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The book of the ladies

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2017
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Such as I have shown her as a whole, endeavouring not to force her features and to avoid all exaggeration, she deserves that name of gentil esprit [charming spirit] which has been so universally awarded to her; she was the worthy sister of François I., the worthy patron of the Renaissance, the worthy grandmother of Henri IV., as much for her mercy as for her joyousness, and one likes to address her, in the halo that surrounds her, these verses which her memory calls forth and which blend themselves so well with our thought of her: —

“Spirits, charming and lightsome, who have been, from all time, the grace and the honour of this land of France – ye who were born and played in those iron ages issuing from barbaric horrors; who, passing through cloisters, were welcomed there; the joyous soul of burgher vigils and the gracious fêtes of castles; ye who have blossomed often beside the throne, dispersing the weariness of pomps, giving to victory politeness, and recovering your smiles on the morrow of reverses; ye who have taken many forms, tricksome, mocking, elegant, or tender, facile ever; ye who have never failed to be born again at the moment you were said to have vanished – the ages for us have grown stern, reason is more and more accredited, leisure has fled; even our pleasures eagerness has turned into business, peace is without repose, so busy is she with the useful; to days serene come afterthoughts and cares to many a soul; – ’tis now the hour, or nevermore, for awakening; the hour to once more grasp the world and again delight it, as, throughout all time, ye have known the way, eternally fresh and novel. Abandon not forever this land of France, O spirits glad and lightsome!”

    Saint-Beuve, Causeries du Lundi (1852).

DISCOURSE VII.

OF VARIOUS ILLUSTRIOUS LADIES.[22 - See Appendix.]

1. Isabelle d’Autriche, wife of Charles IX., King of France [daughter of the Emperor Maximilian II.]

We have had our Queen of France, Isabelle d’Autriche, who was married to King Charles IX., of whom it is everywhere said she was one of the best, the gentlest, the wisest, and most virtuous queens who reigned since kings and queens began to reign. I can say this, and every man who has ever seen or heard of her will say it with me, and not do wrong to others, but with the greatest truth. She was very beautiful, having the complexion of her face as fine and delicate as any lady of her Court, and very agreeable. Her figure was beautiful also, though it was of only medium height. She was extremely wise, and very virtuous and kind, never giving pain to others, no matter who, nor offending any by a single word; and as to that, she was very sober, speaking little, and then in Spanish.

She was most devout, but in no way bigoted, not showing her devotion by external acts too visible and too extreme, such as I have seen in some of our paternosterers; but, without failing in her ordinary hours of praying to God, she used them well, so that she did not need to borrow extraordinary ones. It is true, as I have heard her ladies tell, that when she was in bed and hidden, her curtains well-drawn, she would kneel on her knees, in her shift, and pray to God an hour and a half, beating her breast and macerating it in her great devotion. Which they did not see by her consent, and then not till her husband, King Charles, was dead; at which time, she having gone to bed and all her women withdrawn, one of them remained to sleep in her chamber; and this lady, hearing her sigh one night, bethought her of looking through the curtains and saw her in that state, and praying to God in that manner, and so continuing every night; until at last the waiting-woman, who was familiar with her, began to remonstrate, and told her she did harm to her health. On which the queen was angry at being discovered and advised, and wished to conceal what she did, commanding her to say no word of it, and, for that night, desisted; but the night after she made up for it, thinking that her women did not perceive what she did, whereas they saw and perceived her by her shadow thrown by the night-lamp filled with wax which she kept lighted on her bed to read and pray to God; though other queens and princesses kept theirs upon their sideboards. Such ways of prayer are not like those of hypocrites, who, wishing to make an appearance before the world, say their prayers and devotions publicly, mumbling them aloud, that others may think them devout and saintly.

Thus prayed our queen for the soul of the king, her husband, whom she regretted deeply, – making her plaints and regrets, not as a crazed and despairing woman, with loud outcries, wounding her face, tearing her hair, and playing the woman who is praised for weeping; but mourning gently, shedding her beautiful and precious tears so tenderly, sighing so softly and lowly, that we knew she restrained her grief, not to make pretence to the world of brave appearance (as I have seen some ladies do), but keeping in her soul her greatest anguish. Thus a torrent of water if arrested is more violent than one that runs its ordinary course.

Here I am reminded to tell how, during the illness of the king, her lord and husband, he dying on his bed, and she going to visit him; suddenly she sat down beside him, not by his pillow as the custom is, but a little apart and facing him where he lay; not speaking to him, as her habit was, she held her eyes upon him so fixedly as she sat there you would have said she brooded over him in her heart with the love she bore him; and then she was seen to shed tears so quietly and tenderly that those who did not look at her would not have known it, drying her eyes while making semblance to blow her nose, causing pity to one (for I saw her) in seeing her so tortured without yielding to her grief or her love, and without the king perceiving it. Then she rose, and went to pray God for his cure; for she loved and honoured him extremely, although she knew his amorous complexion, and the mistresses that he had both for honour and for pleasure. But she never for that gave him worse welcome, nor said to him any harsh words; bearing patiently her little jealousy, and the robbery he did to her. She was very proper and dignified with him; indeed it was fire and water meeting together, for as much as the king was quick, eager, fiery, she was cold and very temperate.

I have been told by those who know that after her widowhood, among her most privileged ladies who tried to give her consolation, there was one (for you know among a large number there is always a clumsy one) who, thinking to gratify her said: “Ah, madame, if God instead of a daughter had given you a son, you would now be queen-mother of the king, and your grandeur would be increased and strengthened.” “Alas!” she replied, “do not say to me such grievous things. As if France had not troubles enough without my producing her one which would complete her ruin! For, had I a son, there would be more divisions, troubles, seditions to gain the government during his minority; from that would come more wars than ever; and each would be trying to get his profit in despoiling the poor child, as they would have done to the late king, my husband, when he was little, if the queen-mother and her good servitors had not opposed it. If I had a son, I should be miserable to think I had conceived him and so caused a thousand maledictions from the people, whose voice is that of God. That is why I praise my God, and take with gratitude the fruit he gives me, whether it be to me myself for better or for worse.”

Such was the goodness of this good princess towards the country and people to which she had been brought by marriage. I have heard related how, at the massacre of Saint-Bartholomew, she, knowing nothing of it nor even hearing the slightest breath of it, went to bed as usual, and did not wake till morning, at which time they told her of the fine drama that was playing [le beau mystère qui se jouoit]. “Alas!” she said quickly, “the king, my husband, does he know of it?” “Yes, madame,” they answered her; “it was he himself who ordered it.” “0 my God!” she cried, “what is this? What counsellors are those who gave him such advice? My God! I implore thee, I beg thee to pardon him; for if thou dost not pity him, I fear that this offence is unforgivable.” Then she asked for her prayer-book and began her orisons, imploring God with tears in her eyes.

Consider, I beg of you, the goodness and wisdom of this queen in not approving such a festival nor the deed then performed, although she had reasons to desire the total extermination of M. l’amiral and those of his religion, not only because they were contrary to hers, which she adored and honoured before all else in the world, but because she saw how they troubled the States of the king, her husband; and also because the emperor, her father, had said to her when she parted from him to come to France: “My daughter, you will be queen of the finest, most powerful and greatest kingdom in the world, and for that I hold you to be very happy; but happier would you be if you could find that kingdom as flourishing as it once was; but instead you will find it torn, divided, weakened; for though the king, your husband, holds a good part of it, the princes and seigneurs of the Religion hold on their side the other part of it.” And as he said to her, so she found it.

This queen having become a widow, many persons, men and women of the Court, the most clear-sighted that I know, were of opinion that the king, on his return from Poland, would marry her although she was his sister-in-law; for he could have done so by dispensation of the pope, who can do much in such matters, and above all for great personages because of the public good that comes of it. There were many reasons why this marriage should be made; I leave them to be deduced by high discoursers, without alleging them myself. But among others was that of recognizing by this marriage the great obligations the king had received from the emperor on his return from Poland and departure thence; for it cannot be doubted that if the emperor had placed the smallest obstacle in his way, he could never have left Poland or reached France safely. The Poles would have kept him had he not departed without bidding them farewell; and the Germans lay in wait for him on all sides to catch him (as they did that brave King Richard of England of whom we read in the chronicles); they would surely have taken him prisoner and held him for ransom, and perhaps worse; for they were bitter against him for the Saint-Bartholomew; or, at least, the Protestant princes were. But, voluntarily and without ceremony, he threw himself in good faith upon the emperor, who received him very graciously and amiably, and with much honour and privilege as though they were brothers, and feasted him nobly; then, after having kept him several days, he conducted him himself for a day or two, giving him safe passage through his territory; so that King Henri, by his favour, reached Carinthia, the land of the Venetians, Venice, and then his own kingdom.

This was the obligation the king was under to the emperor; so that many persons, as I have said, were of opinion that King Henri III. would meet it by drawing closer their alliance. But at the time he went to Poland he saw at Blamont, in Lorraine, Mademoiselle de Vaudemont, Louise de Lorraine, one of the handsomest, best, and most accomplished princesses in Christendom, on whom he cast his eyes so ardently that he was soon in love, and in such a manner that (nursing his flame during the whole of his absence) on his return to France he despatched from Lyon M. du Gua, one of his prime favourites, to Lorraine, where he arranged and concluded the marriage between him and her very easily, and without altercation, as I leave you to think; because by the father and the daughter no such luck was expected, the one to be father-in-law of a king of France, and the daughter to be queen. Of her I shall speak elsewhere.

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 - The tomb of Marguerite and Philibert is still to be seen in the beautiful church, and the above motto, which is carved upon it, has been the theme of much antiquarian discussion. – Tr.]

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.

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 - The picture of the Ball at Court, under Henri III., attributed to François Clouet (see chapter ii. of this volume), was given in celebration of her marriage. She advances, with her sweet and modest face (evidently a portrait) in the centre of the picture. Henri III. is seated under a red dais; next him is Catherine de’ Medici, his mother, and next to her is Louise de Lorraine, his wife; leaning on the king’s chair is Henri Duc de Guise, le Balafré, murdered by Henri III. at Blois in 1588. – Tr.]

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.
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