FOUR

THE ECLIPSED CONSORT

For never did a woman who loved her husband succeed in loving his whore

1547–49

Catherine was twenty-eight years old when she became Queen of France. ‘The foreign woman’ still spoke French with an indelible Italian accent but the people had, over the years, warmed to her, partly out of gratitude that she had borne an heir to the throne, but their feelings were also tinged with an element of pity for the ignored Queen and never more so than now. From the first days of Henry’s reign Diane ensured that she availed herself of all the benefits that came with her position as the King’s mistress. Formerly devoid of passion, but full of dignity and hauteur, the favourite now found something that inflamed her senses: greed. Diane’s obsession with the accumulation of riches and honours consumed her. To satisfy her needs she had to keep the new King tightly in her thrall. Although she was now Queen, Catherine found herself as powerless as ever to come between Henry and Diane. Her role and influence during her husband’s short reign were on the whole confined to motherhood and those of an eclipsed consort. Whenever possible, Diane took centre stage and pushed Catherine into a twilight area as she gave birth to a further eight children after Henry ascended the throne. As his reign progressed he gradually learned to rely on his wife’s loyalty and sound judgement but he still excluded her from his confidences, especially in the early years. One historian wrote, ‘Movement went on about her; [but] she was becalmed. Politics died at her doorstep, her life remained purely domestic except in the Italian matters.’¹

To understand France and the internal and external forces driving the country that Catherine had to face when her husband died twelve years later it is essential to grasp the main features of Henry II’s reign, in particular the band of nobles whom he favoured, enriched and empowered. While Henry lived these men gave their complete loyalty to the King, but by making his friends so strong he had unknowingly created an extremely hazardous situation for Catherine when she eventually became ruler of France.

The French people welcomed the start of Henry’s reign. Most of them had grown heartily sick of the increasingly muddle-headed policies of Francis as his grasping favourite pulled him this way and that, his strength and judgement failing him at essential moments, particularly during his latter struggles against the Emperor. The new King’s bearing and demeanour promised much. The people knew little about Henry except that he was a brave soldier, a robust sportsman and loved the hunt; he also seemed to eschew the showiness and extravagance of his father. So far the mask of respectability had not slipped publicly to reveal the true nature of his relationship with Diane.

The Venetian ambassador summed up Henry shortly before his accession, writing that the affection he held for his favourite resembled ‘that between mother and son; and … that the lady has taken it upon herself to instruct, correct and counsel … him’.²Certainly, compared with the champing sexual urges of his father, people considered the former Dauphin ‘little addicted to women’.³ The ambassador also examined the essence of his personality and intellect, considering him

not very ready with his answers when addressed, but very decided and very firm in his opinions, and what he has once said he adheres to with great tenacity. His is not a very keen intellect, but men of that stamp are often the most successful; they are like autumn fruits, which ripen late, but which are, for that reason, better and more durable … he is in favour of maintaining a footing in Italy … to which end he supports Italians who are discontented with the affairs of their country. He spends his money in a manner at once prudent and honourable.⁴

Only hours after Francis’s death and during the traditional quarantine period between the passing of the old monarch and the public appearance of the new, Henry, recovering his spirits somewhat at becoming absolute ruler of France, began sacking ministers of the old regime and distributing favours to his friends and supporters. The first to be recalled to favour and high office was Anne de Montmorency, ‘le premier baron de France’. The Constable had been languishing at his huge estates for six years since Francis had exiled him from Court in disgrace. On 24 April Henry and the Constable sat closeted alone for over two hours at Saint-Germain-en-Laye and by the time they emerged Montmorency had been created President of the King’s Privy Council and put in charge of all government matters. He was now the most senior man in the kingdom after Henry, both in military matters and civilian affairs. He quickly installed himself in the recently vacated apartments of Madame d’Étampes, which adjoined those of the late King. This was quite an achievement for a man who despite being a solid defensive military tactician and an ultra-conservative had not particularly demonstrated any great genius or flair.

As well as his new honours, Montmorency received compensation for the loss of income he had suffered during his years of disgrace. A sum amounting to over 100,000 écus was paid to him and he also resumed his governorship of Languedoc. This had not been officially taken from him by Francis but had been run by others during the Constable’s banishment. Montmorency held the King’s signet and generally made sure that no business passed to His Majesty without his prior sanction. Henry permitted the old man to deal with much in his name, and it seemed to many that the Constable tried to keep the King away from administrative work by doing a good deal of it for him. Like most pedants, he had a close eye for detail and little escaped his notice. His famous arrogance convinced him he knew best on just about every matter. At council meetings he constantly interrupted anyone who happened to be speaking and gave his opinion on how the business should be handled. His autocratic behaviour and zealous guard over the King soon annoyed almost everyone. ‘He is more insolent than ever before and provokes the hatred of men and women, and everyone in general,’ commented the ambassador of the Italian Duchy of Ferrara. Foreign envoys soon began to complain that this impossible martinet prevented or slowed down business with his obsession for minutiae. Nevertheless Henry seemed grateful not to have to bother with the exhaustive details of government matters, which was doubtless precisely what the Constable had intended.

Despite Montmorency’s quarrelsome nature and tyrannical ways, he possessed, at least in Catherine’s eyes, one endearing feature. The man did not seek to fill his pockets and appeared less thrusting about the promotion of his family than others of Henry’s close entourage. Instead, he primarily dedicated his existence to two things: the well-being of the King and the security and protection of France. Although the Constable had encouraged the earliest romance and union between Diane and Henry, Catherine was acute enough to see that for all his pompous and ridiculous posturing he stood apart as easily the truest of all Henry’s senior nobles. The papal nuncio wrote of Montmorency at the time, ‘This man is the most French, in word and act, of any that has ever been known.… Do not suppose that he will ever resign himself … to any course which is not the most advantageous to his King.’⁵

The members of Montmorency’s family who benefited most at Henry’s accession were his three Châtillon nephews, one of whom, Gaspard de Coligny, was many years later to be the prime cause of the terrible massacre for which Catherine is chiefly remembered in France today. Of the nephews, sons of Montmorency’s sister, Gaspard was by far the cleverest and most able of the brothers; an inspired military man of high integrity, he was made Colonel-General of the infantry. His brother Ôdet, Cardinal de Châtillon, the eldest, was given more benefices and moved into his uncle’s apartment at Saint-Germain. François d’Andelot, the third brother, also received favours from the King.

Diane did not view the recall of the one person who rivalled her in the King’s affections with unalloyed pleasure, but there existed an implicit understanding between them that they must work in harness for Henry’s good. Diane and Queen Eleanor had the great satisfaction of seeing their nemesis, Madame d’Étampes, banished from Court. At her castle of Limours she stayed fearful that she might be prosecuted for the many crimes her cupidity had occasioned. Eventually, after handing back jewels and a large part of Francis’s gifts, many the inalienable property of the Crown, she realised to her relief that she would not be secretly done away with or put on trial for treason. Henry, perhaps out of respect for his father’s dying wish, did not ruin the duchess. Though her properties were much diminished it was generally acknowledged that she had escaped lightly. Gratefully, she spent the rest of her days in obscurity. The property and jewels recovered from Madame d’Étampes Henry promptly gave to his lover, Diane, who saw no point in pursuing her former rival further; she had better things to do.

Catherine, pregnant once again, spent the earliest days of her husband’s reign watching him reward his friends for their loyalty to him during his father’s rule. Apart from the Constable, the main beneficiaries were his trusted companions of old. The Guise family immediately felt the advantages of having Henry on the throne. François, Comte d’Aumale, the eldest son of Claude, first Duke of Guise, was one of Henry’s closest friends. Known as ‘Le Balafré’ (Scarface) for the horrific wound that he had received outside Boulogne during the campaign against the English, he enjoyed constant access to the King and on most days they played tennis, Henry’s favourite sport. François was admitted to the Privy Council, made Master of the Royal Hunt and a little afterwards the King created him Duke d’Aumale. The new dukedom was equal in rank to the most senior Prince of the Blood, Antoine de Bourbon, a measure that would cause endless protocol scuffles with the Bourbons over precedence. François’s brother, Charles, who had been Archbishop of Rheims since the age of nine, also received a place on the council and a cardinal’s red hat in time for the new King’s coronation.

The brothers made a brilliant team and Charles, a man of extraordinary intelligence, received universal acclaim for his acute political sense and deft diplomacy, even from his enemies. Their uncle Jean, also a cardinal, sat on the council along with his nephews. Their sister, Marie of Guise, who had married King James V of Scotland, had been widowed in 1542 and ruled the kingdom as regent for her baby daughter Mary, Queen of Scots. Diane, anxious to forge a closer connection with the Guise family whose rising fortunes seemed unstoppable, married Louise, one of her two daughters, to another of François’s brothers named Claude, Marquis de Mayenne. By patronising the Guises in this way she was ensuring that they would provide a counterbalance to the Constable. Thus, from the very beginning it was clear that the junior princes of Lorraine were to wield great influence during Henry’s reign.

The King did not omit the Saint-Andrés, père et fils, when he distributed powerful posts and positions to his friends, and gave both of them seats on the council. Jacques de Saint-André, the boon companion of Henry’s youth, was made a Marshal of France and given the office of Grand Chamberlain, which meant that he slept in the King’s chamber. This unparalleled access to His Majesty’s person gave Saint-André much power and prestige as people clamoured for him to promote their interests or obtain an audience for them with the King. In addition he received the governorship of Lyons, Bourbonnais and Auvergne. Henry meanwhile awarded the father with the governorship of Bresse. The younger Saint-André had grown greedy, dissolute and selfish over the years since he had first formed a bond with Henry as Duke of Orléans, and occupied his thoughts primarily with how to enrich himself, hardly bothering to promote his family. The Bourbons, most senior Princes of the Blood apart from Henry’s own son, watched their position being usurped. They were not excluded altogether from the distribution of favours, but their seats on the council were crumbs in comparison with the riches and honours being harvested by Henry’s coterie.

Without doubt the person to benefit most from Henry’s accession was his mistress, Diane de Poitiers. As Diane’s power waxed, so did her reputation wane. ‘Her fair name [was tarnished] at last, not with looseness but with avarice … it was her identity … when her name was mentioned, it connoted nothing but the fortune she had acquired.’⁶ The way Henry shamelessly showered his mistress with jewels, honours, estates and offices could not fail to be noticed by all. Although she had received most of the properties and jewels that belonged to Madame d’Étampes, his most sumptuous gift was still to come. Henry now entitled her to receive a tax levied on all office holders throughout the country whenever a new king ascended the throne. In addition to this, he allowed her the right to all properties in France known as ‘les terres vagues’, properties to which there was no clear title or where the owners had died without leaving an heir (this included properties confiscated from heretics). Henry had made Diane rich beyond even her expectations, but still he deluged her with gifts. He presented her with the Château of Chenonceau, quite ignoring the fact that it was an inalienable property of the Crown. This beautiful castle in the Loire valley was considered a jewel, and Catherine, who had thought that she might receive it, could not restrain herself from protesting vehemently to Henry but with no result. An old law was dug up about a tax payable on all the church bells in the kingdom and this too was grasped by the insatiable mistress.

Having received these and many more presents and privileges from her lover, Diane kept a close eye on the progress of her fortunes. Every day her comptroller would come and report to her about rents received, rents due, repairs, vacant properties and so on. Henry appeared so spellbound by his lover that he seemed unaware of the envy and odium with which the people viewed her as a result of his largesse. For the rest of his reign he continued to heap riches, offices and honours upon her, and her family and supporters. One contemporary wrote of Diane and the others of the King’s inner circle, ‘Nothing escaped their greedy appetites as little as a fly escapes a swallow. Positions, dignities, bishoprics, every good morsel were all greedily snatched.’⁷

As for the queen herself, Henry had not forgotten her, but she received a meagre portion compared with that allotted to Madame, as Diane now preferred to be addressed. Henry gave her an allowance of 200,000 livres and the right to appoint a master in every guild, something she had already enjoyed under King Francis. As Diane spent huge amounts on improving her châteaux at Anet and Chenonceau, Henry allowed Catherine to refurbish the Château des Tournelles where she liked to stay when she was in Paris. The Louvre was intended to become the royal couple’s Parisian residence, but the building work in progress transforming the old medieval fortress into a Renaissance palace made it as yet impossible to use. Complaining that she had no suitable country estate where she could receive her husband, Catherine was also given the Château of Montceaux-en-Brie near Meaux.

The most pleasing accession gift that Catherine received from the King was to see her dear cousins, the Strozzi, elevated to positions of importance. Exiled from Florence under the regime of the authoritarian Duke Alessandro de Medici, the Strozzi lived asfuoriusciti – the name given to Italian exiles – at the Court of France.^fn1

The four brothers now found themselves rewarded by Henry, who wished to do something to please his wife. They longed to return home and throw out the upstart ruler of Florence, thus removing his stranglehold on the magistracies of the republic, and Henry decided to advance the two elder brothers’ military positions. He elevated Piero, the eldest, to Captain-General of the Italian infantry. And Leone, the second brother, was made Captain-General of the Galleys of the Levant. This would, when the time came, give the two eldest Strozzi leading roles in any future campaign for Florence. The third brother, Lorenzo, became Bishop of Béziers and the youngest, Roberto, remained a banker, though he was now placed in charge of negotiating loans and raising funds for the Crown when necessary, a potentially very lucrative position.

Catherine loved Piero best of all the brothers, and Henry bore a deep fondness for him too, even making him ‘gentilhomme ordinaire de la chambre’. Piero cut a somewhat preposterous but colourful figure at Court. He combined a rare intelligence and learning with physical courage and a determination never to be beaten at anything. A man of contrasts, he wrote delicate poetry and enjoyed playing rather savage and dangerous practical jokes, just the sort that Henry always appreciated. He was short and fantastically vain about his appearance. To disguise his lack of height he wore extremely high heels and, hoping to hide the fact that his head was too small for his body, he sported towering, ornate and over-decorated hats. Piero translated Caesar from Latin into Greek and enthralled his listeners by his storytelling, but if crossed he was known to avenge himself to the death. Even Diane, the Guises and Saint-André found his company irresistible.

Catherine had always had an Italian entourage with her since the time of her marriage, but now that she had become Queen, her group of followers – Florentines and others – swelled. She found herself the rallying point for her exiled compatriots who pinned their political hopes on her, calling her their Italian Queen of France. At first the new reign saw little in the way of pickings for them. The Imperial ambassador reported to his master, ‘An infinite stream of Italians came to the new Court to offer their services but they are not being placed on the pension list.’⁸ Catherine, proud of her country of origin, imported her gowns from Italy, promoted Italian artists and craftsmen, and little by little her influence and sense of style and grandeur could be seen at Court. Her maître d’hôtel, the Florentine poet Luigi Alamanni, was also a leader of the fuoriusciti. Not all the exiles were artists, soldiers, merchants or political refugees; their community also comprised a considerable number of bankers. They were to become the strong arm of Catherine’s supporters as the reign went on, especially once the King needed loans for his military expeditions into the peninsula. For it soon became obvious that Henry, just like his father before him, found the siren song of Italy and her rich territories irresistible.

The Queen forged one of her closest female friendships with Marie-Catherine Gondi, the French wife of Antonio Gondi, a Florentine merchant, who lived in exile in France. They first met in Lyons just after her marriage to Henry as the royal family were making their way back up to Paris from Marseilles. Madame Gondi was extremely practical and advised Catherine on everything from pregnancy and childcare to money matters. Later the Queen rewarded this remarkable woman and her family by giving her responsibility for her personal finances and she was made general administrator of her projects and building works, among other matters. In effect, Catherine chose Madame Gondi to be her treasurer, a highly unusual position for a woman in the sixteenth century. Most important of all, theirs was probably one of the few truly intimate friendships that Catherine ever enjoyed. To survive the intrigues of the previous reign and to keep a sliver of dignity as Queen in the face of Diane’s countless triumphs, Catherine had to appear unaffected, aloof and silent. Marie-Catherine Gondi could probably be counted among one of the very few people ever to hear the Queen reveal her true anguish.

Another notable supporter of the Queen’s was Gaspard de Saulx, Seigneur de Tavannes, a fearsome soldier as ugly as he was brave. A veteran of the Italian wars, Tavannes despised Diane and her toadies, and admired Catherine’s patience and dignity in the face of the endless humiliations she had to endure. One day, after some particularly stinging slight from Madame to Catherine, the enraged Tavannes determined to take action and announced to the Queen that he would slice off Diane’s nose. He hoped that by permanently disfiguring her, he would make the King lose interest in his paramour. Fortunately, Catherine dissuaded Tavannes from such a primitive and extreme act. Equally, the Queen’s relative and great friend, the Duke of Nemours, approached her, offering to throw acid in Diane’s face. This project too was abandoned when the Queen said she preferred a more ‘patient’ approach. Both these men and others of her entourage spotted the qualities in Catherine that others had so manifestly failed to identify.

On 23 May 1547 Francis was buried at Saint-Denis. Henry had decided upon a triple entombment and brought the bodies of his two brothers – who had not been given state burials – to accompany that of his father. He organised an epic funeral for the late King and the two princes, which cost over half a million écus. While the splendid and solemn procession passed through Paris to Saint-Denis he had arranged to watch the cortège from a window in the rue Saint-Jacques overlooking part of the route. Henry had to remain incognito until after the burials, when he would be officially proclaimed King. As the splendid coffins, surmounted by the traditional effigies, passed before his window, Henry became ‘very troubled and deeply aggrieved, even to the point of tears’. M. de Vieilleville, one of the King’s companions that day, tried to cheer His Majesty by telling him instead of mourning his father he should try to imitate the late King’s virtues and strengths. This seemed to have little effect. Deciding upon a different tack, he announced that not for 300 years had there been a more pernicious prince of France than Henry’s brother Charles. Adding for good measure, ‘He never loved or esteemed you.’⁹ Stubbornly Henry continued to cry until finally Vieilleville, by now thoroughly warming to his theme, recounted how years before, after a boating accident in which it was feared Henry and his elder brother had drowned, Prince Charles had been overcome by joy. His jubilation was cut short when news finally came that the two elder boys had survived, at which point he had remarked bitterly to a friend, ‘I renounce God; I shall never be anything but a nonentity.’¹⁰ At last after more stories in this vein the King seemed to cheer up and watched the rest of the procession with a passive countenance, even remarking as Charles’s coffin filed past, ‘See, there is the nonentity who leads the advance-guard of my felicity!’¹¹

With the old King now buried, and before his own sacre at Rheims, Henry, urged on by Diane, had made up his mind to settle a quarrel which had its origins in the old rivalries of Francis’s Court. A young nobleman, Guy Chabot, Baron de Jarnac, related to the Duchess d’Étampes, had been cruelly slandered by Henry and his friends in the last years of Francis’s reign. When Jarnac was forced for the sake of his dignity to demand satisfaction, the Dauphin had been prevented from fighting a duel because of his rank. To settle matters one of Henry’s friends, François de Vivonne, Seigneur de La Châtaigneraie, an experienced soldier who had fought alongside the King and was also a virtuoso swordsman, stepped in to fight on the Dauphin’s behalf. The duel was to be to the death, but Francis had refused to allow it to take place and the matter had been left unresolved, not least because Jarnac’s obvious physical inferiority meant that he would prove no match for La Châtaigneraie. The latter was well-built, as well as a renowned wrestler and athlete; he had received his martial training under a great master in Rome and had already been victorious in previous duels. One of the secrets of his accomplishments was, he claimed, that he had been fed powdered gold, steel and iron with his food as an infant. Jarnac, on the other hand, was a tall but slightly built pleasant young man of a gentle nature, unlike that of the swaggering braggard La Châtaigneraie.

At the beginning of the new reign, La Châtaigneraie now asked permission to fight the duel; again it was to be to the death. Jarnac wrote to the King and supported the suggestion. Henry, who revered the code of honour of medieval knights, was delighted to allow the request. The duel soon became perceived as a symbolic fight between the two old parties; La Châtaigneraie representing Diane and the new King, Jarnac standing for d’Étampes and Francis. Several other matters had arisen since the quarrel first started, and while most of the Court, who wished to please the King, championed La Châtaigneraie, there were some, mainly those already sickened by Diane’s influence, who supported Jarnac.

The whole Court was abuzz with excitement, wagers were taken and the two principals prepared for the coming challenge. Few people were prepared to wager on Jarnac surviving – the odds against him were monumental. Rumours also circulated that Catherine’s cousin, Piero Strozzi, who so enjoyed protecting his own honour that he would fight over the tiniest of imagined slights, had decided to aid the stripling Jarnac by secretly giving him some tips that were ingeniously and specifically designed to destroy La Châtaigneraie. With the help of the great Italian duelling master Caize, Jarnac worked hard to prepare himself, and though Catherine would have enjoyed seeing Diane embarrassed she could not appear to support her rival’s enemy. More than likely Strozzi had decided to take matters into his own hands to prepare Jarnac, without involving the Queen.

On the day of the duel, 10 July 1547, a meadow at Saint-Germain-en-Laye had been prepared with an arena and tribunes for the spectators. Colourful standards flew, and there were tents erected for the duellists. All the touches to this medieval tradition were in evidence. La Châtaigneraie, so sure of his success, had ordered a tremendous banquet on long tables to which he had invited the whole Court to celebrate after his victory. In marked contrast, Jarnac’s own preparation had been to spend the weeks beforehand training assiduously and making pilgrimages to churches and abbeys, praying and contemplating on what lay ahead. The two contestants attended Mass before the duel began, and Jarnac’s pious attitude received much favourable comment. La Châtaigneraie had merely looked around impatiently with a bored expression, making it obvious that he ‘feared his enemy no more than a lion does a dog’.¹²

As the two contestants made their entrance into the arena, watched intently by an enormous crowd, the King took his place seated between Catherine and his mistress. A mob of rowdy Parisians had arrived for the spectacle, as well as some of the minor country gentry who saw Jarnac as a victim of Diane’s undue influence; they hoped he would strike a blow for their class. At seven o’clock in the evening, after the endless ceremonies which accompanied this medieval tradition, the two men strode towards each other. Châtaigneraie struck a terrific blow at Jarnac, who instead of parrying with his sword, held up his giant and outmoded shield and lunged at his aggressor with a small dagger, striking him behind the knee twice, severing his tendons. La Châtaigneraie fell to the ground, blood pouring from his disabling wound. He was beaten. A huge cry came from the crowd as Jarnac had defeated arguably the greatest bretteur in the kingdom in a matter of seconds.

Jarnac, who was as astonished as his opponent at the outcome of events, approached La Châtaigneraie and, though he had the right to kill him, asked only for his honour to be restored. La Châtaigneraie refused, struggling to get to his feet and fight on, but he collapsed. At this Jarnac strode to where Henry sat and offered his opponent to the King, who was so stunned at the upshot of the match that he hardly seemed to hear Jarnac’s request – phrased with noble humility – for his honour to be restored and to ‘accept’ La Châtaigneraie. Henry continued to sit in silence though Jarnac, fearing that his vanquished foe would die before the matter was settled, grew ever more persistent. Finally, after going once again to examine his opponent, Jarnac cried out before the assembled crowd, ‘Sire, see! He is dying! For the love of God, accept his life at my hands.’¹³ After further delays Henry was jolted into action by Montmorency, who saw the King risked obloquy for himself by behaving with such appalling grace, at which he formally restored Jarnac’s honour. For hundreds of years afterwards the famous and quite legitimate thrust that had won the day for the underdog was known as ‘Le coup de Jarnac’.

The King and Diane were furious at their public humiliation, for they had identified themselves completely with La Châtaigneraie, and they took themselves off as quickly as possible. The mob from Paris threw themselves upon the banquet that the King’s champion had so prematurely prepared. ‘The soups and entrées were devoured by an infinity of harpies, the silver plate and the handsome sideboards … were broken or carried off, amid indescribable disorder … and the dessert consisted of a hundred thousand blows [from] the captains and archers of the Guard.’¹⁴ The day ended in complete chaos.

As for La Châtaigneraie, he had his wound bound and was told he would survive, but he did not care to do so having lost his honour and, tearing off the bandages, proceeded to bleed to death in a huff. Afterwards there was much talk about La Châtaigneraie’s defeat being an ill omen for the King at the start of his reign. Personally, Henry came out of it badly for having behaved like a petulant child rather than a gracious monarch. For Catherine the fiasco was a source of secret satisfaction at seeing her rival so publicly humiliated. As a postscript to this drama, Henry decided to outlaw judicial combat as a method of settling quarrels.

There was little time to reflect upon the outcome of the duel because the King’s coronation was to take place on 26 July and by ancient tradition at the cathedral of Rheims. Henry made his official entry into the city the day before. At ruinous expense the town had been transformed. Enchanting spectacles such as naked nymphs and men dressed as satyrs greeted the King in the brilliantly decorated streets. Catherine, only a few months away from giving birth and seated at a sumptuously decorated window, watched her husband pass by. As he did so he greeted her ‘fort honorablement’ and when he approached the place where Diane sat with some other ladies he saluted them with notable enthusiasm. On the day of the coronation Catherine, by now very large, had been given a place on a tribune from which to view the sacred union between God, the King and France. While she had no proper role that day, the Queen must have felt hurt upon seeing Henry’s tunic as he entered the cathedral: it was covered with the interlaced embroidered letters H and D. Despite this Catherine watched with pride as her husband performed his part of the ancient ritual with distinction, devotion and nobility. Indeed, he prayed so long and devoutly that Diane questioned him afterwards, asking what he had been praying about. He replied that he had asked God to make his reign long if it were good for France and short if he made a bad king.

Much of the coronation oath was dedicated to explicit promises relating to upholding the Christian Church, its laws and privileges. He promised to protect the ‘Christian populace subject to me’ and later in the oath to ‘expel all heretics’. The sacerdotal qualities of the French monarch’s kingship were so vital that elements of the sacre, as the coronation was called, made him ‘more priest than layman’.¹⁵ Though political expedient had altered much of the ceremony’s content as needs had changed over the centuries, ‘one historical constant at least was clear: the enfolding together of the French monarch and the Catholic Church. The language and symbols of the French coronation service went far beyond the usual ecclesiastical overtones surrounding other monarchs of western Christendom.’¹⁶ Henry VIII enjoyed the title ‘Defender of the Faith’, the Spanish King had the appellation ‘Catholic Monarch’, but the French King enjoyed the far more distinguished ‘much older and more redoubtable title: Rex christianissimus, the “most Christian King”’.¹⁷ When Henry found his hallowed role later challenged by the reformers, the ritual marriage between God, King and country made him first among the soldiers whose sacred duty it was to expunge the heretics from his lands. As soon as the crown of Charlemagne had been placed upon the King’s head the cry of Vivat rex in œternum! was taken up by all the peers and dignitaries in attendance. Huge amounts of gold and silver coins for the common people, specially minted for the occasion, were then thrown up into the air to cries of ‘largesse’ amid the clamour of trumpets and deafening cheers.

Henry had become a man transformed since the days when one ambassador wrote five years before that he had never seen him laugh. Although his personality remained essentially unchanged, the melancholy emotional restrictions from his Spanish sojourn seemed at last banished. The same ambassador, Matteo Dandolo, who had come to represent Venice at the coronation, now reported, ‘I ought to assure you that he has become gay, that he has a ruddy complexion, and that he is in perfect health … his body is well proportioned, rather tall than otherwise.’ He went on to report that Henry was ‘much addicted to tennis’ and stag hunting. Dandolo added, ‘Personally, he is all full of valour, very courageous and enterprising.’¹⁸

On 12 November 1547 Catherine gave birth to her daughter Claude at Fontainebleau. Enraged by the nickname ‘Mademoiselle d’Anet’ given to Claude, since she had been conceived at Diane’s splendid palace, it sickened the Queen that the world knew of her reliance on the favourite ‘who at night urges [the King] to that couch to which no desire draws him’. It was reported in the first months of the reign that the King’s total dependence on Diane was such that he came to her after his midday meal and discussed all the state business of the morning. Jean de Saint-Mauris, the Imperial envoy, wrote this report about the King’s behaviour and need for her: ‘The King allows himself to be led and approves everything that [Diane] and his nobles advise.… He continues to yield himself more and more to her yoke and has become entirely her subject and slave.’¹⁹ On one occasion Henry actually wrote to his mistress, ‘I entreat thee to keep in thy remembrance him who has only known one God and one friend, and to rest assured that thou shalt never feel ashamed of giving me the name of thy Servant. Let this be my name for ever.’²⁰

Much has been written about Diane’s influence, yet there is not much real evidence of it. Only on a few specific occasions did she involve herself with royal policy in foreign or internal affairs, though these were almost without exception fuelled by self-interest. Her real strength lay in matters of patronage and keeping the balance of power between the King’s favourites. The same Saint-Mauris also reported that the King’s behaviour had become far more careless with respect to Diane’s reputation. Using the code name he had given her of Silvius, he recounted how ‘After dinner he visits the said Silvius … and whether with the ambassadors or other persons of importance, he seats himself upon her lap, a guitar in his hand, upon which he plays and enquires often of the Constable or of Aumale if the said Silvius “has not preserved her beauty” touching from time to time her bosom and regarding her attentively, like a man who is ensnared by his love. And the said Silvius declares that hereafter she will be wrinkled, in which she is not mistaken.’²¹Lorenzo Contarini, the Venetian ambassador, wrote of Catherine’s increasing exasperation, ‘Since the beginning of the new reign, the Queen could no longer bear to see such love and favour being bestowed by the King on the duchess [as Diane was shortly to become] but upon the King’s urgent entreaties she resigned herself to endure the situation with patience. The Queen even frequents the duchess, who, for her part, serves the Queen well, and often it is she who exhorts him to sleep with his wife.’²²

Many years later, as an old woman, Catherine wrote to one of her envoys, M. de Bellièvre, who was trying to untangle her daughter Margot’s marital problems with Henry of Navarre. It is one of the very few surviving documents in which she mentions the trials of her life as part of the conjugal triangle. ‘If I made good cheer for Madame de Valentinois [Diane] it was the King that I was really entertaining, and besides I always let him know that I was acting sorely against the grain; for never did a woman who loved her husband succeed in loving his whore. For one cannot call her otherwise, although the word is a horrid one to us.’²³ In a more pathetic vein she admitted her feelings, after she had been widowed, in a letter to her daughter Elisabeth, then Queen of Spain. Writing about Diane and how she had tolerated the situation she explained, ‘I loved him so much, I was always afraid.’ Fear primarily motivated Catherine to keep quiet. So truly did she love her husband that his terms, however harsh, had to be endured just to be near him; realistically she knew she had no other alternative. Like a faithful dog, the Queen accompanied her husband everywhere. ‘She follows him as much as she can, without a thought of fatigue,’ noted Soranzo, the Venetian ambassador.

One source of solace for Catherine was the comfort she found in her fascination for astrology. She somehow managed to find a formula for an easy coexistence between both her religion and her belief in the power of the stars. The Queen also had a genuine talent for astronomy, science, physics and mathematics, all of which complemented her fascination for the heavens and their supposed influence upon the lives of human beings. She owned books with bronze pages and revolving discs to facilitate a quick analysis of her celestial readings. Indeed, a great deal of celestial activity occurred during Catherine’s life, often at times of trouble. Comets, eclipses and other unusual sights were seen as indications of momentous events about to occur. Two notable Italian members of her suite were the Ruggieri brothers, Tommaso and, more important, Cosimo, who was known as a Florentine magician. The Ruggieri, renowned astrologers, also practised necromancy and the black arts. The family had long been patronised by the Medici, and Catherine’s ancestors Lorenzo and Cosimo de Medici had been godfathers to the children of ‘Ruggieri l’Ancien’.

Cosimo was undoubtedly the more sinister of the two brothers, and over the years Catherine would have much recourse to his talents. She both admired and feared him, always taking care in their dealings not to upset him. Among the many rumours about his frightful practices was that he had stolen a Jewish baby, decapitated it and, by employing his dark powers, interrogated the severed head for secrets that would enhance his strength. While the use of talismans and sacred relics was still commonplace to people in the superstitious sixteenth century, the Queen was rumoured to have one talisman (among her huge collection) made of human blood, the blood of a goat and the metals that corresponded with her birth chart.

The Queen’s enduring fascination for astrology and the black arts were exceptional even for the time, and later did much to earn her the evil reputation that history and many of her contemporaries have accorded her. Her image was not helped by her parfumier, the Italian Maître René, who became greatly feared for his potions and powders, legendary poisoned gloves and rouge with which he is supposed to have hurried people to their deaths when he served Catherine in her widowhood. Passionately interested in people with prophetic talents, the Queen was said to have ‘second sight’ herself. A number of those close to her claimed that in the years to come she would awake from her sleep screaming and prophesying the untimely death of a loved one; even her daughter Margot witnessed her mother accurately foretell a death from her dreams.²⁴

In April 1548, after spending eight months at Fontainebleau, Henry, Catherine and the Court left the château. The King now had important matters to deal with in order to keep his foothold in Italy and maintain good relations with the Farnese Pope Paul III. The Farnese had fallen out with the Emperor, and Henry decided to make the most of this breach by appearing to support that family’s interests. The Pope’s grandson, Orazio Farnese, had been brought up at the French Court and, to tie the two dynasties together, Henry promised his illegitimate daughter Diane de France in marriage to him. Earlier, in 1545, the Pope’s son, Pier Luigi Farnese, had been awarded the Duchies of Parma and Piacenza by his father. The Emperor was greatly provoked as he considered Parma and Piacenza as part of the Duchy of Milan and therefore Imperial territory. Besides, the Emperor ensured that he had a strong military presence to protect his interests in northern Italy.^fn2 Shortly after Henry’s coronation, news arrived that Imperial agents had murdered Pier Luigi. Henry received urgent entreaties from the Pope asking for help to avenge the killing of his son. Henry was keen for war, but Montmorency, full of gloom and foreboding at the prospect, counselled caution. When Henry could summon neither the Venetians nor the Turks as allies for the proposed military venture, he decided to take this opportunity to show his solidarity for the Farnese by making the journey to Piedmont, most of which was controlled by France. He travelled with a brilliant escort of his most important and glamorous nobles, and was determined to make a fine impression upon the Italians.

During his absence Henry created a council of five and made Catherine his nominal regent before he took his leave of her at Mâcon. This was the first important sign of his respect for her loyalty and ability, though her actual political powers were limited. Taking Montmorency’s advice that he should be lavish in all his dealings in Italy, Henry made a splendid show to the Piedmontese. He paid off old French debts, repatriated disabled French soldiers and gave them a pension known as ‘ung donne’.²⁵ He was the first monarch formally to recompense soldiers who had been wounded fighting for their country and his successors continued his tradition. He held an enlightened point of view with regard to the care of old soldiers and one of his commanders, Blaise de Monluc, called him the best king the soldiers had ever had.

Henry did make one tiny but important territorial acquisition while on his Italian journey, and that was the Marquisate of Saluzzo. This minute stretch of land gave the French essential direct access to the Italian peninsula. There was one additional event of importance which took place during Henry’s visit to Piedmont and it further enhanced the standing of the Guise family. While Henry and his men were at Turin many personages of importance arrived to pay homage to the new French King. Among them came Ercole d’Este, Duke of Ferrara. His duchess was Renée de France, daughter of King Louis XII, Francis I’s predecessor. The couple had a daughter named Anne whom they wished to marry to François of Guise, Duke d’Aumale. The King gave his consent, and the Guises were exultant; as they had often done in the past, they were increasing their standing by a prestigious marriage and were now more closely bound up with the French royal family than ever.

Catherine (who was, once again, pregnant) and her council suddenly found themselves faced with serious difficulties during Henry’s absence when revolts and uprisings started over the salt tax, ‘la gabelle’. Henry received word of the trouble and arrived back in France on 7 September 1548, ending Catherine’s short regency. Harsh measures were required to put down the rebels, and the King sent Montmorency to Guyenne and François d’Aumale to the Loire valley to take charge of operations. Naturally, d’Aumale’s wedding to Anne d’Este had to be postponed until the rebellion had been extinguished.

When he reached Toulouse, Montmorency was merciless in his brutal reprisals against the rebels, who had returned to order by the time he arrived and pleaded for clemency. He tortured and executed over 150 people in the process. The condemned men, mainly the ringleaders, were broken at the wheel, hanged, impaled and dismembered. He even wanted to make an example of the local populace in the troublesome Bordeaux area where there had been a similar problem a few years earlier. He suggested removing or exterminating the inhabitants of the city of Bordeaux and replacing them with a more compliant populace transplanted from another part of France. To Henry’s credit he refused to countenance this idea, but the Constable’s abhorrent methods of punishment could not fail to taint the King in this, the only serious uprising of his brief reign.

Shortly after his return from Italy, Henry made his triumphant entry (joyeuse entrée) as the new monarch into the city of Lyons. This ancient and important tradition had developed over the years into a way for a new king to establish his relationship with a powerful town. The monarch would appoint new office holders and ecclesiastics to vacant positions; the visit also provided an opportunity to pardon criminals, listen to the people’s grievances and review the taxation of a particular community. The most significant element of the joyeuse entrée was that the King received the city’s formal act of fealty. In return he would recognise the town’s rights and those of its officers. The lavish and extraordinary display given to welcome the monarch paid for by the town gave rise to intense competition between the larger cities. Henry’s friend Saint-André, governor of Lyons – which after Paris was the foremost city in the land – could be counted on to make every effort to impress His Majesty with a brilliant welcome and celebrations. Lyons’s prominence was due not least to the fact that it was the financial powerhouse of France, and many of its most important citizens were Italian financiers, exiles who had made this their new centre for business.

Catherine, Henry and Diane travelled by an enormous gondola down the Rhône to La Vaise, where the royal party stopped before their entry into Lyons. A superb pavilion had been erected for them, which resembled a small château. On 23 September 1548 Henry made his official entry into the city accompanied by his mistress; Catherine’s official entry was not until the next day. Desiring to please their King by honouring Diane, the citizens and their governor treated the royal mistress as though she were Queen of France that day. Magnificent allusions to Henry and his lover could be seen everywhere. The goddess Diana was the predominant theme played upon by the grovelling burghers to honour the mistress. Allusions to the glories of the Roman emperors of antiquity, so admired by Henry, were their offering to him. Upon entering the city, which had been transformed to resemble Ancient Rome, the king was greeted by 160 men dressed as Roman legionnaires. The party then came into an artificial forest from which emerged a group of nymphs led by a young beauty carrying a silver bow and quiver, representing the goddess of the hunt. The lovely girl approached the King leading a mechanical lion on a chain of silver and black silk, symbolising the city of Lyons. Saluting the King in verse on behalf of the city, she symbolically offered him its keys.

Among the other marvels and spectacles there was a mock battle between twelve men dressed as gladiators who fought with heavy two-handed swords, which Henry enjoyed so much he asked to see it again a week later. As the party progressed through the town, every window and triumphal archway and obelisk seemed decorated with the monogram that Henry and Diane had created for themselves. Every possible allusion was made to Henry’s wisdom and greatness being comparable to that of a Roman emperor and to Diane as a chaste goddess, her benign influence represented in the various allegorical poses in which she was placed. The colours dominating the decor were the black and white of the two lovers. Once, these had been the emblem of Diane’s mourning; now the colours had become the symbol of her triumph.

Catherine made her entry the following day. It was late and growing dark when the Queen and her retinue made their way into the city. Ill wishers said that the King wanted the Queen to arrive in darkness ‘so that her ugliness should pass unnoticed’. Whatever the reason for the delay, when she arrived she did so in majesty. Seated in an open litter beside her sister-in-law Marguerite, Catherine dressed to ensure that she left a lasting impression on the townspeople, so many of them from her home country. From her head to her shoes, her dress was covered with brilliant diamonds. Behind her, modestly retiring in contrast to the previous day, rode Diane on a palfrey. The townsfolk flexibly altered whatever they were able to in honour of the Queen. The lion duly arrived as it had the day before, but for Catherine its mechanical breast opened to reveal a heart decorated with her coat of arms. The black-and-white decor had, where possible, been changed to Catherine’s own colour, green. To the astonishment of many and the mortification of the Queen, the town dignitaries when paying homage to the King kissed his hand first, and then in the most flagrant outrage against the Queen kissed Diane’s hand before her own. Saint-André had performed his duty well in persuading his toadies at Lyons to please the King by so honouring his mistress.

Catherine had at least been able to console herself that Diane’s rank ensured a certain distance between the two women in the placement at official festivals and public ceremonies. Yet even this meagre comfort was removed when Diane decided she was no longer satisfied with being just the nobly born widow of a senior official. She now felt she required a position that reflected her true status at Court more accurately. At Lyons, therefore, on 8 October Diane de Poitiers was created the Duchess of Valentinois, a duchy with which her family had ancient ties but which had been awarded to Cesare Borgia by King Louis XII. Henry ensured that Diane received enough property to maintain her title with dignity by adding further to it. The elevation also meant that Diane had the right to walk directly behind the Princesses of the Blood. The duchess changed her coat of arms to illustrate her new rank, and the King announced that henceforth Diane was to be one of the Queen’s ladies-in-waiting.

The Court moved north to Moulins, for the wedding on 21 October 1548 between Henry’s cousin Jeanne de Navarre, daughter of his Aunt Marguerite (married to the King of Navarre), and the most senior Prince of the Blood after Henry’s own sons, Antoine de Bourbon. From her mountain kingdom of Navarre, Marguerite had remained aloof from Henry’s Court since the death of her adored brother Francis. She and her husband had stubbornly tried to resist the marriage Henry proposed for their daughter Jeanne. Preferring instead a far grander catch for her, they had hoped that she might marry King Philip of Spain. But Henry could not allow Navarre to fall into Habsburg hands and insisted upon the Bourbon match taking place.

Jeanne, an independent and spirited young woman, was jubilant that the issue had been forced, since she found Antoine de Bourbon highly attractive. Earlier, when prospective husbands were being discussed for the princess, Henry had suggested François of Guise, Duke d’Aumale, as a possibility. Jeanne had retorte that she would not marry him for then Diane de Poitiers’s daughter would have become her sister-in-law.^fn3 Enraged by this insult, Henry made it quite clear where his favour lay and the wedding between Jeanne d’Albret and Antoine de Bourbon took place without frills. For his friend François, Duke d’Aumale’s wedding to Anne d’Este, which took place on 4 December at Saint-Germain-en-Laye, Henry ordered that the event be sumptuous and was heedless of the enormous expense.

Five days later, not to be outdone, Montmorency married off his nephew, François d’Andelot, to one of the richest girls in the kingdom – Claude de Rieux – in the same splendour. The only other event of note that autumn was Queen Eleanor’s return to the Netherlands to live under the care of her brother the Emperor. Henry had always treated his stepmother kindly, but she was not sorry to leave France now that her husband was dead. She lived a further ten years, to die in Spain in 1558.

As the Court moved from château to château, hunting and feasting over Christmas and the New Year, Catherine remained behind at Saint-Germain waiting out the last phase of her fourth pregnancy. On 3 February at four o’clock in the morning, with the King beside her, Catherine gave birth to a boy. The baby was named Louis and, as tradition demanded for the second son of a King of France, given the title Duke of Orléans. Louis’s baptism took place in May, and on 8 June Catherine and Henry arrived at Saint-Denis to prepare for her coronation two days later.

The night before the ceremony the royal couple visited the cathedral together. They were met by the Cardinal de Bourbon, Antoine’s brother, and inspected the arrangements for the following day. The abbey was sumptuously prepared and a small loge had been built for the King, whence he could watch the proceedings hidden away from the congregation. The Queen’s throne, elevated on a platform covered in gold cloth, was richly decorated with her gold-embroidered initials on a background of blue velvet; blue velvet also covered the steps with balustrades either side leading up to the dais. Tribunes nineteen rows high had been erected in the chancel. The princes were to sit on the right and Chevaliers of the Order of Saint-Michel on the left. Below the princes’ seats were those for the captains of the guard and opposite them places had been reserved for the ladies and gentlemen taking part in the actual ceremony. Last of all came the seats for other guests and those courtiers not taking part.

On 10 June, the morning of her coronation, Catherine rose at dawn; dressing and preparation were a time-consuming process. Shortly before eleven o’clock she was ready and, as the hour struck, the two young Cardinals of Vendôme and Guise led a huge procession of princes and princesses to fetch her. Her bodice glimmered with vast diamonds, rubies, emeralds and pearls. Her robe of green-blue velvet, the colour seeming to change slightly according to the light, was embroidered with fleur-de-lys in gold thread, as was her royal mantle, edged with ermine. Her robes were cut to give them fullness and length, adding to their already magnificent effect. Led by 200 gentlemen of the King’s Household, all dressed in their richest ceremonial costume, the retinue made its way into the abbey, followed by the chevaliers of the royal order. Heralds at arms carried heavy gold maces; behind them walked the Constable holding his gold Grand Master’s baton. After the Constable came the Queen flanked by the two cardinals. The two most senior Princes of the Blood carried her mantle at the sides, and the end of her long train was held by the elder and younger Duchesses de Montpensier and the Princess de la Roche sur Yon.²⁶ Trumpets announced the Queen’s arrival. The long cortège of ladies following the Queen was led by Marguerite, Henry’s sister. Diane was in the third row among the most senior princesses and her train was held by the Constable’s son, Henri de Montmorency-Damville. She was followed by her namesake, Henry’s eleven-year-old daughter Diane de France, known as ‘Madame la Bâtarde’. The women of the procession were dressed in jewel-encrusted velvet and ermine robes to match the Queen’s own, wearing diadems that signalled their rank. Diane and the other high-ranking dowagers were distinguishable, for they alone wore no rich trappings. The most senior of the Queen’s ladies brought up the rear. Superbly adorned, for as dame d’honneur she had a great role in the day’s ceremonial, came Diane’s eldest daughter Françoise, wife of Robert IV de la Marck, the Prince of Sedan. Robert de la Marck had been created a Marshal of France at Henry’s accession and was given a seat on the King’s Council.^fn4

After kneeling before the high altar and kissing a reliquary, the Queen sat upon her throne and the princesses and other ladies moved to their prearranged places. On the highest tribune to the right of the Queen sat Diane and her daughter Louise de Mayenne, who was married to the brother of François, Duke d’Aumale. To Catherine’s left sat Diane de France and nearest to her sat Françoise de la Marck. After the opening prayers were said, Catherine descended from her throne and knelt at the altar for the anointing, which was performed by the Cardinal de Bourbon. He smudged the holy oil upon Catherine’s forehead and her chest, then placed the ring on her finger which signified her marriage to the kingdom of France, and placed the sceptre in one hand and the ‘main de justice’ in the other. Finally the great crown, supported by Antoine de Bourbon (the Duke of Vendôme) and the Comte d’Enghien, was placed on her head. It was so heavy that a lighter crown replaced it almost immediately. This was ‘small and completely encrusted in diamonds, rubies, pearls, of great excellence and value’.²⁷ It was a most magnificent spectacle.

After her actual coronation the Queen, accompanied by the Princes of the Blood, proceeded to her throne. Louis, Prince de Condé, younger brother of Antoine de Bourbon, then placed the heavy state crown on a small stool, which was rather unfortunately positioned, as though it were an offering, at the feet of Diane’s eldest daughter, Françoise. Mass was heard, after which Françoise de la Marck supervised the ceremonial of the offerings which were placed upon the altar. Catherine led the procession of four princesses carrying the sacred gifts. Diane, as part of this procession, walked to the altar with a serene, almost saintly demeanour, lingering with slow and stately steps before the King’s loge as she did so. Her ‘feigned modesty’ did not go unnoticed.

Catherine had gone through the long ceremony with perfect grace and majesty, but Diane had triumphed too. By her elevation to the rank of duchess the King had given her a position which allowed her to sit with the very grandest princesses and watch her two daughters perform central roles in the proceedings. He must have felt pleased with himself that he had been able to honour his mistress so markedly at his wife’s coronation. The ceremony drew to a close and the cry of ‘largesse!’ rang out after the procession walked out of the abbey and the Queen’s treasurer threw up gold and silver for the crowd.

Despite Diane’s prominence that day, Catherine had the deep satisfaction of knowing that she was now the rightful and anointed Queen of France. No longer a Florentine nobody, Catherine was wedded, just as the King had been, to the kingdom of France and had been ordained by God to lead the French people if the sovereign were indisposed. For all Diane’s elegance and false humility, Catherine wore the crown. Her ‘sense of honour and reverence’ at being Henry’s Queen transformed the matronly, unimposing figure so dramatically that the usually censorious courtiers agreed: ‘In public she was completely mistress of her dignity and performed her ceremonial and social functions with an authority as easy as it was unassuming.’ They ‘could not recall a queen, since Anne de Bretagne, so completely equal to her position’.²⁸

On 16 June Henry made his official entry into Paris. The capital had spent enormous sums, employing the most famous artists of the day: Jean Goujon, Philibert de l’Orme and Jean Cousin were among those charged with the decoration of the city. The emphasis played mainly upon both a Gallic and classical theme in which they hailed Hercules as the original Gaul with Henry ‘designated as Hercules’. Ronsard celebrated the entrée with verse as the citizens presented their sovereign with a series of gorgeous spectacles that, it was generally agreed, even outshone those of Lyons.²⁹To Catherine’s great satisfaction there was little allusion to Diane in the decorations and tableaux presented to their majesties. Her own entry took place on 18 June. The banquets and festivities continued for almost a full month. The Court stayed at the Château des Tournelles as the capital celebrated. For the King’s pleasure a tournament and a mock battle were held upon the river Seine. The only upset was the usual squabble between the grandees over seating at the banquet given on the night of Henry’s entrée.

The sombre spectre of religious disunity, however, cast a shadow on the festivities in Paris that month. The King had requested that one of the heretics being held in the city be brought before him so that he could question the man himself. A humble tailor was specially selected for the reason that he was so dismal and inconsequential-looking that the authorities hoped he would be struck dumb when he found himself in the presence of his King. This reduced the risk of Henry’s essential kindness being awakened by any eloquence that might move him to clemency. The wretched man was duly presented and, when he spoke of his faith and his beliefs, produced a great effect upon those gathered with the King. Diane, whose loathing for the Protestants mirrored their abhorrence for her and her position as the King’s mistress, tried to bait the piteous prisoner with her own questions. Surprisingly, this served to embolden the man’s sincere and inspired response: ‘Madame, rest satisfied with having corrupted France, and do not mingle your filth with a thing so sacred as the Truth of God.’³⁰ Henry, enraged at this spirited sally, demanded that he personally be present to watch the man burn. Three other men condemned for heresy were also selected to die with him.

Thus, on 4 July on the rue Saint-Antoine, Henry watched from the window as the faggots beneath the prisoners were lit. Often it could take as long as forty-five minutes for a fire to burn a man at the stake, and slowly the flames began to rise up around the tailor and his co-religionists. Instead of screaming in agony, the dying man fixed Henry with his eyes and did not stop staring at the King until he lost consciousness. Henry vowed never to watch a burning again and found he had difficulty sleeping over the next few weeks as the images of the dying tailor kept returning to him. Yet he continued his single-minded policy towards heresy and its proponents, for they were anathema to him and his straightforward approach to religion. By the time Catherine was charged with running the country such methods of repressing the new religion would no longer be effective.

^fn1 Although most of the Strozzi left during Alessandro’s tenure, Cosimo de Medici exiled and killed other members of the family.

^fn2 In addition to the Milanese question the Emperor had other interests at stake in the Farnese issue. His illegitimate daughter, widow of Duke Alessandro de Medici, Catherine’s murdered ‘half-brother’, had married Orazio Farnese’s brother Ottavio and the Emperor had promised him Parma.

^fn3 Diane de Poitiers’ daughter Louise was married to François of Guise’s brother, the Marquis de Mayenne, and Jeanne wanted no family connection between herself and the King’s mistress.

^fn4 In 1552 Robert de la Marck was awarded the Duchy of Bouillon.