IT has been asserted by the enemies of our sex, that it is the fear of shame which keeps many women virtuous. Had those detractors lived in an age when vice ceased to incur blame in proportion as it appeared in splendor, when riches procured guilt the distinction due to virtue, and indigence drew on virtue the contempt merited by guilt, when licentiousness of conduct was the road to grandeur, and every courtezan expected to be a peeress; they would be forced to confess that she who in such corrupt times preserved a purity of manners was virtuous upon principle, since shame was no longer to be dreaded as the attendant on vice.
To such of my fair readers as love virtue for her own sake, I present the history of the dutchess of Beaufort, mistress to Henry IV. of France. Here they will see grandeur purchased by crimes, and possessed with anxiety; schemes of ambition carried far into futurity, suddenly defeated by an immature and horrible death; and hence they may learn to rejoice in that innocence which is at once their merit and their reward. The amours of Henry the Great have been recorded by many writers, who, altho’ they indeed abound with facts, yet are they adorned and embellished with so many circumstances as have the appearance of being imaginary, that the whole seems either a tale invented to amuse than a real and interesting narrative:
To avoid being misled by those lively authors, I shall extract the history of the dutchess of Beaufort solely from the Memoirs of the Duke de Sully, prime-minister to Henry the Great, one of the wisest and most virtuous men of his age; and the reader will have the pleasure to see many passages in the words of that admirable writer.
Gabriella D’Etrees, afterwards so famous under the name of Dutchess of Beaufort, was descended from an ancient family in Picardy, to which the honourable post of grand-master of the artillery had been in a manner hereditary.
This young lady was so exquisitely beautiful, that she obtained the surname of Fair, to express the pre-eminence of her charms over all those of her sex and time. Henry IV. who was born a hero, and who at the most early age was called by fortune to the exertion of those qualities which so deservedly procured him the epithet of Great, had also the weakness of heroes, that alloy in his character otherwise so truly noble which serves to shew us that nothing is perfect here below. Glory was not more his passion than love; and if on certain occasions he was capable of sacrificing his tenderness to his fame, on others he made no scruple to hazard his fame to gratify his tenderness. At the time that Henry fell in love with mademoiselle D’ Etrees, he was at war with his own subjects. Rebellion, sanctified by the name of religion, had given rise to the League, in which all the princes and great men of France were engaged.
The design of this formidable party was to exclude him from the succession on account of his being a protestant, and Henry III. his immediate predecessor, lost his life by the hands of an assassin, for maintaining the rights of his injured kinsman. Henry, when fighting for a kingdom, found love a stronger passion than ambition. An accidental sight of mademoiselle D’ Etrees inspired him with so violent a passion for her, that he often risqued his crown, his honour, and his life, for the satisfaction of talking to her a few moments. Once in particular, when he was in a manner besieged in his camp by the duke of Parma, he disguised himself in the habit of a peasant, and passed through the enemy’s guards to make her a short visit.
It is not certain whether the fair Gabriella repaid this excessive tenderness with equal sincerity. In such attachments few women separate the lover from the king. Mademoiselle D’Etrees had not understanding enough to be capable of the refinements of a delicate passion. She was interested, vain, and ambitious: she raised her hopes to the throne, and not only practised upon the weakness of Henry for this purpose, but formed cabals and intrigues to secure the success of her designs, which would in all probability have reduced her royal lover once more to the condition of an exile: yet she had the address to persuade him that she really loved him; or rather this thought was so necessary to his happipiness, that he assisted the crafty mistress in deceiving himself.
The Duke de Sully mentions a sum of money which she lent the king in his distresses. How great those distresses were the reader may conceive by the humorous representation which Henry himself gave of them in the following billet to the duke of Sully.
I am very near my enemies, and scarcely a horse to carry me into the battle, nor a complete suit of armour to put on; my shirts are all ragged, my doublets out at elbow, my kettle is seldom on the fire, and these two last days I have been obliged to dine where I could, for my purveyors have informed me, that they have not wherewithal to furnish my table.
The king’s passion for mademoiselle D’Etrees was at first so far discountenanced by her parents, that they kept her in a severe confinement; and although Henry in his impatience to be with her would sometimes neglect to reap the fruits of a dear bought victory, and quitting the pursuit of the enemy, turn aside to the road that led to her house, yet a distant sight of her was all he could obtain. Monsieur D’Etrees, supposing his daughter would be more secure from the king’s attempts when she was married, peremptorily insisted upon her giving her hand to Nicholas D’Amerval, lord of Liancourt.
Gabriella continued obstinate in her disobedience, till the king, who had made sure of monsieur de Liancourt, sent her word to comply, as the only means of freeing herself from her present restraint.
It was certainly no proof of Henry’s understanding, though a great one of that blind passion which tyrannised over his heart, that he so securely relied upon the honour of a man who, to serve his designs, could consent to be a nominal husband, and upon the fidelity of a woman who entered into the most solemn engagement with a fixed purpose to break through it: however, an accident happened which awakened his suspicions. It is thus related by the duke de Sully.
His majesty having sent Alibour, his first physician, to visit Madame de Liancourt, who was indisposed, (this was in the beginning of his addresses to that lady.) At his return he told the king, that she was indeed a little disordered; but that he need not be uneasy, for the consequence would be very good. But will you not bleed and purge her? said the king to him. I shall be very careful of doing that,replied the old man with the same simplicity, before she has gone half her time. How! interrupted the king, astonished and disordered to the last degree; what is it you say, friend? surely you rave, and are not in your right senses
Alibour supported his assertion with good proofs, which the king thought he should destroy, by telling him upon what terms he was with the lady. I know not what you have done, or what you have not done, replied the old physician with great composure; and, for a complete proof, referred him to six or seven months from that time.
The king quitted Alibour in great rage, and went immediately to reproach the sick fair one, who, no doubt, knew well enough how to new dress all the good man had ignorantly said; for it was not perceived that any misunderstanding happened between the king and his mistress.
It is certain, however, that the event was exactly conformable to Alibour’s prediction: but it was thought that Henry, after a more strict examination, was brought to believe, that he had been mistaken in his reckoning, since, instead of disowning the child that madam de Liancourt lay in of at Coucy, during the siege of Laon, he acknowledged it openly, and had it baptized by the name of Caesar.
Gabriella found it no difficult matter to persuade the king, that she loved him alone. She affected the tender solicitude of a wife for his person and safety, when he left her to put himself at the head of his army; tears, swoonings, and passionate complaints, expressed her strong apprehensions of his danger. She continued to lend him money in his exigencies; and we find in Sully’s Memoirs an order to him from the king to repay madame de Liancourt four thousand crowns he had borrowed from her. It may easily be imagined that Henry was reduced to great streights when he consented to receive this assistance from his mistress.
Henry, while the affairs of his kingdom were still in the utmost confusion, and while several of the chiefs of the League were in arms against him, some of whom he was endeavouring to bring over to his party by negotiations, and reducing others by force, found leisure for the soft anxities of love.
He was in Picardy, where, finding himself unable to support the absence of madame de Liancourt, he wrote to his faithful friend the duke of Sully, then marquis of Rosny, to conduct that lady to him.
In this journey the fair Gabriella was in imminent danger of her life. The duke of Sully gives a particular account of it, which I shall transcribe for the sake of the observation he makes at the end of it.
At Maubuisson I met madam de Liancourt, with whom I took the road to Clermont. I rode seven or eight hundred paces before the litter in which this lady was, and which was followed at some distance by a great unwieldy coach that carried her women; before and behind this coach marched several mules loaded with baggage.
About a league from Clermont, where the road was very narrow, a steep hill on one side, and a hanging valley on the other, leaving only room enough for two carriages to go a-breast; the coachman alighting on some occasion or other, one of the mules passing near the side of the coach after it stopped, by its neighing and the sound of its bells, so terrified the horses, which unfortunately were young and skittish, that, taking the bit between their teeth, they drew the coach with such rapidity, that, meeting with two other mules, they overturned them in their course.
The women within, seeing a thousand abysses opened under their feet, apprehended their danger, and sent forth most lamentable cries.
The coachman and muleteers endeavoured in vain to stop the horses: they were already within fifty paces of the litter, when madam Liancourt, alarmed by the noise, looked out, and screamed aloud. I also turned back, and, trembling at the danger in which I saw this lady and her attendants, without being able to assist them, on account of the distance I was at, Ah, friend, said I to La Font, the women will be dashed in pieces, what will become of us? and what will the king say? While I was thus speaking, I pushed my horse forwards with all my strength; but this was useless, and I should have arrived too late.
By one of those lucky chances, and which almost amount to a miracle, when the danger was greatest, the axle-tree of the litter-wheels coming out of the nave by a violent shock which broke the pegs, the two wheels fell on each side, and the coach to the ground, and there stopped: one of the hindmost horses was thrown down by the shock, and kept in the other. The fore horses broke their traces, and passed so close to the litter, which was already at the extremity of the precipice, that it is plain if they had drawn the coach along with it, it would have been thrown over it.
]I stopped them and gave them to my domesticks to hold, after which I flew to relieve Madame de Liancourt, who was half dead with fear. I went next to the coach and assisted the women to get out of it: they were for having the coachman hanged; and I was complaisant enough to give him two or three strokes with my cane. At length their terrors being entirely dissipated, and the carriage refitted, we resumed our journey; and till we arrived at Clermont I continued to ride close to Madame de Liancourt’s litter.
The king had set out for this place to meet his mistress, and arrived there a quarter of an hour after us. I did not fail to inform him immediately of what had happened; and while I was relating this adventure, I observed him attentively, and saw him grow pale and tremble. By these emotions, which I never saw in him in the greatest dangers, it was easy to guess the violence of his passion for this lady.
In the year 1596 the king created his mistress marchioness of Monceaux: his passion for her encreased to such a degree that he suffered no one to be ignorant of it. He passed through Paris, with this lady by his side; and by the tenderness which he took pleasure to shew to her in public, he seemed to invite the adorations of his courtiers to this idol, who made her influence be universally felt.
Gabriella, under the appearance of a disinterested love for the king’s person, concealed a boundless ambition, which made her not scruple to sacrifice the honour of her royal lover to any prospect of aggrandizing herself. She contracted her son Caesar, whom she had by the king, to the opulent heiress of the house of Mercoeur.
The Duke of Mercoeur, who was then in arms against his sovereign, found himself by this alliance restored to his favour, without suffering the least diminution of his honours and estates; and Henry, anxious only to please his mistress, condescended to treat upon almost equal terms with a rebel subject, whom he had it in his power to crush at a blow.
The Duke of Sully did not fail to make very lively remonstrances to his master upon this occasion; but the whole affair was concluded before he had been made acquainted with it.
The ceremony of the contract was performed at Angers, with the same magnificence as if the little Caesar had been a son of France born in marriage. He was then but four years old, and his betrothed wife but six.
The birth of a second son drew from the king an increase of tenderness and honours. Gabriella now quitted the title of Marchioness of Monceaux for that of Dutchess of Beaufort. As she had for a long time set no bounds to her ambition, she aspired at nothing less than being declared queen of France; and Henry’s passion for her, which encreased every day, gave her hopes of accomplishing her designs.
When she was informed that the king’s agents at Rome were commissioned to solicit the dissolution of his marriage with Margaret of Valois, and that his majesty was upon the point of sending the Duke of Luxembourg to that court, with the title of ambassador, to hasten the conclusion of it, she looked upon this to be a favourable opportunity; but apprehensive that those agents and the new ambassador would not enter into her views, she resolved to get Sillery, then minister of state, and who was already deep in her interests, to be nominated for this embassy. As she well knew what was most likely to tempt him, she promised him the seals at his return from Rome, and the post of Chancellor when it became vacant.
At this price Sillery engaged with all the oaths she exacted of him to neglect nothing that might prevail upon the pope to legitimate the two children which she had by Henry, and to dissolve his marriage with Margaret.
This first step taken, few obstacles remained to hinder her advancement to the throne. She easily found reasons to make the king approve of the ambassador she had chosen. The Duke of Luxembourg was only suffered to set out, to be recalled as soon as Sillery should be in a condition to take his place.
The Dutchess assisted herself in preparing his equipages, and prevailed upon the king to give the necessary orders for Sillery’s appearance with all the pomp and magnificence by which the success of his negociation might be secured.
To prepare the French at the same time for the change which she meditated for her children, she prevailed upon the king, who had no less tenderness for them than the mother, to let the ceremony of her second son’s baptism be performed at Saint Germain, where the king then was, with the same magnificence and honours which in this ceremony are only observed to the children of France.
‘Although I could pardon this lady, says the Duke of Sully, for an intoxication in which she was kept by the servile respect the courtiers expressed for the children, and the adorations they offered to herself, yet I could not have the same indulgence for Henry, who was so far from taking any measures to undeceive her with regard to the extravagant hopes she had entertained, that he gave orders for the baptism of this child with a readiness that shewed how agreeable the request was to him.’
‘I declared my sentiments, pursues the duke, of this conduct, with great freedom; I endeavoured publickly to oppose the inferences which the courtiers would make from it in favour of these children’s pretentions to the crown. The king himself, when the ceremony was over, became sensible that his orders had been exceeded; and this I had no difficulty to believe.’
‘The child was named Alexander, as the eldest had been Caesar; and the court-flatterers, by a kind of second baptism, gave him the title of Monsieur, which in France no one is permitted to bear but the king’s only brother, or the presumptive heir to the crown.’
‘The mistress did not stop here; she began to assume all the airs of a queen: not indeed so much of her own accord, for I think she knew herself well enough not to have ventured on any such notion, but driven on to take that step by the continual solicitations of her creatures and relations.’
‘Madame de Sourdis, Cheverny, and Fresne, seconded her so well on their parts, that it became insensibly the public talk of the court, that the king was going to marry his mistress; and that it was for this purpose he was soliciting his divorce at Rome.’
‘I was shocked at a report so injurious to the glory of this prince; I went to him and made him sensible of the consequence of it. He appeared to me affected, and even piqued at it: his first care was to justify Madame de Beaufort, who, he positively assured me, had not contributed to the report; for which, all the proof he had was, that she had told him so.’
‘He threw the whole blame upon Madame de Sourdis and Fresne, to whom he shewed that he was capable of pardoning a conduct so little respectful to him, since although he was assured they were guilty, he gave them not the slightest reprimand.’
‘One circumstance added great weight to the steps I took in this affair, both in public and private. Queen Margaret, with whom the affair of the approaching dissolution of her marriage obliged me to keep a correspondence by letters, was the last who heard of what was said and done at court with regard to Madame de Beaufort’s pretensions; as soon as she was informed of them she wrote to me, and gave me to understand, that she had not changed her mind concerning a separation from the king; but that she was so much offended at their intending to give the place she resigned, to a woman so infamous as the Dutchess was, by her commerce with the king, that although she had at first given her consent, without annexing any conditions to it, she was now determined to insist upon the exclusion of this woman; and no treatment whatever should oblige her to alter her resolution. I shewed this letter to the king, who judging by it how much his marriage with his mistress would irritate the best of his subjects against him, began, in reality, to change his sentiments and conduct.’
‘I was of opinion, that if madame de Beaufort was acquainted with the contents of this letter, it might probably produce the same effects upon her. I would not take this trouble upon myself, being unwilling to meet the insolence and rage of a woman, who looked upon me as a stumbling block in the way of her advancement; but I communicated the letter to Chiverny and Fresne, who immediately informed Madame de Sourdis of it, and she almost in the same moment the Dutchess of Beaufort.’
‘But this lady’s counsellors were not so easily alarmed; they were very sensible that the step they had undertaken to prevail upon the king, would not fail of meeting with many difficulties, and they had settled their behaviour upon each: the result of their deliberations had been to hasten, as much as possible, the conclusion of the affair, persuading themselves, that when it was once over, they might give it a colour that should make it excusable; or at worst, matters might be composed after a little talk, as always happens when things are without remedy.’
‘They knew well the disposition of the French nation, especially the courtiers, whose first law it is to be always of the same mind with the sovereign; and whose strongest passion the desire of pleasing him. In a word, they thought themseves secure of every thing, provided the king himself did not fail them.’
‘Fresne having drawn up the warrant for the payment of the heralds, trumpeters, and other officers of the crown who had attended at the ceremony of this baptism, it was brought to me as well as the rest of the counsellors, that I might give my order for its discharge. As soon as I cast my eyes upon this writing, a tender concern for the king’s honour made me look upon it as a lasting witness of his weakness, which was going to be handed down to posterity. I hesitated not a moment to return it, and caused another to be drawn up in terms more proper.’
‘The titles of Monsieur, son of France, and all that could give any notion of that kind were suppressed, and consequently the houshold fees were reduced to the ordinary sum, with which they were highly dissatisfied. They did not fail to renew their efforts; and in their discontent quoted monsieur de Fresne, and the law by which their claims were regulated. At first I restrained myself before these people, whose bad intentions I was not ignorant of; but growing impatient at last, I could not help saying to them with some indignation, Go, go, I will do nothing in it; learn that there are no sons of France’
This firmness in Sully was the occasion of a quarrel between the king and the fair Gabriella. The duke relates it at large in his memoirs; and the whole passage being extremely curious, I shall give my readers the pleasure of seeing it here.
The duke continues thus. ‘No sooner had these words escaped me, than, suspecting that a troublesome affair would be made of it; to prevent it I went immediately to his majesty, who was walking with the duke D’Epernon in the palace of Saint-Germain. I shewed him the warrant Fresne had drawn up, telling him, that if it was allowed, there needed no more but to declare himself married to the dutchess of Beaufort. This is Fresne’s malice, said the king, after he had read it, but I shall take care to prevent it’
‘Then commanding me to tear the paper, he turned to three or four lords of the court who were nearest him. How malignant are these people, said he aloud, and what difficulties do they throw in the way of those who serve me with fidelity? they brought a warrant to monsieur de Rosney, with a design to make him offend me, if he passed it; or my mistress, if he refused it.’
‘In the state affairs then were, these words were far from being indifferent; they gave the courtiers, who had smiled at my simplicity, to understand that they might possibly be deceived themselves, and that the supposed marriage was not so near as they had imagined.’
‘The king continuing to converse with me apart, told me, that he did not doubt but that madame de Beaufort was greatly enraged against me, and advised me to go to her, and endeavour by solid reasons to give her satisfaction. If that will not do, added he, I will speak to her as her master.’
‘I went directly to the dutchess’s apartment, which was in the cloister of Saint-Germain; I knew not what notion she conceived of a visit, which she found I began with a sort of explanation. She did not allow me to go on; the rage with which she was animated not permitting her to observe any measures, she interrupted me with a reproach that I had imposed on the king, and made him believe that black was white.’
‘’Tis well, madam, said I, interrupting her in my turn, but with great calmness, since you think fit to talk in this manner, I shall take my leave, but I shall not however, neglect to do my duty Saying this, I left her, not being willing to hear more, that I might not be tempted to say any thing severer. I put the king in a very ill humour with his mistress, when I repeated to him what she said. Come along with me, said the king, with an emotion that pleased me greatly, and I will let you see that women do not wholly possess me’
‘His coach not being ready soon enough for his impatience, his majesty got into mine, and as we drove to the dutchess’s lodgings, he told me that he would never have cause to reproach himself, that, through his complaisance for a woman, he had banished, or even disgusted servants, who, like me, were only solicitous for his glory and interest.’
‘Madame de Beaufort, upon my leaving her apartment so hastily, had expected to see the king soon after; and during that time had taken sufficient pains to adorn her person; believing like me that the victory which one or other of us was to gain would be the happy or miserable presage of her fortune.’
‘As soon as she was informed of the kind’s arrival, she came as far as the door of the first hall to receive him. Henry without saluting her, or shewing any part of his usual tenderness, Let us go, madam, said he, to your chamber, and suffer no one to enter but yourself, Rosney, and me, for I want to talk to you both, and make you live together upon friendly terms’
‘Then ordering the door to be shut, and that no one should be suffered to remain in the chamber, wardrobe, or closet, he took her hand, holding one of mine at the same time, and with an air that she had good reason to be surprised at, told her, that the true motive which had determined him to attach himself to her, was the gentleness he had observed in her disposition; but that her conduct for some time past, had convinced him, that what he had believed to be real was only dissembled; and that she had deceived him: he reproached her with the bad counsels she had listened to, and the very considerable faults they had occasioned.’
‘He loaded me with praises, to shew the dutchess, by the difference of our proceedings, that I only had a true affection for his person: he commanded her to subdue her aversion for me so far as to be able to regulate her conduct by my advice, since she might depend upon it his passion for her should never induce him to banish me from his presence.’
‘Madame de Beaufort began her answer with sighs and tears. She affected a tender and submissive air: she would have kissed the hand of Henry; omitting no artifice which she thought capable of melting his heart. It was not till she had played over all these little arts, that she began to speak, which she did by complaining, that instead of those returns she might have expected from a prince to whom she had given her heart, she saw herself sacrificed to one of his grooms.’
‘She recapitulated all that I had done against her children, in order to awake his majesty’s resentment against me; then feigning to sink under the violence of her grief and despair, she let herself fall upon a couch, where she protested she was determined to die, not being able to endure life after so cruel an affront.’
‘The attack was a little strong. Henry did not expect it: I observed him heedfully, and saw his countenance change; but recovering himself immediately, that his mistress might not perceive it, he continued to tell her in the same tone, that she might spare herself the trouble of having recourse to so many artifices on so slight an occasion.’
‘Sensibly affected at this reproach, she redoubled her tears, crying that she plainly perceived she was abandoned; and that doubtless it was to augment her shame and my triumph, that the king had resolved to make me a witness of the severest behaviour that ever was shewn to a woman.’
‘This thought seemed to plunge her into a real despair. By heaven, madam, said the king, losing patience, this is too much. I know to what all this artifice tends: you want to prevail upon me to banish a servant whose assistance I cannot be without; I declare to you if I was reduced to the necessity of chusing to lose one or the other, I would rather part with ten mistresses like you, than one servant such as him. He did not forget the term of groom which she had made use of; and was still more offended, that she had applied it to a man whose family had the honour of being allied to his own.’
‘After this harsh speech the king quitted the dutchess suddenly, and was going out of her apartment, without seeming to be moved at the condition he left her in; probably because he knew her well enough to be sensible that all this violence of grief was affectation and grimace.’
‘As for me, I was so far deceived by it, as to be greatly concerned for her, and was not drawn out of this error, till madam de Beaufort, perceiving the king was going to leave her so much offended, that she had reason to apprehend he would never return again, changed her behaviour in an instant, ran to stop him, and threw herself at his feet, no longer to impose upon his tenderness, but to sooth him to a forgetfulness of her fault. She began by apologising for her past conduct, assumed an air of gentleness and complacency, and vowed she never had, nor ever would have any will but his.’
‘Never was there a change of scene more sudden! I now saw a woman perfectly agreeable, easy, and compliant, who acted towards me as if all that had just passed had been a dream; and we separated very good friends.’
The dutchess of Beaufort however still entertained hopes of being queen of France. She employed every artifice which her own cunning and the more subtile policy of her relations suggested to her to secure the success of her designs. The king having recovered from a dangerous fit of illness, she engaged his first physician, who was absolutely devoted to her, to persuade him that he could have no more children.
She had practised so successfully upon some of his ministers of state, that they made no scruple to advise Henry to secure the succession by marrying the dutchess, and legitimating the eldest of the children which he had by her.
That the king was but too well disposed to admit this counsel appears by the following conversation which he had with the duke of Sully, who of all his ministers was the only one that had courage and resolution enough to oppose a design so injurious to his honour.
‘The king, says the duke of Sully, at certain intervals, appeared so pensive and reserved, that it was not difficult to guess some secret uneasiness preyed upon his mind; and I was the more convinced of it, when his majesty, who often diverted himself with hunting, ordered me twice to follow him apart, that he might have an opportunity of conversing with me alone; yet when I did he was silent.’
‘I then remembered that the same thing had happened at Saint Germain and Angers; and I concluded that he had a design in view, which he had some difficulty to disclose to me, knowing with what freedom I sometimes opposed his opinions; but what this design was I could not guess. Returning from a visit to the duke of Bouillon, his majesty being at the foot of the stair case, saw me as I entered the court, and calling me, made me go with him into the garden, which was extremely large and beautiful, holding my hand with his finger between mine as usual, then ordered the door to be shut, and that no person should be allowed to enter.’
‘This prelude made me expect to hear a secret of great consequence. Henry did not enter upon it immediately; but, as if he had not sufficient resolution to explain himself, began to tell me what had just happened between him and the duke of Bouillon. This conversation was followed by news relating to the negotiations of Vervins, and led him insensibly to reflect on the advantages France would receive from a peaceable government.’
‘One circumstance the king said gave him great uneasiness, which was, that not having children by the queen his wife, it would answer no purpose to be at so much trouble to procure peace and tranquility to his kingdom, since, after his death, it must necessarily fall into its former calamities, by the disputes that would arise between the prince of Condé, and the other princes of the blood, concerning the succession to the crown.’
‘His majesty confessed to me, that this was his motive for desiring with such ardour to leave sons behind him. Unless his marriage with the princess Margaret could be dissolved, it was not possible for him to be absolutely happy; but the informations he received from the archbishop of Urbin, Mess. du Perron, D’Ossat, and de Marquemont, his deputies at Rome, of the pope’s favourable dispositions in respect to that affair, gave him great hopes of its success. In effect, Clement the Eighth, who was as good a politician as any prince in Europe, revolving in his mind what means were most likely to hinder France and the other christian kingdoms from falling again into a state of anarchy and confusion, could find none so effectual as to secure the succession to the crown of France, by authorising Henry to engage in a second marriage, which might produce him male children.’
‘Our conversation being fixed upon this subject, it was easy for me to perceive that it was from hence his majesty’s uneasiness proceeded; but I could not so soon know what was the particular thing that disturbed him. The king began to consider with me what princess of Europe he should chuse for his wife, in case his marriage with Margaret of Valois should be dissolved; but indeed he set out with a declaration that shewed, that any reflections on that head would be fruitless.’
‘That I may not repent, said he, of taking so dangerous a step, nor draw upon myself a misfortune, which is with justice said to exceed all others, that of having a wife disagreeable in person and mind; it is necessary that in her I marry, I should find these seven things, beauty, prudence, softness, wit, fruitfulness, riches, and a royal birth.’
‘But there was not one in all Europe with whom he appeared entirely satisfied. I should have no objection to the infanta of Spain, pursued Henry although she is a little advanced in years, provided that with her I could marry the Low-Countries; even if I should be obliged to restore to you the Earldom of Bethune: neither would I refuse the princess Arabella of England, if, as it is publickly said, that crown really belongs to her, she were only declared presumptive heiress of it; but there is no reason to expect that either of these things will happen. I have also heard of some princesses of Germany, whose names I have forgot; but the women of this country don’t suit me; I should always fancy I had a hogshead of wine in bed with me: besides, I have been told that France had once a queen of that country, who had like to have ruined it. All these considerations have given me a disgust to the German ladies. The sisters of Prince Maurice have likewise been mentioned to me; but besides that they are protestants, which would give umbrage to the court of Rome, and the more zealous catholics, they are daughters of a nun, which, together with a certain reason that I will inform you of some other time, has prevented my entertaining any thoughts of them. The Duke of Florence has a niece who is said to be handsome, but she is descended from one of the most inconsiderable families in Christendom, that bear the title of prince; it not being above three-score or four-score years since her ancestors were only the first citizens of Florence: she is likewise of the same race with the queen-mother Catherine, who did so much mischief to France, and to me in particular.’
‘These, continued the king, observing that I listened attentively to him,are all the foreign princesses that I have any knowledge of: of those within my kingdom, my niece of Guise would please me best, notwithstanding the malicious reports that have been spread that she loves poulets – in paper better than in a fricassee; for my part, I not only believe those reports to be false, but should rather chuse a wife who is a little fond of gallantry, than one who wanted understanding; but I am apprehensive that the violent affection which she discovers for her family, particularly for her brothers, would create some disorders in the kingdom.’
‘After this the king named all the other princesses in France, but to as little purpose: he acknowledged that some were beautiful, and genteel, such as the eldest of the Duke of Maienne’s two daughters, although of a brown complexion; the two daughters likewise of the Duke of Aumale, and three of the Duke of Longueville; but all these were either too young, or were not to his taste.’
‘He afterwards named Mademoiselle Rohan, the Princess of Conti’s daughter, of the house of Lucé, Mademoiselles Luxembourg and Guémené; but the first was a protestant, and the second not old enough; and the persons of the two others did not please him; and all for some reason or other were excluded.’
‘The king closed this enumeration by saying, that although these ladies might be all agreeable enough to him in their persons, he saw no way to be assured that they would bring him heirs, or that he could suit himself to their tempers, or be convinced of their prudence, three of the seven conditions, without which he had resolved never to marry; since, if he entered into an engagement of that kind, it would be with a design to give his wife a share in the management of all his domestick affairs; and that, if according to the course of nature, he should die before her, and leave chldren very young behind him, it would be necessary that she should be able to superintend their education, and govern the kingdom during a minority.’
‘Weary at length of endeavouring to no purpose to find out what the king aimed at by this discourse; But what do you mean, Sire, said I, by so many affinitives and negatives; and what am I to conclude by them, but that you are desirous to marry, and yet cannot find a woman upon earth qualified to be your wife? By the manner in which you mentioned the Infanta Clara Eugenia, it should seem that great heiresses are most agreeeable to you; but can you expect that heaven should raise a Margaret of Flanders, or a Mary of Burgundy from the dead for you; or at least restore the Queen of England to her youth?’
‘I added smiling, that for proof of the other qualities that he demanded, I saw no better expedient than to bring all the beauties of France together, from the age of seventeen to that of twenty-five, that by talking with them in person, he might know the turn of their temper and genius; and that for the rest he should refer himself to experienced matrons, to whom recourse is had on such occasions.’
to talk more seriously, I declared that, in my opinion, his majesty might contract his expectations, by striking off a great fortune and royal birth, and be satisfied with a wife who might keep his heart, and bring him fine children; but that here again he must content himself with mere probability, there being many beautiful women incapable of child-bearing; and many illustrious fathers unhappy in their offspring: but whatever his children should prove, the blood from which they sprung would secure the respect and obedience of the French nation.’
‘Well, interrupted the king, setting aside your advice concerning this assembly of beauties, with which I am mightily diverted, and your sage reflection, that great men have often children who possess none of their qualities, I hope to have sons whose actions shall exceed mine. Since you confess that the lady whom I marry ought to be of an excellent temper, beautiful in her person, and of such a make as to give hopes of bringing children; consider a little, whether you do not know a person in whom all these qualities are united.’
‘I replied, that I would not take upon me to decide hastily upon a choice wherein so much consideration was requisite, and to which I had not yet sufficiently attended.’
‘And what would you say, returned Henry, if I should name one, who, I am fully convinced possesses these three qualities?’
‘I would say, sire, replied I, with great simplicity, that you are much better acquainted with her than I am, and that she must necessarily be a widow, otherwise you can have no certainty, with regard to her fruitfulness.’
‘This is all you would desire, said the king; but if you cannot guess who she is, I will name her to you.’
‘Name her then, said I, for I own I have not wit enough to find out who she is.’
‘Ah! how dull you are, cried the king; but I am persuaded you could guess who I mean if you would, and only affect this ignorance to oblige me to name her myself; confess then that these three qualities meet in my mistress; not (pursued the king in some confusion, at this discovery of his weakness) that I have any intention to marry her, but I want to know what you would say, if, not being able to meet with any other whom I could approve of, I should one day take it into my head to make her my wife.’
‘It was not difficult for me to discover, amidst these slight artifices, that his majesty had already thought of it but too much, and was but too well disposed to this unworthy marriage, which every thing he had said tended to excuse.’
‘My astonishment was indeed very great, but I thought it necessary to conceal my thoughts with the utmost care. I affected to believe that he was jesting, that I might have an opportunity of answering in such a manner as might make the king ashamed of having entertained so extravagant a notion.’
‘My dissimulation did not succeed; the king had not made so painful an effort to stop there. I command you, said he to me, to speak freely, you have acquired the right of telling me plain truths; do not apprehend that I shall be offended with you for doing so, provided that it is in private; such a liberty in public would greatly offend me.’
‘I replied that I would never be so imprudent as to say any thing in private, any more than in public, that might displease him, except on such occasions when his life or the good of the state was in question. I afterwards represented to him the disgrace so scandalous an alliance would draw upon him, in the opinion of the whole world, and the reproaches he would suffer from his own mind upon that account, when the ardour of his passion being abated, he should be able to judge impartially of his own conduct.’
‘I shewed him that if this was the only means he could have recourse to, to free France from the calamities a doubtful succession would produce, that he would expose himself to all the inconveniences he was anxious to avoid, and others still greater. That although he should legitimate the children he had by madame de Liancourt, yet that could not hinder the eldest, who was born in a double adultery, from being in this respect, inferior to the second, whose birth was attended with but half of that disgrace, and both must yield to those whom he might have by madam de Liancourt, after she was his lawful wife; it being therefore impossible to settle their claims, they could not fail of becoming an inexhaustible source of quarrels and war. I leave you, sire,pursued I, to make reflections upon all this, before I say any more’
‘That will not be amiss, returned the king, who was struck with my arguments, for you have said enough of this matter for the first time.’
‘But such was the tyranny of that blind passion, with which he was inflamed, that in spite of himself he renewed the subject that very moment by asking me, if, from the disposition I knew the French to be of, especially the nobility, I thought he had any reason to apprehend they would rise in rebellion while he was living, if he should marry his mistress.’
‘This question convinced me, that his heart had received an incurable wound. I treated him accordingly, and entered into arguments and expostulations, with which I shall not trouble the reader, since his own imagination may suggest to him all that it was necessary to say upon this occasion; and this subject has been already dwelt upon too long. We continued three hours alone in the garden, and I had the consolation to leave the king in a full persuasion of the truth and reasonableness of all I had said to him.’
‘The difficulty lay in breaking those two powerful ties; the king had not yet brought himself to that point; he had many dreadful conflicts of mind to suffer e’er that could be effected; and all he could do for the present, was to defer taking his last resolution till he had obtained the permission he had been so long solliciting from the pope, and till then to keep his sentiments secret.’
‘He promised me not to acquaint his mistress with what I had said, lest it should draw her resentment upon me. She loves you, said the king to me, and esteems you still more; but her mind still entertains some remains of distrust, that you will not approve of my design in favour of her and her children: she often tells me, that when one hears you perpetually carrying in your mouth my kingdom and my glory; one is apt to think that you prefer the one to my person, and the other to my quiet.’
‘I answered, that against this charge I would make no defence; that the kingdom and the sovereign were to be looked upon with the same eyes.Remember, sire, added I, that your virtue is the soul that animates this great body, which must by its splendor and prosperity repay you that glory which it derives from you, and that you are not to seek happiness by any other means.’
‘After this we left the garden, and it being night separated, leaving the courtiers to rack their imaginations to guess the subject of so long a conference.’
[To be continued]
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