The Serpent and the Moon: Two Rivals for the Love of a Renaissance King (25 page)

Catherine knew she would never be considered pretty, but by watching carefully she learned the strengths and weaknesses of the courtiers and ingratiated herself with all their various factions. She amused her father-in-law with new games, dances, and a variety of distractions. Catherine always tried desperately hard to please the king. She was wittier and better educated than most of the court ladies, and François genuinely enjoyed his daughter-in-law’s company. He called her “
ma fille
” and spoke to her wistfully in Italian of his travels in her country and his love of Italian art. Her efforts to divert the king from his increasing ennui were so successful that finally he allowed her to join the charmed circle of
La Petite Bande
and to benefit from all its privileges. (Many years later, when Catherine ruled France, she remembered the
Petite Bande
and organized a similar troupe of young ladies, beautiful and noble, who were known as her “
Escadron Volant
,” or “Flying Squadron.” These she forced to spy on foreign diplomats and even prostitute themselves for information during her baccanalian festivals at Chenonceau.)

Realizing that preferential treatment from the king would only arouse jealousy and further dislike from the courtiers, Catherine humbled herself before everyone. At every opportunity, clever little Catherine deferred to Diane. She went to great lengths to gain the affection of the king’s sister, Queen Marguerite of Navarre. The
duchessina
also succeeded in winning over Anne de Pisseleu. Catherine recognized Anne’s greed and wooed her with flattery and gifts, though she did not dare join her faction against Diane. In fact, Catherine made herself so agreeable and bland that she became almost invisible. Eventually, no one had anything to say against her—or even about her. Almost everyone was taken in; except perhaps Diane, and Anne de Montmorency,
that shrewd judge of character. Not until Henri’s death many years later would the true face behind Catherine de’ Medici’s mask emerge.

I
T was considered more appropriate for a royal mistress to be married in the event she had children. Therefore, in 1534, the king arranged Anne de Pisseleu’s wedding to Jean de Brosse, the intelligent, impoverished, and acquiescent comte de Penthièvre. He needed to be all three so that he would accept the arrangement, profit by it, and give Anne a pedigree. Thus she became a countess.

François allowed the newlyweds a honeymoon, and then, leaving Anne at court, the count returned to Brittany with money to renovate his ruined estates. Two years later, François made him duc d’Etampes
so that Anne could become a duchess. In the letters patent granting his dukedom, the king asserted that the title was in “recognition of the exceptional consideration and pleasant services rendered to him daily by ‘my cousin’ Anne.” The new duke was dispatched as governor of a succession of distant provinces, until finally he was granted the prestigious post of governor of Brittany.

Displaying a wicked sense of irony, the king made Anne one of the queen’s ladies. Poor Eleonore, who fancied herself in love with François, had to tolerate the daily presence of his mistress at her court. To make the situation worse for the queen, Anne d’Etampes was not subtle about her relationship with the king and used her power indiscriminately. Nor did the new duchess forget her enormous family. She saw to it that they received handsome appointments and pensions: several brothers became bishops and archbishops—one even a cardinal—and her unmarried sisters were made abbesses. But the ducal title alone was not enough for Anne. She was much in need of money, and so she stole her husband’s ducal income and trafficked in his ducal prerogatives. The king gave his mistress a large house in Paris next to the Palais des Tournelles (which had a connecting tunnel) and two châteaux—Etampes and Limours—as well as numerous estates. Although her taste in dress and jewelry was wildly extravagant, François denied her nothing. It is sometimes said that Anne d’Etampes had a powerful influence on affairs of state; but the king was an absolute monarch, who had proclaimed at his accession: “I will not allow there to be more than one king in France.”

Although he granted his ministers much power, François I would never permit a pretty woman to interfere in politics. Perhaps as compensation, the king indulged Anne in every other way and allowed her to recommend her favorites for some offices. As she was easily flattered, inevitably the wrong candidates were promoted.
³

Anne d’Etampes befriended the extrovert dauphin, François, who was no friend of his brother Henri. Through Anne’s influence, the dauphin shared her antipathy toward Diane. The king openly favored
his eldest son, who resembled him so much when he had been dauphin; whereas Henri, though tall and athletic like his father, brought back memories of the shy, sad queen François had so mistreated.

F
ONTAINEBLEAU was built as a pleasure palace, full of allegorical paintings hinting at forbidden and secret delights. But as the king insisted on courtly behavior, no one dared to break his code of good manners. In fact, this courtly behavior concealed a snakepit of intrigues and political maneuvering, where the stakes were so high that a courtier could lose his fortune or even his life if the tide turned the wrong way. As an absolute monarch, the king was the source of all power, privileges, and benefits. To be in his favor was essential.

François made no secret of the pleasure he took in Diane’s company by day, which increased the envy of his young companion of the night, the duchesse d’Etampes. Anne was ambitious, greedy, and fond of intrigues. She had certainly heard the gossip about the king and that Diane’s favors had been the price of Saint-Vallier’s release. It did not take long for Anne’s jealousy of her lover’s undisguised fascination with the chaste and beautiful widow to turn to hatred. Anne encouraged a group of sycophantic courtiers and intellectuals to write and circulate slanderous ditties and poems about Diane de Poitiers and to humiliate her whenever possible. When Diane was in her prime, but before Primaticcio and Clouet painted their famous portraits of her, some extraordinary pamphlets appeared, describing her wrinkled skin and double chins. Others claimed that her looks had faded, her hair had turned white, her teeth had fallen out, and so on.

The famous poet from Champagne, Jean Voulté, published three scathing epigrams against “Poitiers, old Woman of the Court” and dubbed her “the old gray mare.” Though written in Latin, translations were not slow in appearing: “You may buy the superfine of that which constitutes woman, but you will not even then obtain the desire of your lover, for one must be alive and you are dead.” Another of his published jibes warned: “
In Pictariam anum anulicam
”—“Painted
bait catches no game.” Diane merely smiled and ignored the insults. But she stored them all away in her implacable memory to avenge one day. Until that time came, Diane de Poitiers could rely on Henri’s adoration to heal her wounded pride.

Many people wrote in praise of Diane de Poitiers—among them, Joachim du Bellay and the poet and charmer Clément Marot. While Marot was under Diane’s spell, he had dedicated some beautiful verses in her honor:

When the passion he nurtured for Diane remained unrequited, and she subsequendy had him prosecuted as a Protestant, Marot joined the clique around the duchesse d’Etampes. Then, his verses sang a different tune:

For the benefit of her entourage, one day Anne d’Etampes greeted her rival with the claim: “Why, I was born on the very day Madame la Grande Sénéchale was married.” Diane merely smiled and reminded her that she was Anne’s senior by no more than nine years. Anne had Diane dubbed “the Wrinkled One,” which led to endless vulgar permutations
of the cruel jibe both within her circle and below stairs. But Diane could afford her silent smile. She was confident in her beauty. Later, the paintings and drawings of Primaticcio and Clouet, the modeling of Cellini and Goujon, and the writings of Brantôme, among others, would all proclaim her magnificence for posterity. Their testimony would, in the end, be her revenge.

However, Diane’s beauty remains an enigma, as some of her portraits show her as less than remarkable. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder—and of the artist. Flatterers by profession, some saw her as lovelier than others, though none denied the magnificence of her body. She exuded health, and her expression and animation has been credited for much of her illusion of perfection.

Despite their open enmity, Anne and Diane upheld the king’s rules of courtesy and behaved with impeccable
politesse
toward one another in company. But Anne was the antithesis of Diane in almost every way. The contemporary published criticism of Diane is voluminous since both she and the duchesse d’Etampes drew enormous support from the intellectuals of the day. As the king’s official mistress, the duchesse was inevitably in the company of those who hoped to profit from her royal liaison. By comparison, those who came to the support of the widowed Grande Sénéchale did so primarily out of genuine appreciation of her. Apart from her wealth, Diane had neither power nor influence at this time. And yet Diane de Poitiers was still highly regarded by the king or there would not be so many instances of the court staying at Anet and Mauny after the death of Louis de Brézé.

Diane had good friends at court; but without a father, husband, or sons, she was essentially a woman alone. Stoically, she chose to ignore Anne d’Etampes’ persistent and vicious attacks, hold her head high, and remain aloof. In verbal confrontation, the more experienced Madame de Brézé invariably triumphed. But when Anne and her coterie spread rumors that the lovely widow retained her looks by practicing witchcraft, Diane finally appreciated the very real danger of her unprotected position. Witches were burned at the stake, often without the benefit of a trial. If such a story were to spread beyond the court and gain credence, Diane’s situation might well become extremely
dangerous. The legendary huntress was becoming the hunted, and this she could not tolerate.