AUTHORITIES CONSULTED

FIRST PART

CHANTILLY AND ITS HISTORY

CHAPTER I

CHANTILLY AND ITS OWNERS

The Montmorencys

After changing hands through three decades, Chantilly in 1386 became the property of Pierre d’Orgemont, Chancellor to Charles V of France, who laid the foundations of an imposing feudal fortress, flanked by seven stately towers.

Several centuries later a change again occurred in the ownership of Chantilly. By default of male issue it passed into the possession of Jean II, Baron de Montmorency, who married Marguerite, sole heiress of the Orgemonts; and with this illustrious family Chantilly emerged from comparative obscurity into historical fame. Henceforth it became a favourite centre for the leading men of France, and within its hospitable walls kings and princes found sumptuous entertainment.

Matrimonial alliance in the beginning of the seventeenth century brought the property into the family of the Condés, a younger branch of the Bourbons; and later still, by the marriage of the last Prince de Condé with Princesse Bathilde d’Orléans, and the tragic death of their only son, the Duc d’Enghien, Chantilly passed into the possession of its last private owner, Prince Henri d’Orléans, Duc d’Aumale.

The family of the Montmorencys was well known and famous in France during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, but became extinct under Richelieu, who, for reasons of state, sent the last scion of that race, Henri de Montmorency, to the scaffold.

Guillaume, son of Jean de Montmorency, who married the heiress of Chantilly, joined in an expedition to Italy under Charles VIII of France. There are portraits of him in the Louvre, and at Lyons, whilst a fine crayon drawing representing him in his younger days is to be found in the portfolios of the Musée Condé. He it was who, in 1515, constructed the Chapel of the Château, obtaining from Pope Leo X a bull for its foundation. He married Anne de Pot, and their eldest son was the famous Anne de Montmorency, known as the Grand Connétable. Queen Anne of Brittany held him at the baptismal font, conferring upon him her own name, and he was educated with the Duc d’Angoulême, afterwards King Francis I.

Anne de Montmorency in early youth distinguished himself by artistic taste, probably acquired at the Court of Louise of Savoy, mother of Francis I. No sooner had he succeeded his father as Lord of Chantilly than he endeavoured to create a mansion more in accordance with the refined taste of his time. Without demolishing the fortifications and the stately towers of the Orgemonts, he succeeded in introducing more light into the mediæval chambers by piercing their walls with large windows. He hung the interior of the castle with tapestries, and furnished it richly with the artistic spoils of his expeditions into Italy. He also commenced the formation of the famous Library, subsequently continued by the Condés until it reached the fame which it enjoyed under its latest owner, the Duc d’Aumale.

Under the Grand Connétable’s directions were executed the forty-four painted glass windows still at Chantilly. They illustrate the legend of Cupid and Psyche after cartoons by the school of Raphael, and were produced in France about 1546 by Jean Mangin and Leonard Gautier.

Montmorency’s artistic tastes, however, did not prevent him from being the greatest warrior of his time. Together with his maternal uncles, Gouffier de Boissy and Gouffier de Bonnivet, he was numbered among the so-called Preux who fought victoriously by the side of King Francis I, at the Battle of Marignan. He followed the King to Pavia, where he was made a prisoner with his Royal master, and in 1530 he was at Bayonne, to negotiate the release of the young Princes of Valois, who had been kept as hostages by the Emperor Charles V. After the Peace of Madrid he again fought against the Imperial troops in Picardy, and it was upon this occasion that he received the title of “Great Constable” of France.

In spite, however, of his great prowess he fell into disgrace with the King through the intrigues of Madame d’Estampes. As in the case of the Connétable de Bourbon, Francis I, ever fickle in his friendships, became so jealous of Montmorency’s fame that the latter was obliged at last to retire to Chantilly; where he employed his time in improving this favourite abode. He constructed on an island close to the older feudal castle, the fine Renaissance palace known as the Petit-Château, which by some miracle has remained almost intact to this day. It is probable that Jean Bullant, the architect of Ecouen, was consulted with regard to this Petit-Château at Chantilly, for the style of its architecture marks the transition between the mediæval Gothic and the period of the French Renaissance, and ranks it with buildings such as the châteaux of Chambord, Chenonceaux, d’Azay le Rideau, and Langeais.[1]

This style, according to Viollet-le-Duc, grew up like the beech-trees and the willows near the Loire, and—as in the case of Chantilly—is often found side by side with feudal castles of a much older period; the owners of which, apparently unwilling to demolish their ancestral homes, preferred at the same time to occupy more modern and commodious residences.

The chief distinction between the French and Italian Renaissance is that the former is less conventional and offers less regularity of style in its building. It is a style that reached its climax in the châteaux of Blois and Chambord, each of which preserves some characteristics of the nobles who erected them, although the names of the actual architects, in spite of their undoubted creative skill, remain for the most part unknown. Such is the case with the Petit-Château of Chantilly.

Anne de Montmorency was an intimate friend of Diane de Poitiers, the friend and mistress of Henri II. This lady was owner of the Château of Clemonceaux, which no doubt served as a model to Montmorency when erecting his own new palace. The complete absence of documents with regard to this structure is greatly to be regretted, but the supposition that Jean Bullant, who was in constant relation with Pierre des Iles, known as “Maçon” of Chantilly, had a hand in its erection, as stated above, is by no means unreasonable. It is an architectural gem, and provoked the admiration of Leonardo da Vinci and Benvenuto Cellini, who both enjoyed hospitality within its walls.

Anne de Montmorency was created Duke by Henri II, and after the sudden death of that King he succeeded in securing the goodwill of Francis II and Charles IX. Queen Catherine de Medicis cordially disliked him, but nevertheless endeavoured to use him as a tool against the Huguenot Louis I de Bourbon, Prince de Condé.

In 1562 he won the battle of Dreux against Condé and Coligny, and he routed them again in 1567 at Saint-Denis, though at the sacrifice of his own life; for he was severely wounded, and died shortly afterwards in Paris.

Anne de Montmorency at various stages of his life is presented in a series of French drawings, dating from 1514, as a Preux de Marignan, down to his old age. There also exists a drawing of his wife Madeleine de Savoie. By a fortunate coincidence these drawings—of which we shall speak later on—have found their way back to Chantilly. In the stained-glass windows of the chapel, painted in 1544, may be seen portraits of his numerous children executed by Bardon after still-existing cartoons by Lechevallier Chevignard. In order to complete the family the Duc d’Aumale commissioned the artist Guifard to add on the walls of the same chapel portraits of the great Constable and his wife.

After the death of Anne de Montmorency, his eldest son François became Lord of Chantilly. He married Diane de France, whose portrait is also amongst the drawings in this collection. She was a natural daughter of Henri II, and widow, at the early age of eighteen, of Orazio Farnese, Duca di Castro. Brantôme says of her that it was not possible to see a lady mount on horseback like her, nor with better grace. The woods of Chantilly offered great opportunities to her passion for the chase, and it was probably for this reason that, in the company of her mother-in-law, Madeleine of Savoy, she made it her principal residence. Diane, so called after her godmother Diane de Poitiers, was a great favourite with her royal brothers, and after the death of her husband became known by the title of “Duchesse d’Angoulême.” Since she was childless, François de Montmorency was succeeded by his brother Henri, who distinguished himself as one of the strongest opponents of the Ligue. He, too, was created Constable, and subsequently assisted Henri IV in the reconquest of his kingdom. His second wife, Louise de Budos, died at the early age of twenty-three, soon after giving birth to a son and heir, called Henri after his father. Their elder child, a daughter, Charlotte, was renowned for her beauty; and Lord Herbert of Cherbury—who in his Memoirs describes Chantilly at that period—expressed a wish for her portrait in order that he might show it to the Queen of England. Invited by Henri de Montmorency to make a lengthened stay at Chantilly, he was so enchanted that he calls it “an incomparably fine residence, admired by the greatest princes of Europe.” He relates that the Emperor Charles V was received by the first Duc de Montmorency, Anne, the Grand Connétable, whilst on his way across France from Spain to the Netherlands; and that after that monarch had examined the castle with its moats, bridges, and extensive forests, he was so overcome with admiration that he said he would gladly give one of his provinces in the Netherlands for this unsurpassable residence.

Lord Herbert further discourses upon the hangings of silk adorned with gold, and of the pictures, statues, and works of art in the sumptuous chambers of the Château. He also mentions the huge carp and trout in the ponds, and the merry hunting parties attended along the avenues by packs of hounds.

Another great admirer of Chantilly was Henri IV, who was on terms of intimate friendship with Henri de Montmorency. This King was even accustomed to visit Chantilly during the absence of its owner, and had his own apartments there and his own garden, the so-called Jardin du Roy, of which he enjoyed superintending the arrangements.

There was, however, another reason for his numerous surprise visits: no less an object than Charlotte, Duke Henry’s beautiful daughter. Bereft of her mother, as we have seen, at an early age, she was presented at the French Court by her aunt, the Duchesse d’Angoulême, and her beauty, as described by Bentivoglio, seems to have been of so irresistible a charm that it made a deep impression on the fancy of the gallant King. So great indeed was the admiration which he displayed for the young Charlotte de Montmorency that it became a matter of public notoriety, and throws a curious light upon the famous personages of that period and their morals.

Although Charlotte had not yet attained her fifteenth year, a marriage had been arranged for her with the brilliant Bassompière, at that time a great favourite with the King. His Majesty had given his consent to the marriage; but he nevertheless one day made the following proposals to Bassompière: “Listen! I wish to speak to you as a friend. I am in love with Mademoiselle de Montmorency, and that even madly. If you marry her and she loves you, I should hate you; if she loved me, she would hate you. Now, for the sake of our mutual friendship, it would be better that this marriage should not take place, for I love you with real affection and inclination. I have therefore resolved to arrange a marriage between Mademoiselle de Montmorency and my nephew the Prince de Condé in order to keep her near me. She will thus be the consolation of my old age. To my nephew, who prefers the chase to the ladies, I shall give 100,000 francs a year and claim nothing for it in return but the affection of the newly-married couple!” After this confession, poor Bassompière understood that he had better comply with the King’s wishes, and the fair Charlotte was therefore married to Henri II de Bourbon, third Prince de Condé. The wedding was celebrated at Chantilly with much pomp, and the King lavished splendid jewels and rich dresses upon his new niece, making no secret of the admiration he cherished for her. He spoke of it as only a fatherly affection; but in spite of his good intentions his fancy took the character of so violent a passion that he could not control it. Condé, not insensible to what was going on, purposely retired to his remotest country-seats so as to protect his wife from the gallantries of the King; but, unable to endure her absence, Henri appeared disguised as a falconer at one of the hunting parties, whereupon Charlotte, who was present, fainted on recognising him. His distress at being separated from his “bel ange” was so great that even the Queen, Marie de Medicis, took pity on him, and entreated Condé to return with his charming wife to Court, and Malesherbes sang the amours of the King in glowing love-poems. Condé, considering the honour of his young wife at stake, carried her off instead to the Netherlands, on a visit to his sister the Princess of Orange. When the King heard of this he was furious, and asserted that the charming Princess had been compelled to leave her country by force. He sent a captain of his own Guard to explain the matter to the Archduchess Isabella, at that time Governess of the Netherlands, whilst Chaussé, a police official, was ordered to follow up the fugitives and prevent their reaching Belgium. Chaussé actually overtook the Princess, who, having been obliged to leave her carriage near the River Somme, had broken down after a fifteen hours’ ride on horseback.

But we cannot digress here to pursue this love-affair of Henri IV and Charlotte de Montmorency. Suffice it to say that, transferred to foreign territory, it immediately became a cause célèbre, and even threatened for a time to create serious political disturbances between France and Spain. The fact that the Regent of the Netherlands, in order to please both parties, allowed the Princesse de Condé to prolong her visit to the Princess of Orange but at the same time ordered her husband to leave the Netherlands within three days, was severely commented upon by the Marchese Ambrogio di Spinola, at that time representative at Brussels of the Spanish Court.

This valiant captain, originally a Genoese merchant, had equipped 9,000 men at his own cost, and with them had succeeded—where so many had failed—in confronting Prince Maurice of Nassau and terminating the siege of Ostend. Reduced after this exploit to comparative inactivity, he hailed an opportunity likely to bring about a conflict between personages of such importance as Henri IV of France and the King of Spain.

There was, moreover, another motive for Spinola’s pertinacity in retaining the Princesse de Condé in the Netherlands in spite of the most urgent entreaties of the gallant King. He himself was also suspected of having become enamoured of that dangerous beauty, and he alleged that it was quite against Spanish etiquette that Henri II de Bourbon, Prince de Condé, a Prince of the Blood Royal of France, should not have received the honours due to his rank while passing through the Netherlands. Condé, who, leaving his young wife with the Princess of Orange, had already departed to Cologne, was therefore recalled. He saw his wife, and received a gracious welcome from the Archduchess and the Prince and Princess of Orange; and then, accompanied by his secretary, in a violent snowstorm and under Spanish escort, he left for Milan, secretly determined to seek the assistance of Philip II, King of Spain, against the grievous wrong done to him by Henri IV.

The gallant King enjoyed the rôle of Lancelot, and the fair Charlotte was rather proud of his attentions, so that their amours became a subject of discussion and comment throughout the whole of Europe. It was even alleged that Henri IV was preparing for war against the Netherlands to obtain by force the return of the Princesse de Condé, held in bondage by the Archduchess Isabella in Flanders. This, however, was in truth but a pretext on the part of the King; for in spite of the libertinism in which His Majesty indulged on this occasion, and which seemed for the moment to overcloud his sense of right and wrong, we must remember that Henri IV always proved himself a patriot, and one whose constant endeavour it was to advance the welfare of France. We may, therefore, surmise with the late Duc d’Aumale that it was chiefly his desire to liberate Europe from the Austrian yoke, and thus give to France the position he wished her to hold—not merely the beaux yeux of the Princesse de Condé—which actually induced him to prepare for war. Nevertheless he so successfully frightened the Archduchess Isabella that she agreed to let the Princess depart at last.

In the midst, however, of all these unsolved problems Henri IV was suddenly struck down by the hand of Ravaillac, and as soon as the news reached Condé, who was already on his way to Spain, he immediately returned to France and made a temporary truce with the Regent, Marie de Medicis. But to his wife he seemed unforgiving, requesting her father, Henri de Montmorency, to keep her at Chantilly.

CHAPTER II

CHANTILLY AND THE CONDÉS

The eldest brother Antoine de Bourbon, by his marriage with Jeanne d’Albret (daughter of Marguerite, sister of Francis I), became King of Navarre; and their son, Henri IV, succeeded to the throne of France on the death of Henri III de Valois. Louis de Bourbon, first Prince de Condé,[2] married Eleonore de Roye, granddaughter of Louise de Montmorency, a sister of the famous Constable Anne and mother of the Huguenot chief, Gaspard de Coligny. It was no doubt owing to the influence of his wife Eleonore—so named after the second wife of Francis I—that the Prince de Condé embraced the Protestant cause, and was thenceforward regarded by the Huguenots as one of their leaders. Eleonore was on terms of great intimacy with her sister-in-law, Jeanne d’Albret, Queen of Navarre, who had herself become a Protestant; and one may fairly assert that if Antoine de Bourbon, King of Navarre, and his brother Louis de Condé, had in any way equalled their noble wives in pious sentiment and religious fervour, the Protestant Faith in France would never have been nipped in the bud, but would have become as firmly established there as it did in England and Germany.

As it was, the Guises of Lorraine who embraced the Catholic cause gained considerable ground after the death of Henri II, through their cousin Mary Stuart, Queen of France; and with the ostensible object of furthering this cause, they also tried to supplant the Bourbon Princes, Antoine de Navarre and Louis de Bourbon Condé, who were by right nearer the throne. The latter during the reign of Francis II was thrown into prison for high treason, under a false accusation brought against him by the Guises, and condemned to death. In her despair, his unhappy wife, Eleonore, threw herself upon her knees before the King, imploring permission for a last interview. The young King was about to relent; but the Cardinal of Lorraine, fearing that she might attain her object, drove her roughly from the Royal presence. The unscrupulous Guises had even conceived a plan of making away with this Princess before her husband; for (as a contemporary writer tells us) they feared her intellect and courage in proclaiming her husband’s innocence. They hoped to get rid, not only of her, but also of the King of Navarre and the Châtillons. But at this juncture a change occurred in political affairs.

Francis II, whose health had always been delicate, suddenly showed alarming symptoms of decline. Catherine, the Royne Mère, cast about to get the Regency into her own hands; and in order to check the steadily growing power of the Guises, she resolved to recall the Bourbons, promising to save Condé from death if they would accept her as Regent. The King of Navarre, Antoine de Bourbon, consented to her proposition in order to save his brother. The terrified Guises entreated Catherine to keep Condé still in prison; since he would, if set at liberty, get the better of them all. It is characteristic to note that when the state of the King’s health became desperate, the Guises were wholly without sympathy; though we read that Mary Stuart nursed her dying husband with tenderest solicitude. As soon as the King had breathed his last, Gaspard de Coligny addressed these memorable words to those who stood by: “Messieurs, le roi est mort, çela nous apprend à vivre.”

The death of Francis II opened Condé’s prison doors; whereupon he insisted on proving his innocence, and claiming punishment for those who had caused his incarceration. The Guises began to tremble, and their friends trembled with them. Meantime, Catherine de Medicis, always intent on her own interests, tried to placate the Protestant nobility, and even showed toleration for the Protestant cult in various parts of France. She endeavoured to entice Condé to her Court through the charms of one of her Court ladies—the beautiful Isabelle de Limeuil—in order to make him an instrument for her own purposes. Brantôme, with reference to this, speaks of Louis de Bourbon as a man of corrupt morals. Nor could he resist the passion shown for him by Marguerite de Lustrac, widow of the Maréchal de Saint-André, from whom he accepted the magnificent château of Valery, with its vast appanage, originally intended as a dowry for Mademoiselle de Saint-André, the affianced bride of his own son Henri I de Bourbon, who had died young, poisoned, it is said, by her mother. Condé’s irregular habits called for the severe rebuke of Calvin, and his noble wife Eleonore was broken-hearted over them.

Antoine, King of Navarre, the eldest of the brothers, also became a puppet in the hands of the Queen-Mother and the Guises, who deliberately provoked the sanguinary conflicts at Vassy between the Huguenots and the Catholics.

Jeanne d’Albret, who sided with the Protestants, left the Court in consequence, and to the great regret of Eleonore, retired to her kingdom of Navarre. Had the husbands of these two great ladies been equally desirous of keeping the peace the Massacre of St. Bartholomew would never have taken place. Indeed, when Eleonore de Roye died at the early age of twenty-eight the Protestants of France lost faith in Condé as their leader, believing that it was through her influence alone that he served their cause.

When Eleonore felt her end approaching she sent a messenger for her husband and upon his hurrying to her bedside most generously forgave him for all his infidelities. Her eldest son, Henri I de Bourbon, who had shared all her anxieties and who had been her constant companion, listened with deep emotion to her exhortations to his father that he should remain true to the Protestant Faith; and the memory of this noble woman prevailed with Condé after her death.

The intriguing Catherine, after much wavering, then declared herself upon the Catholic side, and compelled Michel de l’Hôpital, who had tried to reconcile the two parties, to resign. The consequence of this decision was the bloody battle of Jarnac, where Condé died the death of a hero. No one could deny that he loved and honoured France, and that he was a great warrior. Even the Guises, his implacable enemies, endeavoured to conciliate him, and tried to arrange, after his wife’s death, a marriage between him and Mary Stuart. How different, if this alliance had been accomplished, would have been the destinies of that ill-fated Queen![3]

Henri I de Bourbon[4] succeeded his father as Prince de Condé, and secured the friendship of Jeanne d’Albret, Queen of Navarre; so that when the Huguenots, after the disaster of Jarnac, shut themselves up in La Rochelle, the widow of Antoine de Bourbon appeared in their midst and presented to them her son Henri de Béarn, together with his cousin the young Prince de Condé. Under the guidance of Gaspard de Coligny these two young Princes were received amongst the leaders of the Protestant army, at that time in a critical position and in great pecuniary straits. The young Prince de Condé disposed of most of his jewels, whilst Coligny and Jeanne d’Albret made similar sacrifices. These jewels were sent to Queen Elizabeth of England as security for a sum of money forwarded by her to the Protestant forces.

Coligny seems to have thought highly of the abilities of the young Condé Prince, to whom he deputed the command in his absence.

It is indeed remarkable that so fervent a Calvinist as Jeanne d’Albret should have consented to the engagement of her son to Margot de France, youngest daughter of Catherine de Medicis. It is true that the horrors of St. Bartholomew had not then taken place, nor had the close ties of relationship between the houses of Valois and Navarre at that date been loosened. At the same time a marriage was arranged by Jeanne d’Albret between Henri de Condé and Marie de Clève, daughter of the Duc de Nevers and Marguerite de Bourbon. This lady was rich, accomplished, and of rare beauty; and it was an open secret at the time that the Duc d’Anjou (afterwards King Henri III) was madly in love with her.

The marriage of the Prince de Condé was an occasion for great rejoicing amongst the Protestant party, when all at once news arrived of the sudden death of Queen Jeanne d’Albret under suspicious circumstances. It was rumoured that Catherine de Medicis wished to remove her before the nuptials of her son Henri of Navarre and Margot de France. The douce enfant (as Francis I called her, when Dauphine of France) had schooled herself well to the difficult position in which as a young wife she found herself with Diane de Poitiers; but as Queen-mother and Regent she developed into a false and ambitious woman, who actually planned the carnage of St. Bartholomew on the eve of her own daughter’s marriage to the chief of the Huguenot party.

It does not enter into our present work to describe the horrors for which she was responsible on that occasion, but it is sufficient to say that Gaspard de Coligny found his death, whilst the lives of Condé and of the King of Navarre were only spared on the condition that they abjured the Protestant Faith. Condé, however, at first persisted in a refusal, although his young wife obeyed. For this reason he was summoned before the boy King, Charles IX, who, advancing towards him, called out, “The Mass, Death, or the Bastille, Choose!” “God will not allow,” said Condé quietly, “that I choose the first, my King! The two other alternatives are at your pleasure.” In a fury, the King rushed upon him and would have slain him then and there, had not the Queen, Elizabeth of Austria—the only redeeming feature of this contemptible Court—thrown herself at the feet of her husband to prevent him. Finally, however, the two Bourbon Princes did attend Mass, and the Cardinal de Bourbon gave Condé and his bride the nuptial benediction in the church of St. Germain des Prés.

But this was not enough; for both Navarre and Condé were forced to fight against those very Huguenots whose leaders they had been; and they were compelled to march under the command of the Duc d’Anjou against that same La Rochelle where Condé had passed so many years with his noble friend Gaspard de Coligny, engaged in furthering the Protestant cause.

In 1574, however, upon the death of Charles IX, Condé and Henri of Navarre again joined the Protestant forces. Not so Marie de Clève, who was even trying to make this a plea for a separation when she died suddenly in giving birth to a daughter.[5] Twelve years later Condé contracted another marriage, with Charlotte Catherine de la Trémoille.

We propose in this brief sketch of the Condé family, who eventually became Lords of Chantilly, to say something also regarding the lives of the Princesses de Condé, since some of them rank amongst the most noble and interesting women of their time. Charlotte de la Trémoille[6] was the daughter of the Duc de Thouars and Jeanne de Montmorency. She lived with her mother in the fortified castle of Taillebourg, and was of a romantic turn of mind and very handsome. Condé, presented by her brother, the young Duc de Thouars, whilst he chanced to be in the neighbourhood, paid a visit to the young lady; and although of the opposite party—for the Trémoilles were Catholics—he came unattended. He showed her more attention than was his usual custom, so that she fell in love with him. She was but seventeen years of age, whilst Condé was by that time thirty-three, but without an heir to his name. He had a fine head and well-cut features; his expression was pensive, and betrayed a delicate and nervous constitution. The fact of his being a Prince of the Blood Royal and of illustrious lineage stimulated, no doubt, Mademoiselle de la Trémoille’s poetic imagination.

When, after the disaster of Angers, Condé was compelled to go into hiding in Guernsey whilst vainly soliciting the help of Queen Elizabeth, he saw one morning two well-equipped ships approaching the harbour. The captain of the party presently sent one of his officers to the Prince, bearing a letter from Charlotte de la Trémoille begging him to make use of these, her ships. Condé, who had remained so long a helpless prisoner on the island, embarked at once, and upon his arrival at La Rochelle found the Princess awaiting him at that port.

A few days later the wedding was celebrated quietly at the Château de Taillebourg: both the Princess and her brother having become adherents of the Reformed Faith before that event took place.

In 1587 a daughter was born to Condé, named Eleonore after her noble grandmother, who subsequently married the Prince of Orange.

In that same year (1587) the eighth and last religious war broke out in France, known as the War of the Four Henris—Henri III, Henri de Guise, Henri of Navarre, and Henri de Bourbon Condé. The first battle was fought at Coutras, between the Duc de Joyeuse, who commanded 7,000 men for Henri III, and the joint forces of Henri of Navarre and Henri de Condé, who had between them but 5,000 men. The fight was a prolonged one and ended in a victory for the two Bourbons, who both greatly distinguished themselves, “Messieurs,” cried Navarre, before the fight began, “souvenez vous que vous êtes de la maison de Bourbon. Vive Dieu! Je vous ferai voir que je suis votre ainé!” “Et nous, vous montrerons des bons cadets,” replied Condé.

But Duc Henri de Guise presently restored the fortunes of the Catholics by the victories of Vimory and Auneau, wherein no less than twenty thousand Protestants perished.

Henri III, true Valois that he was, was not, however, grateful to the victor. Jealous of his success and growing popularity, he caused him to be foully murdered at the Château of Blois, whither he had summoned him from Paris. The Cardinal de Lorraine, his brother, shared his fate.

Even Catherine de Medicis, then on her deathbed, was horrified at her son’s treachery towards the Guises, who had fought so ably for the Catholic cause. “Vous avez fait mourir le duc de Guise!” she exclaimed; “Dieu veuille que vous vous trouviez bien de l’action que vous venez de faire. Mais vous ne pouvez, je crois, vous en felicitez. Ce n’est pas tout de tailler, il faut savoir coudre.”