December 13: Blood, Fire and Gold
A big thank you to historian Dr Estelle Paranque for sharing this excerpt from her latest book, "Blood, Fire and Gold: The story of Elizabeth I and Catherine de Medici". It's an excellent read.
Prologue: The Art of Making Peace
The day was 27 April 1564, and the English ambassador at the French court and advisor to Elizabeth I of England, Sir Nicholas Throckmorton, had recently earned his freedom. He had also been invited for dinner by Artus de Cossé-Brissac (known as de Gonnord), one of Catherine de Medici’s and Charles IX’s closest privy councillors. Advisor to one queen, Throckmorton had been drawn into the lair of another: Catherine was the French queen mother, and mainland Europe’s most influential woman.
Wearing his usual gold and black attire, conjuring an air of wealth and dignity, de Gonnord welcomed his guest, for whom he had prepared a replenishing meal. Throckmorton was grateful – after all, he had just spent months in a gloomy cell in a French castle, miles away from the capital, fighting for his release and negotiating on behalf of Elizabeth with the French queen mother, who had only recently stopped acting as regent for her son Charles IX of France. By now, the two women had been at each other’s throats for months, and their advisors had been caught in the crossfire.
‘If only your mistress, Elizabeth, the queen of England, and Catherine de Medici, the queen mother of France, could get along well,’ said de Gonnord over dinner. ‘The authority of the pope could then be extinguished in both countries.’
After a moment of reflection, the English ambassador conceded that ‘the diminution of the pope’s authority would greatly please his mistress, the queen’. The dinner continued with discussions of more trivial matters; the two men spoke of anything other than Throck- morton’s difficult experience as a prisoner of the French crown.
But Monsieur de Gonnord had been right. If only these two queens could forge an alliance – if only these two queens could forge an invincible friendship – what, then, could they not achieve? Together, they could rule all of sixteenth-century Europe.
But fate had decided otherwise. And Throckmorton, along with other representatives of both courts, had lost months of their lives that could never be reclaimed.
It all began on the night of 10 August 1536. Sir Nicholas Throckmorton was arrested for travelling without a valid safe-conduct, a diplomatic permit that would allow him to move freely through the country. This was an insult to the English court, for ambassadors were usually allowed free passage, and the message from France was clear: your men are here at our pleasure, and will play by our rules.
Under escort, he was transferred to the Castle of Saint-Germain-en-Laye, thirteen miles from Paris, where he was guarded around the clock by rude Bretons. While there, thanks to one of his secretaries who had not been arrested and managed to bribe some of the guards, he arranged for his correspondence to remain undisrupted, perfectly aware that his letters would nevertheless be scrutinised by French offcials. But he had no choice but to find a way to resolve this diplomatic incident via correspondence.
Three weeks later, his counterpart and colleague – another English ambassador, Sir Thomas Smith – was also arrested at his habitual residence in Poissy, though he was sent to the Castle of Melun, south-east of Paris, for his imprisonment. Smith had a far better experience than his colleague, spending only two rather uncomfortable nights in a cell before being brought back to the capital.
On 13 September, Catherine de Medici and her son Charles IX of France allowed Smith to return to his residence in Poissy, but the arrest was a clear message to the English ambassador: in this country, he was and always would be at the French queen mother’s mercy.
On his deliverance day, Smith sent a letter to Throckmorton lamenting his treatment. He said he had become sick from riding from Corbeil in an extremely cold wind on the previous Thursday and complained, ‘I am still ignorant of all things as I was the )rst day of my imprisonment. My books and papers still locked from me, English matters kept from me’.
But for the French rulers, this wasn’t just a simple show of strength. For Charles and Catherine, it was a clear retaliation – a warning to Elizabeth I, who had re-imprisoned four French noblemen at the Tower of London, having promised repeatedly to release them.
And Catherine had other things on her mind too. Her son, Charles, was now of age, and was therefore able to rule the country without a regency, but was he ready? Catherine didn’t think so, and she certainly wasn’t ready to renounce the crown herself. After all, she had been successfully acting as regent for the last three years and it was a position that had suited her thirst for power. The bond she had with her son was about to be tested, but she remained resolute, confident that the king would do what was best for the country.
On 12 August the young king entered Rouen and, three days later, the princes of blood and the whole court followed, joining Charles at the Palais de Justice. In the splendid hall built by Louis XII and the Cardinal of Amboise, Charles sat under a canopy on a throne made of gold and azure, the splendour reminding everyone that he was now king of France in his own right.
The Chancellor de L’Hôpital, one of the most influential privy councillors at court, was also in attendance, wearing a long ‘black vel- vet robe, with his white beard, looking serious and imposing’. As expected, he sat at the feet of the king.
When all were gathered, Charles declared that he was now of age and apt to rule the country himself, before hastily adding, ‘my mother, the queen, will also be in charge of the realm’. Catherine then stood and bowed in front of her son: she may have been apprehensive at the shift in power, but she knew she could rely on his love.
In sixteenth-century Europe, two women came to hold all the power, against all the odds. They were Elizabeth I and Catherine de Medici.
One a Virgin Queen who ruled her kingdom alone, and the other a clandestine leader who used her children to shape the dynasties of Europe, much has been written about these iconic women. But nothing has been said of their complicated relationship: thirty years of friendship, competition and conflict that changed the face of Europe.
This is a story of two remarkable visionaries: a story of blood, fire and gold. It is also a tale of ceaseless calculation, of love and rivalry, of war and wisdom - and of female power in a male world. Shining new light on their legendary kingdoms Blood, Fire and Gold provides a new way of looking at two of history's most powerful women, and how they shaped each other as profoundly as they shaped the course of history. Drawing on their letters and brand new research, Estelle Paranque writes an entirely new chapter in the well-worn story of the sixteenth century.
