Henri II: His Court and Times (54 page)

Catherine was almost as fond of the chase as her husband.
"She was a very good and fearless horsewoman," says Brantôme, "sitting with ease, and being the first to put her
leg around a pommel, which was far more graceful and
becoming than sitting with the feet upon a plank. Until she
was over sixty she loved riding, and after her weakness prevented her, she pined for it. It was one of her greatest
pleasures to ride far and fast, though she fell many times and
injured herself, on one occasion breaking her leg and injuring
her head, which had to be trepanned." She was also, he tells
us, very fond of shooting with a cross-bow, and always carried
it with her when she went riding, to bring down any game
she saw.

Mary Stuart was also a bold horsewoman, but after she had
sustained a severe fall, through being caught by the bough of
a tree while hunting near Blois, she appears to have renounced
the chase.

Diane de Poitiers, one would suppose, from her fondness
for identifying herself with her Olympian namesake, would
have been invariably in the first flight. But, though she rode
every morning for the benefit which her complexion derived
from the exercise, she hesitated to risk her carefully preserved
charms amidst the brambles and overhanging branches of the
forests.

The King's devotion to the chase extended to horses, and
he did more for the improvement of the race in France than
any of his predecessors. The stables at the Château des
Tournelles and at Oyron, the residence of the Grand Equerry
de Boisy, contained some magnificent animals, and he had
large stud farms at Meung-sur-Loir and Saint-Léger, near
Beauvais. The King's example was followed by François de
Guise, who also had a stud farm at Saint-Léger as well as at Éclaron and Joinville, and by several other nobles; but,
despite their efforts, horse-breeding did not flourish in France,
and all through the sixteenth century there was a great scarcity
of horses, and almost every country in Europe had to be
drawn upon to supply the deficiency. Spanish horses were
the most esteemed, and next to them Italian, and both
commanded very high prices; but many animals were
also imported from the Barbary States, England, and
Ireland.

However, we have been tempted into a digression, and must
return to the Court.

On the days on which there was no hunting-party, the
Queen held a
"cercle"
in her own apartments, "in order that
she might become acquainted with the courtiers," which Henri
always made a point of attending. These assemblies, which
mark an important stage in the progress of French society
from the barbarism of the Middle Ages to that exquisite
culture and refinement which were to make it the admiration
of the whole civilised world, must have been most interesting
functions, since they were attended by practically the whole
Court.

Let us endeavour to picture to ourselves the scene:

Here is Catherine, a tall and stately figure, very richly
dressed, and in the most perfect taste; not exactly handsome
— "except when her face is veiled," says Capello — for her
mouth is too large and her eyes too prominent and colourless
for beauty, but a very distinguished-looking woman, with a
shapely figure, a beautiful skin, and exquisitely shaped hands;
while her manners are charming, and she has a pleasant smile
or a few well-chosen words for each of her guests.

Near her is Diane de Poitiers in her black and white gown;
already on the threshold of old age, though the passing of the
years has left few traces on that serene countenance, and it
is indeed difficult to believe that she is old enough to be the
mother of the grey-haired King, who seems to hang upon
her every word.

Behind them, plucking impatiently at his white beard,
for he is anxious to have a word with his master on some
matter of importance which has occurred since the rising of
the Council, is the old Constable. He is much more at home
in the camp than in a queen's apartments, and looks upon
attendance at her Majesty's
"cercle"
as a sinful waste of time,
which might be much better employed in writing his
despatches. But he comes, nevertheless, since his absence
would be remarked, and he wishes to stand well with Catherine.
He will have to wait longer for his word with the King than he
thinks, however, for as Henri, with a deep reverence, turns
away from his mistress, Mesdames Élisabeth and Claude
pounce upon their old friend and carry him off into a distant
corner, to coax him into persuading their father to buy them
something on which they have set their hearts.

Not far off are two men in earnest talk. One, a tall, soldierly
figure with a terrible scar on his right cheek, is François de
Guise, become, since his brilliant defence of Metz, the idol of
the fickle Paris mob. The other, who wears the red robe of
a prince of the Church, is a man of commanding presence,
with a lofty forehead, keen grey eyes, and a complexion
delicate as a woman's. He is the duke's brother, the Cardinal
de Lorraine — learned, eloquent, and witty, cruel, cunning, and
avaricious; "a fanatic by profession and an unbeliever at
heart;" as ready with a quotation from Horace as with one
from Holy Writ, and with a piquant story as with sage counsel;
the ablest man in France and the most unscrupulous.

From time to time the glances of the two brothers stray
towards the deep embrasure of one of the beautiful Renais sance windows, where a lad and a young girl are whispering
together. A strange contrast do they present: the girl
perfect in face and form, with a shapely little head crowned
by a mass of fair hair, expressive blue eyes veiled by long
lashes, a dazzling complexion, a pretty, sensitive mouth, and
a winning smile; the lad, a puny creature, pallid and heavy-
eyed, the mark of a premature death already stamped upon
his brow. The Guises exchange meaning smiles, for it is to
the coming marriage of their beautiful niece to the sickly heir
to the Crown of France that they look to extend and consolidate
their influence.

And here are the three Colignys: Odet, Cardinal de
Châtillon; Gaspard, who has succeeded Annebaut in the post
of Admiral of France, though, unlike his predecessor, he will
never fight upon the sea; and François, Seigneur d'Andelot,
to whom Gaspard has been permitted to transfer the colonel-generalship of
infantry. François will not hold that post long, however, for, unlike the
cardinal and the Admiral, he will not wait for the death of Henri II to proclaim
his adhesion to the Reformed faith, and his disgrace will speedily
follow. The brothers look grave, for, now that peace has
come, they fear a fresh outburst of persecution against "those
of the Religion"; but a little fair man with very bright eyes
and a good-humoured expression joins them, and soon they
are all three laughing merrily. The newcomer is Louis
de Bourbon, Prince de Condé, also a Huguenot in secret,
and ere three years are past to become the titular leader of
the militant French Protestants, though the easy morals of

are scarcely consistent with the austere religion which he has
embraced and for which he will give his life. Probably,
however, hostility to the Guises has had at least as much to
do with his change of faith as sincere conviction.

There are many other men and women scattered about the
spacious rooms who have helped, or will help, to make
history: the subtle Italian Albert de Gondi, Comte, and
afterwards Duc, de Retz, who is to become the evil genius
of Charles IX; bluff Tavannes, almost the only man at the Court who declines to
bow the knee to Diane, and who, like Retz, will share with Catherine the guilt
of the St. Bartholomew; Brissac, fresh from his gallant defence of Piedmont; Montmorency-Damville, the Constable's second son,
a brave soldier, the finest horseman in all France, and a
dandy of the first elegance, whom all the young nobles of the
Court take as their model, "imitating everything he does,
even to the smallest peculiarity which they perceive in his
dress ";
²⁴
his three younger brothers, Méru, Montbéron, and
Thoré, all three men of some note in time to come; Joachim
du Bellay, whose reputation as a Court poet is second only
to Ronsard's, and whose cats dispute with his mistress the
possession of his heart; Nemours, the lady-killer; Madame
Marguerite, the King's sister, whose erudition has won for her
the title of the Minerva of France, and who, at the mature age
of thirty-five, will marry Emmanuel Philibert of Savoy; the
lawful and unlawful owners of Condé's affections, the pious
Éléonore de Roye and the beautiful Isabelle de Limeuil;
François de Guise's lovely Italian wife, Anne d'Este, and
"a troop of human goddesses, one more beautiful than
another,"
²⁵
who will provide the chroniclers of their time with
material for many a piquant page.

Although there was nothing ceremonious about these
gatherings, no amusements appear to have been provided for
the courtiers, not even music. The time passed in talk —
and flirtation — "every lord and gentleman entertaining her
whom he loved best."
²⁶
At three o'clock, the company dispersed, and "the King went to enjoy divers exercises, the
ladies generally following him and sharing his pleasure."
²⁷
Sometimes he played pall-mall — a game in which the Queen
and her ladies could join him; sometimes he tilted at the
ring; but most frequently, "dressed all in white, with white
shoes on his feet and a straw hat on his head, he played
tennis with Monseigneur de Guise and other gentlemen."
²⁸
"When one sees him playing thus," continues the writer," one would not believe that he is the King, since he is not
treated with any ceremony or deference, save that when he
passes under the net they raise it for him, and that when he
requires a ball they pass it to him on a racquet. Otherwise,
no one would know that it is the King who is playing. They
even discuss his faults, and I have observed on several occasions that a disputed point has been given against him. Any
one who wishes may come and watch him. While playing
to-day, I know not how, a ball which M. de Guise had missed
struck this nobleman in the face and split his lip. M. de
Guise retired at once to his apartments, and his Majesty
ceased playing. The injury was not a serious one."
²⁹

The programme of the evening resembled that of the
morning. Supper, the hour of which varied according to the
season of the year, was served with the same ceremony as
dinner. Afterwards, the Queen held another
"cercle,"
but
sometimes there was a ball, at which the
pavane
, the
allemande
,
the
branle des torches
,
³⁰
and other stately dances of the time were performed.

Until 1557 it was the King's custom to spend the time after
supper with Diane, but during the last two years of his life
he generally passed an hour in his wife's apartments. At ten
o'clock he retired, his
coucher
being attended by the same
courtiers and marked by the same etiquette as his
lever
, with
the addition that the Grand Chamberlain solemnly inspected
the bed to satisfy himself that it had been properly made.
The final ceremony was the arrival of an usher bearing the
keys of the Château, which he placed under his Majesty's
pillow. Then the courtiers withdrew and left the King to his
well-earned repose.

The Court of Henri II was certainly no more moral than
that of his father, but it was infinitely more decorous. No
longer might young gentlemen be overheard telling risky
stories to a circle of giggling maids-of-honour; no longer
might pages and grooms be seen dicing and quarreling on
the steps of the palace; no longer did the salary of "the
gouvernante
of the
filles publiques
who follow the Court" figure
in the accounts of the Royal Treasury. It was the King who
gave the tone. Apart from his liaison with a woman twenty
years his senior — a liaison consecrated by artists and painters
— a liaison which professedly was merely the chivalrous devotion of a knight for his
inspiratrice
— no French monarch has
been more correct than Henri II, or has more rigorously
observed in his ordinary life the dignity which his exalted
rank imposed; none has known better how to preserve appearances. What Brantôme tells us of his solicitude for
feminine reputations and the care which he took to conceal
his own
amourettes
is confirmed by Contarini. "As for
carnal pleasures," writes that observant diplomatist, "if we
compare him to the King his father, or to some defunct kings,
one might call him very chaste; and, further, he conducts his
love-affairs in such fashion that no one is able to talk about
them, which was not the case with King François." And he
adds: "The Court, which was then one of the most licentious,
is now rather regular."

Henri II, indeed, exacted from his entourage the discretion
which he imposed on himself, and, if, from policy or affection
for the Constable, he had not defended the strict rights of
morality in the affair of Mlle. de Piennes, he showed himself
in other cases very severe towards those who compromised
the apparent regularity of his Court.

In his endeavours to enforce decorum, Henri II was ably
seconded by the Queen, who was even more severe than her
husband. In later years, as we know, Catherine's austerity
yielded to political calculations, and she is believed to have
made a pretty extensive use of the charms of her
"escadron
volant"
against Condé, Henri of Navarre, and other Protestant
chiefs. But there was nothing of that kind during the
lifetime of Henri II; she guarded the reputation of her ladies
as jealously as she did her own, and woe betide the rash
gallant who failed in respect towards them. When a facetious
gentleman named Gersay was accused of perpetrating a
practical joke worthy of Panurge at the expense of one of
the Queen's maids-of-honour, notwithstanding that he stoutly
denied the charge, and that it was impossible to bring it home
to him, her Majesty's wrath was so great that he found it
advisable to absent himself from Court for some considerable
time. When another gentleman, while bandying repartees
with Mlle. de Meray, the most stalwart lady of the Court, so
far forgot his good manners as to compare her to
"une grande
courcière bardable,"
he likewise was compelled to withdraw,
and, even after his return, was excluded from the Queen's
"cercle"
for some weeks.