The Girls' Book of Famous Queens

She flattered each by turns as it best suited her nefarious schemes; she was actuated by no motive beyond her personal ambition of holding the reins of power; she cared not who or what was sacrificed, whether the life and soul of her own child, or whether the result was the downfall of every religious belief, the blood of her subjects, the ruin of her provinces, and the desolation of the homes of her people.

Not even fanaticism can be offered as a poor excuse for her crimes; her infamous deeds can be cloaked by no paltry plea of religious fervor. Her crimes were instigated by her own diabolical soul, a willing ally of the Prince of Darkness; and were it not for the strong menial abilities she manifested, one would imagine her some grotesque monster of an animal. But her crafty schemes betokened keen intellectual powers, and made her seem some malignant demon in human shape sent forth from the lowest depths of the Inferno to lure men and women to destruction.

Catherine de’ Medici was a daughter of Lorenzo de’ Medici, that ruler of Florence for whom Machiavelli wrote the “Prince.” Having lost both her parents in early childhood, Catherine was sent to a convent to be educated. Her uncle, Pope Clement VII., arranged with Francis I. of France a marriage between Catherine and the Duke of Orleans, afterwards Henry II. of France. This marriage was celebrated in 1533, when Catherine was fourteen years of age.

During the reign of Francis, Catherine exercised no influence in France. She was a thick-set, plain, unprepossessing girl; and being so young, and a foreigner, and a native of a state having no great weight in the world of politics, she was thrown entirely into the shade by more important and attractive personages, having not yet given any proof of her after great but iniquitous ability.

The court life at the time of Francis I. was beginning to assume some of the brilliancy and splendor for which it became so famous in the reign of le Grand Monarque. The fall of Florence and the expulsion of the French from Italy brought many Italians into France. Among these were men of letters, poets, musicians, sculptors, painters, and architects. Italian was generally understood at court, and became a frequent medium of conversation. Many Italian words were thus introduced into French phrases, and the French tongue became thereby materially changed and softened in its pronunciation.

It was at this time that so many old feudal fortresses were torn down to give place to the châteaux of the Renaissance. The king lived familiarly with artists, men of letters and celebrities, and patronized all who had made a name in art or literature.

Fontainebleau, which was originally a hunting-seat of Saint Louis IX., began to rise into a stately palace under the direction of Sebastian Serlio and Rosso, a Florentine. This Italian artist, Rosso, or Battista di Jacopo, was named by King Francis, “chief and superintendent over all the buildings, paintings, and other decorations of the palace,” with a large salary, for Rosso lived like en grand seigneur. As a painter his industry was great, and he displayed much ability in his designs for the decoration of the Galerie de François I., which he constructed over the lower court. During the reign of Louis Philippe some of Rosso’s paintings were discovered under a coating of whitewash, and were restored by that king’s order.

But the chef-d’œuvre of the Renaissance was the Château de Chambord, which, though it was not half completed at the time of the visit of the Emperor Charles V., so greatly excited his wonder and admiration.

One of the marvels of this château was “its double spiral staircase of two hundred and eighty-six steps, rising in the centre of the edifice from its basement to its highest point, – the lantern, crowned by an enormous fleur-de-lys. It was a sort of puzzle. Eight persons could walk abreast up or down it, the ascending and descending parties never meeting, yet seeing each other.”

The Emperor Charles was also amazed at this time by the gorgeousness and extravagance in dress displayed by the bourgeoisie. “At Poitiers he was received by near five hundred gentlemen, richly attired, and two thousand of the citizens in robes of velvet and satin, bordered with gold and silver lace. From Orleans a still more imposing cavalcade rode out to meet him. The bourgeoisie of this royal city had certain privileges which, like the citizens of Paris, they shared with the nobility. Ninety-two of these privileged merchants of the upper bourgeoisie accompanied the governor and persons of distinction to greet the emperor. All of them were mounted on excellent chargers, and all wore coats or casaques of black velvet, and doublets or vests of white satin fastened with gold buttons. Their boots were of white morocco, slashed, and their spurs either silver-gilt or gold. Their caps or toques were also of velvet, elaborately ornamented with gold embroider and precious stones.”

Orleans was then considered a large, handsome town. Charles V. said it was the finest city he saw in France. “Where, then,” he was asked, “does your majesty place Paris?”

“Oh, Paris,” he replied, “is no city, but rather a little world.”

As Francis I. was ruled by his favorite, the Duchesse d’ Étampes, his wife, Queen Eleanor, was simply a dazzling ornament in his court, where she always appeared in the splendor of the most gorgeous attire, solacing herself with the only privilege left to her, of displaying her rightful rank and prestige. “Near her, as if to seek the protection which her position afforded, if not her influence, – for of that she had none, – the quiet, subtle girl-wife of the youthful Prince Henry was always to be found. Of all that passed around her nothing escaped her vigilant, restless eyes. She was inwardly taking notes to serve for her guidance in the future, – resigned to live, and learn, and bide her time, fully assured – for was it not written in the stars? – that, as time rolled on, her turn would come to sway the destinies of the kingdom.

“No attentions did Catherine de’ Medici receive or look for from her boy-husband. He was a fluttering captive in the chains of first love, and the most brilliant beauty of the court, the famed Diana de Poitiers, was the lady of his heart, at the shrine of whose loveliness he bowed the knee. Prince Henry was then seventeen, and the lady had numbered thirty-seven summers. As to winters, they glided o’er her smooth, fair brow, leaving no trace of their passage, or any snowy signs of age on her luxuriant raven hair. Her husband, the Comte de Dreux-Brezé, died in 1531, and she erected a magnificent monument to his memory, and ever after wore the widow’s dress. Nature had made her beautiful forever, and beautiful she remained, unaided by art, we are told, until the end of her threescore years and nine.

“At this early period of Henry’s attachment to her, Diana derived from it no influence at court. The king disliked his second son, whose sentimental worship of an ‘aged siren,’ as envious ladies were pleased to call her, was a subject of jest among his companions, while Diana professed for the royal youth a tender but motherly affection; placid Catherine looking on unmoved.”

But this placid Catherine would not always sheathe her sharp stiletto of Italian craftiness, and then its gleaming point would pierce the quivering hearts of her victims with merciless cruelty.

During the reign of her husband, Henry II., Catherine lived a quiet, unobtrusive life, having little or no influence over the king, who was completely under the fascinating sway of the beautiful widow, Diana of Poitiers, who, possessing keen insight and much quick wit, was in reality the sovereign of France during the reign of Henry II.

Catherine de’ Medici manifested no outward signs of her discomfiture in thus having her place and power usurped by her husband’s fair favorite, but she was silently waiting her turn, and carefully observing the various moves in the political game then being played in Europe. She affected not only tolerance, but even friendship towards Diana; but the crafty Italian was meanwhile watching with tiger-cunning the right moment to spring forth from her hidden lair and seize upon her coveted prize, the imperial power of the throne;this was her only ambition. With wise insight she realized the hopelessness of endeavoring to free her husband from the ensnaring power of Diana, and so she artfully made his favorite her friend, and seemingly acquiesced in the ascendency of her rival.

On the 31st of March, 1547, Francis I. died, and in the following July, Henry II. was crowned, his elder brother having died some time before. On this occasion Diana and Catherine sat together under a “canopied tribune,” beholding the handsome prince in his royal robes, as he knelt before the archbishop and received from his hands the imperial crown.

But another character connected with this court demands attention. Jeanne d’Albret, the daughter of Queen Margaret of Navarre, was brought up at the Court of Francis I. and educated in the Romish faith. But her mother had adopted the principles of the Reformation, and Jeanne d’Albret afterwards became the most ardent defender of the Protestants at a time when such defence required the bravest heart and most unflinching courage.

Soon after the coronation of Henry II. the marriage of Jeanne d’Albret, heiress of the kingdom of Navarre, was celebrated in the Château de Moulins. The bridegroom was Antoine de Bourbon, Duc de Vendôme and first prince of the blood after the sons of Henry II. King Henry and his brilliant court repaired to Moulins to celebrate these nuptials. Upon this occasion Catherine de’ Medici was attired with gorgeous splendor. She was very fond of dress, and with the richly-robed Italian ladies in her suite presented a magnificent spectacle. Amidst all the brilliant costumes, one lady was distinguished by her widow’s garb. But Madame Diana well understood her charms, and in her costly robe of white and black velvet, with veil of silver tissue and coiffe of netted velvet, bordered with pearls, she became at once distingué and enchanting; and though Catherine de’ Medici might flash in gorgeous colors and royal jewels, her ugly, heavy features and ungraceful form only appeared more unattractive by the side of her beautiful rival. King Henry, who always wore black and white in compliment to Diana, was attired on this occasion “in a pourpoint, or vest of black velvet, slashed with white satin, with short skirts or basques, and a cloak of the same material, embroidered in broad stripes of gold. Trunk-hose of white silk, very large, and rounded with horse-hair or wool, a band of gold braiding attaching them to the long white silk stockings, and white silk shoes with black rosettes. A black velvet toque, with a white plume of two or three feathers placed on the right side, and bordered with four rows of black and white pearls. His cravat was of fine lace, and an escarcelle or pocket was fastened on his right side by gold chains to an embroidered waist-belt.”

“The princes and other persons of distinction were similarly dressed, the bridegroom wearing blue and white velvet and satin, many jewels in his plumed hat, many rings on his fingers, a jewelled pouch at his side, and a massive gold chain passing twice round his neck.”

But a lovely vision was presented by the bride of nineteen, Jeanne d’Albret, as she stood at the altar of the chapel of Moulins. “She was arrayed in white and silver satin brocade, her hair flowing loosely over her shoulders, but confined at the forehead by a circlet of pearls with diamond clasp, as was usual at that time for brides of high degree. Her long, heavy train, embroidered in silver and seed-pearls, was borne by four young pages in costumes of blue velvet and silver, white satin shoes with blue rosettes, and blue velvet toques with small white plumes. The great width of the deeply pendent sleeves (another distinguishing mark of the toilettes of ladies of rank, women of inferior station being permitted far less latitude in this respect) heavily embroidered to match the train, seemed from their weight almost to need the services of two more pages to support them. A stomacher of pearls and diamonds, a cordelière of the same, silver-embroidered satin shoes, and veil of Italian silver tissue falling very low on the back of the dress, completed this artistic and becoming bridal costume.”

But a sketch of Catherine de’ Medici has little to do with such fascinating scenes. With the death of her husband, King Henry, began the terrible spectacles of bloodshed and vice and cruelties which have made her name a synonyme of revolting wickedness. Not that Henry II. was not also cruel and guilty of many crimes, for he even celebrated his first appearance in Paris after his coronation by the public burning on the Place de Grève of half a dozen heretics; and he had established a special chamber in the Parliament called significantly the “Chambre Ardente”; and he would sit at the window of the Hôtel-de-la-Roche-Pot, which commanded a full view of the place of execution in the Rue Saint-Antoine, and watch the writhings of the burning heretics; but notwithstanding these atrocious instances, the cruelties of Catherine de’ Medici were on so much larger scale, and planned with such diabolical butchery, that in contrast Henry II. seems almost humane.

The reign of Francis I. had left France in a mournful condition. The peace of Crespy had hurt the feelings both of royalty and of the nation. It had left England in possession of Calais and Boulogne, and confirmed the ascendency of Charles V. in Germany, Italy, and Spain on the French frontiers. But Charles V. met his match as a general, in the brave defender of Metz, the valiant Duke of Guise, who commanded Henry II.’s forces at that memorable siege. This successful defence against the besieging army of the Emperor Charles V. gave Guise vast renown, and weakened materially the power of Charles.

France had been for nearly six years free from actual war with the emperor, when the German princes sought the aid of Henry II. in an alliance against Charles V., who was threatening to become as despotic in Germany as he was in Spain. The German princes had proposed to give Henry II. possession of the three cities, Metz, Toul, and Verdun, or at least allow him to conquer them, as these cities were not Germanic in language. As a further inducement to the French king to make an alliance with them, they promised to aid him in endeavoring to recover from Charles, Henry’s heritage of Milan. This had been the constant ambition of Francis I., to obtain possession of this ancestral heritage. Henry accordingly entered into negotiations with the German Princes; and to the declaration of war of Maurice of Saxony against the Emperor Charles, was appended a manifesto from the king of France. “Therein Henry announced himself the ‘Defender of the liberties of Germany, and protector of her captive princes,’ further stating, ‘that broken-hearted (le cœur navré) at the condition of Germany, he could not refuse to aid her, but had determined to do so to the utmost of his power and ability, even to personally engaging in this war, undertaken for liberty, and not for his personal benefit.’ This document, written in French, was headed by the representation of a cap between two poniards, and around it the inscription, ‘The emblem of liberty.’ It is said to have been copied from some ancient coins, and to have been appropriated as the symbol of freedom by Cæsar’s assassins. Thus singularly was brought to light by a king of the French Renaissance that terrible cap of liberty, before which the ancient crown of France was one day destined to fall.”

Henry II., thereupon leaving Catherine de’ Medici as regent in France, much to her profound surprise at such unusual attention from her indifferent husband, – who took good care, however, to tie her hands by such restrictions that she was regent only in name, while Diana held the real power, – departed with his army, and with ease took possession of the cities of Metz, Toul, and Verdun.

It was in endeavoring to reconquer Metz that Charles V. met his disastrous repulse in the brave defence of the Duke of Guise, who was then governor of Metz.

After the fatigues and horrors of war, the French court turned again to balls and tournaments, and the building of châteaux, and the patronage of art. It was at this time that Bernard Palissy was much patronized by the fair Diana, whom Henry had made Duchesse de Valentinois, presenting her with the Château de Chenonceaux, which seemed to be the only attention from the king which caused Catherine de’ Medici to vow vengeance, as she had desired to possess the château herself.

Notwithstanding desolating wars, the French court of Henry II. far outshone that of Francis I. in extravagance of dress and living.

“Never had any queen of France, except, perhaps, Queen Eleanor, and her court been arrayed in brocades so costly, or bedecked with gems more precious than Catherine de’ Medici and her ladies, though the crown jewels were worn by Madame Diana. At least they were transferred to her when the reign of Madame d’Etampes ended. Diana wore pearls only, black and white, which harmonized with her mourning dress. She may, however, have sometimes condescended to wear the crown diamonds, though they were not of great value.

“Never had the chefs-d’œuvre of Italian cookery been served at any state banquets on gold and silver plate in greater profusion or of more artistic workmanship, or the table ornamented with such magnificent productions of the glass manufactories of Venice. Carriages sufficiently capacious, luxuriously furnished, and ornamented with thousands of gilt nails, now took the place of the litter for travelling, – the gentlemen, when not aged or gouty, still preferring horses.”

Jeromio Lippomano, writing to the senate, says: —

“The novelties or changes in the fashion of dress succeed each other from day to day, I might almost say from hour to hour. The French spend without measure on their wardrobes and their table. As the profession of the French noble is that of arms, he wears a short coat. But it would be difficult to send you a model, so often is it varied in color and form. To-day the brim of his hat will extend beyond his shoulders; to-morrow his hat or cap will scarce cover the top of his head. His mantle sometimes reaches to his ankles; at others no lower than his loins. His shoes are either in the Greek fashion, or that of Savoy, – so wide and so high that they reach the middle of the leg, or so short and so narrow that they resemble tubes. If the form of the garments is frequently changed, no less so is the ridiculous manner of wearing them, as buttoning one sleeve and leaving the other open. When on horseback, these young warriors carry the sword in the hand, and gallop through the city as if in pursuit of an enemy, after the manner of the Polish cavaliers.”

“Twenty-five to thirty dresses of different form, and all elaborately embroidered, with an ample stock of fine laces, feathers, and jewels, scarcely sufficed to make a decent appearance at this luxurious and extravagant court. The ladies cared not to bestow their smiles on a cavalier who proclaimed his poverty by the scantiness of his wardrobe.” So great was the cost of living at the court that the courtiers took turns of three months each in the court service, and then retired to their châteaux, that they might retrench in their expenses, and so save enough money to again make a brilliant appearance when attendance at court was imposed upon them.

Meanwhile Charles V. had retired to a monastery and abdicated in favor of his son, Philip II. of Spain. Philip had married Mary Tudor of England. Mary Stuart of Scotland, a niece of the powerful House of Guise, had been married to Francis, the Dauphin of France. Philip II. had continued his father’s hostility to France, and the desperate battle of Saint Quentin had not only defeated the French, but had placed Montmorency, King Henry’s favorite “good gossip,” a prisoner in the hands of Philip.

It was at this time that Catherine de’ Medici first displayed her political tact and courage. Henry had gone to Compiègne, to raise troops, when the news reached Paris of the capture of Saint Quentin. A great panic ensued. Many fled from the city in fear, thinking the enemy were approaching.

Catherine de’ Medici went to the parliament in full state, accompanied by the cardinals, princes, and princesses, and made such a stirring appeal to the authorities, showing them the urgent necessity for an immediate levy of troops, that parliament granted her 100,000 crowns for that purpose.

From that day the position of Catherine de’ Medici was changed. King Henry returning and learning of her prudent measures, for the first time showed her some attention, and thenceforward she assumed her place in the court. The Duke of Guise was now put at the head of an army by Henry, and Calais was speedily captured, to the surprise and chagrin of Queen Mary of England and her husband Philip II. of Spain.

But Philip’s army was now required elsewhere. The inquisition gave him much work in Spain. His wife Mary had died, and Elizabeth had ascended the English throne. As she would not listen to his suit, he turned his eyes towards France, and as Henry II. also desired peace, that his “good gossip” might be liberated, the peace of Cateau-Cambrésis was concluded, and Philip II. of Spain married for his third wife Elizabeth, the daughter of Henry II. and Catherine de’ Medici, then in her thirteenth year. At the marriage tournament, the queens of France, Spain, and Scotland were seated in the royal pavilion. In another, no less gorgeous, sat Diana, still fair and fascinating, though surrounded by daughters and granddaughters.

King Henry still wore Diana’s colors in the mock combats. The king then invited Montgomery to break a lance with him; Montgomery endeavored to excuse himself, but Henry insisted. It was a fatal encounter. The two combatants coming violently together, broke their lances, and that of Montgomery pierced King Henry’s eye. He was taken wounded to his palace, but the wound was mortal. In eleven days Henry II. was dead.

The young prince ascended the throne as Francis II.; but in less than a year he died, and his brother Charles was proclaimed king as Charles IX. Over Francis II., Catherine de’ Medici did not have much power, for he was absorbed in his love for his beautiful young wife, Mary, Queen of Scots. But with the ascension of Charles, then ten years old, Catherine de’ Medici as regent held in her hands the reins of government, and soon unmasked her true character.

At the close of the sixteenth century all Europe was agitated by the controversy between the Catholics and Protestants. The writings of Luther and Calvin and other reformers had aroused the Christian world. Scotland and England had established the reformed faith, and in France the Protestant Huguenots had become quite numerous. Their leaders were the Prince of Condé, Admiral Coligni, and the House of Navarre. They were opposed by the crown and many of the French nobles, the foremost being the powerful House of Guise.

At this time Jeanne d’Albret comes prominently to the front. This Jeanne d’Albret, now queen of Navarre, married to a husband pitiably weak and vacillating, utterly incapable of comprehending her nobility of soul, was forced to take into her own hands the reins of government. Surrounded by enemies on every side, she made no mistakes in political measures, sustained her ancestral rights, battled for the cause of Protestantism, and was at this time its most powerful protector. Catherine de’ Medici worshipped no deity but ambition. Jeanne d’Albret was ready to sacrifice her throne and her life in the support of the glorious cause of the Reformation.

Catherine espoused the cause of the Catholics because she deemed them the stronger party, but she treacherously endeavored to win to her side the young Prince Henry, the son of Jeanne d’Albret, who had been taken to Catherine’s court by his father, who was a Catholic. After the death of her husband, Antoine de Bourbon, Jeanne succeeded in bringing her son back to Navarre, where his mother watched his character carefully, endeavoring to uproot the evil tendencies which had been planted by the corruption at the court of Catherine de’ Medici.

The first of the religious wars during the reign of Charles IX. began in 1562. During this campaign the Duke of Guise, who was the chief leader in the Catholic party, was waylaid and killed by a young Protestant noble, who had been persecuted, and therefore believed he was justified in assassinating the leader of the Catholics, who was considered the most formidable foe of the reformed religion.

“France was the arena of woe upon which the Catholics and Protestants of Europe hurled themselves against each other. Catherine, breathing vengeance, headed the Catholic army. Jeanne, calm yet inflexible, was recognized as the head of the Protestant leaders.”

There were frequent skirmishes and battles. Many thousand Protestants had perished. The Catholics now waxing stronger, prepared for a decisive engagement. The two forces met upon the field of Jarnac, in 1568. In this dreadful contest the Protestants were defeated, and their brave leader, Prince of Condé, was slain.

But at this critical moment, the heroic courage of Jeanne d’Albret was undaunted. Presenting herself before the terror-stricken Huguenots, she personally encouraged the panic-stricken soldiers. This masterly address of a woman to the soldiers of the Reformation has something truly Napoleonic in its clear ringing cadences, and something vastly grander than Napoleon’s aim, for it was inspired by a desire to uphold and advance God’s kingdom, rather than an ambitious thirst for increased power. Whatever we may think of upholding any cause by the use of the sword, we must admire these soul-stirring words of this great and dauntless woman.

“Soldiers, you weep! But does the memory of Condé demand nothing more than tears? Will you be satisfied with profitless regrets? No! Let us unite and summon back our courage to defend a cause which can never perish. Does despair overpower you? Despair! that shameful failing of weak natures! Can it be known to you, noble warriors and Christian men? When I, the queen, hope still, is it for you to fear? Because Condé is dead, is all therefore lost? Does our cause cease to be just and holy? No! God, who placed arms in his hand for our defence, and who has already rescued you from perils innumerable, has raised us up brothers in arms worthy to succeed him, and to fight for the cause of our country and the truth!.. To these brave warriors I add my son; make proof of his valor. Soldiers, I offer you everything in my power to bestow, – my dominions, my treasures, my life, and that which is dearer to me than all – my children! I make here solemn oath before you all, and you know me too well to doubt my word; I swear to defend to my last sigh the holy cause which now unites us, which is that of honor and of truth.”