Chapter C: A. SAINTE-BEUVE, Causeries du Lundi (1852) (3)

To return now to our little queen, who, disliking to remain in France for several reasons, especially because she was not recognized and endowed as she should have been, resolved to go and finish the remainder of her noble days with the emperor and empress, her father and mother. When there, the Catholic king being widowed of Queen Anne of Austria, own sister to Queen Isabelle, he desired to espouse the latter, and sent to beg the empress, his own sister, to lay his proposals before her. But she would not listen to them, not the first, nor the second, nor the third time her mother the empress spoke of them; excusing herself on the honourable ashes of the king, her husband, which she would not insult by a second marriage, and also on the ground of too great consanguinity and close parentage between them, which might greatly anger God; on which the empress and her brother the king urged her to lay the matter before a very learned and eloquent Jesuit, who exhorted and preached to her as much as he could, not forgetting to quote all the passages of Holy and other Scripture, which might serve his purpose. But the queen confounded him quickly by other quotations as fine and more truthful, for, since her widowhood, she had given herself to the study of God’s word; besides which, she told him her determined resolution, which was her most sacred defence, namely, not to forget her husband in a second marriage. On which the Jesuit was forced to leave her without gaining anything. But, being urged to return by a letter from the King of Spain, who would not accept the resolute answer of the princess, he treated her with rigorous words and even threats, so that she, not willing to lose her time contesting against him, cut him short by saying that if he meddled with her again she would make him repent it, and even went so far as to threaten to have him whipped in her kitchen. I have also heard, but I do not know if it be true, that this Jesuit having returned for the third time, she turned away and had him chastised for his presumption. I do not believe this; for she loved persons of holy lives, as those men are.

Such was the great constancy and noble firmness of this virtuous queen, which she kept to the end of her days, towards the venerated bones of the king her husband, which she honoured incessantly with regrets and tears; and not being able to furnish more (for a fountain must in the end dry up) she succumbed, and died so young that she was only thirty-five years old at the time of her death. Loss most inestimable! for she might long have served as a mirror of virtue to the honest ladies of all Christendom.

If, of a surety, she manifested love to the king her husband, by her constancy, her virtuous continence, and her continual grief, she showed it still more in her behaviour to the Queen of Navarre, her sister-in-law; for, knowing her to be in a great extremity of famine in the castle of Usson in Auvergne, abandoned by most of her relations and by so many others whom she had obliged, she sent to her and offered her all her means, and so provided that she gave her half the revenue she received in France, sharing with her as if she had been her own sister; and they say Queen Marguerite would indeed have suffered severely without this great liberality of her good and beautiful sister. Wherefore she deferred to her much, and honoured and loved her so that scarcely could she bear her death patiently, as people do in the world, but took to her bed for twenty days, weeping continually with constant moans, and ever since has not ceased to regret and deplore her; expending on her memory most beautiful words, which she needed not to borrow from others, in order to praise her and to give her immortality. I have been told that Queen Isabelle composed and printed a beautiful book which touched on the word of God, and also another concerning histories of what happened in France during the time she was there. I know not if this be true, but I am assured of it, and also that persons have seen that book in the hands of the Queen of Navarre, to whom she sent it before she died, and who set great store by it, calling it a fine thing; and if so divine an oracle said so, we must believe it.

This is a summary of what I have to say of our good Queen Isabella, of her goodness, her virtue, her continence, her constancy, and of her loyal love to the king her husband. And were it not her nature to be good and virtuous (I heard M. de Langeac, who was in Spain when she died, tell how the empress said to him: “That which was best among us is no more”), we might suppose that in all her actions Queen Isabelle sought to imitate her mother and her aunts.

_2. Jeanne d’Autriche, wife of Jean, Infante of Portugal, and mother of the king, Don Sebastian._

This princess of Spain was of great beauty and very majestic, or she would not have been a Spanish princess; for a fine carriage and good grace always accompany the majesty of a Spanish woman. I had the honour of seeing her and talking with her rather privately, being in Spain on my way back from Portugal. I had gone to pay my respects to our Queen of Spain, Élisabeth of France, and was talking with her, she asking news both of France and Portugal, when they came to tell her that Madame la Princesse Jeanne was arriving. On which the queen said to me, “Do not stir, M. de Bourdeille. You will see a beautiful and honourable princess. It will please you to see her, and she will be very glad to see you and ask you news of the king her son, since you have lately seen him.” Whereupon, the princess arrived, and I thought her very beautiful according to my taste, very well attired, and wearing on her head a Spanish toque of white crêpe coming low in a point upon her nose, and dressed as a Spanish widow, who wears silk usually. I admired and gazed upon her so fixedly that I was on the point of feeling ravished when the queen called me and said that Madame la princesse wished to hear from me news of her son the king; I had overheard her telling the princess that she was talking with a gentleman of her brother Court who had just come from Portugal.

On which I approached the princess, and kissed her gown in the Spanish manner. She received me very gently and intimately; and then began to ask me news of the king, her son, his behaviour, and what I thought of him; for at that time they were thinking to make a marriage between him and Madame Marguerite de France, sister of the king, and in these days Queen of Navarre. I told her everything; for at that time I spoke Spanish as well as, or better than French. Among her other questions she asked me this: “Was her son handsome, and whom did he resemble?” I told her he was certainly one of the handsomest princes of Christendom and resembled her in everything and was, in fact, the very image of her beauty; at which she gave a little smile and the colour came into her face, which showed much gladness at what I said. After talking with her some time they came to call the queen to supper, and the two princesses separated; the queen saying to me with a smile: “You have given her a great pleasure in what you said of the resemblance of her son.”

And afterwards she asked me what I thought of her; whether I did not think her an honourable woman and such as she had described her to me, adding: “I think she would like much to marry the king, my brother [Charles IX.], and I should like it, too.” She knew I should repeat this to the queen-mother on my return to Court, which was then at Arles in Provence; and I did so; but she said she was too old for him, old enough to be his mother. I told the queen-mother, however, what had been said to me in Spain, on good authority, namely: that the princess had said she was firmly resolved not to marry again unless with the King of France, and failing that to retire from the world. In fact, she had so set her fancy on this high match and station, for her heart was very lofty, that she fully believed in attaining her end and contentment; otherwise she meant to end her days, as I have said, in a monastery, where she was already building a house for her retreat. Accordingly she kept this hope and belief very long in her mind, managing her widowhood sagely, until she heard of the marriage of the king to her niece [Isabelle], and then, all hope being lost, she said these words, or something like them, as I have heard tell: “Though the niece be more in her springtime and less weighed with years than the aunt, the beauty of the aunt, now in its summer, all made and formed by charming years, and bearing fruit, is worth far more than the fruit her youthful blooms give promise of; for the slightest misadventure will undo them, make them fall and perish, no more no less than the trees of spring, which with their lovely blooms promise fine fruits in summer; but an evil wind may blow and beat them down and nought be left but leaves. But let it be done to the will of God, with whom I now shall marry for all time, and not with others.”

As she said, so she did, and led so good and holy a life apart from the world that she left to ladies, both great and small, a noble example to imitate. There may be some who have said: “Thank God she could not marry King Charles, for if she had done so she would have left behind the hard conditions of widowhood and resumed all the sweetness of marriage.” That may be presumed. But may we not, on the other hand, presume that the great desire she showed the world to marry that great king was a form and manner of ostentation and Spanish pride, manifesting her lofty aspirations which she would not lower?--for seeing her sister Marie Empress of Austria and wishing to equal her she aspired to be Queen of France which is worth an empire--or more.

To conclude: she was, to my thinking, one of the most accomplished foreign princesses I have ever seen, though she may be blamed for retreating from the world more from vexation than devotion; but the fact remains that she did it; and her good and saintly end has shown in her I know not what of sanctity.

3. _Marie d’Autriche, wife of Louis, King of Hungary [sister of the Emperor Charles V.]._

Her aunt, Queen Marie of Hungary, did the same, although at a more advanced age, as much to retire from the world as to help the emperor, her brother, to serve God well in his retreat. This queen became a widow early, having lost King Louis, her husband, who was killed, very young, in a battle against the Turks, which he fought, not for good reason, but by persuasion and pertinacity of a cardinal who governed him much, assuring him that he must not distrust God and His just cause, for if there were but ten thousand Hungarians, they, being good Christians and fighting for God’s quarrel, could make an end of a hundred thousand Turks; and that cardinal so urged and pushed him to the point that he fought and lost the battle, and in trying to retreat he fell into a marsh and was smothered. Such are the blunders of men who want to manage armies and do not know the business.

That was why the great Duc de Guise, after he was so greatly deceived on his journey to Italy, said frequently: “I love the Church of God, but I will never undertake an enterprise of war on the word or faith of a priest,”--meaning by that to lay blame on Pope Paul IV., who had not kept the promises he made him with great and solemn words, and also on M. le Cardinal, his brother, who had sounded the ford as far as Rome, and lightly pushed his brother into it.

To return to our great Queen Marie; after this misfortune to her husband she was left a widow very young, very beautiful, as I have heard said by many persons who knew her, and as I judge myself from the portraits I have seen, which represent her without anything ugly to find fault with, unless it be her large, projecting mouth like that of the house of Austria; though it does not really come from the house of Austria, but from that of Bourgogne; for I have heard a lady of the Court of those times relate as follows: once when Queen Éléonore, passing through Dijon, went to make her devotions at the Chartreux monastery of that town, she visited the venerable sepulchres of her ancestors, the Ducs de Bourgogne, and was curious enough to have them opened, as many of our kings have done with theirs. She found them so well preserved that she recognized some by various signs, among others by their mouths, on which she suddenly cried out: “Ha! I thought we got our mouths from Austria, but I see we get them from Marie de Bourgogne and the Ducs de Bourgogne our ancestors. If I see my brother the emperor again, I shall tell him so, or else I shall send him word.” The lady who was present told me that she heard this, and also that the queen spoke as if taking pleasure in it; as indeed she had reason to do; for the house of Bourgogne was fully worth that of Austria, since it came from a son of France, Philippe the Bold, and had gained much property and great generosities of valour and courage from him; for I believe there never were four greater dukes coming one after the other than those four Ducs de Bourgogne. People may blame me sometimes for exaggerating; but I ought to be readily pardoned, because I do not know the art of writing.

Our Queen Marie of Hungary was very beautiful and agreeable, though she was always a trifle masculine; but in love she was none the worse for that, nor in war, which she took as her principal exercise. The emperor, her brother, knowing how fitted for war and very able she was, sent for her to come to him, and there invested her with the office which had belonged to her Aunt Marguerite of Flanders, who had governed the Low Countries with as much mildness as her successor now showed rigour. Indeed, so long as Madame Marguerite lived King François never turned his wars in that direction, though the King of England urged it on him; for he said that he did not wish to annoy that honest princess, who had shown herself so good to France and was so wise and virtuous, and yet so unfortunate in her marriages; the first of which was with King Charles VIII., by whom she was sent back very young to her father’s house; another with the son of the King of Arragon named Jean, by whom she had a posthumous child who died as soon as he was born, and the third was with that handsome Duc Philibert of Savoie, by whom she had no issue; and for this reason she bore for her device the words _Fortune infortune, fors une_. She lies with her husband in that beautiful convent at Brou, which is so sumptuous, near the town of Bourg in Bresse, where I have seen it.[23]

Queen Marie of Hungary was of great assistance to the emperor, for he stood alone. It is true he had Ferdinand, king of the Romans, his brother; but he was forced to show front against that great Sultan Solyman; also he had upon his hands the affairs of Italy, which were then in combustion; of Germany, which were little better because of the Grand Turk; of Hungary; of Spain, which had revolted under M. de Chièvres; besides the Indies, the Low Countries, Barbary, and France, the greatest burden of all. In short, I may say the whole world almost.

He made this sister Marie, whom he loved above everything, governor-general of all his Low Countries, where for the space of twenty-two or three years she served him so well that I know not how he could have done without her. For this he trusted her with all the affairs of the government, so that he himself, being in Flanders, left all to her, and the Council was held by her in her own house. It is true that she, being very wise and clever, deferred to him, and reported to him all that was done at the Council when he was not there, in which he took much pleasure.

She made great wars, sometimes by her lieutenants, sometimes in person,--always on horseback like a generous amazon. She was the first to light fires and conflagrations in France,--some in very noble houses and châteaux like that of Follembray, a beautiful and charming house built by our kings for their comfort and pleasure in hunting. The king took this with such wrath and displeasure that before long he returned her the change for it, and revenged it on her beautiful mansion of Bains, held to be a miracle of the world, shaming (if I may say so from what I have heard those say who saw it in its perfection) the seven wonders of the world renowned in antiquity. She fêted there the Emperor Charles and his whole Court, when his son, King Philip, came from Spain to Flanders to see him; on which occasion its magnificences were seen in such excellence and perfection that nothing was talked of at that time but _las fiestas de Bains_, as the Spaniards say. I remember myself that on the journey to Bayonne [where Catherine de’ Medici met her daughter Élisabeth Queen of Spain], however great was the magnificence there presented, in tourneys, combats, masquerades, and money expended, nothing came up to _las fiestas de Bains_; so said certain old Spanish gentlemen who had seen them, and also as I saw it stated in a Spanish book written expressly about them; so that one could well say that nothing finer was ever seen, not even, begging pardon of Roman magnificence, the games of ancient times, barring the combats of gladiators and wild beasts. Except for them, the fêtes of Bains were finer and more agreeable, more varied, more general.

I would describe them here, according as I could borrow them from that Spanish book and as I heard of them from some who were present, even from Mme. de Fontaine, born Torcy, maid of honour at the time to Queen Éléonore; but I might be blamed for being too digressive. I will keep it for a _bonne bouche_ another time, for the thing is worth it. Among some of the finest magnificences was this: Queen Marie had a great fortress built of brick, which was assaulted, defended, and succoured by six thousand foot-soldiers; cannonaded by thirty pieces of cannon, whether in the batteries or the defences, with the same ceremonies and doings as in real war; which siege lasted three days, and never was anything seen so fine, the emperor taking great pleasure in it.

You may be sure that if this queen played the sumptuous it was because she wanted to show her brother that if she held her States, pensions, benefits, even her conquests, through him, all were devoted to his glory and pleasure. In fact, the said emperor was greatly pleased and praised her much; and reckoned the cost very high; especially that of his chamber which was hung with tapestry of splendid warp, of silver and gold and silk, on which were figured and represented, the size of life, all his fine conquests, great enterprises, expeditions of war, and the battles he had fought, given, and won, above all, not forgetting the flight of Solyman before Vienna, and the capture of King François. In short, there was nothing in it that was not exquisite.

But the noble house lost its lustre soon after, being totally pillaged, ruined, and razed to the ground. I have heard say that its mistress, when she heard of its ruin, fell into such distress, anger, and rage that for long she could not be pacified. Passing near there some time later she wished to see the ruins, and gazing at them very piteously with tears in her eyes, she swore that all France should repent of the deed, for never should she be at her ease until that fine Fontainebleau, of which they thought so much, was razed to the ground with not one stone left upon another. In fact, she vomited her rage upon poor Picardy, which felt it in flames. And we may believe that if peace had not intervened, her vengeance would have been greater still; for she had a stern, hard heart, not easily appeased, and was thought to be, on her side as much as on ours, too cruel. But such is the nature of women, even the greatest, who are very quick to vengeance when offended. The emperor, it was said, loved her the better for it.

I have heard it related how, when at Brussels, the emperor, in the great hall where he had called together the general Assembly, in order to give up and despoil himself of his States, after making an harangue and saying all he wished to say to the Assembly and to his son, humbly thanked Queen Marie, his sister, who was seated beside him. On which she rose from her seat and, with a grand curtsey made to her brother with great and grave majesty and composed grace, she said, addressing her speech to the people: “Messieurs, since for twenty-three years it has pleased the emperor, my brother, to give me the charge and government of all his Low Countries, I have employed and used therein all that God, nature, and fortune have given me of means and graces to acquit myself as well as possible. And if in anything I have been in fault, I am excusable, thinking I have never forgotten what I should remember, nor spared what was proper. Nevertheless, if I have been lacking in any way I beg you to pardon me. But if, in spite of this, some of you will not do so, and remain discontented with me, it is the least thing I care for, inasmuch as the emperor, my brother, is content; for to please him alone has been my greatest desire and solicitude.” So saying, and having made another grand curtsey to the emperor, she resumed her seat. I have heard it said that this speech was thought too haughty and defiant, both as relating to her office, and as bidding adieu to a people whom she ought to have left with a good word and in grief at her departure. But what did she care,--inasmuch as she had no other object than to please and content her brother and, from that moment, to quit the world and keep company with that brother in his retreat and his prayers [1556]?

I heard all this related by a gentleman of my brother who was then in Brussels, having gone there to negotiate the ransom of my said brother who was taken prisoner at Hesdin and confined five years at Lisle in Flanders. The said gentleman witnessed this Assembly and all these sad acts of the emperor; and he told me that many persons were rather scandalized under their breaths at this proud speech of the queen; though they dared say nothing, nor let it be seen, for they knew they had to do with a _maîtresse-femme_ who would, if irritated, deal them some blow as a parting gift. But here she was, relieved of her office, so that she accompanied her brother to Spain and never left him again, she, and her sister, Queen Éléonore, until he lay in his tomb; the three surviving exactly a year one after the other. The emperor died first, the Queen of France, being the elder, next, and the Queen of Hungary last,--both sisters having very virtuously governed their widowhood. It is true that the Queen of Hungary was longer a widow than her sister without remarrying; for her sister married twice, as much to be Queen of France, which was a fine morsel, as by prayer and persuasion of the emperor, in order that she might serve as a seal to secure peace and public tranquillity; though, indeed, this seal did not last long, for war broke out again soon after, more cruel than ever; but the poor princess could not help that, for she had brought to France all she could; though the king, her husband, treated her no better for that, but cursed his marriage, as I have heard say.

4. _Louise de Lorraine, wife of Henri III., King of France._

We can and should praise this princess who, in her marriage, behaved to the king, her husband, so wisely, chastely, and loyally that the tie which bound her to him remained indissoluble and was never loosened or undone, although the king her husband, loving change, went after others, as the fashion is with these great persons, who have a liberty of their own apart from other men. Moreover, within the first ten days of their marriage he gave her cause for discontentment, for he took away her waiting-maids and the ladies who had been with her and brought her up from childhood, whom she regretted much; and more especially the sting went deep into her heart on account of Mlle. de Changy, a beautiful and very honourable young lady, who should never have been banished from the company of her mistress, or from Court. It is a great vexation to lose a good companion and a confidante.

wife of Henry III]

I know that one of the said queen’s most intimate ladies was so presumptuous as to say to her one day, laughing and joking, that since she had no children by the king and could never have them, for reasons that were talked of in those days, she would do well to borrow a third and secret means to have them, in order not to be left without authority when the king should die, but rather be mother to a king and hold the rank and grandeur of the present queen-mother, her mother-in-law. But she rejected this bouffonesque advice, taking it in very bad part and nevermore liking the good lady-counsellor. She preferred to rest her grandeur on her chastity and virtue than upon a lineage issuing from vice: counsel of the world! which, according to the doctrine of Macchiavelli, ought not to be rejected.

But our Queen Louise, so wise and chaste and virtuous, did not desire, either by true or false means, to become queen-mother; though, had she been willing to play such a game, things would have been other than they are; for no one would have taken notice, and many would have been confounded. For this reason the present king [Henri IV.] owes much to her, and should have loved and honoured her; for had she played the trick and produced the child, he would only have been regent of France, and perhaps not that, and such weak title would not have guaranteed us from more wars and evils than we have so far had. Still, I have heard many, religious as well as worldly people, say and hold to this conclusion, namely: that Queen Louise would have done better to play that game, for then France would not have had the ruin and misery she has had, and will have, and that Christianity would have been the better for it. I make this question over to worthy and inquiring discoursers to give their opinion on it; it is a brave subject and an ample one for the State; but not for God, methinks, to whom our queen was so inclined, loving and adoring Him so truly that to serve Him she forgot herself and her high condition. For, being a very beautiful princess (in fact the king took her for her beauty and virtue), and young, delicate, and very lovable, she devoted herself to no other purpose than serving God, going to prayers, visiting the hospitals continually, nursing the sick, burying the dead, and omitting nothing of all the good and saintly works performed by saintly and devoted good women, princesses, and queens in the times past of the primitive Church. After the death of the king, her husband, she did the same, employing her time in mourning and regretting him, and in praying to God for his soul; so that her widowed life was much the same as her married life.

She was suspected during the lifetime of her husband of leaning a little to the party of the Union [League] because, good Christian and Catholic that she was, she loved all who fought and combated for her faith and her religion; but she never loved these and left them wholly after they killed her husband; demanding no other vengeance or punishment than what it pleased God to send them, asking the same of men and, above all, of our present king; who should, however, have done justice on that monstrous deed done to a sacred person.

Thus lived this princess in marriage and died in widowhood. She died in a reputation most beautiful and worthy of her, having lingered and languished long, without taking care of herself and giving way too much to her sadness. She made a noble and religious end. Before she died she ordered her crown to be placed on the pillow beside her, and would not have it moved as long as she lived; and after her death she was crowned with it, and remained so.

5. _Marguerite de Lorraine, wife of Anne, Duc de Joyeuse.[24]_

Queen Louise left a sister, Madame de Joyeuse, who has imitated her modest and chaste life, having made great mourning and lamentation for her husband, a brave, valiant, and accomplished seigneur. And I have heard say that when the present king was so tightly pressed in Brest, where M. du Maine with forty thousand men held him besieged and tied up in a sack, that if she had been in the place of the Duc de Chartres, who commanded within, she would have revenged the death of her husband far better than did the said duke, who on account of the obligations he owed the Duc de Joyeuse, should have done better. Since when, she has never liked him, but hated him more than the plague, not being able to excuse such a fault; though there are some who say that he kept the faith and loyalty he had promised.

But a woman justly or unjustly offended does not listen to excuses; nor did this one, who never again loved our present king; but she greatly regretted the late one [Henri III.] although she belonged to the League; but she always said that she and her husband were under extreme obligations to him. To conclude: she was a good and virtuous princess, who deserves honour for the grief she gave to the ashes of her husband for some time, although she remarried in the end with M. de Luxembourg. Being a woman, why should she languish?

6. _Christine of Denmark, niece of the Emperor Charles V. Duchesse de Lorraine._

After the departure of the Queen of Hungary no great princess remained near King Philip II. [to whom Charles V. resigned the Low Countries, Naples, and Sicily 1555] except the Duchesse de Lorraine, Christine of Denmark, his cousin-german, since called her Highness, who kept him good company so long as he stayed in Flanders, and made his Court shine; for the Court of every king, prince, emperor, or monarch, however grand it be, is of little account if it be not accompanied and made desirable by the Court of queen, empress, or great princess with numerous ladies and damoiselles; as I have well perceived myself and heard discoursed of and said by the greatest personages.

This princess, to my thinking, was one of the most beautiful and accomplished princesses I have ever seen. Her face was very agreeable, her figure tall, and her carriage fine; especially did she dress herself well,--so well that, in her time, she gave to our ladies of France and to her own a pattern and model for dressing the head with a coiffure and veil, called _à la_ Lorraine; and a fine sight it was on our Court ladies, who wore it only for fêtes or great magnificences, in order to adorn and display themselves, as did all Lorraine, in honour of her Highness. Above all, she had one of the prettiest hands that were ever seen; indeed I have heard our queen-mother praise it and compare it with her own. She held herself finely on horseback with very good grace, and always rode with stirrup and pommel, as she had learned from her aunt, Queen Mary of Hungary. I have heard say that the queen-mother learned this fashion from her, for up to that time she rode on the plank, which certainly does not show the grace or the fine action with the stirrup. She liked to imitate in riding the queen, her aunt, and never mounted any but Spanish or Turkish horses, barbs, or very fine jennets which went at an amble; I have known her have at one time a dozen very fine ones, of which it would be hard to say which was the finest.

Her aunt, the queen, loved her much, finding her suited to her humour, whether in the exercises, hunting and other, that she loved, or in the virtues that she knew she possessed. While her husband lived she often went to Flanders to see her aunt, as Mme. de Fontaine told me; but after she became a widow, and especially after they took her son away from her, she left Lorraine in anger, for her heart was very lofty, and made her abode with the emperor her uncle, and the queens her aunts, who gladly received her.

She bore very impatiently the parting from this son, though King Henri made every excuse to her, and declared he intended to adopt him as a son. But not being pacified, and seeing that they were giving the old fellow M. de la Brousse to her son as governor, taking away from him M. de Montbardon, a very wise and honourable gentleman whom the emperor had appointed, having known him for a very long time, this princess, finding how desperate the matter was, came to see King Henri on a Holy Thursday in the great gallery at Nancy, where the Court then was; and with very composed grace and that great beauty which made her so admired, and without being awed or abating in any way her grandeur, she made him a great curtsey, entreating him, and explaining with tears in her eyes (which only made her the more beautiful) the wrong he did in taking her son from her,--an object so dear to her heart and all she had in the world; also that she did not merit such treatment, in view of the great family from which she came; besides which she believed she had never done anything against his service. She said these things so well, with such good grace and reasoning, and made her complaint so gently that the king, who was always courteous to ladies, had great compassion for her,--not only he, but all the princes and the great and the little people who saw that sight.

The king, who was the most respectful king to ladies that was ever in France, answered her most civilly; not with a flourish of words or a great harangue, as Paradin in his History of France represents, for of himself and by nature he was not at all prolix, nor copious in words nor a great haranguer. Moreover, there is no need nor would it be becoming that a king should imitate in his speech a philosopher or an orator; so that the shortest words and briefest answers are best for a king; as I have heard M. de Pibrac say, whose instruction was very sound on account of the learning that was in him. Therefore, whoever reads that harangue of Paradin, made, or presumed to be made by King Henri, should believe none of it, for I have heard several great persons who were present declare that he could not have heard that answer or that discourse as he says he did. Very true it is that the king consoled her civilly and modestly on the desolation she expressed, and told her she had no reason to be troubled, because to secure his safety, and not from enmity, did he wish to keep her son beside him, and put him with his own eldest son to have the same education, same manner of life, same fortune; and since he was of French extraction, and himself French, he could be better brought up at the Court of France, among the French, where he had relations and friends. Nor did he forget to remind her that the house of Lorraine was more obliged to France than any house in Christendom, reminding her of the obligation of the Duc de Lorraine in respect to Duc Charles de Bourgogne, who was killed at Nancy.

But all these fine words and reasons could not console her or make her bear her sorrow patiently. So that, having made her curtsey, still shedding many precious tears, she retired to her chamber, to the door of which the king conducted her; and the next day, before his departure, she went to see him in his chamber to take leave of him, but could not obtain her request. Therefore, seeing her dear son taken before her eyes and departing for France, she resolved, on her side, to leave Lorraine and retire to Flanders, to her uncle, the emperor (how fine a word!), and to her cousin King Philip and the queens, her aunts (what alliance! what titles!), which she did; and never stirred thence till after the peace made between the two kings, when he of Spain crossed the seas and went away.

She did much for this peace, I might say all; for the deputies, as much on one side as on the other, as I have heard tell, after much pains and time consumed at Cercan [Cateau-Carabrésis] without doing or concluding anything, were all at fault and off the scent, like huntsmen, when she, being either instinct with the divine spirit, or moved by good Christian zeal and her natural good sense, undertook this great negotiation and conducted it so well that the end was fortunate throughout all Christendom. Also it was said that no one could have been found more proper to move and place that great rock; for she was a very clever and judicious lady if ever there was one, and of fine and grand authority; and certainly small and low persons are not so proper for that as the great. On the other hand the king, her cousin [Philip II.], believed and trusted her greatly, esteeming her much, and loving her with a great affection and love; as indeed he should, for she gave his Court great value and made it shine, when otherwise it would have been obscure. Though afterwards, as I have been told, he did not treat her too well in the matter of her estates which came to her as dowry in the duchy of Milan; she having been married first to Duc Sforza, for, as I have heard say, he took and curtailed her of some.

I was told that after the death of her son she remained on very ill terms with M. de Guise and his brother, the Cardinal, accusing them of having persuaded the king to keep her son on account of their ambition to see and have their near cousin adopted son and married to the house of France; besides which, she had refused some time before to take M. de Guise in marriage, he having asked her to do so. She, who was haughty to the very extreme, replied that she would never marry the younger of a house whose eldest had been her husband; and for that refusal M. de Guise bore her a grudge ever after,--though indeed he lost nothing by the change to Madame his wife, whom he married soon after, for she was of very illustrious birth and granddaughter of Louis XII., one of the bravest and best kings that ever wore the crown of France; and, what is more, she was the handsomest woman in Christendom.

I have heard tell that the first time these two handsome princesses saw each other, they were each so contemplative the one of the other, turning their eyes sometimes crossways, sometimes sideways, that neither could look enough, so fixed and attentive were they to watch each other. I leave you to think what thoughts they were turning in their fine souls; not more nor less than those we read of just before the great battle in Africa between Scipio and Hannibal (which was the final settlement of the war between Rome and Carthage), when those two great captains met together during a truce of two hours, and, having approached each other, they stood for a little space of time, lost in contemplation the one of the other, each ravished by the valour of his companion, both renowned for their noble deeds, so well represented in their faces, their bodies, and their fine and warlike ways and gestures. And then, having stood for some time thus wrapt in meditation of each other, they began to negotiate in the manner that Titus Livius describes so well. That is what virtue is, which makes itself admired amid hatreds and enmities, as beauty among jealousies, like that of the two ladies and princesses I have just been speaking of.

Certainly their beauty and grace may be reckoned equal, though Mme. de Guise could slightly have carried the day; but she was content without it,--being not at all vain or superb, but the sweetest, best, humblest, and most affable princess that could ever be seen. In her way, however, she was brave and proud, for nature had made her such, as much by beauty and form as by her grave bearing and noble majesty; so much so that on seeing her one feared to approach her; but having approached her one found only sweetness, candour, gayety; getting it all from her grandfather, that good father of his people, and the sweet air of France. True it is, she knew well how to keep her grandeur and glory when need was.

Her Highness of Lorraine was, on the contrary, very vain-glorious, and rather too presumptuous. I saw that sometimes in relation to Queen Marie Stuart of Scotland, who, being a widow, made a journey to Lorraine, on which I went; and you would have said that very often her said Highness was determined to equal the majesty of the said queen. But the latter, being very clever and of great courage, never let her pass the line, or make any advance; although Queen Marie was always gentle, because her uncle, the Cardinal, had warned and instructed her as to the temper of her said Highness. Then she, being unable to be rid of her pride, thought to soothe it a little on the queen-mother when they met. But that indeed was pride to pride and a half; for the queen-mother was the proudest woman on earth when she chose to be. I have heard her called so by many great personages; for when it was necessary to repress the vainglory of some one who wanted to seem of importance she knew how to abase him to the centre of the earth. However, she bore herself civilly to her Highness, deferring to her much and honouring her; but always holding the bridle in hand, sometimes high, sometimes low, for fear she should get away; and I heard her myself say, two or three times: “That is the most vainglorious woman I ever saw.”

The same thing happened when her Highness came to the coronation of the late King Charles IX. at Reims, to which she was invited. When she arrived, she would not enter the town on horseback, fearing she could not thus show her grandeur and high estate; but she put herself into a most superb carriage, entirely covered with black velvet, on account of her widowhood, which was drawn by four Turk horses, the finest that could be chosen, and harnessed all four abreast after the manner of a triumphal car. She sat by the door, very well dressed, but all in black, in a gown of velvet; but her head was white and very handsomely and superbly coiffed and adorned. At the other door of her carriage was one of her daughters, afterwards Mme. la Duchesse de Bavière, and within was the Princesse de Macédoine, her lady of honour.

The queen-mother, wishing to see her enter the courtyard in this triumphal manner, placed herself at a window and said, quite low, “There’s a proud woman!” Then her Highness having descended from her carriage and come upstairs, the queen advanced to receive her at the middle of the room, not a step beyond, and rather nearer the door than farther from it. There she received her very well; because at that time she governed everything, King Charles being so young; and did all she wished, which was certainly a great honour to her Highness. All the Court, from the highest to the lowest, esteemed and admired her much and thought her very handsome, although she was declining in years, being at that time rather more than forty; but nothing as yet showed it, her autumn surpassing the summer of others.

She died one year after hearing the news that she was Queen of Denmark, from which she came, and that the kingdom had fallen to her; so that before her death she was able to change the title of Highness, she had borne so long, to that of Majesty. And yet, for all that, as I have heard, she was resolved not to go to her kingdom, but to end her days in her dower-house at Tortonia in Italy, where the countryside called her only Madame de Tortonia; she having retired there some time before her death, as much because of certain vows she had made to the saints of those parts as to be near the baths of Tortonia, she being feeble in health and very gouty.

Her practices were fine, saintly, and honourable, to wit: praying God, giving alms, and doing great charity to the poor, above all to widows. This is a summary of what I have heard of this great princess, who, though a widow and very beautiful, conducted herself virtuously. It is true that one might say she was married twice: first with Duc Sforza, but he died at once; they did not live a year together before she was a widow at fifteen. Then her uncle, the Emperor Charles V., remarried her to the Duc de Lorraine, to strengthen his alliance with him; but there again she was a widow in the flower of her age, having enjoyed that fine marriage but a very few years; and those that remained to her, which were her finest and most precious in usefulness, she kept and consumed in a chaste widowhood.

7. _Marie d’Autriche, wife of the Emperor Maximilian II._

This empress, though she was left a widow quite young and very beautiful, would never marry again, but contained herself and continued in widowhood very virtuously, having left Austria and Germany, the scene of her empire, after the death of her husband. She returned to her brother, Philip II. in Spain; he having sent for her, and begged her to come and assist him with the heavy burden of his affairs, which she did; being a very wise and judicious princess. I have heard the late King Henri III. say,--and he was a better judge of people than any man in his kingdom,--that to his mind she was one of the ablest and most honourable princesses in the world.

On her way to Spain, after crossing the Germanys, she came to Italy and Genoa, where she embarked; and as it was winter and the month of December when she set sail, bad weather overtook her near Marseille, where she was forced to put in and anchor. But still, for all that, she would not enter the port, neither her own galley nor the others, for fear of causing suspicion or offence. Only once did she enter the town, just to see it. She remained there eight days awaiting fair weather. Her best exercise was in the mornings, when she left her galley (where she slept) and went to hear mass and service at the church of Saint-Victor, with very ardent devotion. Then her dinner was brought and prepared in the abbey, where she dined; and after dinner she talked with her women or with certain gentlemen from Marseille, who paid her all the honour and reverence that were due to so great a princess; for King Henri had commanded them to receive her as they would himself, in return for the good greeting and cheer she had given him in Vienna. So soon as she perceived this she showed herself most friendly, and spoke to them very freely both in German and in French; so that they were well content with her and she with them, selecting twenty especially; among them M. Castellan, called the Seigneur Altivity, captain of the galleys, who was distinguished for having married the beautiful Châteauneuf at Court, and also for having killed the Grand-prior, as I shall relate elsewhere.

It was his wife who told me all that I now relate, and discoursed to me about the perfections of this great princess; and how she admired Marseille, thinking it very fine, and went about with her on her promenades. At night she returned to her galley, so that if the fine weather and the good wind came, she might quickly set sail. I was at our Court when news was brought to the king of this passing visit; and I saw him very uneasy lest she should not be received as she ought to be, and as he wished. This princess still lives, and continues in all her fine virtues. She greatly helped and served her brother, as I have been told. Since then she has retired to a convent of women called the “bare-footed” [Carmelites], because they wear neither shoes nor stockings. Her sister, the Princess of Spain, founded them.

8. _Blanche de Montferrat, Duchesse de Savoie._

While I am on this subject of noble widows I must say two words of one of past times, namely: that honourable widow, Madame Blanche de Montferrat, one of the most ancient houses in Italy, who was Duchesse de Savoie and thought to be the handsomest and most perfect princess of her time; also very virtuous and judicious, for she governed wisely the minority of her son and his estates; she being left a widow at the age of twenty-three.