Popularity of Henri II — His amiable qualities — His affection for his children — The Dauphin (François II) — The Duc d'Orléans (Charles IX) — The Duc d'Angoulême (Henri III) — The Duc d'Alençon — Mesdames Élisabeth (Queen of Spain) and Claude (Duchess of Lorraine) — Madame Marguerite ("Queen Margot") — Education of the little princesses and Mary Stuart — Household of the Children of France — Diane de France, natural daughter of Henri II — The romance of François de Montmorency and Mlle. de Piennes — Marriage of François to Diane de France — Daily life of Henri II — His lever — His dinner — His love of the chase — His efforts to encourage horsebreeding — The Queen's "cercle" — The King at tennis — The King's evening — His coucher — Outward decorum of the Court of Henri II — Severity of Catherine — The Rohan-Nemours scandal — The Court in reality more corrupt than that of François I
IF Henri II never attained the immense popularity which his father had enjoyed in the early years of his reign, he was, nevertheless, an extremely popular King, particularly in Paris and with the Army. Nor was this popularity undeserved, for, as a man, Henri had many loveable qualities, while, as a sovereign, his good intentions were beyond question. "His manner is so affable, so human," writes l'Aubespine, "that from the very first moment he takes possession of every man's heart and every man's devotion." The testimony of the Secretary of State is confirmed by that of a more impartial witness, the Venetian Ambassador, Contarini: "His kindliness is natural and so well recognised that one cannot find any prince to compare with him, even if one goes back many years. He desires the good and he works for it. . . . He is gracious and refuses an audience to no one. At his meals there are constantly people present who talk to him about their private affairs, and he listens and replies to every one in the most courteous fashion. He has never been seen in an ill-humour, save occasionally at the chase, when something happens to annoy him, and even then he does not indulge in violent language. One may say that he is really very much beloved."01
One of the most amiable traits in Henri's character was his affection for his children. We have seen him hastening from Moulins to Saint-Germain "in order to enjoy their company alone,"02 and he was probably never so happy as when they were about him. Then he could lay aside the cares of State and the wearisome ceremonial which absorbed so much of his time, and forget for a moment that he was the ruler of a kingdom torn by religious strife within and menaced by sleepless enemies without, and become as simple and natural as the humblest of his subjects. In his relations with his children, indeed, he was at his best — kind, gentle, playful, and sympathetic. What a pretty picture is that which Marguerite de Valois has drawn for us in her Mémoires!
"The King my father, taking me upon his knee to make me talk, asked me to choose which of the two I should prefer for a sweetheart — the Prince de Joinville, who became afterwards that great and unfortunate Duc de Guise,03 or the Marquis de Beaupréau, son of the Prince de la Roche-sur-Yon.04 Both, aged six or seven years, were playing near the King my father, and I was watching them. I said that I should prefer the marquis. He said to me 'Why? He is not so handsome. . . . ' I replied: 'Because he is a better boy, whereas the other is never satisfied unless he is doing harm to somebody every day, and always wants to be master.' A true prophecy of what we have seen since fulfilled."05
And how well Henri seemed to understand the aspirations of childhood! When, a few months before his death, François I gave to his eldest grandson the nominal government of Languedoc, the child, proud of being treated as a prince, refused to wear girls' clothes any longer. "He does not want to be dressed as a girl any longer," wrote his father, "and I quite agree with him. It is quite reasonable that he should have breeches, since he asks for them; for I make no doubt that he knows very well what he ought to wear."06
It was certainly well for Henri II that he was so devoted to children, as he had his quiver pretty full of them. Between 1543 and 1556 Catherine bore him ten, of whom seven lived to grow up, and then there was the fruit of his extra-conjugal attachments — Diane de France and Henri d'Angoulême.
The Dauphin François was a puny, sickly lad, and the letters of the Royal Family and the Court are full of his ailments. In the summer of 1547, when he was in his fourth year, he was attacked by small-pox, from which he made a very slow recovery, and for the rest of his short life the poor boy never seems to have known what it was to be really well. In appearance, he was short and very slight, "with features," says Capello, "which favoured the physiognomy of his mother rather than his father's." In his studies, his success was very small, though he had excellent teachers, for he took little pleasure in them and was incapable of any sustained effort. On the other hand, his ill health did not prevent him from being devoted to the chase and very anxious to acquire proficiency, in the use of arms. In 1551, he had butts put up at Blois, that he might learn to shoot with the bow; he cherished a suit of armour which François de Guise had sent him as a present, and wrote to the duke that he was "practising as often as he could to meet him as a gentle knight face to face"; and he tormented his father to take him with him to the wars.07
FRANÇOIS DE VALOIS, DAUPHIN OF FRANCE (AFTERWARDS FRANÇOIS II)
FROM THE DRAWING BY FRANÇOIS CLOUET IN THE MUSÉE CONDÉ, CHANTILLY
The Dauphin had quickly conceived a warm affection for Mary Stuart, which her youthful Majesty seems to have reciprocated. "He loves dearly the Most Serene little Queen of Scotland, a very pretty little girl of twelve or thirteen," writes Capello in 1555. "They love to go away by themselves into a corner, so that no one may overhear their little secrets."08
Henri's other three sons, Charles Maximilien, Duc d'Orléans (afterwards Charles IX), Édouard Alexandre, Duc d'Angoulême (afterwards Henri III), and Hercule (afterwards François, Duc d'Alencon, and later Duc d'Anjou), were much younger than the Dauphin, the eldest of the three being more than seven years his junior. The intellectual part of the boys' education was conducted with a care to which that of princes in our day offers no comparison, and the most learned men of the time, with the celebrated Jacques Amyot, the translator of Plutarch, at their head, were among their teachers. They do not, however, appear to have succeeded any better than did Bossuet and the other savants who, a century later, undertook the education of the Grand Dauphin, son of Louis XIV, and probably in both cases they overdid it. Charles, however, was a tolerable musician, and, like his father, had quite a pretty turn for verses, and at the age of fourteen he addressed to Ronsard two very creditable épîres, which have been published in that poet's works.
The boys repaid better the pains which were bestowed on their physical training, notwithstanding that their constitutions were very far from robust. Charles was, indeed, almost as delicate a lad as the Dauphin, thin, very pale, "eating and drinking very sparingly" — which was then considered a proof of debility — and "losing all his breath after the least exertion." His features were regular and he had "very fine eyes like those of his father"; but a birthmark on the upper lip, just below the nose, which his moustache concealed later, somewhat disfigured his face, and when he ascended the throne, at the age of ten and a half, earned him the name of "le roi morveux." He was passionately fond of horses and the chase; indeed, the immoderate ardour with which he pursued this pastime when he grew up undoubtedly contributed to shorten his days; but no form of violent exercise seemed to come amiss to him, and in the gymnasium or the fencing-school he was no mean adversary.09 He was a generous, impulsive boy, and very hot-tempered, and, even in these early days, occasionally gave evidence of those terrible fits of anger which increased in violence and frequency as he grew older and sometimes rendered him quite unaccountable for his actions.
The future Henri III was a very different kind of lad. His features were more refined than those of Charles, and, like his mother, he had beautifully-shaped hands. For hunting or martial exercises he cared little, though he rode well and did not lack courage, and his toys, his clothes, and his lapdogs occupied most of his time, much as they did in after years. He had charming manners when he wished to please, and seldom failed to get what he wanted, for he had all the maternal astuteness. Severe towards her other children though, as her letters prove, she was always most solicitous for their health and comfort Catherine had treasures of tenderness for her fourth son, and "loved him as her right eye,"10 recognising him for what he was — a Medici to the tips of his delicate fingers.
The youngest of the little princes, Hercule, afterwards called François, Duc d'Alencon and later Duc d'Anjou, was much stronger than either of his brothers, and, up to the time that he was eight years old, a pretty, bright, and affectionate child. Then, however, he had an attack of small-pox which horribly disfigured him. "His face was deeply pitted all over, his nose swollen and deformed, and his eyes bloodshot, so that, from being pleasing and handsome, he became one of the ugliest men imaginable."11 His malady had moral as well as physical consequences, and, ashamed of his repulsive appearance and embittered by the cruel banter to which it exposed him from his brothers and other thoughtless youths, he grew up sullen and morose, false, and deceitful.
Henri's three daughters, Élisabeth, who became the third wife of Philip II of Spain; Claude, who married Charles III, Duke of Lorraine; and Marguerite — the famous "Queen Margot" — who married Henri of Navarre, were a pleasing contrast to their brothers. Pretty, vivacious, intelligent and amiable little girls, they formed, indeed, a gracious trio, and their royal parents and the whole Court were justifiably proud of them. The two elder girls were brought up with Mary Stuart, under the vigilant eye of Madame d'Humières, wife of the Dauphin's gouverneur, but Marguerite was entrusted to the care of Charlotte de Vienne, Dame de Curton, a very zealous Catholic, who took infinite pains to shield her charge from the insidious influence of "that pestilent Huguenoterie."12
The correspondence of the time gives some curious details concerning the education of Élisabeth and Claude. They both slept in the same cradle, rode out in the same coach, received the same toys, and were dressed in the same colours. At the end of 1557, Élisabeth had the smallpox, and her condition was very critical, when the Constable sent Madame d'Humières "a piece of the horn of a unicorn" — it was probably an elephant's tooth — with directions that it was to be dissolved, "but not in warm water," and administered to the august patient, whose subsequent recovery was no doubt ascribed to this potent charm. The gruff old soldier, it should be mentioned, always showed great solicitude for the royal children. To do so was, of course, good policy, but, since he was the author of eleven himself, the paternal fibre in him must have been pretty strongly developed. When they travelled, he provided them with horses, litters, and coaches; he selected nurses and doctors for them; he gave Humières all kinds of recommendations in regard to the Dauphin, on one occasion telling him to see that the prince used his pocket-handkerchief, as it was most essential to his health; he presented "petites poupines," elaborately dressed, to Madame Claude, and, speculating on a precocious coquetry, sentMadame la Connétable's dressmaker to cut out bodices for the little princesses.13
Élisabeth and Claude were frail and delicate children, but Marguerite seems to have been the picture of robust health; and pretty and intelligent as were her elder sisters, she gave promise of altogether surpassing them. "If she preserves the grace, beauty, and quick intelligence that I have observed in her," writes Michieli, "there is no doubt that she will become a very beautiful and rare princess and far superior to her two sisters, Élisabeth and Claude." We have no information about her early years that is to say up to the time of Henri II's death, when she was six except the incident we have already related though she hints, in her Mémoires, that "some other of her childish actions were as worthy of being recorded as those of Themistocles and Alexander."
The little princesses and Mary Stuart received, like the young princes, a most elaborate education, Latin, Greek, and, in the case of the little Queen of Scotland, at any rate, Spanish and Italian being included in the curriculum. The reading of Plutarch left very marked traces on Marguerite's mind, and we find in her Mémoires frequent allusions to the heroes of antiquity.
Catherine, who had all the Medici admiration for learning, carefully supervised the girls' studies, and not a few of the themes set for Mary Stuart to translate into Latin and address under the form of epistolary conversations to Madame Élisabeth and others, were probably dictated by her.14 "Is it not," asks Armand Baschet, "Catherine, the queen and the mother, who is speaking here?"
"The true greatness and excellence of the Prince, my most beloved sister, consists not in dignity, in gold, in purple, in jewels, and other pomps of Fortune, but in wisdom, in knowledge, and in understanding. And, inasmuch as the Prince desires to be different from his people, in habit and in fashion of living, so ought he to be far removed from the foolish opinions of the vulgar. Adieu, and love me as much as you can."15
The Household of the Children of France had been established by Henri II on his accession on a very imposing scale, and, as the number of the little princes and princesses increased, it received fresh accessions. At the end of the reign it included ten chamberlains, seven maîtres d'hôtel, seven butlers, nine cellarers, eight equerries, eight equerries of the stables, thirty-seven pages of honour, eight secretaries, nine ushers of the chambers, twenty-eight valets-de-chambre, four maréchaux des logis, four masters of the wardrobe, two comptrollers-general, five doctors, three surgeons, four apothecaries, four barbers, four ladies of the bedchamber, five demoiselles of the bedchamber, and ten femmes de chambre. What it must have cost to feed the royal children and the army of officials and servants who surrounded them may be conjectured from the fact that the kitchen staff numbered fifty-seven persons, and the provisions for a single day comprised twenty-three dozen loaves of bread, eighteen pieces of beef, eight sheep, four calves, twenty capons, one hundred and twenty pullets or pigeons, three kids, six goslings, four leverets, etc. After March 1553, the Dauphin had an establishment of his own, which numbered over three hundred persons, whose salaries alone amounted to 68,000 livres.
Before leaving the subject of Henri's family, a few words must be said concerning his legitimated daughter, Diane de France, the widow of Orazio Farnese. Diane appears to have been the only one of Henri's children who at all resembled him. This resemblance, according to Brantôme, was "as much in habits and actions as in features of the face, for she loved all the exercises that he loved, whether arms, hunting, or horses." She was a tall, handsome girl, with a superb figure, and the finest horsewoman at the Court. "I think," continues Brantôme, "that it is not possible for a lady to look better on horseback than she did or to have better grace in riding. She was born to it, and she was so graceful that she resembled in this respect the beautiful Camilla, Queen of the Volsci; she was so splendid in stature and shape and face, that it was hard to find any one at Court so superb and graceful at that exercise."16
Diane had more substantial claims to the admiration of her contemporaries than good looks and a graceful seat in the saddle. She was one of the most sweet-tempered and kind- hearted of women, and no breath of scandal ever tainted her good name. The royal children were devoted to her, and— what is more — she retained their affection when they grew up.
After the death of Orazio Farnese at the taking of Hesdin, Henri II proposed to the Constable to give the young widow's hand to Montmorency's eldest son, François. The Constable was, of course, transported with joy at the idea of an alliance with the Royal Family, which could not fail to discount to some extent the advantages which the Guises would obtain from the approaching marriage of Mary Stuart with the Dauphin; and, without troubling his head about his son's feelings in the matter — François was at this time a prisoner in the Netherlands — accepted with gratitude his Majesty's gracious proposal.
The arrangements for the projected union were soon made. Henri II assured to his future son-in-law the governments of Paris and of the Île de France, which would keep him near the Court, the collar of the Order of Saint-Michel, and the reversion of his father's office of Grand-Master. To his daughter he gave as dowry the counties of Mantes and Meulan, with a sum of 100,000 livres; and he also contributed a sum of 72,000 livres towards the princely ransom which the Imperialists demanded for the prospective bridegroom.
The Constable could scarcely contain his elation, but; alas! a rude shock was in store for him. For, when François had recovered his liberty and returned to France, he learned, to his indescribable mortification, that his son's affections were already engaged: he had succumbed to the attractions of one of the Queen's maids-of-honour, Mlle. de Piennes, "one of the most beautiful, virtuous, and wise ladies of the Court,"17 had made her a solemn promise of marriage, in the presence of witnesses, and had proceeded to act as if they were already wed.
For a fortnight the Constable remained shut up in his hôtel in Paris, "weeping and groaning," while all the Court came to offer him their condolences, some no doubt sincere, but most, we fear, ironical, since the old gentleman was not exactly beloved. Then grief gave way to the most terrible rage, which his family vainly endeavoured to pacify. No matter how great the scandal might be, he swore that François should be separated from this designing minx who had persuaded him to forget the duty which he owed his father; and on October 5, 1556, the two lovers were summoned before a commission of bishops and Councillors of State at the Louvre. They pleaded that they were not aware that clandestine marriages were culpable; but this excuse was judged insufficient, and Mlle. de Piennes was shut up in the Couvent des Filles-Dieu, while François, terrified by the paternal threats, started for Rome to solicit from the Pope the annulment of his promise.
Three months later, one of François's gentlemen presented himself at the Couvent des Filles-Dieu and handed Mlle. de Piennes a letter from his master, in which he informed her that, "repenting of the offence which he had committed against God, the King, and his parents," he had demanded and obtained from the Pope a dispensation releasing him from his promise of marriage, and that, in consequence, he released the lady, in his turn, from hers, "being resolved to have no more private communication with her, notwithstanding the esteem in which he held her." Mlle. de Piennes, after reading the letter, told the bearer that "she saw very clearly that M. de Montmorency preferred to be a wealthy rather than an honest man," and that, since he did not wish to keep faith with her, she would release him from his promise. And a legal document to that effect was drawn up.
Now the feeble lover had lied, by the orders of his father — his letter had, in fact, been composed on the model of one sent him by the Constable — for Paul IV had not granted the dispensation demanded; and in February 1557 he pronounced definitely against François, on the ground that the Church, previous to the Council of Trent, had recognised marriages contracted on a simple mutual promise. Probably, the Guises, all-powerful just then at Rome, were no strangers to this decision.
The civil power, however, came to the Constable's aid, and on March 1, 1557 a royal edict appeared — the famous Édit ambitieux — which declared all promises of marriages, past and future, made by children without the parental sanction, null and void, even if the parties were of full age.
Thus all impediment to the alliance of the House of Montmorency with the Royal Family was removed; and on the following May 4 the marriage of François and Diane was duly celebrated at La Ferté-Milon. Contrary to what one might expect, it proved an exceptionally happy one.
As for the victim of the Constable's ambition, she was released from her convent, and, in due course, found a husband.
But he was not the heir to a dukedom.
Up to the time of his accession to the throne, Henri, contrary to the fashion of the time, had been in the habit of shaving, but three years later we learn that he wore "a pointed beard of two fingers' length." This served to conceal his rather coarse mouth and heavy jaw, and added dignity to his appearance, since Contarini tells us that "the whole ensemble of his countenance is extremely prepossessing, and breathes a fine air of majesty."18 On the other hand, it made him look many years older than he was, for he grew grey very early, and at thirty-five might have been taken by a stranger for quite an elderly man. If, however, that stranger had been privileged to follow his Majesty from his lever to his coucher any day of the week, he would have soon had cause to revise his opinion, for never was there a more energetic monarch.
He rose very early, "in summer, at dawn; in winter, with the light."19 The doors of his bedchamber were thrown open, and the princes, nobles, captains, chevaliers of the Order, gentlemen of the Chamber, maîtres-d'hôtel, and gentlemen servants,20 who had been waiting in the ante-chamber, entered and stood in a circle round the royal bed, each occupying the place prescribed by his birth or the importance of his functions. The prince of the highest rank present handed the King his shirt, and his Majesty dressed, talking the while with first one and then another of those present, "which pleased them greatly." His toilette completed, he knelt before a little altar which stood in the room and said his prayers, after which all the courtiers withdrew. His Majesty then read his despatches and held his Conseil étroit, or Privy Council, in which questions of peace and war, of military organisation, and of the administration of the kingdom were deliberated upon. At ten o'clock, the King heard Mass "very devoutly," after which he gave audience to the Ambassadors and other persons of importance.21 At noon came dinner, when the etiquette which had marked the lever resumed its sway. The dinner was brought in in solemn state, one of the gentlemen of the Chamber heading the procession, followed by the maitre-d' hotel and the officers of the pantry and the cellar. There was a great variety of dishes, for in the culinary art the French had already attained a high degree of excellence, and "all the foreign princes sent to France to seek chefs and pastry-cooks";22 but the King had a very small appetite, and merely tasted a few of those which were presented to him, while he also drank very sparingly. Roses, carnations, and other sweet-scented flowers in beautifully-chased gold and silver bowls graced the board, the table-linen was delicately perfumed, and during the meal musicians played in a gallery at the end of the room.
After dinner, the General Council met, at which, however, the King seldom assisted. On two afternoons a week, and sometimes oftener, he hunted, always accompanied by a great many nobles and gentlemen and a considerable number of ladies. Henri II was, like his father, passionately devoted to the chase, and his game-laws were almost as severe as those of Louis XI, of whom it was said that it was much easier to obtain his pardon for having slain a man than for having killed a stag. In the year of his accession, he issued an edict which decreed that all persons, not of gentle blood, who presumed to hunt big game should be fined 25 livres for a first offence, and whipped until the blood flowed in default of payment; while a repetition of the offence was to be punished by banishment, and death was to be the penalty of a defiance of the ban. His hunting establishment was a magnificent one, and the Grand Veneur had under his orders nearly sixty persons. He kept two packs of hounds, "those of a grey colour, which had come down to him from the Kings his predecessors, and those of a white colour, which he had bred himself." The white, we are told, were the swifter, but the grey had the keener scent. Sometimes the King hunted with one, and sometimes with the other, and occasionally with a mixed pack. He had also a pack of little dogs, called "les régents," for the pursuit of small game, and we find him writing to Humières to express his satisfaction at the pleasure which the Dauphin had derived from hunting with them.23
Catherine was almost as fond of the chase as her husband. "She was a very good and fearless horsewoman," says Brantôme, "sitting with ease, and being the first to put her leg around a pommel, which was far more graceful and becoming than sitting with the feet upon a plank. Until she was over sixty she loved riding, and after her weakness prevented her, she pined for it. It was one of her greatest pleasures to ride far and fast, though she fell many times and injured herself, on one occasion breaking her leg and injuring her head, which had to be trepanned." She was also, he tells us, very fond of shooting with a cross-bow, and always carried it with her when she went riding, to bring down any game she saw.
Mary Stuart was also a bold horsewoman, but after she had sustained a severe fall, through being caught by the bough of a tree while hunting near Blois, she appears to have renounced the chase.
Diane de Poitiers, one would suppose, from her fondness for identifying herself with her Olympian namesake, would have been invariably in the first flight. But, though she rode every morning for the benefit which her complexion derived from the exercise, she hesitated to risk her carefully preserved charms amidst the brambles and overhanging branches of the forests.
The King's devotion to the chase extended to horses, and he did more for the improvement of the race in France than any of his predecessors. The stables at the Château des Tournelles and at Oyron, the residence of the Grand Equerry de Boisy, contained some magnificent animals, and he had large stud farms at Meung-sur-Loir and Saint-Léger, near Beauvais. The King's example was followed by François de Guise, who also had a stud farm at Saint-Léger as well as at Éclaron and Joinville, and by several other nobles; but, despite their efforts, horse-breeding did not flourish in France, and all through the sixteenth century there was a great scarcity of horses, and almost every country in Europe had to be drawn upon to supply the deficiency. Spanish horses were the most esteemed, and next to them Italian, and both commanded very high prices; but many animals were also imported from the Barbary States, England, and Ireland.
However, we have been tempted into a digression, and must return to the Court.
On the days on which there was no hunting-party, the Queen held a "cercle" in her own apartments, "in order that she might become acquainted with the courtiers," which Henri always made a point of attending. These assemblies, which mark an important stage in the progress of French society from the barbarism of the Middle Ages to that exquisite culture and refinement which were to make it the admiration of the whole civilised world, must have been most interesting functions, since they were attended by practically the whole Court.
Let us endeavour to picture to ourselves the scene:
Here is Catherine, a tall and stately figure, very richly dressed, and in the most perfect taste; not exactly handsome — "except when her face is veiled," says Capello — for her mouth is too large and her eyes too prominent and colourless for beauty, but a very distinguished-looking woman, with a shapely figure, a beautiful skin, and exquisitely shaped hands; while her manners are charming, and she has a pleasant smile or a few well-chosen words for each of her guests.
Near her is Diane de Poitiers in her black and white gown; already on the threshold of old age, though the passing of the years has left few traces on that serene countenance, and it is indeed difficult to believe that she is old enough to be the mother of the grey-haired King, who seems to hang upon her every word.
Behind them, plucking impatiently at his white beard, for he is anxious to have a word with his master on some matter of importance which has occurred since the rising of the Council, is the old Constable. He is much more at home in the camp than in a queen's apartments, and looks upon attendance at her Majesty's "cercle" as a sinful waste of time, which might be much better employed in writing his despatches. But he comes, nevertheless, since his absence would be remarked, and he wishes to stand well with Catherine. He will have to wait longer for his word with the King than he thinks, however, for as Henri, with a deep reverence, turns away from his mistress, Mesdames Élisabeth and Claude pounce upon their old friend and carry him off into a distant corner, to coax him into persuading their father to buy them something on which they have set their hearts.
Not far off are two men in earnest talk. One, a tall, soldierly figure with a terrible scar on his right cheek, is François de Guise, become, since his brilliant defence of Metz, the idol of the fickle Paris mob. The other, who wears the red robe of a prince of the Church, is a man of commanding presence, with a lofty forehead, keen grey eyes, and a complexion delicate as a woman's. He is the duke's brother, the Cardinal de Lorraine — learned, eloquent, and witty, cruel, cunning, and avaricious; "a fanatic by profession and an unbeliever at heart;" as ready with a quotation from Horace as with one from Holy Writ, and with a piquant story as with sage counsel; the ablest man in France and the most unscrupulous.
From time to time the glances of the two brothers stray towards the deep embrasure of one of the beautiful Renais sance windows, where a lad and a young girl are whispering together. A strange contrast do they present: the girl perfect in face and form, with a shapely little head crowned by a mass of fair hair, expressive blue eyes veiled by long lashes, a dazzling complexion, a pretty, sensitive mouth, and a winning smile; the lad, a puny creature, pallid and heavy- eyed, the mark of a premature death already stamped upon his brow. The Guises exchange meaning smiles, for it is to the coming marriage of their beautiful niece to the sickly heir to the Crown of France that they look to extend and consolidate their influence.
And here are the three Colignys: Odet, Cardinal de Châtillon; Gaspard, who has succeeded Annebaut in the post of Admiral of France, though, unlike his predecessor, he will never fight upon the sea; and François, Seigneur d'Andelot, to whom Gaspard has been permitted to transfer the colonel-generalship of infantry. François will not hold that post long, however, for, unlike the cardinal and the Admiral, he will not wait for the death of Henri II to proclaim his adhesion to the Reformed faith, and his disgrace will speedily follow. The brothers look grave, for, now that peace has come, they fear a fresh outburst of persecution against "those of the Religion"; but a little fair man with very bright eyes and a good-humoured expression joins them, and soon they are all three laughing merrily. The newcomer is Louis de Bourbon, Prince de Condé, also a Huguenot in secret, and ere three years are past to become the titular leader of the militant French Protestants, though the easy morals of
"Ce petit homme tant jolly,
Qui tousjours cause et tousjours ry,
Et tousjours baise sa mignonne,"
are scarcely consistent with the austere religion which he has embraced and for which he will give his life. Probably, however, hostility to the Guises has had at least as much to do with his change of faith as sincere conviction.
There are many other men and women scattered about the spacious rooms who have helped, or will help, to make history: the subtle Italian Albert de Gondi, Comte, and afterwards Duc, de Retz, who is to become the evil genius of Charles IX; bluff Tavannes, almost the only man at the Court who declines to bow the knee to Diane, and who, like Retz, will share with Catherine the guilt of the St. Bartholomew; Brissac, fresh from his gallant defence of Piedmont; Montmorency-Damville, the Constable's second son, a brave soldier, the finest horseman in all France, and a dandy of the first elegance, whom all the young nobles of the Court take as their model, "imitating everything he does, even to the smallest peculiarity which they perceive in his dress ";24 his three younger brothers, Méru, Montbéron, and Thoré, all three men of some note in time to come; Joachim du Bellay, whose reputation as a Court poet is second only to Ronsard's, and whose cats dispute with his mistress the possession of his heart; Nemours, the lady-killer; Madame Marguerite, the King's sister, whose erudition has won for her the title of the Minerva of France, and who, at the mature age of thirty-five, will marry Emmanuel Philibert of Savoy; the lawful and unlawful owners of Condé's affections, the pious Éléonore de Roye and the beautiful Isabelle de Limeuil; François de Guise's lovely Italian wife, Anne d'Este, and "a troop of human goddesses, one more beautiful than another,"25 who will provide the chroniclers of their time with material for many a piquant page.
Although there was nothing ceremonious about these gatherings, no amusements appear to have been provided for the courtiers, not even music. The time passed in talk — and flirtation — "every lord and gentleman entertaining her whom he loved best."26 At three o'clock, the company dispersed, and "the King went to enjoy divers exercises, the ladies generally following him and sharing his pleasure."27 Sometimes he played pall-mall — a game in which the Queen and her ladies could join him; sometimes he tilted at the ring; but most frequently, "dressed all in white, with white shoes on his feet and a straw hat on his head, he played tennis with Monseigneur de Guise and other gentlemen."28 "When one sees him playing thus," continues the writer," one would not believe that he is the King, since he is not treated with any ceremony or deference, save that when he passes under the net they raise it for him, and that when he requires a ball they pass it to him on a racquet. Otherwise, no one would know that it is the King who is playing. They even discuss his faults, and I have observed on several occasions that a disputed point has been given against him. Any one who wishes may come and watch him. While playing to-day, I know not how, a ball which M. de Guise had missed struck this nobleman in the face and split his lip. M. de Guise retired at once to his apartments, and his Majesty ceased playing. The injury was not a serious one."29
The programme of the evening resembled that of the morning. Supper, the hour of which varied according to the season of the year, was served with the same ceremony as dinner. Afterwards, the Queen held another "cercle," but sometimes there was a ball, at which the pavane, the allemande, the branle des torches,30 and other stately dances of the time were performed.
Until 1557 it was the King's custom to spend the time after supper with Diane, but during the last two years of his life he generally passed an hour in his wife's apartments. At ten o'clock he retired, his coucher being attended by the same courtiers and marked by the same etiquette as his lever, with the addition that the Grand Chamberlain solemnly inspected the bed to satisfy himself that it had been properly made. The final ceremony was the arrival of an usher bearing the keys of the Château, which he placed under his Majesty's pillow. Then the courtiers withdrew and left the King to his well-earned repose.
The Court of Henri II was certainly no more moral than that of his father, but it was infinitely more decorous. No longer might young gentlemen be overheard telling risky stories to a circle of giggling maids-of-honour; no longer might pages and grooms be seen dicing and quarreling on the steps of the palace; no longer did the salary of "the gouvernante of the filles publiques who follow the Court" figure in the accounts of the Royal Treasury. It was the King who gave the tone. Apart from his liaison with a woman twenty years his senior — a liaison consecrated by artists and painters — a liaison which professedly was merely the chivalrous devotion of a knight for his inspiratrice — no French monarch has been more correct than Henri II, or has more rigorously observed in his ordinary life the dignity which his exalted rank imposed; none has known better how to preserve appearances. What Brantôme tells us of his solicitude for feminine reputations and the care which he took to conceal his own amourettes is confirmed by Contarini. "As for carnal pleasures," writes that observant diplomatist, "if we compare him to the King his father, or to some defunct kings, one might call him very chaste; and, further, he conducts his love-affairs in such fashion that no one is able to talk about them, which was not the case with King François." And he adds: "The Court, which was then one of the most licentious, is now rather regular."
Henri II, indeed, exacted from his entourage the discretion which he imposed on himself, and, if, from policy or affection for the Constable, he had not defended the strict rights of morality in the affair of Mlle. de Piennes, he showed himself in other cases very severe towards those who compromised the apparent regularity of his Court.
In his endeavours to enforce decorum, Henri II was ably seconded by the Queen, who was even more severe than her husband. In later years, as we know, Catherine's austerity yielded to political calculations, and she is believed to have made a pretty extensive use of the charms of her "escadron volant" against Condé, Henri of Navarre, and other Protestant chiefs. But there was nothing of that kind during the lifetime of Henri II; she guarded the reputation of her ladies as jealously as she did her own, and woe betide the rash gallant who failed in respect towards them. When a facetious gentleman named Gersay was accused of perpetrating a practical joke worthy of Panurge at the expense of one of the Queen's maids-of-honour, notwithstanding that he stoutly denied the charge, and that it was impossible to bring it home to him, her Majesty's wrath was so great that he found it advisable to absent himself from Court for some considerable time. When another gentleman, while bandying repartees with Mlle. de Meray, the most stalwart lady of the Court, so far forgot his good manners as to compare her to "une grande courcière bardable," he likewise was compelled to withdraw, and, even after his return, was excluded from the Queen's "cercle" for some weeks.
Although, feeling that her dignity as a woman and as a Queen was at stake, Catherine always took the part of her filles d'honneur in their quarrels with the courtiers, if one of these damsels committed any breach of decorum, she would summon the delinquent before her and rate her till the girl trembled in her shoes; while should one be so unfortunate as to be detected in a transgression against the moral law, she was pitiless. Thus, being informed one evening at Saint-Germain that all was not as it should be with Mlle. Françoise de Rohan,31 in the early hours of the following morning, accompanied by Diane de Poitiers and Madame la Connétable, she invaded that young lady's chamber, and satisfied herself that rumour had not lied. "Quelle honte vous me faites!" cried Catherine in tones of righteous horror, and the unfortunate girl was summoned to her cabinet, where, with the King, the Constable, the Cardinal de Lorraine, Madame la Connétable, Diane de Poitiers, and the Duchesse de Montpensier, she sat in judgment upon her, with the result that Mlle. de Rohan was sent home to her parents, and the Court knew her no more.
Mlle. Rohan had committed the unforgivable sin of being found out,32 but there were, we fear, a good many others among the three hundred ladies about the Court who shared her unfortunate sensibility to admiration, although they contrived to avoid or, at any rate, to conceal, the consequences, and to preserve an appearance of virtue. And that was all that was required of them; for, notwithstanding all this ostentatious regard for morality, the Court of Henri II was just as corrupt as that of François I.33 The only difference was that between an open grave and a whited sepulchre.
Notes
(1) Armand Baschet, la Diplomatie vénitienne.
(2) See p. 241 supra.
(3) Henri I de Lorraine, Duc de Guise, eldest son of the defender of Metz and likewise called "le Balafré." He was assassinated at Blois, December 23, 1588.
(4) Henri de Bourbon; he died in 1560.
(5) Marguerite's early opinion of Henri de Guise did not prevent her falling very much in love with him when she grew up. See the author's "Queen Margot."
(6) Ruble, la Première Jeunesse de Marie Stuart."
(7) Ibid.
(8) La Diplomatie vénitienne.
(9) He was very proud of the suppleness of his body, and at the age of thirteen made a wager for an immense sum that in three years' time he would be able to kiss his foot. We are not told whether he won it.
(10) Giovanni Michieli, in Armand Baschet.
(11) Mémoires de Bouillon.
(12) Mémoires de Marguerite de Valois.
(13) F. Decrue, Anne, duc de Montmorency; A. de Ruble, la Première jeunesse de Marie Stuart.
(14) Sixty-four of these themes written by Mary in her twelfth and thirteenth year are preserved in the MSS. Department of the Bibliothèque Nationale.
(15) La Diplomatie vénitienne.
(16) Dames illustres.
(17) Brantôme.
(18) La Diplomatie vénitienne.
(19) Giovanni Capello.
(20) Letter of Catherine de' Medici to Charles IX, 1563, in Le Laboureur, Additions aux Mémoires de Castelnau.
(21) A nephew of Giovanni Capello, who accompanied his uncle to France in 1551, left a diario, which contains some very interesting details of the first audience accorded by Henri II to that diplomatist, at which the writer was himself present: "We were introduced," he says, "into the room in which his Majesty is accustomed to take his meals, in the palace called the Louvre, overlooking the Seine. . . . His Majesty was standing near a window, dressed in a doublet of black damask bordered with velvet and very handsomely ornamented, and a justaucorps of white leather embroidered with two golden crescents united and joined by the embrace of the two "D's," even as the two souls of the two lovers are united and reunited in a close attachment. His Majesty wore round his neck a chain of wrought gold, and on his head a black velvet cap with a little white plume. The Swiss and the men of the King's Guard are all habited in the same livery, with a silver crescent on the front and back bearing this motto: Donec totum impleat orbem[Until it fill the whole world]. There were present his Majesty, the most illustrious Constable, the very reverend Cardinals de Lorraine, de Bourbon, and de Vendôme, and many other nobles. When the Ambassadors had made their customary salutations in the middle of the room, they approached the King and saluted him again. His Majesty embraced with great marks of kindness the most illustrious Capello, who presented to him his letters of credit. His Majesty opened them and wished to read them himself. The Ambassador then explained the object of his mission. I was a little far away, as were all the others, but I saw, nevertheless, that, although the most illustrious Capello spoke at considerable length, his Majesty listened most attentively to everything, and refused to allow either of the two Ambassadors to remain uncovered. . . The King replied to them in perfect fashion."
(22) Mémoires de Vieilleville.
(23) Brantôme; La Ferrière, les Grandes Chasses au XVI siècle.
(24) Salomon de la Brue, Préceptes de la cavalerie.
(25) Brantôme.
(26) Brantôme.
(27) Ibid.
(28) Capello.
(29) Ibid.
(30) So called because the dancers passed a torch from one to another.
(31) Daughter of René de Rohan and Isabeau d'Albret, daughter of Jean d'Albret, King of Navarre.
(32) In justice to Mlle. de Rohan, it should be mentioned that the fascinating Duc de Nemours, who was responsible for her condition, had promised her marriage, though not in the presence of witnesses. He declined to perform his promise, and Mlle. de Rohan and her relatives instituted proceedings against him before the Parlement of Paris, the King's Council, and the Pope, with the object of compelling him to do so. The affair dragged on for years, but was ultimately decided against the lady, and Nemours married the widow of François de Guise.
(33) It was, perhaps, a good deal worse, since it was being slowly permeated by Italian corruption, and vices to which François's courtiers had happily been strangers had crept in.