J. H. Merle D'Aubigné - History of the Reformation in Europe in the Time of Calvin (Vol. 1-8)

There were mysteries and games, and the streets were gaily drest,

And the roads with flowers were strewn of the sweetest and the best;

On every side were galleries, and, if 't would pleasure yield,

We'd have conjured up again for thee a new Elysian field. 181

Princes, archbishops, bishops, barons, knights, gentlemen of parliament, and the magistrates of the city, were assembled for this illustrious marriage; scholars and poets were not wanting. Francis I. would often repeat the proverb addressed by Fouquet, Count of Anjou, to Louis IV.:

Un roi non lettré

Est un âne couronné. 182

Philologers, painters, and architects had flocked to France from foreign countries. They had met in Paris men worthy to receive them. William Budæus, the three brothers Du Bellay, William Petit, the king's confessor; William Cop, the friend of Lascaris and Erasmus; Pierre du Châtel, who so gracefully described his travels in the East; Pellicier, the learned commentator on Pliny, whose papers have not, however, been printed; 183Peter Danès, whose talents and knowledge Calvin esteemed so highly: all these scholars, who entertained sympathies, more or less secret, for the Reform, were then at court. These men of letters passed among the Roman party as belonging to Luther's flock. 184Somewhat later, indeed, when one of them, Danès, was at the Council of Trent, a French orator inveighed strongly against the lax morals of Rome. The Bishop of Orvieto said with contempt: ' Gallus cantat! '—' Utinam ,' sharply retorted Danès, then ambassador for France, ' utinam ad galli cantum Petrus resipisceret! ' 185But the cock has often crowed, and Peter has shed no tears.

In the midst of all these men of letters was

Margaret, the fairest flower

That ever grew on earth,

as Ronsard called her. But although her fine understanding enjoyed this select society, more serious thoughts occupied her mind. She could not forget, even in the midst of the court, the little angel that had flown away from her; she was uneasy about the friends of the Gospel; the worldly festivities around her left her heart depressed and unsatisfied. She endeavoured to pierce the thick clouds that hung over her, and soaring in spirit to the 'heavenly kingdom,' she grasped the hand that Christ stretched out to her from on high. She returned to the well of Jacob, where she had drunk when she was so tired with her journey. She had been as a parched and weary land, having neither dew nor moisture, and the Lord had refreshed her with the clear springs of his Holy Spirit. 'A continual sprinkling (to use her own words) kept up in her a heavenly eternity;' and she would have desired all who gathered round her to come to that well where she had so effectually quenched her own thirst. Accordingly, in the midst of the worldly agitation of the court, and of all the honours lavished on her rank and her wit, the poor mother, whose heart was bruised but consoled, looked out in silence for some lamb which she could recall from its wandering, and said:

=THE FOUNTAIN PURE AND FREE.=

'Come to my fountain pure and free,

Drink of its stream abundantly.'

Hasten, sinners, to the call

Of your God, who speaks to all:

'Come and drink—it gives relief

To every form of mortal grief;

Come and drink the draught divine,

Out of this new fount of mine.

Wash away each mortal stain

In the blood of Jesu slain.

No return I seek from thee

But works of love and charity.'

Hasten, sinners, to the brink

Of this stream so pure, and drink!

Fill your hearts, so that ye may

Serve God better every day.

Then, well washed of every stain

That of earth might yet remain,

By Jesu's love at last set free,

Live in heaven eternally.

'Come to my fountain pure and free,

Drink of its stream abundantly!'

Listen, sinners, to the call

Of your God, who speaks to all. 186

These appeals were not unavailing. The Reformation was advancing in France by two different roads: one was on the mountains, the other in the plain. The Gospel gained hearts among the sons of labour and of trial; but it gained others also among the learned and high-born, whose faculty of inquiry had been aroused, and who desired to substitute truth in the place of monastic superstitions. Margaret was the evangelist of the court and of the king. Her mother, with Duprat and Montmorency, ruled in the council-chamber, the Duchess of Etampes in the court festivities, but the gentle voice of the Queen of Navarre supported Francis in his frequent periods of uneasiness and dejection. Yet not to the king alone did Margaret devote at this time the attentions of her ardent charity. All the affections of her heart were just now concentrated on a single object.

=LOUISA OF SAVOY DYING.=

She had not recovered from the death of her child, when another blow fell upon the Queen of Navarre. The brilliant and gay festivities of the court were succeeded by the sullen silence of the grave; and the icy coldness, which had presided over the marriage of Francis with his enemy's sister, was followed by the keen anguish and the bitter sorrows of the tenderest of daughters. About the end of the year 1531 the Isle of France was visited by an epidemic. Louisa of Savoy was taken seriously ill at Fontainebleau, where the children of the king were staying. Margaret hurried thither immediately. Louisa, that great enemy of the Reformation, weakened by her dissolute life, was suffering from a severe fever, and yet, imagining that she would not die, she continued to attend to business of importance, and, between the paroxysms of the disease that was killing her, dictated her despatches to the king. Never had mother so depraved and daughter so virtuous felt such love for each other. As soon as she saw the Duchess of Angoulême, the Queen of Navarre anticipated 'the greatest of misfortunes,' and never left her side. The king's children afforded their grandmother some diversion. Charles, Duke of Angoulême, then nine years old, thought only of his father. 'If I only meet him,' said the boy one day, 'I will never let go his hand.'—'And if the king should go to hunt the boar?' said his aunt.—'Well! I shall not be afraid; papa will be able to take care of me.'—'When Madame heard these words,' wrote Margaret to her brother, 'she burst into tears, which has done her much good.'

In the midst of all these mournful occupations, Margaret kept watch over the friends of the Gospel. 'Dear nephew,' she wrote to the grand-master Montmorency, 'that good man Lefèvre writes to me that he is uncomfortable at Blois, because the folks there are trying to annoy him. For change of air, he would willingly go and see a friend of his, if such were the king's good pleasure.' Margaret, finding that the enemies of the Reform were tormenting the old man, gave him an asylum at Nerac in her own states. We shall meet with him there hereafter.

On the 20th of September, Louisa, feeling a little better, left Fontainebleau for Romorantin; but she had hardly reached Grez, near Nemours, when her failing voice, her labouring breath, and her words so sad 'that no one could listen to them, gave her daughter a sorrow and vexation impossible to describe.' 187'It is probable that she will die,' wrote Margaret to the king. Louisa, notwithstanding her weakness, still busied herself with affairs of state; she wished to die governing. Deep sorrow filled her daughter's heart. It was too much for her, this sight of a mother whom she loved with intense affection, trifling on the brink of the grave, strengthening herself against death by means of her power and her greatness, 'as if they would serve her as a rampart and strong tower,' forgetting that there was another besides herself, who disposed of that life of which she fancied herself to be the mistress. Margaret did not rest content with only praying for her mother; she sat by her and spoke to her of the Saviour. 'Madame,' she said, 'I entreat you to fix your hopes elsewhere. Strive to make God propitious to you.' 188This woman, so ambitious, clever, false, and dissolute, whose only virtue was maternal love, does not appear to have opened her heart to her daughter's voice. She breathed her last on the 29th of September, 1531, in the arms of the Queen of Navarre.