The King has determined to continue the war rather than suffer two religions in his kingdom, or allow the rebels to remain in possession of the towns they have seized; while they declare that they will hold them to the death, having no hope of safety left save in their walls and their despair. Thus the King is again getting entangled in difficulties, from which he will not easily free himself, and which he might perhaps have avoided.
Fontenay, the town about which I wrote lately, fell at the third assault. There was great slaughter both of besiegers and besieged. People think Lusignan will be attacked next. It is a fortress of considerable strength, five miles from Poitiers, and being built on a rock is not easily accessible.[16] The siege of Lusignan will give Montpensier’s army occupation for some time, and though less important places like these may be easily recovered by the King, at any rate the reduction of Montauban, Nismes, Rochelle, and other towns, which still hold out, will prove a more difficult task. But who can say what may happen in the meanwhile? Time brings about many a surprise, and the result may turn out far other than what it is expected to be. The King thinks differently; under his mother’s influence, as it is supposed, he is entering on the war with a light heart. Within the last few days an Edict[17] was published, by which all who had fled the country are invited to return home within six months, under promise of an amnesty; if they do not avail themselves of this act of indemnity within that time, they are to be considered outlaws and public enemies. This proclamation, it is feared, will be the signal for those who distrust the King’s word to take the field—it is the trumpet calling them to battle. To people’s astonishment some noble families, as, for instance, those of Rambouillet and d’Estrées,[18] have been ordered to leave the Court and retire to their homes.
At his parting from the Duke of Savoy, the King is said to have made him a present of two towns which are still held by his garrisons—namely, Savigliano and Pignerolo, if I remember the names rightly. This arrangement, however, has been interfered with by the Duke’s wife having died, unfortunately for him, before it was completed, an event which may possibly make the King change his intentions.[19]
I am far from satisfied with the state of the business which is the principal object of my mission—namely, the settlement of the Queen’s dower. The King’s return, I suspect, is further off than people think, and meanwhile nothing can be done here. The Queen is thus left in a state of uncertainty; she knows not what is to happen, or what her position is to be, and therefore she naturally feels by no means comfortable. Some people think the King will go down to Avignon, to be nearer the seat of the war which is imminent; and, if so, it is supposed he will not be in Paris for full six months from this. If this be true, though sufficient provision has been made for her in the meantime, still perhaps it is hardly creditable that a lady, who is now practically your Majesty’s ward, should be left dependent on another’s beck and call, and sit quietly waiting till it pleases him to ask her to become once more a wife. Such a position is, in my humble opinion, a highly improper one; nor do I believe that in any other case the relatives of a widowed queen ever waited so long before taking steps to protect her interests. I trust your Majesty will consider what is to be done. Shall I go to the King—which will involve some expense—or shall I write to him, or shall I wait here for his return, whenever that may be?
If I may give my opinion, I think the King is likely to have more trouble than he expects. For, taking even the most favourable supposition, and assuming that he reduces a great part of the rebels to submission, I consider that he cannot possibly complete his task during the present winter, and that many of them will hold out still. What then will be the King’s position? His forces will be no longer what they were at the beginning of the campaign; war, privation, and winter will have thinned their ranks. On the other hand, we must be prepared to see the exiled nobles now in Germany come to the succour of their friends with such troops as they can raise. All France will then be in a blaze once more; the issue of the contest it is impossible to foretell, for who can say how many secret allies the rebels can reckon on? Those who are thoroughly estranged from the King are not a few.
This forecast of future probabilities is derived in great measure from a conversation I had, when I was passing through Kaiserslautern, with an intimate friend of the Palatine and Casimir.[20] The exiles I speak of have been prevented from invading the country chiefly by two motives: in the first place, they had some hopes that the King would be more indulgent to their party, and wished to give him a trial; secondly, among their chiefs are two sons of the Constable,[21] and they saw that if they stirred it would be the signal for the execution of their imprisoned brother, Montmorency; the Queen Mother has openly threatened and declared as much. Perhaps, too, they are influenced by the consideration that it would be very bad policy to choose the moment when the King’s forces are at their best for attacking him, instead of biding their time.
To turn to another subject. A few days ago a gentleman, who is one of the King’s councillors, came to see me, and gave me a book to send to your Majesty, to whom it is dedicated by the author. It is the work of François de Foix, Bishop of Aire, and Privy Councillor to the King. He is an old man of the highest rank, and is a great scholar. He is also a near relative of your Majesty, for his father, he states in his letter, was brother of your Majesty’s grandmother on the mother’s side.[22] His elder brother, the Comte de Candale, is dead. He left a son, who was killed by a musket-shot in the head,[23] while fighting under Damville, who was then engaged in some service for the King. He left only two daughters, the eldest of whom succeeded to the family property, and is being brought up in the house of her maternal grandmother, the widow of the Constable, their father having married one of the Constable’s daughters. To return to the Bishop. He is a man of the greatest learning, especially in mathematics, and is regarded by the professors of that science here as one of their most distinguished men. He has translated Hermes Trismegistus[24]—a writer of such antiquity that some people make him out to be a contemporary of Moses himself—from Greek into Latin, and this is the work that is now on its way to your Majesty. He has also translated him into French, and has dedicated the translation to the Queen Mother. He has written, besides, five books of commentaries on the same author in French, which those who have seen it assert to be a noble work; and this has been published under the patronage of the Queen, your Majesty’s daughter. I humbly hope your Majesty, when answering my letter, will condescend to acknowledge the arrival of the book, and gratify the good old man by thanking him for the compliment. I will take care to show the passage to his friends, who brought me the book.
As to the Queen’s condition, I have nothing to write which your Majesty will not hear from her own letters. One matter, I think, I should not omit to mention. Everything here is exceedingly dear, especially the necessaries of life, such as bread, wine, fire-wood, and lodgings. With these high prices, I do not see how I am to keep within the salary allowed by your Majesty. However, I will do the best I can for this half year, and after that I trust your Majesty will kindly see that I am properly provided for.
To conclude. As I perceive there is no immediate prospect of the King’s arrival, and I can leave Paris for some days without any inconvenience to the Queen, I have determined, with her approval, to avail myself of your Majesty’s kind permission, and to make the journey home, which I have so long intended, to arrange my private affairs. I think of remaining in the Netherlands till your Majesty’s gracious reply to this letter arrives at Brussels, which I consider your Majesty will find to be the most convenient route for sending an answer. I have nothing more to add except my earnest prayer that God may long preserve your Majesty to us and to Christendom.
Paris, September 28, 1574.