Chastellard was a gentleman of Dauphiné, of good family and condition, for he was great-nephew on his mother’s side of that brave M. de Bayard, whom they say he resembled in figure, which in him was medium, very beautiful and slender, as they say M. de Bayard had also. He was very adroit at arms, and inclined in all ways to honourable exercises, such as firing at a mark, playing at tennis, leaping, and dancing. In short, he was a most accomplished gentleman; and as for his soul, it was also very noble; he spoke well, and wrote of the best, even in rhyme, as well as any gentleman in France, using a most sweet and lovely poesy, like a knight.
He followed M. d’Amville, so-called then, now M. le Connétable; but when we were with M. le Grand Prieur, of the house of Lorraine, who conducted the queen [to Scotland] the said Chastellard was with us, and, in this company became known to the queen for his charming actions, above all for his rhymes; among which he made some to please her in translation from Italian (which he spoke and knew well), beginning, Che giova posseder città e regni; which is a very well made sonnet, the substance of which is as follows: “What serves her to possess so many kingdoms, cities, towns, and provinces, to command so many peoples, and be respected, feared, admired of all, if still to sleep a widow, lone and cold as ice?”
He made also other rhymes, most beautiful, which I have seen written by his hand, for they never were imprinted, that I know.
The queen, therefore, who loved letters, and principally poems, for sometimes she made dainty ones herself, was pleased in seeing those of Chastellard, and even made response, and, for that reason, gave him good cheer and entertained him often. But he, in secrecy, was kindled by a flame too high, the which its object could not hinder, for who can shield herself from love? In times gone by the most chaste goddesses and dames were loved, and still are loved; indeed we love their marble statues; but for that no lady has been blamed unless she yielded to it. Therefore, kindle who will these sacred fires!
Chastellard returned with all our troop to France, much grieved and desperate in leaving so beautiful an object of his love. After one year the civil war broke out in France. He, who belonged to the Religion [Protestant], struggled within himself which side to take, whether to go to Orléans with the others, or stay with M. d’Amville, and make war against his faith. On the one hand, it seemed to him too bitter to go against his conscience; on the other, to take up arms against his master displeased him hugely; wherefore he resolved to fight for neither the one nor yet the other, but to banish himself and go to Scotland, let fight who would, and pass the time away. He opened this project to M. d’Amville and told him his resolution, begging him to write letters in his favour to the queen; which he obtained: then, taking leave of one and all, he went; I saw him go; he bade me adieu and told me in part his resolution, we being friends.
He made his voyage, which ended happily, so that, having arrived in Scotland and discoursing of his intentions to the queen, she received him kindly and assured him he was welcome. But he, abusing such good cheer and seeking to attack the sun, perished like Phaëton; for, driven by love and passion, he was presumptuous enough to hide beneath the bed of her Majesty, where he was discovered when she retired. The queen, not wishing to make a scandal, pardoned him; availing herself of that good counsel which the lady of honour gives to her mistress in the “Novels of the Queen of Navarre,” when a seigneur of her brother’s Court, slipping through a trap-door made by him in the alcove, seeking to win her, brought nothing back but shame and scratches: she wishing to punish his temerity and complain of him to her brother, the lady of honour counselled her that, since the seigneur had won nought but shame and scratches, it was for her honour as a lady of such mark not to be talked of; for the more it was contended over, the more it would go to the nose of the world and the mouth of gossips.
Our Queen of Scotland, being wise and prudent, passed this scandal by; but the said Chastellard, not content and more than ever mad with love, returned for the second time, forgetting both his former crime and pardon. Then the queen, for her honour, and not to give occasion to her women to think evil, and also to her people if it were known, lost patience and gave him up to justice, which condemned him quickly to be beheaded, in view of the crime of such an act. The day having come, before he died he had in his hand the hymns of M. de Ronsard; and, for his eternal consolation, he read from end to end the Hymn of Death (which is well done, and proper not to make death abhorrent), taking no help of other spiritual book, nor of minister or confessor.
Having ended that reading wholly, he turned to the spot where he thought the queen must be, and cried in a loud voice: “Adieu, most beautiful, most cruel princess in all the world!” then, firmly stretching his neck to the executioner, he let himself be killed very easily.
Some have wished to discuss why it was that he called her cruel; whether because she had no pity on his love, or on his life. But what should she have done? If, after her first pardon she had granted him a second, she would on all sides have been slandered; to save her honour it was needful that the law should take its course. That is the end of this history.