The Peace of Cateau-Cambrésis followed by a fresh outburst of persecution against the Protestants in France and the Netherlands — Retrospect of the measures adopted by Henri II for the repression of heresy: the Edict of Chateaubriand, the introduction of the Inquisition, and the Edict of Compiègne — Rapid spread of the Reformed doctrines in France — Disinclination of the Parlement of Paris to co-operate with the Government in the persecution — The King attends the mercuriale of June 10, 1559; — Bold speeches of Anne du Bourg and Louis du Faur — Henri II orders the arrest of the two counsellors and of three others — Fate of Du Bourg — Preparations for the Treaty marriages — Marriage of Philip II, represented by Alva, and Madame Élisabeth — The tournament of the Rue Saint-Antoine — Henri II mortally wounded in the eye by a splinter from the lance of Montgomery, captain of the Scottish Guard — His illness and death — His funeral — Disgrace of Diane de Poitiers — Her last years — Desecration of her tomb at Anet in 1795 — A singular discovery — Fate of the château — Fall of Montmorency — Subsequent career of Montgomery.
IT was very generally believed among the Protestants that the Treaty of Cateau-Cambrésis contained other articles besides those which were made public, by which Henri II and Philip II bound themselves to use every means in their power to extirpate heresy in their respective dominions. Although no proof has been discovered of the existence of such clauses, that some understanding of the kind was arrived at cannot be doubted, as the treaty was immediately followed by a fresh outburst of persecution both in France and the Netherlands.
Since the establishment of the "Chambre ardente" at the beginning of Henri II's reign, several attempts had been made to check the spread of the Reformed doctrines. In 1551, the Edict of Chateaubriand took away all right of appeal from those convicted of heresy. Six years later, urged on by the Cardinal de Lorraine and solicited by Paul IV, at the moment when the alliance with the Papacy against Philip II was being negotiated, Henri II resolved to establish in his kingdom an Inquisition on the Spanish model. "I have already decided," he wrote to Selve, his Ambassador at Rome, "in accordance with the persuasions and advice that the Cardinal Caraffa has given me on the part of our Holy Father, to introduce here [into France] the Inquisition, according to legal form, as the true means of extirpating the root of such errors." The opposition of the Parlement of Paris, however, which if it desired to punish heretics, did not intend to abandon the subjects of the King to the arbitrariness of episcopal officials, compelled him to suspend the execution of this project; and when, in February, 1557, he obtained from the Pope a Bull investing the French cardinals with inquisitorial powers, with the right of delegating them to other ecclesiastics, the Parlement refused to ratify the royal edict approving it.
Nevertheless, in April, three Grand Inquisitors were nominated: the Cardinals de Bourbon, de Lorraine, and de Chatillon;01 and in January, 1558 the King, whose zeal against the Calvinists had been stimulated by the million écus granted him by the clergy at the assembly of the Notables, imposed the edict, on the unwilling Parlement, in a Bed of Justice. But the surrender of the magistrates was more apparent than real, since they continued to receive appeals against the judgments of the ecclesiastical tribunals.
In the meanwhile, the King had strengthened the lay jurisdiction and armed it pitilessly by the Edict of Compiègne, which denounced the penalty of death against all who in public or private professed any heterodox doctrine and took away from the judges the power of imposing a lesser punishment.
The prisons, and especially the prisons of Paris — the sombre, damp Conciergerie, below the level of the Seine, the frowning Bastille, the unhealthy Grand Châtelet, where in a single year sixty hapless captives were carried off by pestilence — were crowded with suspects. Numbers were condemned to death and perished horribly, hung in chains, as a rule, to roast over a slow fire; some having their tongues cut out before being led to execution, lest the psalms they sang and the prayers they offered up for their persecutors from the midst of the flames might excite the compassion of the spectators.
But the blood of the martyrs fertilised the soil of France, and the harvest was an abundant one. In 1555, the Church of Paris was founded by a gentleman residing in the Pré-aux-Clercs, and during the next four years the Reformed churches, although most numerous on the banks of the Loire and in the south-western districts, spread over almost the whole country. In May 1557, the first national synod, composed of delegates from all the churches in France, was held in Paris, when a confession of faith was drawn up and the ecclesiastical discipline regulated on the model of Geneva. In 1558, Calvin computed the number of his followers in France at 300,000; other authorities place them at a much higher figure. Many thousands more had emigrated to Geneva and to more tolerant lands, so that "the King lost not only the souls of his subjects, but the money which they carried away into the bargain."02
If the lowly, as Coligny said, had been the first to show the way of salvation to the rich and powerful, the upper classes had not failed to follow. In 1558, as we have seen, Andelot had confessed to the King that he had embraced the new doctrines, and his views were either known, or believed, to be shared by his two brothers, the Admiral and the cardinal, by Antoine de Bourbon, King of Navarre, by his wife, Jean d'Albret, by the Prince de Condé, and by many other prominent persons. The strength, however, of the Reformers lay among the trading and the professional classes and the country gentry.
Fierce as had been the persecution since Henri II ascended the throne, it had not been by any means continuous, for the complaints of his allies, the Lutheran princes, and of the Protestant cantons of Switzerland, whence he drew his most valuable mercenaries, were constantly arresting the King in his crusade against heresy; and there were moments, like those which followed the disaster at Saint-Quentin, when every man, whatever his creed, was needed for the defence of the kingdom. But after the Treaty of Cateau-Cambrésis his hands were free, and he and his advisers were resolved that there should be no respite until the accursed thing was rooted out of the land. For the Constable, the Guises, and Madame de Valentinois were at one in their hatred of the Reformed faith, though Montmorency took care to protect his own relatives, and almost his first act on returning to France was to procure the release and pardon of Andelot.
All through Lent the Paris pulpits resounded with denunciations of the heretics and of those who protected them, and soon the persecution was in full swing once more. But in the capital it did not proceed at all in accordance with the wishes of the Government. The Grande Chambre of the Parlement, from which the members of the "Chambre ardente" had been drawn, was composed of extreme Catholics, but the members of the other courts were more moderate in their views, while not a few of them were Huguenots, secret or professed. The Parlement had, as we have seen, courageously resisted the creation of the Inquisition, and the King had been compelled to have recourse to a Bed of Justice in order to procure its acceptance; and it now showed what his Majesty considered the most reprehensible leniency towards the heretics who were brought before it.
The Parlement was accustomed, all the chambers united, to deliberate occasionally on general measures and to censure, if necessary, the conduct of its members. In one of these sittings, called mercuriales, in the spring of 1559, the subject of the prosecutions for heresy was discussed. The opinion of the majority was in favour of toleration, and the violence of the members of the Grande Chambre was condemned by the other courts.
The King, informed of this, demanded to inspect the register of the mercuriales, in order that he might ascertain who were the leaders of the party of tolerance. This was refused, but the First President, Le Maistré, and two presidents of the Grande Chambrebetrayed the liberal councillors and gave their names to the Cardinal de Lorraine.
The cardinal exhorted Henri II "to prove to the King of Spain his firmness in the faith," and it was decided to read the Parlement a severe lesson.
On June 10, 1559, all the chambers of the Parlement were assembled at the Couvent des Grands-Augustins — the Palais de Justice was being prepared for the festivities which were to celebrate the Treaty marriages — when the doors were thrown open, and the King appeared, followed by the Duc de Guise, the Cardinal de Lorraine, the Cardinal de Sens, Keeper of the Seals, the Constable, the Duc de Montpensier, the Prince de le Roche-sur-Yon, and many other notables. The English Ambassador, Nicholas Throckmorton, writing to Queen Elizabeth three days later, reported that there were a hundred and twenty counsellors and presidents present, and that "the Cardinal of Lorraine earnestly inveighed against the Protestants, requesting execution to be made of them and confiscation of their goods."03 But La Place states that the King himself spoke first, informing the magistrates that since God had granted him a stable peace, he felt it his duty to seek a remedy for the divisions of religion; and that the Keeper of the Seals then invited them to continue their discussion on the religious question in his Majesty's presence, and to speak frankly.
The magistrates spoke very frankly indeed, two of them, Anne du Bourg and Louis du Faur, being unpleasantly candid. "Du Bourg," writes Throckmorton, "declared that the cardinals of this realm had great revenues, and were so negligent of their charge that the flocks committed to their cures were not instructed. The cardinal (de Lorraine) was so dashed that he stood still and replied not; the King likewise was offended, and the Constable (with these words: 'Vous faictez la bravade') asked them how they durst say so to the King. They answered that, being admitted Councillors of the Court, they must discharge their conscience, the rather as the King was present; that the Reformation must not begin with the common sort, but must touch the greatest persons of the realm."04
According to La Place, the two counsellors went much further than this. Anne du Bourg began by thanking God that his Majesty was present at the decision of a matter which concerned the cause of our Saviour. "It is," he continued, "no light thing to condemn those who from the midst of the flames call upon the name of Jesus Christ. What! Crimes worthy of death — blasphemy, adultery, horrible debaucheries, perjuries — are committed day by day with impunity in the face of Heaven, while day by day new tortures are devised for men whose only crime is that by the light of the Scriptures they have discovered the corruptions of the Church of Rome!" "Let us clearly understand," cried Du Faur, after a trenchant attack on the abuses of the Roman Church, "who they are that trouble the Church, lest it should be said, as Elijah cried to King Ahab, 'Who art thou that troublest Israel?'"05
Henri II was beside himself with indignation, and, so soon as the discussion terminated, he ordered the Constable to arrest Du Bourg and Du Faur, who were conducted to the Bastille under the escort of Gabriel de Montgomery, Seigneur de Lorges, Captain of the Scottish Guard.06 Three other counsellors, who had also spoken against the persecution, though with more moderation than their colleagues, were subsequently arrested in their houses and likewise imprisoned. They and Du Faur were, however, soon released; but the King was violently incensed against Du Bourg, who had hinted pretty plainly at his relations with Madame de Valentinois, and ordered him to be brought to trial, vowing that he would see him burn with his own eyes, although, after the terrible scene of which we have spoken in an earlier chapter, he had sworn never again to be present at an execution. From Écouen, whither he proceeded on a visit to the Constable, he launched a new edict against the Protestants, and, at the instigation of the Guises, even issued orders for the arrest of the Earl of Arran, son of the Duke of Châtellerault-Hamilton, although he passed as a candidate for the hand of the Queen of England. Having received timely warning, however, Arran succeeded in escaping from France.
Anne du Bourg was condemned to death, and, having been first strangled, was burned in the Place de Greve on December 23, 1559, exclaiming with his last breath, "Forsake me not, my God, lest I should forsake Thee!" But Henri II did not have the satisfaction of witnessing his martyrdom, since he had preceded him into Eternity by more than five months.
The marriage of Philip II and Madame Élisabeth had been fixed for June 22, 1559; that of Emmanuel Philibert of Savoy and Madame Marguerite for the following July 1. The Duke of Savoy was to espouse his bride in person; the King of Spain was to be represented by Alva. Henri II had resolved to do honour to his distinguished guests by a reception in every way worthy of them, and all through May and June immense preparations for the approaching festivities were in progress. "The King," writes Throckmorton, on June 6, "has borrowed 1,100,000 crowns to defray the setting out of these triumphs and for the entertaining of the princes which come hither." And four days later he writes: "The Duke of Alva and the other Spanish commissioners are looked for within four or five days. Great preparations are made for them at Chantilly and Equan [Écouen], two houses of the Constable. Here [Paris] the King himself, the Dauphin, and the nobles and gentry of the Court do daily assay themselves at the tilt, which is like to be very grand and sumptuous, with great triumph and solemnity."07
On June 16, Alva, accompanied by William of Nassau, Prince of Orange, the future deliverer of the Netherlands, Egmont, the hero of Gravelines, and a brilliant suite, arrived. They were received at Saint-Denis by the Cardinal de Lorraine, at the gates of Paris by the foreign princes, and at Chantilly by the King himself. Fête succeeded fête, and every day there were tournaments and jousts, in which the princes distinguished themselves. The Court was lodged at the Hôtel des Tournelles, situated on what is now the Place des Vosges, where mad Charles VI had played cards, and where Bedford had lorded it as Regent for Henry VI of England; and it was in front of the palace, in the widest part of the Rue Saint-Antoine, that the lists had been constructed,08 with galleries at either end for the accommodation of the spectators.
On the 18th, a thanksgiving service for the ratification of the Peace was celebrated at Notre-Dame and was followed by several banquets, one at the Palais de Justice for the princes, another at the Constable's hotel, and a third at the residence of François de Montmorency. On the 21st, the betrothal of Philip II and Madame Élisabeth took place in the great hall of the Louvre, and on the following day the nuptial ceremony was performed at Notre-Dame with a magnificence similar to that which had marked the marriage of the Dauphin and Mary Stuart the previous year. Afterwards, there was a grand banquet at the Palais de Justice, the harmony of which was, however, somewhat marred by the maladroitness of François de Montmorency, who, filling for the nonce his father's place as Grand-Master, had failed to reserve places for several of those who had been invited.
After the marriage of Madame Élisabeth, the Court occupied itself with that of her aunt, Madame Marguerite. The Duke of Savoy arrived on the 21st, accompanied by one hundred and fifty gentlemen "dressed in doublets of red satin, crimson shoes, and cloaks of black velvet embroidered with gold lace." The contract was signed on the 27th, and was followed by a three days' tournament — the last which was to be ever held at the Court of France.
On the third day, the 30th, the King himself entered the lists, accompanied by François de Guise, Alfonso d'Este, Prince of Ferrara, and the Duc de Nemours, who announced that they were prepared to hold them against all comers. Henri II wore the colours of Diane de Poitiers — black and white — and rode a horse belonging to the Duke of Savoy, who did not himself take any part in the tournament, much less tilt against the King, as the Mémoires de Vieilleville and the historians who have followed them state, but watched the proceedings from the gallery in which the Queen, his bride-elect, and the ladies of the Court were sitting.
Among the many contemporary accounts of that fatal day, the most circumstantial are those contained in two letters; one written by the English Ambassador, Throckmorton, to the Council; the other by Antoine Caraccioli, Bishop of Troyes, to Corneille Musse, Bishop of Bitonto. Both Throckmorton and Caraccioli were present at the tournament, and wrote while the events which they described were fresh in their minds; indeed, the former wrote the same evening,09 and the bishop only a fortnight later. Since the latter's account is very little known,10 and is the most detailed, we propose to give it in his own words:
"The jousting lasted for some time. The King, having performed very excellently and exhibited his prowess, being mounted on a horse belonging to the Duke of Savoy (who did not don his armour, as he stayed on the scaffolding with the ladies to watch the King), sent a gentleman to the Duke to tell him that this good horse of his had assisted him to strike these fine blows with the lance. The Duke replied that he was very delighted that his horse had been of service to the King, and begged him, as did also the Queen and the ladies, and the nobles who accompanied them, not to exert himself further that day, as the victory was his, the hour late, the weather extremely hot, and the tournament concluded. The gentleman departed to convey his message to the King, whom he found ready to run another course, and who had made them give him a fresh lance, although several princes, particularly he of Ferrara, begged him to joust no more that day.11 But his hour was come, and the more they entreated him the more obstinate he became, and opposed their wishes, swearing on the faith of a gentleman that he would break this one lance more. Then he commanded the Captain Lorges to come to him, a very valiant young noble, captain of the Scottish Guard, and, when the latter approached, ordered him to run against him. The gentleman excused himself, and begged the King not to command him. His Majesty became angry, and to such a degree that Lorges turned his bridle, took a lance, and tilted against the King. He struck the King on the gorget, a little below the visor; his lance flew into pieces, and the stump glanced upwards, and raised the visor,12 into which a splinter entered and wounded the King above the right eye. So heavy and furious was the blow that the King inclined his head towards the lists, striving to recover his seat; turned towards the other side of the lists, and would have fallen, if the princes and gentlemen who were near him, on foot and on horseback, had not come to his aid.13 They relieved him of his armour, and found him fainting, the splinter in the eye,14 and his face covered with blood. They strove to revive him with fresh water, rosewater, and vinegar, but, though he recovered consciousness, before ever he got to his chamber he fainted twice.15 The unhappy young Seigneur de Lorges, though he was as much wounded in his soul, by reason of the anguish which he suffered, as was the King in his body, because of his wound, when the King had recovered his senses for the first time, hastened to kneel before him, and, without making any excuse or imputing the guilt of this to the command of his Majesty, besought him to cut off his hand and his head. But the good-natured King, who for kindness had no equal in his time, answered kindly that he was not angry with him, and that he had nothing to pardon, since he had obeyed his King and carried himself like a brave knight and a valiant man-at-arms."
The gates of the Hôtel de Tournelles were closed and closely guarded as soon as the wounded monarch had been carried in. The servants of the nobility were ordered to remain at a distance, and of the many distinguished foreigners only the Dukes of Savoy and Alva and the Prince of Orange were permitted to enter. "There was marvellous great lamentation and weeping for him, both of men and women," writes Throckmorton. "Thus God makes Himself known, that in the very midst of these triumphs suffers such heaviness to happen."
The Court surgeons were speedily in attendance. They dressed the wound and extracted several small splinters of wood. They then purged the King with a potion of rhubarb and camomile, bled him, taking twelve ounces of blood, purged him again, applied refrigeratives, and gave him barley-gruel, the usual medicine of the feverish. The King sank into a profound stupor and did not give any sign of pain.16 The Duke of Savoy, the Cardinal de Lorraine, the Constable, and François de Guise remained all night in the sick-room.
Next morning, Throckmorton wrote to his mistress that the King "had had a very evil rest, whereof there was great lamentation at Court." But the Constable, who wrote to Elizabeth during the night, gave a more favourable report: "The wound is very severe, but the first and second dressing give good hope that the result will be satisfactory, and that the worse that can happen will be the loss of the eye." Anne de Cossé expressed the same opinion, in a letter to the Maréchal de Brissac, written after the wound had been again dressed.
However, the King's condition showed no improvement. The surgeons began to fear that the blow had torn the pia-mater membrane which envelops the brain; and they experimented with the stump of Montgomery's lance on the heads of four criminals decapitated on the previous day, and then dissected their skulls, to endeavour to discover the anatomical secret of the wound. But their experiments, though very interesting to themselves, were of no use to their unfortunate patient, as they appear to have been unable to arrive at any definite conclusion.
The celebrated André Vesale, surgeon to Philip II, who had been despatched in all haste from Brussels by his royal master, arrived and took charge of the case, of which he subsequently wrote a learned relation in Latin. It was, however, far beyond the skill of the surgery of the sixteenth century; and while Vesale argued with his French colleagues on the nature of the injury, the King grew steadily worse.
On the fourth day, the royal patient fell into a violent fever, which baffled the efforts of the physicians. Carloix declares, however, that on the 8th he had an interval of consciousness, during which he sent for the Queen and bade her hurry on the marriage of his sister. He then made her sign Vieilleville's brevet of marshal, which he had intended to sign himself, and commended to her his kingdom and his children. No other contemporary mentions this scene, and, indeed, by this time the King must have been past talking to any one. However, whether by the King's directions or no, the marriage was celebrated at midnight in the little church of Saint-Paul, adjoining the Hôtel des Tournelles. Never was there a more lugubrious ceremony; those present looked as mournful as if they were attending a funeral, and Catherine, who sat alone under the royal daïs, was bathed in tears.
For all hope had now been abandoned, and Paris had changed from a city of joy and laughter into one of mourning. Throckmorton, however, reported that, though "the noblemen, gentlemen, and ladies did lament the misfortune, the townsmen and people did rejoice, and let not openly to say that the King's dissolute life and his tyranny to the professors of the Gospel had procured God's vengeance." We are inclined to think, however, that the Ambassador's religious prejudices had tempted him into exaggeration, and that such sentiments were confined to the Protestants, a very small proportion of the population. They, indeed, saw in the accident a judgment on their persecutor, for it had occurred close to the Bastille, where Du Bourg and the other magistrates arrested after themercuriale of June 10 were confined, and the hand which had dealt the blow was that of Montgomery, the Captain of the Scottish Guard, who had been charged with the arrests.
On July 9, the parochial clergy of Paris organised a general procession for the King's recovery. The same day, the last Sacraments were administered.17 During the night and the following forenoon, the sick man grew rapidly worse, and at one o'clock in the afternoon he expired. He had lived forty years, three months, and ten days, and had reigned twelve years, three months, and eleven days.
Over the body of the dead, a tapestry was thrown, on which was embroidered the Conversion of St. Paul, with these words: Saul, cur me persequeris? If we are to believe Theodore de Bèze, the Constable ordered it to be changed, from fear lest those present might see in it some allusion to the religious persecutions.
On July 12, Henri II's body was embalmed and placed in a leaden coffin. On the 18th, his heart was deposited at the Couvent des Célestins, in a beautiful urn supported by the three Graces, which Germain Pilon had made for its reception, and which is now in the Louvre. On the 29th, the effigy of the King was exposed in one of the halls of the Hôtel des Tournelles, where it remained until August 11, on which day the body was borne in solemn pomp to Notre-Dame, where the funeral service was celebrated.
Finally, on August 12, the mortal remains of the unfortunate monarch were transported to Saint-Denis, escorted by a great company of princes, prelates, ambassadors, nobles, and presidents and counsellors of the Parlement, and preceded by the four-and-twenty criers of Paris, "who, at all the cross-ways and customary places, sounded their hand-bells and cried: 'Pray God for the soul of the very high, very puissant, and very virtuous and magnanimous prince Henri, by the grace of God Very Christian King of France; in his life a warlike prince, lover of all the Estates, accomplished in benevolence, prompt and liberal; succour of the afflicted, full of valour and wisdom.'"18
The obsequies took place on the morrow, the Cardinal de Lorraine officiating. After the cardinal had pronounced the funeral oration, the coffin was lowered into the vault, whereupon Montmorency, according to usage, broke his bâton of Grand-Master and dropped the fragments into the grave, his example being followed by the other Court officials. Then the Roi d'armes, turning to either side, cried: "Le Roi est mart — Vive le roi François!" And, amid a fanfare of trumpets, the assemblage dispersed.
The reign of Diane de Poitiers terminated with that of her royal lover, but the precaution that she had taken to marry her elder daughter, Louise de Brézé, into the House of Lorraine, and her grand-daughter, Gabrielle de la Marck, into that of Montmorency, saved her from suffering too glaring a disgrace. She was, of course, ordered to retire from Court, as was her younger daughter, the Duchesse de Bouillon, widow of Robert de la Marck; but the only humiliation which Catherine inflicted upon her fallen rival consisted in demanding the restoration of the jewels which Henri II had given her,19 and the surrender of the Château of Chenonceaux in return for that of Chaumont, which her Majesty purchased from the Barbezieux family for 120,000 livres.
But, if Chenonceaux were lost to her, Diane possessed in Anet an even more sumptuous residence, and, though such enormous sums from the Royal Treasury had gone to its construction and embellishment that it might almost be considered Crown property, it stood, fortunately for its owner, upon land which had belonged to the Brézé family for generations; and so Catherine was unable to lay claim to it. To her beautiful Norman home the fallen favourite withdrew to spend the short remainder of her life in complete retirement. Little is known of her last years, except that, like several of her predecessors and successors in the favour of kings, she appears to have been extremely generous to the poor. She died on April 25, 1566, in her sixty-seventh year, and was honoured by a magnificent funeral, all the gentry of the neighbourhood gathering to pay a last tribute of respect to the woman who for twelve years had been the virtual Queen of France. Brantôme, who saw her a few months before her death, assures us that she was then "aussi belle, aussi fraiche, aussi aimable comme en l'âge de trente ans"; but we fear that Brantôme's desire to please the duchess's daughters, to whom he very probably submitted this part of his manuscript, has prevailed over his regard for the truth.
By her will, Diane's immense estates were divided between her two daughters; Anet falling to the share of the Duchesse d'Aumale; Chaumont to that of the Duchesse de Bouillon. Large sums were left to various charitable institutions, including several homes for repentant women.
After the death of the Duchesse d'Aumale, Anet became the property of her son, Charles de Lorraine, one of the chiefs of the League, against whom the Parlement of Paris issued a decree condemning him to death and confiscating his estates. The decree ordered the demolition of the Château of Anet, but it was not carried out. Sold to Marie de Luxembourg, Duchesse de Mercœur, it passed, after her death, to her son- in-law, César de Vendôme, son of Henri IV by Gabrielle d'Estrées; then, in succession, to the Duchesse de Vendôme, the Princesse de Condé, the Duc and Duchesse du Maine, and their two sons, the Prince de Dombes and the Comte d'Eu. The latter sold it to Louis XV, though the sale was not to take effect until after the count's death. When that event occurred, Louis XV was no more; and his successor ceded the Château to the Duc de Penthièvre, who possessed it at the time of the Revolution. The duke was permitted to remain in undisturbed occupation until his death in March 1793, when Anet was declared national property.
On June 18, 1795, the Commissary of Public Safety for the Department of Eure-et-Loir and his assistant visited Anet, and gave orders for the destruction of Diane's tomb, since equality demanded that the dead should lie in earth common to all. The tomb was accordingly broken open, when a singular discovery was made, for by the side of the duchess, dressed like her in the splendid sepulchral garments and ornaments of the sixteenth century, and, like her, in a state of almost perfect preservation, lay the bodies of two little girls, between seven and nine years of age. The fact that these little girls were clothed in the fashion of the sixteenth century seems to preclude the possibility of their having been placed there at a later period, and some historians incline to the belief that they were the children of the duchess and Henri II. We are not, however, of their opinion. Diane lived far too much in the limelight for it to have been possible for her to conceal the birth of two children, and, if she had become a mother by the King, contemporary chroniclers would certainly have recorded it. It is more probable that the little girls had been adopted by her after her banishment from Court, to console the tedium of her declining years.
The bodies of Diane and the children were stripped bare and exposed to the brutal curiosity of the crowd which had gathered to witness the work of destruction, until some compassionate women covered them with strips of paper torn from the walls of a ruined house. Then, after the hair of the duchess had been cut off and distributed as a souvenir among the members of the local committee of surveillance, they were interred in a grave near the chapel.
In 1788, Anet was sold to the bankers Ramsden and Herigoyen, who, aware of the importance of their acquisition, seem to have intended to preserve it intact. Circumstances, however, obliged them to resell it, and it became the property of a M. Demonti. This personage, not content with disposing of the treasures which it contained, at once embarked upon a course of systematic destruction, selling the château itself piece by piece. Some débris was saved; through the efforts of the celebrated archæologist Alexandre Lenoir, including the Diane chasseresse, now in the Louvre, and the façade of the entrance, which now stands in the courtyard of the École des Beaux-Arts. Demonti continued his vandalism for some years, when, owing to the hostility of the inhabitants of the village, disgusted at the destruction of a monument which had brought so many wealthy connoisseurs into the neighbourhood, he decided to sell what remained of the château en bloc. The daughter of the Duc de Penthièvre became the purchaser, and sold it to Louis-Philippe, then Duc d'Orléans, who, however, soon parted with it. Subsequent owners, who include the Comte de Caraman and M. Moreau, a Paris banker, have attempted something in the way of restoration, but the work of mutilation had been carried too far for their efforts to produce much effect.
The Constable, who had shared with Diane de Poitiers the confidence and affection of Henri II, shared her disgrace, though in a modified form. The Guises, for the moment all-powerful, hated him and insisted on his dismissal; while he could look for no support from the Queen-Mother, who had several grievances against him, notably, his attachment to her husband's mistress in the early days of Diane's favour, and the fact that he was generally believed to have counselled the dissolution of her marriage in the time of François I.
When Montmorency waited upon the new King for the first time, his young Sovereign received him courteously and confirmed him in the possession of his estates and titles; but, repeating the words which his uncles, the Guises, had dictated to him, added that, having regard to the great age of the Constable, he had decided to confide the command of his armies to the Duc de Guise and the charge of his finances to the Cardinal de Lorraine. He would, however, willingly reserve an honourable place in his Council for his father's trusted friend, whenever his age permitted him to assist at its deliberations.
The Constable replied that he would not abuse this honour, and, having assured his Majesty that, if need should arise, he would find him not too old to spend his life and his goods in his service, retired, and, after the funeral of Henri II, quitted the Court and withdrew to Écouen. His disgrace, however, terminated with the brief reign of François II.
In conclusion, a few words must be said concerning the unhappy young Captain of the Scottish Guard, who had been the involuntary cause of his Sovereign's death.
This tragic event completely changed Montgomery's destiny. Deprived of his post and banished to his estates in Lower Normandy, he beguiled the tedium of his enforced leisure by the study of works on the religious controversy, was converted to the Reformed faith, and, after the massacre of Vassy, participated openly in Calvinistic worship, and established a prêche at his château of Ducey. Scarcely had the first War of Religion broken out, than he joined the army of Condé, at the head of a considerable body of gentlemen, and, combining as he did considerable military talent with the most dashing courage, soon became one of the most redoubtable of the Huguenot leaders, and inflicted several reverses on the royal troops. At the time of the St. Bartholomew he was in Paris, but, having had the good fortune to be lodged in the faubourgs, succeeded in effecting his escape, though he was hotly pursued for many miles. He then took refuge in Jersey, and subsequently in England, where he organised an expedition which made a descent upon the Breton coast. In February 1574, he was again in arms, and landed in Normandy with English supplies and English volunteers; but his stormy career was now drawing to a close. Besieged in Domfront, with a mere handful of his followers, by the Maréchal de Matignon at the head of 10,000 men, he surrendered, after a gallant defence, on the promise that his life should be spared. Catherine,20 however, who, ever since the fatal tourney, had entertained for him the most violent hatred, declined to recognise this verbal capitulation; and Montgomery was brought from Normandy to Paris, tried by the Parlement on a charge of high treason and, on June 26, condemned to a traitor's death. On the following day, after having been put to the question, he was placed in a tumbril, with his hands tied behind his back, conveyed to the Place de Grève, and there beheaded and quartered. Catherine herself, L'Estoile tells us, witnessed the execution, "and was at length avenged, as she had so long desired, for the death of the late King Henri, her husband."21
Notes
(1) The appointment of the last, whose orthodoxy was already suspected, was a snare to entrap him.
(2) F. Decrue, Anne, duc de Montmorency.
(3) "State Papers, Elizabeth (Foreign Series)."
(4) Ibid.
(5) La Place, De l'estat de la religion et république.
(6) He was the son of Jacques, Comte de Montgomery, a veteran of the wars of Louis XII, and was at this time about twenty-eight years old. His father had preceded him in the command of the Scottish Guard, and still held the title of Captain, though Gabriel, who had been promised the reversion of the post, fulfilled all the duties. The Montgomerys were, of course, of Scotch origin, and traced their descent from the lairds of Ardrossan.
(7) "State Papers, Elizabeth (Foreign Series)."
(8) This part of the Rue Saint-Antoine had been unpaved for the occasion.
(9) His despatch is dated July 1, but, with the exception of a few sentences, it was written on the previous evening.
(10) Caraccioli's letter was published in a Recueil des épistres des princes collected by Girolamo Ruscelli, and translated into French by Belleforest in 1572. A second edition appeared two years later, since which it has never been reprinted; and, so far as we are aware, the bishop's account of the tragedy has not appeared in any modern work.
(11) The anxiety to induce Henri II to leave the lists had probably nothing to do with the sinister dreams and presentiments of which so many writers speak, but was due to the fact that the King, when he over-exerted himself, was subject to attacks of vertigo, and had had a severe one not long before, after playing tennis.
(12) According to the Mémoires de Tavennes, the King had lowered his visor, but, in his eagerness to engage Montgomery, had not stopped to fasten it.
(13) "The force of which stroke was so vehement and the paine he had withall so great, as he was much astonished and had great ado (with reling to and fro) to kepe himself on horseback." — Throckmorton.
(14) "Whereupon with all expedition he was unarmed in the field, even against the place where I stode. . . . Marry, I saw a splinte taken out of a good bigness." — Throckmorton.
(15) "I noted him to be very weake, and to have the sens of all his lymmes almost benummed, for being caryed away, as he lay along, he moved neither hand nor fote, but laye as one amazed." — Throckmorton.
(16) Relation d'Andre Vésale, in Ruble, Antoine de Bourbon et Jeanne d'Albret.
(17) Jérôme de la Rovère, Bishop of Toulon, in the sermon which he preached at the King's funeral, stated that Henri II, after receiving the Sacraments, called the Dauphin, and "recommended to him his Church and his people, and declared that he persisted and remained firm in the faith in which he was dying." It is doubtful, however, if during the last days of his illness Henri II was ever conscious.
(18) Brantôme. And the courtly chronicler observes: "Such were the remarkable titles and fine qualities which were attributed to this great king, which assuredly he deserved, as no one can gainsay."
(19) "The King (François II) has sent to inform Madame de Valentinois that, because of her evil influence (mali officii) with the King, his father, she merited a severe punishment; but that, in his royal clemency, he did not wish to disquiet her further. Nevertheless, she must restore all the jewels which the King, his father, had given her." Despatch of Giovanni Michieli, July 12, 1559, in Armand Baschet, la Diplomatie vénitienne. It will be remembered that these jewels had been given by François I to Madame d'Étampes, and that, on François's death, Henri II had, presumably at Diane's demand, compelled that lady to surrender them, on the ground that they were the property of the Crown. Now, the despoiler of Madame d'Étampes found herself treated in like manner.
According to Brantôme, Diane received orders to retire from Court and to restore the jewels even before the breath had left Henri II's body. "What! Is the King dead?" inquired the duchess of the gentleman who brought them. "No, Madame," was the answer; "but he can only linger a little longer." "So long as an inch of life remains to him," rejoined the lady haughtily, "I desire my enemies to know that I fear them not, and that, so long as he is alive, I shall not obey them. But, when he is dead, I do not wish to survive him, and-all the bitternesses which they may be able to inflict upon me will be only sweets in comparison with my loss. And so, whether my King be alive or dead, I do not fear my enemies."
(20) Catherine was at this time again Regent, Charles IX having just died, while Henri III had not yet returned from Poland.
(21) Journal de l'Estoile. One of the clauses in the "Paix de Monsieur" (February 1576) declared the execution of Montgomery to have been a miscarriage of justice.