnson, particularly for his invaluable help both on the Renaissance and on the religious questions prevalent in sixteenth-century France. The Earl of Oxford and Asquith has also guided me through the theological minefields of the day and has helped and encouraged me in countless other ways. Similarly, Count Dr Niccolò Capponi has been instrumental in the research for this book, both through making available his peerless contacts in Florence and for the many conversations I have had with him and providing access to his private family archive.
I should like to take this opportunity to thank the following for their help by answering questions, directing my research and providing fascinating insights into Catherine de Medici, her life and times: Dr Franca Arduini, Director of the Biblioteca Medicea Laurenziana; Countess Brooke Capponi; Dr Alessandra Contini, Archivio di Stato di Firenze; Mr Robin Harcourt Williams, Librarian and Archivist, Hatfield House; Dr Giovanna Lazzi, Biblioteca Riccardiarna; Dr Sabina Magrini, the Public Relations Office, Biblioteca Medicea Laurenziana; Ms Rebecca Milner, Curator, Victoria and Albert Museum; Countess Dr Beatrice Paolozzi Strozzi, Director, Bargello Museum; Ms Helen Pearson, Assistant Curator, Department of Furniture, Textiles and Fashion, Victoria and Albert Museum; Dr Paola Pirolo, Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale di Firenze; Dr Renato Scapecchi, Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale di Firenze; Dr Margaret Scott, History of Dress, Courtauld Institute; Dr Marilena Tamassia, Gabinetto Fotografico, Uffizi Museum.
One of the most enjoyable aspects of writing this book was my visits to the châteaux built or used by Catherine. For their kindness during these visits – where I was often shown rooms that are not on general public display – I would very much like to thank Mme Gun Nihlèn Patou, Conferencière de la RMN at Fontainebleau; M. Eric Thierry Crepin Leblond, Conservateur Général du Château de Blois and his staff; M. Voison, Conservateur du Château de Chenonceau and his staff; M. Sueau, Secrétaire Général du Château d’Amboise and his staff; and Mme de Gourcuff, Administrateur du Château de Chambord and her staff.
A large number of friends have lent me books from their private collections, discussed different aspects of Catherine’s life from their expert viewpoints, and have generally made an invaluable input to my work in a host of different ways, and I would like to thank: H.E. the French Ambassador M. Daniel Bernard, Marchesa Ginevra di Bruti Liberati, The Marquis and Marquise Pierre d’Angosse, H.E. the Portuguese Ambassador M. José Gregorio Faria, Lady Antonia Fraser, Mr Mark Getty, Sir John Guinness, HRH Princess Michael of Kent, Viscount Lambton, Mrs Robert Nadler, Dr Guy O’Keeffe, Mr Andrew Ponton, H.E. the Spanish Ambassador the Marques de Tamarón, Lord Thomas of Swynnerton, Lady Anne Somerset, Professor Norman Stone, the Hon. Mrs Claire Ward, Lord Weidenfeld and Count Adam Zamoyski.
My editor at Weidenfeld and Nicolson, Ion Trewin’s kindness and loyalty throughout this project have been heroic. My gratitude also goes to my publisher, Anthony Cheetham, and to my agent, Georgina Capel, whose belief in ‘Catherine’ never wavered. I saluteMrs Ilsa Yardley for her superb copy-editing, and the indispensable Victoria Webb, my assistant editor. I must also thank Tom Graves for his inspired picture research.
Finally, my love and thanks go to Andrew Roberts for his unfailing tenderness, punctuation, good advice, and for keeping me going when I wanted to give back the money and run; and to my parents and family, especially Lil’ and Jake, God bless you for everything you have given me.
Leonie Frieda
October 2003