The Life of Marie de Medicis, Queen of France, Consort of Henri IV, and Regent of the Kingdom under Louis XIII — Volume 1 · Chapter 41572 (2)
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The temporary calm was not, however, fated to endure. Marguerite, even while she indulged in the most unblushing licentiousness, was, as we have already stated, devoted to the observances of her religion; and on her first arrival at Pau she had requested that a chapel might be provided in which the services of her church could be performed. This was a concession which Henry of Navarre was neither willing nor indeed able to make, the inhabitants of the city being all rigid reformers who had not yet forgiven the young monarch either his enforced renunciation of their faith or his Catholic marriage; and accordingly the Queen had been compelled to avail herself of a small oratory in the castle which would not contain more than six or eight persons; while so anxious was the King not to exasperate the good citizens, that no individual was permitted to accompany her to the chapel save the immediate members of her household, and the drawbridge was always raised until she had returned to her own apartments.
Thus, the arrival of Marguerite in the country, which had raised the hopes of the Catholic portion of the population, by no means tended to improve their position; and for a time her co-religionists, disheartened by so signal a disappointment, made no effort to resist the orders of the King; but on the day of Pentecost, 1579, a few zealous devotees, who had by some means introduced themselves secretly into the castle, followed the Queen to her oratory, where they were arrested by Dupin the royal secretary, very roughly treated in the presence of Marguerite herself, and only released on the payment of a heavy fine.
Indignant at the disrespect which had been shown to her, the Princess at once proceeded to the apartment of her husband, where she complained with emphatic bitterness of the insolence of his favourite; and she had scarcely begun to acquaint him with the details of the affair when Dupin entered unannounced, and in the most intemperate manner commented on her breach of good faith in having wilfully abused the forbearance of the sovereign and his Protestant subjects.
It was not without some difficulty that Henry succeeded in arresting this indecent flow of words, when, rebuking Dupin for his want of discretion and self-control, he commanded him immediately to crave the pardon of the Queen for his ill-advised interference and the want of deference of which he had been guilty towards her royal person; but Marguerite refused to listen to any apology, and haughtily and resolutely demanded the instant dismissal of the delinquent. In vain did Henry expostulate, declaring that he could not dispense with the services of so old and devoted a servant; the Princess was inexorable, and the over-zealous secretary received orders to leave the Court. Marguerite, however, purchased this triumph dearly, as the King resented with a bitterness unusual to him the exhibition of authority in which she had indulged; and when she subsequently urged him to punish those who had acted under the orders of the exiled secretary, he boldly and positively refused to give her any further satisfaction, alleging that her want of consideration towards himself left him at equal liberty to disregard her own wishes.
Angry and irritated, Marguerite lost no time in acquainting her family with the affront which she had experienced; and Catherine de Medicis, who believed that she had now found a pretext sufficiently plausible to separate the young Queen from her husband, skilfully envenomed the already rankling wound, not only by awakening the religious scruples of her daughter, but also by reminding her that she had been subjected to insult from a petty follower of a petty court; and, finally, she urged her to assert her dignity by an immediate return to France.
Marguerite, whom the King had not made a single effort to conciliate, obeyed without reluctance; and, in the year 1582, she left Navarre, and on her arrival in Paris took possession of her old apartments in the Louvre. She was received with great cordiality by Henri III, who trusted that her residence in France might induce her husband ere long to follow her; but he soon discovered that not even the warmth of his welcome could cause her to forget the past; and that, under his own royal roof, she was secretly intriguing with the Duc d'Alençon, who was once more in open revolt against him.
For a time, although thoroughly informed that such was the fact, his emissaries were unable to produce any tangible proof of the validity of their accusations; but at length, rendered bold by impunity, Marguerite was so imprudent (for the purpose of forwarding some despatches to the rebel Duke) as to cause the arrest of a royal courier, charged with an autograph letter of two entire sheets from the King to his favourite the Duc de Joyeuse,[16] who was then on a mission at Rome; when the unfortunate messenger, who found himself suddenly attacked by four men in masks, made so desperate an effort to save the packet with which he had been entrusted, that the sbirri of the Princess, who had anticipated an easy triumph, became so much exasperated that they stabbed him on the spot.
This occurrence no sooner reached the ears of Henri III, than he sent to desire the presence of his sister, when, utterly regardless of the fact that they were not alone, he so far forgot his own dignity as to overwhelm her with the coarsest and most cutting reproaches; and not satisfied with expatiating upon the treachery of which she had been guilty towards himself, he passed in review the whole of her ill-spent life, accusing her, among other enormities, of the birth of an illegitimate son,[17] and terminated his invectives by commanding her instantly "to quit Paris, and rid the Court of her presence." [18]
On the morrow Marguerite accordingly left the capital with even less state than she had entered it, for she had neither suite nor equipage, and was accompanied only by Madame de Duras and Mademoiselle de Béthune, her two favourite attendants. She was not, however, suffered to depart even thus without impediment, for she had only travelled a few leagues when, between Saint-Cler and Palaiseau, her litter was stopped by a captain of the royal guard, at the head of a troop of harquebusiers: she was compelled to remove her mask; and her companions, after having been subjected to great discourtesy, were finally conveyed as prisoners to the Abbey of Ferrières, near Montargis, where they underwent an examination, at which the King himself presided,[19] and wherein facts were elicited that were fatal to the character of their mistress. Their replies were then reduced to writing; and Marguerite, who had been detained for this express purpose, was compelled by her inexorable brother to affix her signature to the disgraceful document; when, after she had been subjected to this new indignity, the daughter of Catherine de Medicis was at length permitted to pursue her journey; but she was compelled to do so alone, as her two attendants were forbidden to bear her company.
She had no sooner left Ferrières than Henri III despatched one of the valets of his wardrobe to St. Foix, where the King of Navarre was for the moment sojourning, with an autograph letter, in which he informed him that he had considered it expedient to dismiss from the service of his royal sister both Madame de Duras and Mademoiselle de Béthune, having discovered that they were leading the most dissolute and scandalous lives, and were "pernicious vermin" who could not be permitted to remain about the person of a Princess of her rank.
Thus ignominiously driven from the Court of France, Marguerite, who had no resource save in the indulgence of her husband, travelled with the greatest speed to Nérac, where he was then residing, in the hope that she might be enabled by her representations to induce him to espouse her cause against her brother; but although, in order to preserve appearances, Henry received her courteously, and even listened with exemplary patience to her impassioned relation of the indignities to which she had been subjected, the coldness of his deportment, and the stern tone in which he informed her that he would give the necessary orders for a separate residence to be prepared for her accommodation, as he could never again receive her under his own roof, or accord to her the honour and consideration due to a wife, convinced her that she had nothing more to hope from his forbearance.
Even while he thus resented his own wrongs, however, Henry of Navarre no sooner comprehended that Marguerite had been personally exposed to insults which had affected his honour as her consort, than he despatched a messenger to the French King at Lyons, "to entreat him to explain the cause of these affronts, and to advise him, as a good master, how he had better act." [20] But this somewhat servile proceeding produced no adequate result, as his envoy received only ambiguous answers, and all he could accomplish was to extort a promise from Henri III that on his return to Paris he would discuss the affair with the Queen-mother and the Duc d'Alençon.
Unaware of the negotiation which was thus opened, Marguerite had, as we have said, lost all confidence in her own influence over her husband; and accordingly, without giving any intimation of her design, she left Nérac and retired to Agen, one of her dower-cities, where she established herself in the castle; but her unbridled depravity of conduct, combined with the extortions of Madame de Duras, her friend and confidante, by whom she had been rejoined, soon rendered her odious to the inhabitants.
In vain did she declare that the bull of excommunication which Sixtus V had recently fulminated against the King of Navarre had been the cause of her retiring from his Court, her conscience not permitting her to share the roof of a prince under the ban of the Church.[21] The Agenese, although Catholics and leagued against her husband, evinced towards herself a disaffection so threatening that her position was rapidly becoming untenable, when the city was stormed and taken by the Maréchal de Matignon[22] in the name of Henri III.[23]
Convinced that the capture of her own person was the sole motive of this unprovoked assault, the fugitive Queen had once more recourse to flight; and her eagerness to escape the power of the French King was so great that she left the city seated on a pillion behind a gentleman of her suite named Lignerac, while Madame de Duras followed in like manner; and thus she travelled four-and-twenty leagues in the short space of two days, attended by such of the members of her little household as were enabled to keep pace with her.
The fortress of Carlat in the mountains of Auvergne offered to her, as she believed, a safe asylum; but although the Governor, who was the brother of M. de Lignerac, received her with respect, and promised her his protection, the enmity of Henri III pursued her even to this obscure place of exile.
At this period even the high spirit of Marguerite de Valois was nearly subdued, for she no longer knew in what direction to turn for safety. She had become contemptible in the eyes of her husband, she was deserted by her mother, hated by her brother, despised by her co-religionists from the licentiousness of her life, and detested by the Protestants as the cause, however innocently, of the fatal massacre of their friends and leaders. The memory of the martyred Coligny was ever accompanied by a curse on Marguerite; and thus she was an outcast from all creeds and all parties. Still, however, confident in the good faith of the Governor of Carlat, she assumed at least a semblance of tranquillity, and trusted that she should be enabled to remain for a time unmolested; but it was not long ere she ascertained that the inhabitants of the town, like those of Agen, were hostile to her interests, and that they had even resolved to deliver her up to the French King.
Under these circumstances, she had no alternative save to become once more a fugitive; and having, with considerable difficulty, succeeded in making her escape beyond the walls, she began to indulge a hope that she should yet baffle the devices of her enemy; she was soon, however, fated to be undeceived, for she had travelled only a few leagues when she was overtaken and captured by the Marquis de Canillac,[24] who conveyed her to the fortress of Usson.[25] As she passed the drawbridge, Marguerite recognised at a glance that there was no hope of evasion from this new and impregnable prison, save through the agency of her gaoler; and she accordingly lost no time in exerting all her blandishments to captivate his reason. Although she had now attained her thirty-fifth year, neither time, anxiety, hardship, nor even the baneful indulgence of her misguided passions, had yet robbed her of her extraordinary beauty; and it is consequently scarcely surprising that ere long the gallant soldier to whose custody she was confided, surrendered at discretion, and laid at her feet, not only his heart, but also the keys of her prison-house.
"Poor man!" enthusiastically exclaims Brantôme, her friend and correspondent; "what did he expect to do? Did he think to retain as a prisoner her who, by her eyes and her lovely countenance, could hold in her chains and bonds all the rest of the world like galley-slaves?" [26]
Certain it is, that if the brave but susceptible marquis ever contemplated such a result, he was destined to prove the fallacy of his hopes; for so totally was he subjugated by the fascinations of the captive Queen, that he even abandoned to her the command of the fortress, which thenceforward acknowledged no authority save her own.
Marguerite had scarcely resided a year at Usson when the death of the Duc d'Alençon deprived her of the last friend whom she possessed on earth; and not even the security that she derived from the impregnability of the fortress in which she had found an asylum could preserve her from great and severe suffering. The castle, with its triple ramparts, its wide moat, and its iron portcullis, might indeed defy all human enemies, but it could not exclude famine; and during her sojourn within its walls, which extended over a period of two-and-twenty years, she was compelled to pawn her jewels, and to melt down her plate, in order to provide food for the famishing garrison; while so utterly destitute did she ultimately become, that she found herself driven to appeal to the generosity of Elizabeth of Austria, the widow of her brother Charles IX, who thenceforward supplied her necessities.
In the year 1589 Henry of Navarre ascended the throne of France, having previously, for the second time, embraced the Catholic faith;[27] but for a while the liaisons which he found it so facile to form at the Court, and his continued affection for the Comtesse de Guiche,[28] together with the internal disturbances and foreign wars which had convulsed the early years of his reign, so thoroughly engrossed his attention, that he had made no attempt to separate himself from his erring and exiled wife; nor was it until 1598, when the Edict of Nantes had ensured a lasting and certain peace to the Huguenots: and that la belle Gabrielle[29] had replaced Madame de Guiche, and by making him the father of two sons, had induced him to contemplate (as he had done in a previous case with her predecessor) her elevation to the throne, that he became really anxious to liberate himself from the trammels of his ill-omened marriage.
Having ascertained that the Duc de Bouillon,[30] notwithstanding the concessions which he had made to the Protestant party, had been recently engaged, in conjunction with D'Aubigny[31] and other zealous reformers, in endeavouring to create renewed disaffection among the Huguenots, Henry resolved to visit Brittany, and personally to express to the Duke his indignation and displeasure.
On his arrival at Rennes, where M. de Bouillon was confined to his bed by a violent attack of gout, the King accordingly proceeded to his residence; where, after having expressed his regret at the state of suffering in which he found him, he ordered all the attendants to withdraw, and seating himself near the pillow of the invalid, desired him to listen without remark or interruption to all that he was about to say. He then reproached him in the most indignant terms with his continual and active efforts to disturb the peace of the kingdom, recapitulating every act, and almost every word, of his astonished and embarrassed listener, with an accuracy which left no opportunity for denial; and, finally, he advised him to be warned in time, and, if he valued his own safety, to adopt a perfectly opposite line of conduct; assuring him, in conclusion, that should he persist in his present contumacy, he should himself take measures, as his sovereign and his master, to render him incapable of working further mischief.
The bewildered Duke would have replied, but he was instantly silenced by an imperious gesture from the King, who, rising from his seat, left the chamber in silence.
The presence of Henri IV in Brittany was the signal for festivity and rejoicing, and all that was fair and noble in the province was soon collected at Rennes in honour of his arrival; but despite these demonstrations of affection and respect, his watchful and anxious minister, the Duc de Sully, remarked that he occasionally gave way to fits of absence, and even of melancholy, which were quite unusual to him, and which consequently excited the alarm of the zealous Duke. He had, moreover, several times desired M. de Sully's attendance in a manner which induced him to believe that the King had something of importance to communicate, but the interviews had successively terminated without any such result; until, on one occasion, a few days after his interview with the Duc de Bouillon, Henry once more beckoned him to his side, and turning into a large garden which was attached to his residence, he there wreathed his fingers in those of the minister, as was his constant habit, and drawing him into a retired walk, commenced the conversation by relating in detail all that had passed between himself and the ducal rebel. He then digressed to recent political measures, and expressed himself strongly upon the advantages which tranquillity at home, as well as peace abroad, must ensure to the kingdom; after which, as if by some process of mental retrogression, he became suddenly more gloomy in his discourse; and observed, as if despite himself, that although he would struggle even to the end of his existence to secure these national advantages, he nevertheless felt that as the Queen had given him no son, all his endeavours must prove fruitless; since the contention which would necessarily arise between M. de Condé and the other Princes of the blood, when the important subject of the succession gave a free and sufficient motive for their jealousy, could not fail to renew the civil anarchy which he had been so anxious to terminate. He then, after a moment's silence, referred to the desire which had been formally expressed to him by the Parliament of Paris, that he should separate himself from Marguerite de Valois, and unite himself with some other princess who might give a Dauphin to France, and thus transmit to a son of his own line the crown which he now wore.
Sully, who was no less desirous than himself to ensure the prosperity of the nation to which he had devoted all the energies of his powerful and active mind, did not hesitate to suggest the expediency of his Majesty's immediate compliance with the prayer of his subjects, and entreat him in his turn to obtain a divorce, which by leaving him free, would enable him to make a happier choice; and he even assured the anxious monarch that he had already taken steps to ascertain that the Archbishop of Urbino and the Pope himself (who was fully aware of the importance of maintaining the peace of Europe, which must necessarily be endangered by a renewal of the intestine troubles in France) would both readily facilitate by every means in their power so politic and so desirable a measure.
Henry urged for a time his disinclination to contract a second marriage, alleging that his first had proved so unfortunate in every way, that he was reluctant to rivet anew the chain which had been so rudely riven asunder; but the unflinching minister did not fail to remind him that much as he owed to himself, he still owed even more to a people who had faith in his wisdom and generosity; and the frank-hearted King suffered himself, although with evident distaste, to be ultimately convinced.
He then began to pass in review all the marriageable princesses who were eligible to share his throne, but to each in succession he attached some objection which tended to weaken her claim. After what he had already undergone, as he declared, there were few women, and still fewer women of royal blood, to whom he would willingly a second time confide his chance of happiness. "In order not to encounter once more the same disappointment and displeasure," he said at length, "I must find in the next woman whom I may marry seven qualities with which I cannot dispense. She must be handsome, prudent, gentle, intellectual, fruitful, wealthy, and of high extraction; and thus I do not know a single princess in Europe calculated to satisfy my idea of feminine perfection."
Then, after a pause during which the minister remained silent, he added, with some inconsistency: "I would readily put up with the Spanish Infanta,[32] despite both her age and her ugliness, did I espouse the Low Countries in her person; neither would I refuse the Princess Arabella of England,[33] if, as it is alleged, the crown of that country really belonged to her, or even had she been declared heiress presumptive; but we cannot reasonably anticipate either contingency. I have heard also of several German princesses whose names I have forgotten, but I have no taste for the women of that country; besides which, it is on record that a German Queen[34] nearly proved the ruin of the French nation; and thus they inspire me only with disgust."
Still Sully listened without reply, the King having commenced his confidence by assuming a position which rendered all argument worse than idle.
"They have talked to me likewise," resumed Henry more hurriedly, as disconcerted and annoyed by the expressive silence of his companion he began to walk more rapidly along the shaded path in which this conference took place; "they have talked to me of the sisters of Prince Maurice;[35] but not only are they Huguenots, a fact which could not fail to give umbrage at the Court of Rome, but I have also heard reports that would render me averse to their alliance. Then the Duke of Florence has a niece,[36] who is stated to be tolerably handsome, but she comes of one of the pettiest principalities of Christendom; and not more than sixty or eighty years ago her ancestors were merely the chief citizens of the town of which their successors are now the sovereigns; and, moreover, she is a daughter of the same race as Catherine de Medicis, who has been alike my own enemy and that of France."
Once more the King paused for breath, and glanced anxiously towards his minister, but Sully was inexorable, and continued to listen respectfully and attentively without uttering a syllable.
"So much for the foreign princesses," continued Henry with some irritation, when he found that his listener had resolved not to assist him either by word or gesture; "at least, I know of no others. And now for our own. There is my niece, Mademoiselle de Guise;[37] and she is one of those whom I should prefer, despite the naughty tales that are told of her, for I place no faith in them; but she is too much devoted to the interests of her house, and I have reason to dread the restless ambition of her brothers."
The Princesses of Mayenne,[38] of Aumale,[39] and of Longueville,[40] were next the subject of the royal comments; but they were all either too fair or too dark, too old or too plain; nor were Mesdemoiselles de Rohan,[41] de Luxembourg,[42] or de Guéménée[43] more fortunate: the first was a Calvinist, the second too young, and the third not to his taste.
Long ere the King had arrived at this point of his discourse, the keen-sighted minister had fathomed his determination to raise some obstacle in every instance; and he began to entertain a suspicion that this was not done without a powerful motive, which he immediately became anxious to comprehend. Thus, therefore, when Henry pressed him to declare his sentiments upon the subject, he answered cautiously: "I cannot, in truth, hazard an opinion, Sire; nor can I even understand the bent of your own wishes. Thus much only do I comprehend--that you consent to take another wife, but that you can discover no princess throughout Europe with whom you are willing to share the throne of France. From the manner in which you spoke of the Infanta, it nevertheless appeared as though a rich heiress would not be unacceptable; but surely you do not expect that Heaven will resuscitate in your favour a Marguerite de Flandres, a Marie de Bourgogne, or even permit Elizabeth of England to grow young again."
"I anticipate nothing of the kind," was the sharp retort; "but how know I, even were I to marry one of the princesses I have enumerated, that I should be more fortunate than I have hitherto been? If beauty and youth could have ensured to me the blessing of a Dauphin, had I not every right to anticipate a different result in my union with Madame Marguerite? I could not brook a second mortification of the like description, and therefore I am cautious. And now, as I have failed to satisfy myself upon this point, tell me, do you know of any one woman in whom are combined all the qualities which I have declared to be requisite in a Queen of France?"
"The question is one of too important a nature, Sire, to be answered upon the instant," said Sully, "and the rather that I have never hitherto turned my attention to the subject."
"And what would you say," asked Henry with ill-concealed anxiety, "were I to tell you that such an one exists in my own kingdom?"
"I should say, Sire, that you have greatly the advantage over myself; and also that the lady to whom you allude must necessarily be a widow."
"Just as you please," retorted the King; "but if you refuse to guess, I will name her."
"Do so," said Sully with increasing surprise; "for I confess that the riddle is beyond my reach."
"Rather say that you do not wish to solve it," was the cold reply; "for you cannot deny that all the qualities upon which I insist are to be found combined in the person of the Duchesse de Beaufort."
"Your mistress, Sire!"
"I do not affirm that I have any intention, in the event of my release from my present marriage, of making the Duchess my wife," pursued Henry with some embarrassment; "but I was anxious to learn what you would say, if, unable to find another woman to my taste, I should one day see fit to do so."
"Say, Sire?" echoed the minister, struggling to conceal his consternation under an affected gaiety; "I should probably be of the same opinion as the rest of your subjects."
The King had, however, made so violent an effort over himself, in order to test the amount of forbearance which he might anticipate in his favourite counsellor, and was so desirous to ascertain his real sentiments upon this important subject, that he exclaimed impatiently: "I command you to speak freely; you have acquired the right to utter unpalatable truths; do not, therefore, fear that I shall take offence whenever our conversation is purely confidential, although I should assuredly resent such a liberty in public."
The reply of the upright minister, thus authorized, was worthy alike of the monarch who had made such an appeal, and of the man to whom it was addressed. He placed before the eyes of his royal master the opprobrium with which an alliance of the nature at which he had hinted must inevitably cover his own name, and the affront it would entail upon every sovereign in Europe. He reminded him also that the legitimation of the sons of Madame de Beaufort, and the extraordinary and strictly regal ceremonies which he had recently permitted at the baptism of the younger of the two (throughout the whole of which the infant had been recognized as a prince of the blood-royal, although the King had himself refused to allow the registry of the proceedings until they were revised, and the obnoxious passages rescinded), could not fail, should she ever become Queen of France, in the event of her having other children, to plunge the nation into those very struggles for the succession from which he had just declared his anxiety to preserve it.
"And this strife, Sire," he concluded fearlessly, "would be even more formidable and more frightful than that to which you so anxiously alluded; for you will do well to remember that not only the arena in which it must take place will be your own beloved kingdom of France, while the whole of civilised Europe stands looking on, but that it will be a contest between the son of M. de Liancourt and the King's mistress--the son of Madame de Monceaux, the divorced wife of an obscure noble, and the declared favourite of the sovereign; and, finally, between these, the children of shame, and the Dauphin of France, the son of Henri IV and his Queen. I leave you, Sire, to reflect upon this startling fact before I venture further."