FinermanWorks

August 24, 1572

Catherine de Medici was having a bad week.    First, she had to organize the wedding of her daughter Margo to Henri de Bourbon, King of Navarre.  Even with her connections, the Queen Mother couldn’t get a better date for Notre Dame Cathedral than August.  Who would want to be in Paris then?  (Be sure to triple the order on the Church incense.)   Then, there was a matter of finding a cleric willing to do mixed marriages.  Royal marriages required at least an archbishop, but none seemed to approve of a Protestant bridegroom.  Fortunately, someone in the groom’s family was still Catholic and he was a Cardinal.  Of course, there was always the challenge of seating.  The Guises hate the Montmorencys, and neither wanted to be near Huguenots.  Finally, at the last minute, she had to plan the massacre of the Protestant guests.

Catherine was almost as surprised by this development as the Protestants would be; and it was all the fault of that Henri de Guise, Duc de Lorraine.  Two days earlier, on August 22nd, a Guise employee had attempted to assassinate the Huguenot leader Gaspard de Coligny.  Perhaps Guise had his reasons: he was the leader of the militant Catholics and his father had been assassinated by a Huguenot.  An Italian would never begrudge anyone a vendetta, but Catherine did not appreciate Guise’s sense of timing.  It rather disrupted the ecumenical mood of the wedding festivities.  At least Coligny had survived, and Catherine and her son–King Charles IX–had paid a visit to the invalid.  But that good will gesture did not satisfy the outraged Huguenots.

So Catherine and her royal councilors had to come to a decision.  (Charles rarely dared to have his own opinion.)  Of course, in theory, they should punish de Guise.  But De Guise commanded his own army, the Holy League; he was the most popular man in France and especially adored in Paris, and he was allied to Philip II.  Any action against de Guise could lead to widespread rebellion, war with Spain and even some excommunications from Rome.   So justice was out of the question.

As an alternative strategy the Crown could do nothing, as if the assassination attempt had never happened.  But that would infuriate the Protestants and start a civil war in France.  The whole point of the marriage between Margo and a Huguenot leader was to maintain peace among the antagonistic religions.  However, there was a third way, one that would avert such a war: massacre the Huguenot leaders before they had a chance to rebel.  Most of them happened to be in Paris for the wedding.  There would never be a more convenient time and place to kill them all.  And Catherine felt that she was only being fair.  If the Huguenots had been the majority in France, she would have organized a massacre of the Catholics.

So, on August 24, early in the morning, the Duc de Guise got a second chance to kill Gaspard de Coligny.  The Royal Guard had also been given a list of Huguenot victims.  Some of them were wedding guests at the Louvre; of course, it would have been rude and messy to slaughter them in their beds.  So they were dragged into the courtyards.  Catherine was quite willing to dispose of her new son-in-law Henri de Bourbon, but for once King Charles stood up to his mother.  The King felt that his brother-in-law should be offered the choice of conversion or death; as it turned out, Henri proved more pragmatist than Protestant.  At the first opportunity, however, Bourbon escaped Paris and reverted to Calvinism.  If the popular lore can be believed, Catherine would spend the rest of her life (another 16 years) trying to poison him.

Now, the massacre had been intended to be a society affair.  These were  “de” people  and worth killing; but the population of Paris hated to miss out on the carnage.  They began an unrestrained slaughter of every Huguenot: man, woman and child.  Thousands were killed in Paris, and as the news spread through France, it was viewed as an invitation.    Until early October, the massacres continued.  The number of victims can only be estimated, and the estimations might reflect a certain bias.  Whereas the Encyclopedia Britannica cites 50,000 dead, the Catholic Encyclopedia concedes maybe 1100 dead in Paris and perhaps 15,000 in all of France.  (The Catholic Encyclopedia also insists that the killings were the work of Machiavellians, not real Catholics.)

Despite all that enthusiastic slaughter, there were still ample surviving Huguenots to plunge France into civil wars that lasted until 1598.  Catherine de Medici did not live to see its outcome; however, undeserving, she died of natural causes in 1589. King Charles died in 1574, perhaps accidentally poisoned by his mother.  The Duc de Guise was assassinated in 1588, but surprisingly not by a Protestant.  Only Henri de Bourbon was left–and he now was the King of France.  Of course, to attain the throne, he had to re-convert to Catholicism; but he did grant an edict of tolerance to his former fellow Huguenots.

So the massacre’s only lasting effect was its infamy.  According to the Church Calendar, August 24th is the feast day of Saint Bartholomew.  But since 1572, St. Bartholomew’s Day is not remembered for a feast.

January 5, 1589:  Hell Gets a Den Mother

On this day in 1589, ten thousand French foodtasters were thrown out of work. Catherine de Medici died and the people no longer felt terrified of eating. Ironically, Catherine was credited with introducing haute cuisine to France. Of course, the ulterior purpose of delicious food is to disguise the taste of any surprise ingredients.

In his novels, Alexandre Dumas has the Queen Mother finding the most remarkable ways to poison people. Jeanne de Navarre, the mother of the future Henri IV, shouldn’t have worn those gift gloves from Catherine. Henri of Navarre receives a book from his loving mother-in-law. Unfortunately, so the novel relates, King Charles IX sees the book and is the first (and last) to read it. Guess what the sticky substance on the pages was? At least, Charles wasn’t Catherine’s favorite son.  You’d have thought that Catherine would have applied her culinary skills to the St. Bartholomew’s Massacre. She probably couldn’t trust French waiters to get the orders right. “Was Admiral Coligny supposed to get the poisson or the poison?”

Even discounting Dumas’ literary license, Catherine was infamous.  Ruling through her weak and incompetent sons, her policies were intrigue and treachery as she presided over a France rent by religious and civil wars.  Who but Catherine would use a wedding as an invitation to a massacre?  Her Protestant guests on St. Bartholomews Day certainly could have complained how Paris treats tourists.  Yet her son-in-law and frequent target Henri IV said “I am surprised that she never did worse.”  And that was a compliment!

If one can justify a monster, Caterina Maria Romula di Lorenzo de’ Medici had a pitiful life.  Within her weeks of her birth in 1519 she was an orphan, her mother succumbing to 16th century medicine and her father to syphilis.  Yet, as a legitimate de Medici–a fairly rare species–the infant was an invaluable asset in the family’s ambitions.  To quote Luther “the de Medicis had more money than God” but Florence and Tuscany, however charming, did not give the family any great political or military weight.  Buying a papal election or two did enhance the Medici name and influence, but a dynastic marriage could further strengthen the Florentine family with a powerful ally. It just so happened that the King of France needed money and he had an available son.

So, at the age of 12, Catherina became Catherine and the Duchess d’Orleans.  While dynastic marriages are usually loveless, the relationship between Catherine and her husband Henri was especially callous.  Her dowry was much more alluring than she was, and Henri never hid his disdain.  Royal males were permitted infidelity, but a form of etiquette was still expected.  At court, the wife was supposed to have precedence over the mistress.  Henri dispensed with that courtesy.  As duchess, then princess and even queen, Catherine was humiliated by her husband.  However, Henri did pay one form of attention to his wife:  and the result was nine children–including four sons.  They would be Catherine’s immediate solace and her eventual revenge. 

Although Henri’s chivalry did not extend to his wife, he did love to joust.  In that pursuit, one day in 1559  his eye stopped a lance.  That proved an unhealthy tactic, and Catherine now was the Queen Mother of Francis II.  However, she was not yet the power behind the throne.  The new king was–at age 15–already married and henpecked.  His 17 year-old wife, Mary of Scotland, towered over him; and if the physical domination was not enough, her ambitious French uncles–the de Guises–were eager to guide the royal couple.  If the Guises did not give Catherine a second thought, at least they showed her more courtesy than her husband ever had.  As Queen Mother, she was given a place in the regents’ council and her name was included in royal proclamations.

Her life as a pampered cipher lasted a year.  Francis II died of an ear abscess at the age of 16.  Of course, Dumas suggests the Catherine “supervised” his medical treatment.  However cynical that seems, Catherine was not incapacitated by grief.  Young, widowed Mary was, for all the diplomatic euphemisms, expelled to Scotland (where the gallicized Catholic really endeared herself to her Calvinist subjects–but you know this story); and the new king was the ten-year-old Charles IX.  So the reign of Catherine de Medici began.

If she had some satisfaction in her power, she was not having fun.  France was trying to stave off domination by the Hapsburgs, the Guise clan craved power and possibly the throne itself, the Protestants agitated for official tolerance threatening civil war and possibly the throne itself.  To protect her son, his throne and kingdom, the Queen Mother was prepared to do anything.  Intrigue, treachery, even assassination were justifiable means of politics.  (In fact, a penurious Florentine bureaucrat had written a book on that subject and dedicated it to her wastrel father.)  To maintain the dynasty through those challenges, she would make and betray alliances.  First, she might side with the Huguenots, then with their Catholic nemesis, then back to the Huguenots, whenever and wherever the advantage lay. 

Perhaps she meant to set aside power when Charles IX became a mature adult; however, he never did although he lived to be 24.  As for her next son, Henri III had caprices rather capacity; so long as he had the luxuries, he ceded the responsibilities to his mother.  Catherine eventually realized that the dynasty was doomed.  French law only permitted males on the throne, and  the Valois were running out of them.   Charles IX  only had a daughter.  Henri III had neither the proclivities nor the diligence to produce any heirs.  But Catherine continued to intrigue, bargain and fight because France needed someone to do it, and none of her sons had the capacity.  

Within a few months of Catherine’s death, Henri III was assassinated and the Valois dynasty ended.  Her son-in-law would intrigue, bargain and fight to become Henri IV and founder of the Bourbon dynasty.  He won a kingdom that–against the odds–Catherine de Medici had preserved.     “I am surprised that she did not do worse.”

September 3rd:  Happy Birthday to Diane de Poitiers

Henri II deserves to be more popular. The French king (1519-1559) may have been stupid (he never demonstrated any evidence to the contrary) and he certainly was bigoted (ask any Huguenot who survived him), but his form of adultery should earn him considerable admiration. Henri left his wife for an older woman!

And I do mean older. His mistress Diane de Poitiers was 20 years his senior. Freud might have had something to say about that, although it would have only incited Henri to start persecuting Jews. Diane (1499-1566) was a woman of great charm and beauty; that could not be said about Henri’s wife: Catherine de Medici. (Catherine was quite intelligent, but Henri would have resented that.) Unfortunately, in his enthusiasm for Diane, Henri was continually affronting his wife. Guess who received court precedence or the pick of the best chateaux? Henri must have thought that his wife was good-natured. Did I mention that he was stupid?

In 1559, Henri apparently confused jousting with soccer, and attempted to catch a lance with his eye. It was not good for his health, or for Diane’s career. The new king of France was 15 years old and not in the market for a 60 year-old mistress. Besides, the Queen Mother had a definite grudge against Diane. The unemployed courtesan did survive, but it was not a pleasant retirement. From a deluxe suite at the Louvre and a Loire estate at Chenonceau, Diane now found herself in the equivalent of a studio apartment frigidly far from anywhere of interest. She did seem to die of natural causes. Either Catherine did not live up to her murderous reputation or for once really got away with a crime.

Finally, by the standards of the 16th century, Diane had a very eccentric habit. She bathed daily. Of course, we now surmise that was the basis of her allure.

  As you see from the portrait on the right, 16th century France had its own version of iCloud.

January 5th Obituaries

On this day in 1589, ten thousand French foodtasters were thrown out of work. Catherine de Medici died and the people no longer felt terrified of eating. Ironically, Catherine was credited with introducing haute cuisine to France. Of course, the ulterior purpose of delicious food is to disguise the taste of any surprise ingredients.

In his novels, Alexander Dumas has the Queen Mother finding the most remarkable ways to poison people. Jeanne de Navarre, the mother of the future Henri IV, shouldn’t have worn those gift gloves from Catherine. Henri of Navarre receives a book from his loving mother-in-law. Unfortunately, so the novel relates, King Charles IX sees the book and is the first (and last) to read it. Guess what the sticky substance on the pages was? At least, Charles wasn’t Catherine’s favorite son.

You’d have thought that Catherine would have applied her culinary skills to the St. Bartholomew’s Massacre. She probably couldn’t trust French waiters to get the orders right. “Was Admiral Coligny supposed to get the poisson or the poison?”

From my video archives, here is a visit with the 16th century’s inspiration for Martha Stewart:

Catherine: Why hello. Today I am planning the wedding of my daughter Margaret to Henry of Navarre. And nothing and no one will be spared. I may cut throats but never corners. Helping with the invitation list is my friend–and great gossip–Nostradamus.

Nostradamus: The Pope can’t come, so there is no point in sending him an invitation.

Catherine: With Nostradamus you don’t have to bother with RSVPs. Now designing the wedding dress is my son Henri.

Henri: It is so beautiful I wish I were wearing it. Perhaps when I am king….Knowing Margaret, though, no one will believe that she should be in white.

Nostradamus: When the groom says “I do”, most of the guys at court will think “So have I.”

Catherine: Changing the subject, we are having the wedding at Notre Dame Cathedral. Having a thousand people stand during a four hour ceremony might be a certain problem, but my friend–and paisano–Ben Cellini is here with the solution.

Cellini: Here is it: a solid gold chamber pot. Of course you will need at least five hundred for both necessity and mementos. It won’t be cheap.

Catherine: We can economize on the catering. You see, we are planning to massacre the Protestant guests. Believe me, it will be difficult enough getting Margaret to write any thank-you notes for the gifts; so this will eliminate half of that chore. And a massacre is certainly a more original entertainment than the usual band; even the Protestants might find it preferable to doing “The Hokey-Pokey.”

Henri II deserves to be more popular. The French king (1519-1559) may have been stupid (he never demonstrated any evidence to the contrary) and he certainly was bigoted (ask any Huguenot who survived him), but his form of adultery should earn him considerable admiration. Henri left his wife for an older woman!

And I do mean older. His mistress Diane de Poitiers was 20 years his senior. Freud might have had something to say about that, although it would have only incited Henri to start persecuting Jews. Diane (1499-1566) was a woman of great charm and beauty; that could not be said about Henri’s wife: Catherine de Medici. (Catherine was quite intelligent, but Henri would have resented that.) Unfortunately, in his enthusiasm for Diane, Henri was continually affronting his wife. Guess who received court precedence or the pick of the best chateaux? Henri must have thought that his wife was good-natured. Did I mention that he was stupid?

In 1559, Henri apparently confused jousting with soccer, and attempted to catch a lance with his eye. It was not good for his health, or for Diane’s career. The new king of France was 15 years old and not in the market for a 60 year-old mistress. Besides, the real ruler of France–the Queen Mother–had a definite grudge against Diane. The unemployed courtesan did survive, but it was not a pleasant retirement. From a deluxe suite at the Louvre and a Loire estate at Chenonceau, Diane now found herself in the equivalent of a studio apartment frigidly far from anywhere of interest. She did seem to die of natural causes. Either Catherine did not live up to her murderous reputation or for once really got away with a crime.

Finally, by the standards of the 16th century, Diane had a very eccentric habit. She bathed daily. Of course, we now surmise that was the basis of her allure.

On this day in 1589, Hell got a den mother. Yes, Catherine de Medici died.

From my video archives, here is a visit with the 16th century’s inspiration for Martha Stewart:

Catherine: Why hello. Today I am planning the wedding of my daughter Margaret to Henry of Navarre. And nothing and no one will be spared. I may cut throats but never corners. Helping with the invitation list is my friend–and great gossip–Nostradamus.

Nostradamus: The Pope can’t come, so there is no point in sending him an invitation.

Catherine: With Nostradamus you don’t have to bother with RSVPs. Now designing the wedding dress is my son Henri.

Henri: It is so beautiful I wish I were wearing it. Perhaps when I am king….Knowing Margaret, though, no one will believe that she should be in white.

Nostradamus: When the groom says “I do”, most of the guys at court will think “So have I.”

Catherine: Changing the subject, we are having the wedding at Notre Dame Cathedral. Having a thousand people stand during a four hour ceremony might be a certain problem, but my friend–and paisano–Ben Cellini is here with the solution.

Cellini: Here is it: a solid gold chamber pot. Of course you will need at least five hundred for both necessity and mementos. It won’t be cheap.

Catherine: We can economize on the catering. You see, we are planning to massacre the Protestant guests. Believe me, it will be difficult enough getting Margaret to write any thank-you notes for the gifts; so this will eliminate half of that chore. And a massacre is certainly a more original entertainment than the usual band; even the Protestants might find it preferable to doing “The Hokey-Pokey.”