Part 15

The Queen of Navarre, having listened very attentively to Mme. de Dampierre, answered her rather coldly, but with a smiling face, as her manner was: “Madame de Dampierre, what you say to me may be good for you; you need favours, pleasures, and benefits, and were I you the words you say to me might be very suitable and proper to be received and put in practice; but to me, who am the daughter of a king, the sister of kings, and the wife of a king, they have no meaning; because with that high and noble rank I cannot, for my honour’s sake, be a beggar of favours and benefits from the king, my brother; and I hold him to be of too good a nature and too well acquainted with his duty to deny me anything unless I have the favour of a du Gua; if otherwise, he will do great wrong to himself, his honour, and his royalty. And even if he be so unnatural as to forget himself and what he owes to me, I prefer, for my honour’s sake and as my courage tells me, to be deprived of his good graces, because I would not seek du Gua to gain his favours, or be even suspected of gaining them by such means and intercession; and if the king, my brother, feels himself worthy to be king, and to be loved by me and by his people, I feel myself, as his sister, worthy to be queen and loved, not only by him but by all the world. And if my aunts, as you allege, degraded themselves as you say, let them do as they would if such was their humour, but their example is no law to me, nor will I imitate it, or form myself on any model if not my own.” On that she was silent, and Mme. de Dampierre retired; not that the queen was angry with her or showed her ill-will, for she loved her much.

Another time, when M. d’Épernon went to Gascoigne after the death of Monsieur (a journey made for various purposes, so they said), he saw the King of Navarre at Pamiers, and they made great cheer and caresses to each other. I speak thus because at that time M. d’Épernon was semi-king of France because of the dissolute favour he had with his master, the King of France. After having caressed and made good cheer together the King of Navarre asked him to go and see him at Nérac when he had been to Toulouse and was on his way back; which he promised to do. The King of Navarre having gone there first to make preparations to feast him well, the Queen of Navarre, who was then at Nérac, and who felt a deadly hatred to M. d’Épernon, said to the king, her husband, that she would leave the place so as not to disturb or hinder the fête, not being able to endure the sight of M. d’Épernon without some scandal or venom of anger which she might disgorge, and so give annoyance to the king, her husband. On which the king begged her, by all the pleasures that she could give him, not to stir, but to help him to receive the said Sieur d’Épernon and to put her rancour against him underfoot for love of him, her husband, and all the more because it greatly concerned both of them and their grandeur.

“Well, monsieur,” replied the queen, “since you are pleased to command it, I will remain and give him good cheer out of respect to you and the obedience that I owe to you.” After which she said to some of her ladies: “But I will answer for it that on the days that man is here I will dress in habiliments I never yet have worn, namely: dissimulation and hypocrisy; I will so mask my face with shams that the king shall see there only good and honest welcome and all gentleness; and likewise I will lay discretion on my lips, so that externally I will make him think my heart internally is kind, which otherwise I would not answer for; I do this being nowise in my own control, but wholly in his,--so lofty is he and full of frankness, unable to bear vileness or the venom of hypocrisy, or to abase himself in any way.”

Therefore, to content the king, her husband, for she honoured him much, as he did her, she disguised her feelings in such a way that, M. d’Épernon being brought to her apartment, she received him in the same manner the king had asked of her and she had promised; so that all present, the chamber being full of persons eager to see the entrance and the interview, marvelled much, while the king and M. d’Épernon were quite content. But the most clear-sighted and those who knew the nature of the queen misdoubted something hidden within; and she herself said afterwards it was a comedy in which she played a part unwillingly.

These are two tales by which to see the lofty courage of this queen, the which was such, as I have heard the queen, her mother, say (discoursing of this topic), that she resembled in this her father; and that she, the queen-mother, had no other child so like him, as much in ways, humours, lineaments, and features of the face as in courage and generosity; telling also how she had seen King Henri during King François’ lifetime unable for a kingdom to pay his court and cringe to Cardinal de Tournon or to Amiral d’Annebault, the favourites of King François, even though he might often have had peace with Emperor Charles had he been willing so to do; but his honour could not submit to such attentions. And so, like father, like daughter. Nevertheless, all that injured her much. I remember an infinite number of annoyances and indignities she received at Court, which I shall not relate, they are too odious; until at last she was sent away, with great affront and yet most innocent of what they put upon her; the proofs of which were known to many, as I know myself; also the king, her husband, was convinced of it, so that he brought King Henri to account, which was very good of him, and henceforth there resulted between the two brothers [-in-law] a certain hatred and contention.

The war of the League happened soon after; and because the Queen of Navarre feared some evil at Court, being a strong Catholic, she retired to Agen, which had been given to her with the region about it by her brothers, as an appanage and gift for life. As the Catholic religion was concerned, which it was necessary to maintain, and also to exterminate the other, she wished to fortify her side as best she could and repress the other side. But in this she was ill-served by means of Mme. de Duras, who governed her much, and made, in her name, great exactions and extortions. The people of the town were embittered, and covertly sought their freedom and a means to drive away their lady and her bailiffs. On which disturbance the Maréchal de Matignon took occasion to make enterprise against the town, as the king, having learned the state of things, commanded him with great joy to do in order to aggravate his sister, whom he did not love, to more and more displeasure. This enterprise, which failed at first, was led the second time so dexterously by the said marshal and the inhabitants, that the town was taken by force with such rapidity and alarm that the poor queen, in spite of all she could do, was forced to mount in pillion behind a gentleman, and Mme. de Duras behind another, and escape as quickly as they could, riding a dozen leagues without stopping, and the next day as much more, to find safety in the strongest fortress of France, which is Carlat. Being there, and thinking herself in safety, she was, by the manœuvres of the king, her brother (who was a very clever and very subtle king, if ever there was one), betrayed by persons of that country and the fortress, so that when she fled she became a prisoner in the hands of the Marquis de Canillac, governor of Auvergne, and was taken to the castle of Usson, a very strong fortress also, almost impregnable, which that good and sly fox Louis XI. had made such, in order to lodge his prisoners in a hundred-fold more security than at Loches, Bois de Vincennes, or Lusignan.

Here, then, was this poor princess a prisoner, and treated not as a daughter of France or the great princess that she was. But, at any rate, if her body was captive, her brave heart was not, and it never failed her, but helped her well and did not let her yield to her affliction. See what a great heart can do, led by great beauty! For he who held her prisoner became her prisoner in time, brave and valiant though he was. Poor man! what else could he expect? Did he think to hold subject and captive in his prison one whose eyes and beauteous face could subject the whole world to her bonds and chains like galley-slaves!

So here was the marquis ravished and taken by her beauty; but she, not dreaming of the delights of love, only of her honour and her liberty, played her game so shrewdly that she soon became the stronger, seized the fort, and drove away the marquis, much dumfounded at such surprise and military tactics.

There she has now been six or seven years,[16] not, however, with all the pleasures of life, being despoiled of the county of Auvergne by M. le Grand Prieur de France, whom the king induced the queen-mother to institute count and heir in her will; regretting much that she could not leave the queen, her good daughter, anything of her own, so great was the hatred that the king bore her. Alas! what mutation was this from the time when, as I saw myself, they loved each other much, and were one in body, soul, and will! Ah! how often was it fine to see them discourse together; for, whether they were grave or gay, nothing could be finer than to see and hear them, for both could say what they wished to say. Ah! how changed the times are since we saw them in that great ball-room, dancing together in such beautiful accord of dance and will! The king always led her to the dance at the great balls. If one had a noble majesty the other had none the less; the eyes of all were never surfeited or delighted enough by so agreeable a sight; for the sets were so well danced, the steps so correctly performed, the stops so finely made that we knew not which to admire most, their beautiful fashion of dancing or their majesty in pausing; representing now a gay demeanour and next a noble, crave disdain; for no one ever saw them in the dance that did not say they had seen no dance so fine with grace and majesty as this of the king-brother and the queen-sister. As for me, I am of that opinion; and yet I have seen the Queen of Spain and the Queen of Scotland dance most beautifully.

Also I have seen them dance the Italian _pazzemeno_ [the minuet, _menu pas_], now advancing with grave port and majesty, doing their steps so gravely and so well; next gliding only; and anon making most fine and dainty and grave passages, that none, princes or others, could approach, nor ladies, because of the majesty that was not lacking. Wherefore this queen took infinite pleasure in these grave dances on account of her grace and dignity and majesty, which she displayed the better in these than in others like _bransles_, and _volts_, and _courants_. The latter she did not like, although she danced them well, because they were not worthy of her majesty, though very proper for the common graces of other ladies.

I have seen her sometimes like to dance the _bransle_ by torchlight. I remember that once, being at Lyon, on the return of the king from Poland, at the marriage of Besne (one of her maids of honour) she danced the _bransle_ before many foreigners from Savoie, Piedmont, Italy, and elsewhere, who declared they had never seen anything so fine as this queen, a grave and noble lady, as indeed she is. One of them there was who went about declaring that she needed not, like other ladies, the torch she carried in her hand; for the light within her eyes, which could not be extinguished like the other, was sufficient; the which had other virtue than leading men to dance, for it inflamed all those about her, yet could not be put out like the one she had in hand, but lit the night amid the darkness and the day beneath the sun.

For this reason must we say that Fortune has been to us as great an enemy as to her, in that we see no longer that bright torch, or rather that fine sun which lighted us, now hidden among those hills and mountains of Auvergne. If only that light had placed itself in some fine port or haven near the sea, where passing mariners might be guided, safe from wreck and peril, by its beacon, her dwelling would be nobler, more profitable, more honourable for herself and us. Ah! people of Provence, you ought to beg her to dwell upon your seacoasts or within your ports; then would she make them more famous than they are, more inhabited and richer; from all sides men in galleys, ships, and vessels would flock to see this wonder of the world, as in old times to that of Rhodes, that they might see its glorious and far-shining pharos. Instead of which, begirt by barriers of mountains, she is hidden and unknown to all our eyes, except that we have still her lovely memory. Ah! beautiful and ancient town of Marseille, happy would you be if your port were honoured by the flame and beacon of her splendid eyes! For the county of Provence belongs to her, as do several other provinces in France. Cursèd be the unhappy obstinacy of this kingdom which does not seek to bring her hither with the king, her husband, to be received, honoured and welcomed as they should be. (This I wrote at the very height of the Wars of the League.)

Were she a bad, malicious, miserly, or tyrannical princess (as there have been a plenty in times past in France, and will be, possibly, again), I should say nothing in her favour; but she is good, most splendid, liberal, giving all to others, keeping little for herself, most charitable, and giving freely to the poor. The great she made ashamed with liberalities; for I have seen her make presents to all the Court on New Year’s Day such as the kings, her brothers, could not equal. On one occasion she gave Queen Louise de Lorraine a fan made of mother-of-pearl enriched with precious stones and pearls of price, so beautiful and rich that it was called a masterpiece and valued at more than fifteen thousand crowns. The other, to return the present, sent her sister those long _aiguillettes_ which Spaniards call _puntas_, enriched with certain stones and pearls, that might have cost a hundred crowns; and with these she paid for that fine New Year’s gift, which was, certainly, most dissimilar.

In short, this queen is in all things royal and liberal, honourable and magnificent, and, let it not displease the empresses of long past days, their splendours described by Suetonius, Pliny, and others, do not approach her own in any way, either in Court or city, or in her journeys through the open country; witness her gilded litters so superbly covered and painted with fine devices, her coaches and carriages the same, and her horses so fine and so richly caparisoned.

Those who have seen, as I have, these splendid appurtenances know what I say. And must she now be deprived of all this, so that for seven years she has not stirred from that stern, unpleasant castle?--in which, however, she takes patience; such virtue has she of self-command, one of the greatest, as many wise philosophers have said!

To speak once more of her kindness: it is such, so noble, so frank, that, as I believe, it has done her harm; for though she has had great grounds and great means to be revenged upon her enemies and injure them, she has often withheld her hand when, had she employed those means or caused them to be employed, and commanded others, who were ready enough, to chastise those enemies with her consent, they would have done so wisely and discreetly; but she resigned all vengeances to God.

This is what M. du Gua said to her once when she threatened him: “Madame, you are so kind and generous that I never heard it said you did harm to any one; and I do not think you will begin with me, who am your very humble servitor.” And, in fact, although he greatly injured her, she never returned him the same in vengeance. It is true that when he was killed and they came to tell her, she merely said, being ill: “I am sorry I am not well enough to celebrate his death with joy.” She had also this other kindness in her: that when others had humbled themselves and asked her pardon and favour, she forgave and pardoned, with the generosity of a lion which never does harm to those who are humble to him.

I remember that when M. le Maréchal de Biron was lieutenant of the king in Guyenne, war having broken out around him (possibly with his knowledge and intent), he went one day before Nérac, where the King and Queen of Navarre were living at that time. The marshal prepared his arquebusiers to attack, beginning with a skirmish. The King of Navarre brought out his own in person, and, in a doublet like any captain of adventurers, he held his ground so well that, having the best marksmen, nothing could prevail against him. By way of bravado the marshal let fly some cannon against the town, so that the queen, who had gone upon the ramparts to see the pastime, came near having her share in it, for a ball flew right beside her; which incensed her greatly, as much for the little respect Maréchal de Biron showed in braving her to her face, as because he had a special command from the king not to approach the war nearer than five hundred leagues to the Queen of Navarre, wherever she might be. The which command he did not observe on this occasion; for which she felt resentment and revenge against the marshal.

About a year and a half later she came to Court, where was the marshal, whom the king had recalled from Guyenne, fearing further disturbance; for the King of Navarre had threatened to make trouble if he were not recalled. The Queen of Navarre, resentful to the said marshal, took no notice of him, but disdained him, speaking everywhere very ill of him and of the insult he had offered her. At last, the marshal, dreading the hatred of the daughter and sister of his masters, and knowing the nature of the princess, determined to seek her pardon by making excuses and humbling himself; on which, generous as she was, she did not contradict him, but took him into favour and friendship and forgot the past. I knew a gentleman by acquaintance who came to Court about this time, and seeing the good cheer the queen bestowed upon the marshal was much astonished; and so, as he sometimes had the honour of being listened to by the queen, he said to her that he was much amazed at the change and at her good welcome, in which he could not have believed, in view of the affront and injury. To which she answered that as the marshal had owned his fault and made his excuses and sought her pardon humbly, she had granted it for that reason, and did not desire further talk about his bravado at Nérac. See how little vindictive this good princess is,--not imitating in this respect her grandmother, Queen Anne, towards the Maréchal de Gié, as I have heretofore related.

I might give many other examples of her kindness in her reconciliations and forgivenesses.

Rebours, one of her maids of honour, who died at Chenonceaux, displeased her on one occasion very much. She did not treat her harshly, but when she was very ill she went to see her, and as she was about to die admonished her, and then said: “This poor girl has done great harm, but she has suffered much. May God pardon her as I have pardoned her.” That was the vengeance and the harm she did her. Through her generosity she was slow to revenge, and in all things kind.

Alfonso, the great King of Naples, who was subtle in loving the beauties of women, used to say that beauty is the sign manual of kindness and gentle goodness, as the beautiful flower is that of a good fruit. As to that it cannot be doubted that if our queen had been ugly and not composed of her great beauty, she would have been very bad in view of the great causes to be so that were given her. Thus said the late Queen Isabella of Castile, that wise and virtuous and very Catholic princess: “The fruit of clemency in a queen of great beauty and lofty heart, covetous of honour, is sweeter far than any vengeance whatever, even though it be undertaken for just claims and reason.”

This queen most sacredly observes that rule, striving to conform to the commandments of her God, whom she has always loved and feared and served devotedly. Now that the world has abandoned her and made war upon her, she takes her sole resource in God, whom she serves daily, as I am told by those who have seen her in her affliction; for never does she miss a mass, taking the communion often and reading much in Holy Scripture, finding there her peace and consolation.

She is most eager to obtain the fine new books that are composed, as much on sacred subjects as on human; and when she undertakes to read a book, however large and long it be, she never stops or quits it until she sees the end, and often loses sleep and food in doing so. She herself composes, both in prose and verse. As to which no one can think otherwise than that her compositions are learned, beautiful, and pleasing, for she knows the art; and could we bring them to the light, the world would draw great pleasure and great profit from them. Often she makes very beautiful verses and stanzas, that are sung to her by choir-boys whom she keeps, and which she sings herself (for her voice is beautiful and pleasant) to a lute, playing it charmingly. And thus she spends her time and wears away her luckless days,--offending none, and living that tranquil life she chooses as the best.

She has done me the honour to write me often in her adversity, I being so presumptuous as to send for news of her. But is she not the daughter and sister of my kings, and must I not wish to know her health, and be glad and happy when I hear ‘tis good? In her first letter she writes thus:--

“By the remembrance you have of me, which is not less new than pleasant to me, I see that you have well preserved the affection you have always shown to our family and to the few now left of its sad wreck, so that I, in whatever state I be, shall ever be disposed to serve you; feeling most happy that ill fortune has not effaced my name from the remembrance of my oldest friends, of whom you are. I know that you have chosen, like myself, a tranquil life; and I count those happy who can maintain it, as God has given me the grace to do these five years, He having brought me to an ark of safety, where the storms of all these troubles cannot, I thank God, hurt me; so that if there remain to me some means to serve my friends, and you particularly, you will find me wholly so disposed with right good will.”

Those are noble words; and such was the state and resolution of our beautiful princess. That is what it is to be born of a noble house, the greatest in the world, whence she drew her courage by inheritance from many brave and valiant kings, her father, grandfather, great-grandfather, and all their ancestors. And be it, as she says, that from so great a shipwreck she alone remains, not recognized and reverenced as she should be by her people, I believe this people of France has suffered much misery for that reason, and will suffer more for this war of the League. But to-day this is not so;[17] for by the valour and wisdom and fine government of our king never was France more flourishing, or more pacific, or better ruled; which is the greatest miracle ever seen, having issued from so vast an abyss of evils and corruptions; by which it seems that God has loved our queen,--He being good and merciful.