Catherine's whole life may be said to have combined romance with history. She was the daughter of Lorenzo de Medici, that famous ruler of Florence for whom Machiavelli wrote his "Prince." Having been left an orphan at an early age, she was sent to a convent to be educated, but left there at fourteen to become the wife of the Dauphin, afterwards Henry II. of France. Her royal father-in-law was the celebrated Francis I., the life-long rival of Henry VIII. of England, on the one hand, and the Emperor Charles V., on the other. During his reign Catherine remained in obscurity, and was even threatened with divorce, as for ten years she remained childless. On hearing that Francis was considering this decree for state reasons, she planned her first bold stroke. With Italian finesse she made her way to the King at a favourable moment, threw herself at his feet, and expressed her willingness to submit to the royal will. "Do with me as you choose, sire," she said; "let me remain the dutiful wife of your son; or if it may please you to choose another, let me serve as one of her humblest attendants." Her speech won the heart of Francis, she was reinstated in favour, and finally had the happiness of bringing him grandchildren ere he died. This was one reason for the great veneration in which Catherine always held his memory, and to which Brantôme alludes.
Indeed, the dominant trait with her throughout her long life was loyalty to her family and their interests,--a loyalty fine in the abstract, but which was to lead her along many doubtful and devious ways. It caused her to match prince against prince, party against party, religion against religion, until the culminating horror of St. Bartholomew's Massacre was reached,--chargeable directly to her, despite the strenuous denials of Brantôme. Henry IV., the royal son-in-law who suffered so much at her hands, was broad-minded enough to palliate her offences on the ground of this family loyalty. Claude Grouard quotes him as saying to a Florentine ambassador in regard to Catherine: "I ask you what a poor woman could do, left by the death of her husband, with five little children on her arms, and two families in France who were thinking to grasp the crown,--ours and the Guiges. Was she not compelled to play strange parts to deceive first one and then the other, in order to guard, as she has done, her sons who have successively reigned through the wise conduct of that shrewd woman? I am only surprised that she never did worse.
Sainte-Beuve in his "Causeries du Lundi" gives us additional glimpses of this Queen, basing his views upon those of Mézeray, author of the older "History of France": Mézeray, who never thinks of the dramatic, nevertheless makes known to us at the start his principal personages; he shows them more especially in action, without detaching them too much from the general sentiment and interests of which they are the leaders and representatives, while, at the same time, he leaves to each his individual physiognomy.... Catherine de Medici is painted there in all her dissimulation and her network of artifices, in which she herself was often caught; ambitious of sovereign power without possessing either the force or the genius for it; striving to obtain it by craft, and using for this purpose a continual system of what we should call today 'see-sawing'--'rousing and elevating for a time one faction, putting to sleep or lowering another; uniting herself sometimes with the feeblest side out of caution, lest the stronger should crush her; sometimes with the stronger from necessity; at times standing neutral when she felt herself strong enough to command both sides, but without intention to extinguish either.' Far from being always too Catholic, there are moments when she seems to lean to the Reformed religion and to wish to grant too much to that party; and this with more sincerity, perhaps, than belonged to her naturally. The Catherine de Medici, such as she presents herself and is developed in plain truth on the pages of Mézeray is well calculated to tempt a modern writer."
It is precisely to this temptation that Balzac has yielded, in his book already mentioned. His summing-up of her character is as follows: "Catherine de Medici has suffered more from popular error than almost any other woman... and yet she saved the throne of France, she maintained the royal authority under circumstances to which more than one great prince would have succumbed. Face to face with such leaders of the factions, and ambitions of the houses of Guise and of Bourbon as the Cardinals de Lorraine and the two 'Balafrés,' the two Princes de Condé, Henry IV., Montmorency, the Colignys, she was forced to put forth the rarest fine qualities, the most essential gifts of statesmanship, under the fire of the Calvinist press. These, at any rate, are indisputable facts. And to the student who digs deep into the history of the sixteenth century in France, the figure of Catherine de Medici stands out as that of a great king...
"Hemmed in between a race of princes who proclaimed themselves the heirs of Charlemagne, and a factious younger branch that was eager to bury the Constable de Bourbon's treason under the throne; obliged too, to fight down a heresy on the verge of devouring the monarchy, without friends, and aware of treachery in the chiefs of the Catholic party and of republicanism in the Calvinists, Catherine used the most dangerous but the surest of political weapons--Craft. She determined to deceive by turns the party that was anxious to secure the downfall of the house of Valois, the Bourbons who aimed at the Crown, and the Reformers.... Indeed, so long as she lived, the Valois sat on the throne. The great M. de Thou understood the worth of this woman when he exclaimed on hearing of her death: 'It is not a woman, it is Royalty that dies in her'!"
On the contrary, if one will follow the genial Dumas through the pages of his Valois Romances, he will find a French writer who, while loyal to the kingly line, does not hesitate to paint this woman in unlovely colors. She is here the low intriguer who does not stop at assassination to gain her ends. On only one point, indeed, do historians and romancers seem to agree: she is always interesting--never commonplace. She fills a definite niche in an important period, and her personal reputation must be handled as a thing apart.
This portrait of her by Brantôme is one of a series of papers comprising his "Lives of Illustrious Ladies,"--or as he preferred to call it, "Book of the Ladies." Brantôme himself lived an adventurous life. Born in Perigord in 1537, he was only eighteen years younger than the queen he here discusses. His family, the de Bourdeilles, was one of the oldest and most respected in that province. "Not to boast of myself," he says, "I can assert that none of my race has ever been home-keeping; they have spent as much time in travels and wars as any, no matter who they be, in France." The young Pierre had his first experience in Court life, at the Court of Marguerite, sister of Francis I., to whom his mother was lady-in-waiting. As he was the youngest of the family, he was destined for the priesthood--which he always regarded from the militant, rather than the spiritual side--and when only sixteen King Henry II. bestowed upon him the Abbey of Brantôme.
The record of his life thereafter is one of travel and adventure in many lands. It is the period of the Renaissance, when wars and conquests, intrigues and romances, poetry and song flourish,--in all of which our Abbé is equally at home! He goes with the Duc de Guise to escort the young widowed Queen, Mary, back to her Scottish throne. He visits Marguerite de Valois in her retirement and is so smitten by her beauty that he dedicates all his books to her. And during his busy, adventurous life he finds time to set down many things which he sees and hears. Some of these stories smack of the scandalous, but all undoubtedly reflect the spirit and manners of the time.
After a long life, Brantôme passed away in 1614, and although a clause in his will expressly related to the publication of his works they were left in MS. form, in his castle of Richemont, for half a century. They were finally published in Leyden, in 1665, and have been frequently reprinted since.