The Serpent and the Moon: Two Rivals for the Love of a Renaissance King (41 page)

The Parisians conceived a novel way of honoring the “royal trinity”: they placed a large face of the sun in gold and the moon in silver on the bridge of Nôtre-Dame (for Henri and Diane) and with them Iris, the messenger of Juno, represented by the rainbow (the symbol of the queen). The city’s renowned Humanist, Jean Martin, devised this scenario, which was carried out by a team of artists, including the sculptor Jean Goujon and the painter Jean Cousin, who both worked at Anet for Diane. Her architect, Philibert de l’Orme, whom Henri had nominated as his Superintendent of Buildings, was responsible for
creating the triumphal arches. A beautiful monument dating from Henri IPs entry still exists—the Fontaine des Innocents, although altered and in a new setting.
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Henri commissioned the fountain in 1547 from Pierre Lescot and it was completed in time for his official entry in 1549.

For this great day, the king sported a suit of polished white armor chased in gold filigree; over it, he wore a tunic of cloth of silver embroidered with his devices, and a silver belt chased in gold decoration. His sword scabbard, covered with precious stones, glinted in the sunlight; a white satin beret perched with panache on his head, a plume of
white feathers affixed to the side by a brooch with a large diamond and three huge drop pearls. He rode on a young white stallion, caparisoned in cloth of silver to match his ensemble, which pranced and shied and showed off his master’s skill in the saddle.

Behind the king rode the kaleidoscope of the court. As its members passed beneath the open windows and balconies, they marveled at the ladies there, with “faces like angels,” wearing splendid jewels and ravishing dresses, and they exclaimed that Paris was more like “Paradise than an earthly city.” One commentator wrote that the courtiers were so inspired by the beauties they saw about them that they encouraged their mounts to pirouette and prance, showing off all along the processional route.

When Henri passed under a triumphal arch surmounted by a huge crowned “HD” and stopped beneath her balcony, Diane could see their joint cipher on his tunic embroidered in pearls as he saluted her. His personal guard wore her colors of black and white, a large silver crescent moon on the front and back of their liveries, as well as the “HD”—and all his household staff had the same. If he could not make Diane his queen and the mother of his legitimate children, Henri would at least proclaim his love for her to the whole of France. Catherine de’ Medici watched the parade wearing a heavy, elaborate gold dress embroidered with pearls. She was nearing the end of her pregnancy with her fourth child and made herself ill from a combination of chagrin and too much of a new vegetable imported from Rome called the artichoke.

As a consequence of the ancient Salic Law, no woman could rule in France or be more than a consort to her husband. For this reason, Catherine could not share Henri’s coronation at Rheims. A French
queen’s coronation was often delayed, probably for financial reasons. The king’s coronation was so costly that his queen often had to wait some time until the coffers could be replenished. Three weeks after Henri’s entry into his capital, on June 10, and two years after his coronation, Catherine was crowned at Saint-Denis. She dazzled in red velvet adorned with large pearls, diamonds, rubies, and emeralds. Her cloak, edged with ermine, was made of “Persian” velvet, which means it was threaded with gold and changed reflection as she moved. It was covered with embroidered gold
fleur-de-lys
that must have added considerably to its weight. And all these velvets and furs were worn in June! It was noted that the dresses of the Italian ladies were more striking than the French with their abundant, luxurious fabrics. The Protestants were easily spotted in their somber and austere clothing.

To observe this ceremony, Diane was placed near the queen in a seat normally reserved for royalty. She wore a dress similar to Catherine’s, in the classical antique style, with an “over-coat” of ermine. To further underline Diane’s elevated status, Catherine’s chief lady-in-waiting was Françoise de Bouillon, Diane’s daughter. There was a moment in the ceremony when the heavy golden crown was removed from the queen’s head and replaced with a lighter one. This was accomplished by Diane’s other daughter, Louise, who positioned the heavy crown on a cushion at her mother’s feet.

One week later, on June 18, Catherine made her own solemn entry into Paris, carried on a litter draped in cloth of gold, and preceded by the members of the diplomatic corps, each accompanied by a bishop in red robes. Once again, all Henri’s officials rode in the parade, wearing the black and white he shared with his “Lady.” Among Catherine’s mounted entourage were the Guise brothers, the Constable de Montmorency—and Diane, riding a prancing white steed. Even on her day of triumph, Catherine could not forget that there were always three people in her marriage.

Diane’s elder daughter, Françoise, as chief
dame d’honneur
to the queen, led a group of ten high-ranking ladies in the parade. According to her rank as a duchess, Diane was seated just behind the royal princesses, but she had the added satisfaction of having her two daughters
placed by her. Henri’s first child, Diane de France, the other living symbol of her husband’s infidelity, was also seated in a prominent position, adding to the queen’s discomfort.

As a special gesture to his queen on this day, Henri confirmed the right and privilege given to Catherine by his father—that of appointing a master in every guild throughout France, a considerable authority at the time. The Parisians had erected a grandstand for the tournament that followed her entry. To spare the queen any embarrassment, the grandstand was decorated with Henri’s “H” and a double “K” for the queen.
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But over the gateway through which the gallant knights had to ride to the lists, emblazoned high, was a gigantic “H” with crescent moons, and other letters “H” with the double “D” added.

A
LTHOUGH Henri’s court celebrated intellectual enlightenment and Humanism through the coronations and royal entries, the grotesque persecutions and burnings of those with different faiths continued. In the various cities through which he passed, the king had made a habit of granting the most unfortunate of his subjects an audience, and just three weeks after the glorious celebrations and processions to honor him and his queen in Paris, he chose to hear the pleas of one of the imprisoned heretics. The cardinal de Lorraine was asked to choose such a man, and brought before the king a simple tailor, whom he assumed would be ill-educated and overawed by the royal presence. But when the wretched man stood in his tattered clothes in the middle of the glory of the court of France, to the combined astonishment of the king, cardinal, and the assembly, he answered the questions put to him as deftly as any theologian. When Diane, who had suffered much abuse at the hands of the Protestants, turned to ask him some riddles to test his faith, he raised a hand to silence her, and said: “Madame, be satisfied with having corrupted France, and do not intrude your filth upon a thing so sacred as the truth of God.”

The charge of “filth” against his beloved Diane was too much for Henri, “who loved nothing in the world so much as this lady.” The Protestant’s words so greatly enraged him that he declared he wished to see the tailor burned alive in the rue Saint-Antoine. Four other heretics joined the tailor at the stake, and Henri watched as the flames rose. The tailor’s eyes found the king’s and while the others screamed in agony, the tailor remained silent, staring steadfastly at the king until it was over. Henri maintained afterward that he felt those eyes on him night and day and swore he would attend no more burnings. He kept his word; but the burnings continued.

The incident of the tailor hardened Diane in her attitude toward the “reformers,” particularly as the delicacy of her position had been so openly exposed. In order that the Catholic Church would not condemn Diane de Poitiers for the king’s adultery as the tailor had done, she had to be recognized as the Church’s staunchest ally against heresy, and a committed champion of the Catholic religion. Although it is true that a royal mistress was somehow considered above the normal laws of the Church, it was possible that Diane could be accused of being the cause of the king’s adultery and Henri be forced to banish her. As Brantôme writes, “Sleeping with the king is not sinful.” Diane de Poitiers believed in her religion and was not one to defy the teachings of the Church; she went to enormous lengths to show respect for its traditions. Her piety was both expected and typical of the time, neither false nor exaggerated. Her detestation of heresy was genuine; but she also used her influential position in the fight against heresy to protect her status by Henri’s side.

Protestantism was so widespread that in 1551, the king ordained that even more “Burning Chambers” be established throughout the country. People were encouraged to denounce one another with the lure of gaining half of the property confiscated from condemned heretics. Although these persecutions appear appalling to us today, at the time, Henri believed he was doing God’s work, and his reputation was enhanced, not diminished. Horrifying as such a thought might be, a burning in sixteenth-century France had the same spectator appeal that a good sports event has in the twenty-first century.

Both François I and Henri II are generally considered by historians
to have been less cruel than contemporary monarchs such as Henry VIII and his daughter, Bloody Mary of England, or the Holy Roman Emperor Charles V. In view of Henri’s need for the support of the Protestant German princes in his fight against Charles V, his early days on the throne showed a tolerance he did not avow.
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However, the persecution begun by the French
Parlement
in the reign of François I, which (with the encouragement of the duchesse de Valentinois) continued under Henri II, is the one great blemish on an otherwise glorious reign.

While Henri’s subjects sent their neighbors to the Burning Chambers for the slightest religious transgression, Humanism was embraced by many at his court. Renaissance philosophy encouraged cultured women to study the Humanists and some women adopted the “new learning” with energy and enthusiasm. The new emphasis on piety among such learned upper-class women, in addition to the constant absence of men at war during the first half of the sixteenth century, produced a new phenomenon: the feminine humanist-reformer, personified by the king’s aunt, Marguerite de Navarre. These women, and their male counterparts, walked a fine and dangerous line.

Like most courtiers, the queen’s opinions were dependent upon circumstances and how they favored her. She owned a French Bible, and yet her closest friends during her early days at the French court were Henri’s aunt, Marguerite de Navarre, and Marguerite de France, sister of Henri, both sympathetic to the reformers. Her five dearest friends at court all became Protestants; and the feeling among their group was that Catherine would not support them, but she would not be hostile, either. These noblewomen, benefiting from a Humanist education and attached to the court or the entourage of a lady of the
haute noblesse
, were, after all, in a position to become influential and powerful, and thereby useful to Catherine.