Presenting the Most Christian King: Charles IX’S Performance of Catholic Ritual in the Royal Tour of France (1564–1566)

Presenting the Most Christian King: Charles IX’S Performance of Catholic Ritual in the Royal... Abstract This article examines the complex reasoning that led Charles IX to perform a series of public and private acts that emphasized his Catholicism during his royal tour of France (1564–6). His visibility in leading crowds to attend Mass, assisting in baptisms and embarking on pilgrimages chimed uneasily with his professed purpose in undertaking the progress: to instil temporary toleration after the first war of religion (1562–3). The article argues that Charles and his mother, Catherine de Médicis, planned these rituals in order to achieve two objectives. Firstly, they were determined to communicate that the religion of the king should be the religion of the people. Secondly, Charles sought to legitimize his reign by emulating rituals performed by his predecessors, especially François Ier. In coupling his demands for toleration with ritual performances, Charles and Catherine hoped to encourage and provide the opportunity for his subjects to renew their Catholic faith. Antoine de Ruffi, the noted seventeenth-century historian of Marseille, included a striking vignette in his account of Charles IX’s visit to the city in November 1564. On the day after his ceremonial entry, Charles led the court, including Catherine de Médicis and the duc d’Anjou, to hear Mass at Sainte-Marie-Majeure Cathedral. Upon arriving at the cathedral door, Charles saw Henri de Navarre hesitate in crossing the threshold. With a laugh, the fourteen-year-old king plucked the cap from ten-year-old Henri’s head and threw it into the church, knowing that the Reformed noble would have to enter to retrieve it.1 Charles’s behaviour can be understood in two ways. On the one hand, this was a boy playing the jester to his friend and cousin; it was nothing more than an attempt to amuse. On the other hand, it was a calculated act by the Most Christian King, who took any opportunity to impress upon his subject his authority and the supremacy of the Catholic faith. The veracity of this account can be called into question. Although Ruffi sourced much of his material from local archives, later historians have found no further mention of this exchange at the cathedral door. Moreover, Olivier Jacques Chardon recorded, in his largely unsubstantiated nineteenth-century history of the city, that the incident happened in Auxerre.2 It may be that one or both events are apocryphal. However, throughout the period from 1564 to 1566, Charles IX performed a number of other public and private acts that emphasized his Catholicism. He embarked on short pilgrimages to kneel before holy relics, led crowds through city streets in procession to churches to celebrate Mass, and took part in baptisms. In each instance, he was visible to his court and on many occasions his performances were witnessed by the local populace. Charles’s conduct is remarkable because it chimed uneasily with his agenda in embarking on the Royal Tour of France. The progress was orchestrated in the months after the declaration of the Edict of Amboise (March 1563), which granted limited and temporary toleration to Huguenots following the first civil war (1562–3), including the right to worship in the homes of the nobility and in the suburbs of one appointed town per bailliage or sénéchausée.3 Charles and his mother, Catherine de Médicis, left Paris in January 1564 and undertook the twenty-one month tour with the express purpose of seeing the edict ratified and enforced throughout the provinces. This was made clear in a letter from Catherine to Admiral Coligny in April 1564: ‘[Il] est l’un des principalles causes qui a faict entreprendre au Roy mondict sieur et filz les voyaiges qu’il faict, affin de faire si clarement entendre par tous les lieux où il passe qu’elle est en cela son intention qu’il n’y ayt plus personne qui puisse se forger ung prétexte ou occasion d’y contrevenir la-dessus.’4 Charles’s practice of the sacraments and good works while demanding religious toleration was an approach that required great delicacy. Celebrating his faith in public had the potential to embolden Catholics and to alienate Huguenots. To Charles and Catherine, however, their actions were realistically compatible. Little has been written about the performance of religious ritual during the Royal Tour. In the first substantial modern account of the Royal Tour, Pierre Champion framed the progress as a means of promoting diplomatic relations between France and Spain, and so focused on the court festivities at Bayonne in June 1565.5 Private entertainments—such as dances, chivalric contests and naumachia—have long monopolized the attention of scholars interested in the court’s ritual activities.6 Charles’s ceremonial entries, meanwhile, await comprehensive assessment.7 Jean Boutier, Alain Dewerpe and Daniel Nordman’s magisterial work presented the Royal Tour as a strategic response to internal crisis: the Crown transformed into a peripatetic political system as it struggled to enforce the Edict of Amboise from afar. Religious ritual had a role to play in this strategy. Charles’s presence in the cortège alongside local officials articulated unity between king and subject, and his public performance of the sacraments encouraged conversion, while some Catholic observers advocated that the king’s steps reconsecrated defiled urban spaces. Lack of continuous documentation of these religious activities, however, has hampered a thorough study.8 Marc Venard has argued that some local authorities treated the king’s visit as an occasion to further their Catholic revanchism.9 The leading role that Charles and his court played in the performance of Catholic rituals has yet to be fully scrutinized. Recent scholarship on the edicts of pacification in the early years of the wars indicates that the Crown’s dedication to conflict resolution was authentic. Jérémie Foa has shown that Charles and Catherine adopted a considered approach to settling problems with the Edict of Amboise by choosing experienced and neutral commissioners to negotiate solutions directly with local communities.10 Charles’s presence in cities provided further opportunity to establish peace, as subjects lined up to air their grievances and to petition for mercy, in some cases directly to the king. Michel Nassiet’s study of royal pardons issued in 1565 and 1566, almost half of which concerned religious troubles, argues for the efficacy of the royal person.11 Penny Roberts has shown that, in the absence of traditional conflict resolution apparatus, Charles and Catherine turned to law and justice. The Crown itself became the mediator between Catholics and Huguenots, though it was reliant on a small team of commissioners, local authorities and governors to enforce the edicts. This constituted a difficult balancing act, in which the king aimed to uphold Catholicism while securing unity among all of his subjects.12 At the heart of these works is the question: how did the monarchy attempt to construct and manage a kingdom that was Catholic but pluralist, and at peace but deeply scarred by war?13 This article examines the complex reasoning that led Charles to participate in a series of sacred ceremonies that included a spectacular Lenten procession, the public confirmation of his young siblings and the donation of an expensive new reliquary. It draws on Abel Jouan’s contemporary account of the king’s progress, sixteenth-century manuscripts and prints, and the works of nineteenth-century provincial antiquarians, in order to establish that Charles undertook these rituals with a dual purpose.14 Firstly, he and his mother Catherine de Médicis were determined to communicate that the religion of the king should be the religion of the people, and so encourage his subjects to renew their Catholic faith. This meant Charles appearing as the embodiment of the Most Christian King, that is, a man of unimpeachable piety and the champion of the true religion in France. Secondly, they sought to legitimize his reign by emulating the rituals that many of his predecessors had performed. Charles tried in particular to evoke the memory of his much-admired grandfather François Ier, who had made numerous public shows of faith as he passed through provinces to fight in the Italian Wars (1521–46). Their agenda in the Royal Tour was therefore carefully considered and planned. Charles coupled the enforcement of the Edict of Amboise, which was designed to ensure temporary religious toleration, with a personal campaign to enhance his reputation as the monarch and to reinvigorate the Catholic faith among all his subjects: noble, commoner, Catholic and Huguenot. I The physical presence of the king was a powerful means of cultivating loyalty in provincial communities. Nowhere was this more evident than in public ceremonies, and in particular royal entries. Entries were a public affirmation of the relationship between the new king and his subjects: at the city gates, the populace witnessed local representatives pledge the obedience of the city in return for the monarch’s protection and his renewal of their privileges. Beyond this, the procession was an opportunity for the king, at once, to give flesh to the abstract idea of the Crown; to cast himself metaphorically as the head to the body politic; and to present his body as sacred by drawing a parallel between his own entry and Christ’s advent into Jerusalem.15 Each of these functions reinforced his legitimacy as ruler. In setting out on the royal tour, Charles sought to build upon the power of royal entries by presiding over further formal meetings with local authorities. This included lits de justice in four parlements, and private assembles in which he received harangues from judicial figures and nobles.16 He also heard petitions from both Catholics and Huguenots.17 He and Catherine reasoned that his demands for religious toleration would be satisfied if he expressed his desires by word and action in person. Catherine, rather than Charles, was the creative force behind the plan to engage directly with his provincial subjects. Charles had little experience of governing alone, having only declared his majority in 1563 aged thirteen.18 Catherine was his greatest advisor and her authority, though unofficial, was widely acknowledged both at court and by his subjects.19 Both knew too well the limitations of political proxies. They had dispatched commissioners throughout France shortly after the publication of the Edict of Amboise to negotiate agreements between Catholics and Huguenots that enabled councils to govern in the letter and the spirit of the edict. Although the commissioners often made progress, the many challenges they faced prevented widespread success.20 In the presence of the king, however, recalcitrant councils could no longer evade his will without endangering their privileges and protection. Royal entries elevated the significance of all other rituals performed by Charles in these cities. It created an environment of performance, in which further unexpected ceremonies were perceived to be equally imbued with a message from the king. Charles capitalized on this association and eagerly fulfilled their expectations by participating in numerous religious rites, both in churches and in the streets. His ostentatious piety was designed to communicate the notion that Catholicism was the undisputed religion of the Crown. Specifically, his subjects were to understand that he was the legitimate successor to the title of Most Christian King, and that he wanted them to embrace and renew their Catholic faith. The nuanced nature of his visits, in which his command for religious toleration was matched by his promotion of Catholic worship, was made explicit in a royal proclamation published on 24 June 1564. It ordered the suspension of Reformed practices in towns when the king was in residence; Huguenots were still allowed to celebrate their faith in private homes, but they had to travel to other cities where services were permitted by the Edict of Amboise if they wished to worship in public or hold marriage and baptism ceremonies.21 For Charles, enforcing religious toleration and revitalising Catholicism among his subjects were far from mutually exclusive acts. It was possible to achieve both, though these desires seemed contradictory. This approach had little to do with the Council of Trent (1545–63), which had recently concluded its certification of Roman Catholic doctrine and practices. The French monarchy consistently expressed reservations about the Tridentine reforms, even though the Papacy sought universal support for its decrees from Catholic rulers.22 In a letter to the Bishop of Rennes, written less than a month into the royal progress, Catherine finally confirmed that the Crown would not endorse or publish the decrees, on the grounds that the presidents of the Parlement de Paris had determined that some reforms encroached on the liberties of the Gallican Church.23 The message to Rome was clear: the king, as head of the Gallican Church, knew best how to revitalize the faith across France and only he had the power to direct the process. His will to renew Catholicism among his subjects was manifest in different ritual performances: the Mass, baptism and confirmation, and pilgrimage. II On 23 March 1565, Charles and his court entered the city of Agen to the sound of artillery and bells. He was preceded by clergymen from the cathedral, collegiate churches, parishes of Saint Foy and Saint Hilaire, and nuns from the four convents, who sang psalms and the Te Deum, intermittently interrupted with cries of ‘Long Live the King!’. At the conclusion of the procession, as was customary, Charles led his court into the cathedral to hear Mass.24 Hundreds of townspeople were witness to this act of faith. Over the course of his visit, Charles made several further personal appearances in church. The royal entourage returned to Saint Étienne Cathedral the following day to hear vespers, knowing that their attendance would draw public attention. On 25 March, Charles took a commanding role in the celebration of the Feast of the Annunciation. The cathedral was crowded with people from all sections of Agenais society. Mass was said by the bishop of Agen, Janus Frégose, after which Charles entered the cloister where a multitude of scrofula sufferers sat; in front of this assembly, the king bestowed his royal touch to cure them. Later that day, the canon led vespers in the cathedral with assistance from lords and ladies of the court, which concluded with Charles laying his hands on more sufferers.25 Charles’s participation in so many services over such a short time was calculated to maximize the number of witnesses to his piety. The timing of the court’s presence in Agen was almost certainly deliberate. It coincided with a solemnity in the liturgical calendar, which constituted an excellent opportunity to strengthen Catholic zeal in a city that had been destabilized by religious conflict. Tensions between the growing Protestant population and the Catholic majority in Agen were regularly recorded from July 1558, when the Parlement de Bordeaux issued an arrêt against preaching in public without the permission of the local bishop or priest.26 Iconoclastic attacks in December 1558 and April 1559 were followed by an escalation of violence across the city in September 1561: the extent of the ‘church sackings, seditions and scandals’ was so severe that Charles was forced to send the sieur de Burie to restore order.27 Hostilities peaked in April 1562 when the city fell to a Huguenot coup, during which officials of the king were imprisoned, Catholic homes and churches were pillaged and all Catholic rites were prohibited.28 Control was finally wrested from the rebels in August 1562, at which point local institutions fell into the hands of leading Catholics, who strove to punish and force out the vocal Huguenot minority despite the provisions of the Edict of Amboise.29 However, the Protestants were also guilty of disregarding the edict: in June 1563, Blaise de Monluc complained to the États d’Agennais that Huguenots throughout the province continued to carry arms and practise their faith in public.30 Charles stepped into this fray to communicate two messages. His principal aim was to reaffirm unreservedly that Catholicism was the religion of the king and his court. The Mass had come under sustained and virulent attack from Protestant writers, led by Jean Calvin, Guillaume Farel and Pierre Viret.31 Their arguments against the real presence were brought before the court in spectacular fashion when Théodore de Bèze declared at the Colloquy of Poissy in 1561 that Christ’s body was ‘as far removed from the bread and wine as is heaven from earth’.32 The performance of this ritual received similar ire from Reformers, who decried its visual nature as a distraction from the words of Christ.33 Accepting the Eucharist in Saint Étienne Cathedral demonstrated the monarch’s belief in the true nature of the Mass as the transformation of bread into the literal body of Christ. His presence also emphasized his faith in its ritual performance by priests. The entire scene was a visual demonstration of the enduring power of the Catholic faith, made all the more dramatic by the fact that the Masses were celebrated in what remained of the cathedral, which had been sacked and set alight by Huguenots in December 1561.34 A crucial element of the Eucharist was to form spiritual and social bonds within communities through the sharing of the bread. It was an inclusionary process, by which all participants were strengthened in their faith. Charles’s receipt of the Eucharist in Agen made him, in these moments, part of their community. The significance of taking bread with him heartened Catholics, who had most likely never before felt so close to their king, whom they knew to be God’s representative on earth. The Mass was an invitation to the Huguenot community to join in fellowship with their king. Royal agents elsewhere in France had worked to refute the division between Huguenots and Catholics by admitting to churches anyone who wished to attend Catholic Mass.35 Through this inclusion, Charles publicly affirmed to his Reformed subjects that Catholicism was the true faith, to which they should return. Charles’s second objective was to communicate, through his performance of the royal touch, his own divine nature. French monarchs had been ‘curing’ scrofula since the reign of Philippe Ier (1060–1108).36 The King’s Evil was an inflammation of the lymph nodes caused by tuberculosis, now understood to have been transmitted largely through unpasteurized milk.37 It often dramatically manifested as putrid sores, but was also prone to sudden bouts of remission. Many believed the disease to be a punishment for sin, and that the thaumaturgic touch of the king on affected areas could heal the afflicted. When Charles laid his hands on the men and women in Agen cathedral, those present felt themselves witness to the merciful power of God, as dispensed by their king. Charles gathered thousands of such witnesses to his healing powers across France by regularly healing the sick on solemnities. Between November 1564 and March 1565, he touched sufferers at least once a month.38 His actions proclaimed him the heir to the healing power of his ancestors and a true Catholic servant of Christ, both of which legitimized his rule.39 It was a powerful reminder to those present that the will of the king was the will of God. This extended beyond the confines of the church to Charles’s governance. His performance of the royal touch demonstrated to all his subjects that he expected his demand for toleration to be enforced. III Baptism, like the Eucharist, constituted a frontline on which Charles chose to defend the Catholic faith. The sacrament was celebrated in the Church in order to cleanse children of Original Sin and to initiate them into Christ. Its performance was deemed necessary to the attainment of salvation because baptism bestowed grace and allowed for the receipt of further sacraments. The Catechism of the Council of Trent (1566) would later explain that ‘it opens to us the portals of heaven which sin had closed against us’.40 Charles knew that baptism was both imperative for the souls of his subjects, who risked eternal damnation without it, and a powerful means of unifying a social and spiritual community. He saw an opportunity to champion the Catholic rite in his conspicuous assistance in a public baptism in Marennes. On 6 September 1565, Charles took up a place near the altar of the Church of Saint-Pierre-de-Salles and, over the course of the afternoon, witnessed the baptism of as many as nine hundred children, naming some Charles, Catherine or Marguerite, after himself, his mother and his sister. Abel Jouan provides the only known record of this event in his unofficial account of the royal progress, so his estimation may be inflated. Jouan took care to note that some of the children were old enough to respond to the priest during the rites.41 These children were almost certainly all in receipt of their first baptism. Catholic worship had been prohibited in Marennes since 1561, which would account for their quantity and maturity.42 Although the rebaptism of Huguenot children did occur after the first war, this was rare and concentrated in cities where Catholics had reclaimed control from Huguenots.43 Prominent Catholics generally agreed that baptisms performed by Huguenot ministers were valid. Furthermore, Charles would not have presided over a ceremony that included rebaptism, knowing that in March 1564 the Faculty of Theology at the Sorbonne had censured Simon Vigor for advocating that Huguenot baptism was ineffective.44 Charles faced an enormous challenge in attempting to re-establish the influence of the Catholic Church in Marennes. It was one of the many towns and cities across the Pays des Isles to adopt Protestantism in the 1550s. Bernard Palissy, the ceramicist and natural philosopher, recorded that the Reformed faith was first introduced in 1546 by exiled German monks, who proselytized along the well-connected trade roads in the province.45 The efforts of another itinerant preacher, Philibert Hamelin, led the Marennes community to grow so numerous that in 1557 its leaders sent a letter to Geneva asking for a permanent minister to teach them catechism and lead them in worship.46 A Reformed church was established in the city in 1558, the same year as in nearby Cognac and Saint-Jean-d’Angely, creating a patchwork of Protestant towns across the pays that included Arvert (1555) and Saintes (1557).47 The strength of this new church was such that, when a huissier de justice from Bordeaux visited Marennes in 1560, he reported seeing 3000 men assemble to hear a minister.48 At the outbreak of war, the city was firmly under a Huguenot hegemony, which lasted well beyond the ceasefire. Even after the proclamation of the Edict of Amboise, Reformed communities across the province continued to sack Catholic churches and refused to allow the celebration of Mass.49 Charles’s participation in the group baptism was, on a fundamental level, designed to raise the number of Catholics in Marennes. In the course of a single afternoon, he oversaw the expansion of the community to the largest it had been in years. However, this was only part of the process of restoration. The congregation developed a strong connection to their king, having borne witness with him and observed how instrumental he was in swelling Church membership. For at least a generation, he became an indelible part of their community. Those who were christened by the king, or at least in his presence, had an even greater connection: he was akin to a godparent or even a father. On the same day as the baptism, Charles also watched hundreds of his subjects perform the sacrament of confession for the first time in years.50 These events left Huguenots in no doubt that Catholicism was the religion of the king and he hoped to see all of his subjects restored to it. Claude Haton, the contemporary Catholic memorialist, asserted that this kind of public behaviour did affect the wider community: ‘ayans veu encores catholicques et aller à la messe si devostement qu’il y alloit, [les huguenots] quitterent l’heresie et furent catholicques, ou du moings firent semblant de l’estre: la religion que tient le prince, soit bonne ou malvaise, induist ses subjectz à la prendre’.51 Confirmation was similarly important in strengthening the Church, in part due to its intrinsic connection to baptism. Before the fifth century, the rites of confirmation and baptism had formed a single sacrament: the child was immersed in water by the bishop, after which he laid on his hands. As Christian communities grew in size, it became impossible to tend to all new children, so baptisms came to be performed by local priests while bishops entered the process at fixed times to confer confirmation.52 As the sacrament divided in two, each half assumed a distinct function: baptism conferred the grace that marked their entrance into the Christian community, while confirmation bestowed further grace and announced that the recipient was ready to do the Church’s work.53 Charles sought to emphasize the necessity of the sacrament in the confirmation of his sister and brother, Marguerite de Valois and Alexandre, duc d’Anjou. On 18 March 1565, the royal family and the court congregated in Saint Étienne Church in Toulouse, where the sacrament was administered by the archbishop, Georges d’Armagnac. In the course of the ceremony, Charles ordered that his brother henceforth take the name Henri, and that his youngest brother César, who did not travel with the court on account of his age, should assume the name François when the time came for his own confirmation.54 Ecclesiastics from all of the parish churches and convents in the city attended, as did the capitouls and officers of the parlement. Afterwards, the congregation walked in procession to Saint Sernin Church. Silver and gilt crosses were carried through the streets by monks and friars, who led the cardinals of Bourbon and Guise, the king, the queen mother, Marguerite and Henri.55 Georges d’Armagnac walked beneath a canopy carrying the monstrance, while the capitouls bore the relics of local saints under their holy banners. Public prayers were said as the court departed Saint Étienne and as they arrived at Saint Sernin, whereupon the king entered the church to hear vespers and a sermon from Pierre Finet, the superior of the nearby Minimes monastery.56 Marguerite and Alexandre’s confirmation was a public refutation of the Reformed view on the seven sacraments. Only baptism and the Eucharist had remained cornerstones of the faith, even though both Luther and Calvin recognized confirmation as a useful bridge between the two because it could test the individual’s mastery of the catechism.57 In ordering the ceremony, Charles affirmed his belief in the validity of the rite. The sight of Marguerite and Alexandre receiving grace and promising to do the work of the Church also strengthened the monarchy by portraying the royal family as united in its defence of Catholicism. This unity was made visible outside the church in the procession, through the participation of all members of royal family alongside Catholic princes of the blood. The procession deliberately evoked Corpus Christi and Feast Day celebrations in order to equate the body of the king with the body of Christ. This reminded the people who witnessed the king and the Eucharist in close proximity that Charles himself was divine as the representative of God on earth. However, the ceremony was designed to have special significance for Toulouse. Firstly, it was an ostentatious affair, in keeping with Toulouse’s dignity as one of the kingdom’s great cities. It was a means to show favour to a capital that had been consistently neglected by Charles’s predecessors: other cities in Languedoc, notably Montpellier and Béziers, had hosted the royal family in 1542, but Charles was the first monarch to visit Toulouse since 1533.58 Local authorities were evidently honoured by the occasion; the programme for his stay is recounted in remarkable detail in official records.59 Secondly, the procession was part of a broader plan to enforce the Edict of Amboise in Toulouse, which the Parlement de Toulouse had registered on 15 April 1563 but had subsequently appeared reluctant to implement.60 Toulouse was a divided city when Charles visited in March 1565. Prior to the war, Huguenots had become a significant minority, partly as a result of sustained evangelism from Genevan pastors in the late 1550s.61 In the summer of 1561, the parlement estimated there to be 4000 Protestants.62 The new faith was particularly popular among city elites and intellectuals, leading to a surge in Huguenots and sympathetic moderates taking public office. When, in May 1562, Huguenots attempted to take the city by force, fighting in the streets left hundreds dead and swathes of the cityscape in ruins.63 Iconoclasts stripped churches—including Saint Sernin—so bare that the buildings were later offered triumphal arches from Charles’s royal entry to mask the damage with an alternative splendour.64 The failed coup marked a turning point for the Huguenot community. The parlement seized administrative and military control of the city and proceeded to stymie the expanding church. The capitouls were driven from their posts into exile, with the exception of Adhémar Mandinelli, whose severed head was nailed to the door of the maison de ville.65 The parlement authorized the foundation of a Catholic defence league in March 1563 and commemorated the failed coup in a magnificent public procession in May 1563. Pierre-Jean Souriac has shown that the conflict of 1562–3 prompted the creation of an ultra-Catholic alliance between parlement, the municipal authorities and lieutenants-general, which contrived to maintain Huguenot repression for the duration of the wars.66 Its effect is evident in the sharp decline in the Huguenot population between 1562 and 1575.67 Charles and Catherine knew that it would be difficult to enforce toleration in these circumstances. Part of their plan to achieve this was to blend the performance of Catholic ritual with frank discourse in the lit de justice. The queen mother laid the groundwork for Charles’s visit in a letter to the capitouls, warning that their king expected peace and fraternity to be restored in the city in advance of his arrival.68 Charles then sought to present himself as a staunch Catholic monarch by taking part in what Olivier Christin has termed ‘une recharge de sacralité’.69 War had brought the desacralization of both Catholic churches and the clergy; in the procession, Charles emphasized the efficacy of devotional objects and the powers of priests. The Crown expected that the parlement would thus understand temporary toleration as the considered demand of the Most Christian King and find it hard to withhold its compliance. Charles reinforced this with his judicial demands in the lit de justice. He expressed frustration with the ways in which his officials had treated the local Huguenot population, and openly chastized the parlement for their failure to enforce the Edict of Amboise in its entirety. He was also unequivocal in his demands that it be implemented without amendment or delay: ‘Je vous ay bien voulu visiter pour vous faire entendre ma volonté, qui est que vous … faisiez garder et entretenir mes Edicts, et obeyssiez à mes commandemens, sans y faire faute.’70 To the ardent Catholics who dominated the chamber, this demand was insupportable. However, resistance was not easily justified in the presence of a pious monarch who had reminded them that his will was the will of God. Through this complex process, Charles sought to demonstrate that revitalising Catholicism among his subjects and enforcing religious toleration were not mutually exclusive acts. IV Charles was equally determined to convince his own court of his legitimacy as a Catholic monarch. In the early 1560s, his nobility began to fracture into powerful Protestant and Catholic factions, led by the prince de Condé and the duc de Guise respectively. Although there were some leading moderates, such as the Chancellor Michel de L’Hôpital, they were vastly outnumbered by zealots on both sides.71 In order to secure the obedience of these factions, Charles had to adopt the same balanced approach he had employed in his public events: he worked to secure religious toleration while personally articulating to his nobles that the Reformed should return to Catholicism. One of the most effective means of achieving this was being seen to perform pilgrimages and good works. During his royal progress, Charles visited three holy sites in private, taking care to select places that were renowned for their royal connections, in particular to François Ier. In recreating the pilgrimages of his ancestors, Charles presented himself as the legitimate heir to the throne and as a king who would—like his father and grandfather—strive to restore the Golden Age to France. The most gruelling pilgrimage undertaken by the court was the 2800ft climb into the mountains of Provence to visit the twin holy sites of Saint Maximin Church and the grotto of Sainte Baume on 25 October 1564. Jouan described the road to their destination as ‘long and unwelcoming’ and noted that the exhausted court did not complete their descent until two o’clock in the morning.72 The Church was the resting place of Mary Magdalene, her companion Saint Maximin and two early Christian saints, Sidoine and Marcella. Sainte Baume was considered one of the holiest places in France, because Mary Magdalene had used the grotto as a place for contemplation and penitence. In the sixteenth century, it was widely believed that, after the death of Christ, Mary Magdalene fled by boat from Judea to escape persecution by the Jews and landed in Provence, where she spent the rest of her life preaching the Gospel. One of the earliest extant accounts of this legend, written in the twelfth century and attributed to Raban-Maur, is De Vita Beatæ Mariæ Magdalenæ et Sororis Ejus Sanctæ Marthæ.73 This manuscript attests that, having sailed to Marseille and evangelized throughout Aix, Mary Magdalene was embalmed upon death by her companion Saint Maximin and placed in a church that he had built for her remains. The sepulchre then became so sacred that not even a king could enter without laying down his arms and banishing all violent thoughts. Women were not permitted to enter at all.74 Louise de Savoie, mother of François Ier, commissioned an illuminated manuscript of the life of Mary Magdalene in the 1520s to aid her in private devotion. Its beautifully illustrated roundels and accompanying text chart the marvellous journey and death of the saint in far greater detail than earlier accounts.75 It also intimately tied the souls of the royal family to Mary Magdalene, by calling upon her to intercede for Louise, her children François and Marguerite, and her son’s wife Claude, in their hours of need.76 Louise’s particular affection for the legend was the latest manifestation of a centuries-old royal connection between the French Crown and Sainte Baume.77 Philippe VI, the first king from the House of Valois, had visited the site in 1332, followed by Jean II in 1362 and Charles VI in 1389. Charles VII did not make a pilgrimage, but his wife Marie d’Anjou did in 1440. Louis XI then revived the tradition in 1447.78 In the reign of Charles IX, however, the monarch most associated with this pilgrimage was François Ier. He had visited the twin sites of Saint Maximin and Sainte Baume on three occasions: once as dauphin in the company of Anne de Bretagne, wife of his predecessor Louis XII (1503), and twice as king. These journeys were made with his first wife Claude, his mother Louise and his sister Marguerite (1516), and with his second wife Eleanor and his sons the future Henri II and Charles, duc d’Angouleme (1533).79 François’s commitment to the pilgrimage site developed during his visit in 1516. Having brought the Italian Wars to a temporary close following his victory at the battle of Marignano in September 1515, he arranged to meet his family and travel to Saint Maximin Church to give thanks. The building was in a state of reconstruction, and the arrival of the court provided a much-needed increase in funding. Claude provided a donation of 200 livres tournois a year for ten years, while Louise reduced the level of tax to be paid by the surrounding town. François gave the resident religious community the right to transport whatever construction materials they needed from across the kingdom without paying import tax and committed a further 300 livres tournois a year for ten years on behalf of himself and his mother.80 When the church was finished in 1529, the priest responsible for the repairs, Father Damien, placed an inscription in the chapel in homage to François. Rex super illustris Franciscus primus in œdes Venit, cum ducibus principibusque, sacras; Claudia, nobilium hic magna stipante caterva, Cum genetrice viri cumque sorore fuit; Hoc fuit italici post martia bella triumphi, Cum rex Franciscus debita vota daret; Cumque fuit presens in sancta Magdalis œde, Est rex largitus munera magna potens.81 This inscription no longer exists, but Charles and his court encountered it when they made their pilgrimage to Saint Maximin and Sainte Baume. The sight of the king standing beside it before venerating the holy relics drew a direct line between Charles and François, the best-loved king in living memory. Charles also knowingly positioned himself as the latest in a line of pious monarchs. Only Charles VIII and François II had neglected to make this pilgrimage, although François may well have done had he not died within a year of his accession to the throne. By continuing the tradition of his ancestors, Charles visibly assured his audience of nobles that he was the legitimate heir to the House of Valois. Another vital element of this pilgrimage was the Crown’s reaffirmation of the cult of saints. Reformers had denied the power of saints to intercede on behalf of those who prayed to them on the grounds that it had no scriptural basis; they deemed it a harmful practice that obscured the sinner’s direct relationship with God and the only true intercessor, Jesus Christ.82 Saints’ relics were considered useless, even dangerous, to those who sought grace and salvation, because they were idolatrous and a distraction from the true form of worship—hearing and reading the Word of the Bible.83 Iconoclasts, when destroying images and repurposing church fabrics, seldom left relics untouched. When Charles venerated the bones of Mary Magdalene and marvelled at the grotto in which she had made her penitence, he articulated that saints and their relics were genuine means to attaining grace. A few months later, in January 1565, Charles visited another relic in Carcassonne. The Augustinian church claimed to possess one of the shrouds that had enveloped the body of Christ in the grave prior to his resurrection.84 Its name, Saint Cabouin (meaning holy headdress), derived from the fact that it was said to be the piece that had clothed Christ’s head. Oral traditions within the religious community recorded that the shroud had been brought to the church in 1298 by two Augustinians returning from the Crusades.85 However, the earliest written evidence of its presence is a letter from Charles VI to the Augustinians in March 1397. It is likely that the community acquired the shroud only a decade prior to this, to provoke a visit from Charles VI during his proposed tour of his lands in Languedoc. It certainly worked, as the king came to admire it in both November 1389 and January 1390.86 Charles IX and Catherine de Médicis prayed before the relic several times during their residence in Carcassonne.87 This may have surprised the court, because there was no traditional connection between the French monarchy and the Saint Cabouin beyond the pilgrimages of Charles VI. In fact, the holy shroud of Cadouin in Dordogne—which was understood to be a piece of cloth from Christ’s body, rather than a headdress—had a far more illustrious history of royal visits. Reputed pilgrims included Saint Louis, Charles V, Charles VI, Charles VII and Marie of Anjou, Anne of Brittany, Louis XI, and Louis XII.88 Nevertheless, this alternative shroud was overlooked in the course of the royal tour. It seems the reason for this attention towards the Saint Cabouin was simply a matter of circumstance. Charles and his entourage arrived in Carcassonne on 12 January with the expectation that they would leave the following day. Heavy snowfall overnight meant that it was impossible to leave the city for ten days.89 The pilgrimage to Langres, by contrast, was planned well in advance and calculated to emphasize Charles’s likeness to his grandfather. In May 1564, the court spent two days in the town, during which time the king visited Saint Mammès Cathedral to venerate the relics of the Three Holy Children in the Fiery Furnace.90 Their story is told in the Book of Daniel: King Nebuchadnezzar commissioned a golden image and called upon his subjects to kneel before it in worship, but three Jewish men—Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego—refused to do so. They were cast into a fiery furnace as punishment and, to the king’s surprise, they did not burn. Instead, Nebuchadnezzar saw the Son of God stand among the men in the fire and the three men emerge from it unscathed. Having witnessed this miracle, he declared that anyone who henceforth spoke against their God would suffer his wrath.91 There is no written evidence for the arrival of these relics in Langres. The established narrative is that the Count of Langres brought them from Constantinople in 490, having received them as a gift from the Eastern Roman Emperor Zeno. This was in recognition of the service that the Count had rendered to the Emperor in his conflict with Odoacer, the King of Italy.92 It is unlikely that the bones entered the cathedral’s possession at such an early date. Charles did not come simply to pray before the relics; he came to provide a new reliquary. The earliest mention of this object is a cathedral inventory written in 1709 by Jean-Baptiste Charlet, the historiographer of the diocese of Langres.93 The fifteenth item listed is ‘un riche coffre d’argent chargé de pierreries et esmaillié, ou sont les reliques des trois Enfants de la fournaise de Babylone’. It further states that it was delivered by Charles in May 1564, having been made by a skilled silversmith called Joseph, who designed the chest to resemble the Ark of the Covenant because the saints were from the Old Testament.94 The reliquary is most probably no longer extant. It was last recorded in the cathedral inventory written on 30 August 1768, which provides verbatim details regarding its donation and physical description but omits its resemblance to the Ark of the Covenant.95 Many of the treasures in Saint Mammès Cathedral were dispersed or destroyed in the French Revolution.96 Langres was an unusual choice for the provision of a reliquary. The town was far less valuable than some cities to which the Crown might show favour, and its relics were no more sacred than many of those scattered across France. The reason for this pilgrimage was that François Ier had promised the cathedral a reliquary for the Three Holy Children.97 François visited Langres on four occasions, often passing through on his way to fight in the Italian Wars. He first entered the city in August 1521, accompanied by his wife Claude and the court, and it was at this time that he made his vow. Supposedly late one night, Michel Boudet, who was the Bishop of Langres and chaplain to the king, told François that the saints’ bones were interred in an underground chamber that was near collapse. Seized with an ardent desire to see these relics, the king started to dig at the spot in front of the high altar, where he discovered a chest. The lateness of the hour caused him to suspend his mission, but he soon returned with the cardinal de Lorraine, the bishops of Langres and Lisieux, and several nobles. When he finally recovered the bones, François took them in his hands and kissed them with great devotion before declaring he would ‘les ajuster d’une belle robe de blanc’, meaning rehouse them in a silver reliquary.98 François left Langres without settling arrangements for the provision of this gift, and neglected to honour his vow on subsequent visits in April 1522, January 1534 with his sons François and the future Henri II, and the summer of 1546.99 Charles thus sought to capitalize on this opportunity to associate himself with his grandfather by offering the new reliquary himself. In doing so, he elevated the connection between the town and the French Crown from one that focused solely on François Ier to one in which Langres could claim to have been visited by three successive monarchs. The power of this connection was such that, when Henri III returned from Poland to take up the French throne upon Charles’s death in 1574, the new king visited Langres on the way to be crowned at Reims. He entered the city on 3 February 1575 with Catherine de Médicis and the cardinal de Bourbon and heard Mass at Saint Mammès Cathedral before continuing his journey. Whilst in the cathedral, he prayed before the relics of the Three Holy Children and expressed a desire to take a bone from each of the saints for his own private devotion.100 There was more to Charles’s pilgrimage to Langres, however, than the development of his association with François Ier. He set out to reclaim the Three Holy Children as saints of the Catholic Church. In 1561, the saints had been co-opted by a Huguenot author known only as A.D.L.C. in the play L’argument pris du troisieme chapitre de Daniel: avec le Cantique des trois enfans, chanté en la fornaise.101 Damon Di Mauro has convincingly argued that these initials represent Antoine de La Croix, which was a pseudonym of the Reformed theologian Antoine de La Roche, sieur de Chandieu (1534–1591).102 Modern critics have designated the work, commonly referred to as Nabuchodonosor, as one of the earliest pieces of the Tragi-comedie genre, while Di Mauro suggests it can be described as a ‘Calvinist mystery play’.103 It was certainly designed to be a didactic work. Nabuchodonosor exploits several motifs that would have resonated with Reformed audiences, including religious persecution, the strength to accept martyrdom and hope for divine deliverance.104 Nabuchodonosor was offensive to Catholics for two reasons. Primarily, it was a parable that encouraged readers and viewers to reject the veneration of both saints and images. A conversation between the three protagonists on the subject of Nebuchadnezzar’s golden image reveals what La Croix considered to be the appropriate response to these forms of worship.105 When news reaches the men that the king has decreed all must worship the idol, Shadrach asks his companions whether they all ought to kneel as they will be put to death if they refuse. This character functions as a mirror for the Reformed audience: he represents their uncertainty in the face of such decisions, but also their determination to do what is right. When Abednego replies that adoring the image would be blasphemous, Shadrach presses that people must observe the edicts of the sovereign in whose lands they reside. Abednego advises that one must obey the temporal laws of the king, but in matters of religious conscience one must obey God.106 Abednego represents in this work the believer who knows what is right and must lead others to follow his example, so his criticism of images as ‘filthy and infected’ at the close of the conversation leaves the audience in no doubt as to their value in worship. Que l’homme qu’il a voulu faire, Prenant de soy son exemplaire, Voire mesme à son image, Eust vn si malheureux courage, Que de s’aller ainsi souiller, Que flechir, que s’agenouiller Deuant vne image orde, infecte, Que de sa main mesme il a faicte: Ne luy rendant en flechissant L’honneur deu au seul Tout-puissant, Et à tous de droict dénié: N’est-ce pas cela renié? Que sçauroit-il faire ou penser, Pour plus laschement offenser La grand’Maiesté du Seigneur?107 Nabuchodonosor denigrated the veneration of saints and their man-made likenesses not only as ineffectual, but as a profane act that insulted God. The above conversation implies that the Holy Children themselves would have objected to the adoration they received. In providing a reliquary for these saints, Charles repudiated the sentiments of the play. He confirmed that the Holy Children were, and always would be, part of the Catholic canon of saints, to whom the faithful could turn for intercession. La Croix caused further offence in the epilogue to the play, in which he levels a thinly-veiled attack on the French Crown. The epilogue calls upon all people to see themselves in the Holy Children, and to emulate them when faced with such a harrowing choice.108 Believers are counselled to put their faith in God, and hope that with His help they will overcome the persecution of their temporal lord. La Croix specifically states that God will punish tyrants: ‘Il a les cueurs des tyrans en ses mains…[Il] souuient la pensanteur de sa main punissante.’109 This threatening rhetoric suggested that Charles would receive divine punishment for his treatment of the Huguenots. Although it was probably intended for François II, such hostility to the Catholic Crown could not go unchallenged. This was particularly true in the case of Nabuchodonosor, which had been sponsored to some extent by the House of Navarre. In the preface, La Croix dedicates the work to the wife of his patron.110 There are several threads tying the play to Jeanne d’Albret, including the fact that the sieur de Chandieu offered his services to her husband Antoine de Bourbon in August 1558, and that Jeanne demonstrated considerable interest in sponsoring Calvinist dramas in order to teach and strengthen Reformed communities in their faith.111 Charles may not have known precisely who supported the publication of Nabuchodonosor, but La Croix’s reference to his patron as ‘[le] Roy vostre mari’ would have given strong indication that it was connected to the King of Navarre. It was thus important that Charles showed devotion to the Three Holy Children, whose reputations were so maligned by this play. His performance in praying to and providing a reliquary for their bones dismissed the beliefs of La Croix and his patrons. It was designed as a defence of the Catholic faith and of his own righteousness as the Most Christian King. His court was left in no doubt that he had aligned himself with the saints, and that they should do so too. V Charles and Catherine set out on his royal progress to execute a finely-balanced mission: to use performance as a means of restoring Catholic faith and of restoring confidence in his own rule. He knew that rituals had the power to communicate and he hoped that his subjects, who encountered rituals every day in church, the street and the home, would be able to understand what he had to say. To recommend the power of the seven sacraments, he participated in the rites of Mass, baptism and confirmation, while he defended the cult of saints with pilgrimages and his donation of a reliquary. He presented himself as the Most Christian King through his attempts to cure scrofula sufferers, walking in procession with the Eucharist, and in visiting shrines associated with his grandfather. These events were conducted variously in public and in private, with the result that both ordinary people and the court were exposed to Charles’s design. From other rituals performed in the tour, it is clear that Charles did not need to emphasize his lineage as he did. Ephemeral architecture created by local artists for his royal entries frequently compared him to his father and grandfather. In Toulouse, for example, the final monument that Charles encountered on his procession was a life-like statue of Henri II with an accompanying inscription that read: Henrico Princip[io] optimo pientissimo, Bellatori fortiss[immo] Publicæ spei generatori, S[enatus] P[opulus] Q[ue] T[olosanus] Perpetuæ tanti Regis memoriæ ergo.112 This statue was offered as a finale to provide Charles with a lasting example of a mighty king that he could reflect upon and strive to emulate. In Lyon, the connection between Charles and his predecessors was more explicit. One triumphal arch bore the inscription: ‘Patrem, et Avum, et matrem, teque et tua Carole facta nunquam defesso tollam super astra volatu.’113 But even this widespread recognition of Charles’s legitimacy and authority could not bring some communities to adhere to his demand for religious toleration. It is apparent from events following Charles’s departure from each city that his performances made little difference to the status quo. In Agen, the Reformed community continued to cause public disruption, leading the Parlement de Bordeaux to issue an arrêt in June 1565—only three months after the king’s visit—forbidding people from singing psalms outside their homes and forbidding all songs that were ‘impudent, blasphemous, or denounced and cursed the name of God’.114 In August 1566, less than a year after the group baptism, the noblewoman Jacqueline de la Trémouille noted that tenants in Marennes still scorned the edicts of pacification and refused to restore stolen crosses, chalices and domains to the Church.115 In May 1565, fewer than two months after his lit de justice in Toulouse, the Archbishop ordered the inhabitants to do good works to alleviate the drought that threatened the city with famine; this included praying for the decline of those who threatened the unity of the Catholic Church.116 Charles and Catherine calculated that performance was a key means of changing hearts and minds; people would be stirred as they reunited around their king in familiar rituals. It would also be effective on a large scale, because his presence commanded so many witnesses, literate and illiterate. However, the Crown faced the intrinsic problem that rituals were a matter of interpretation and it was not necessarily clear to subjects what their king expected them to do in response to his performance. Some may have asked themselves whether, in the midst of all the Catholic pomp, there lay a subtle command for violence. Equally, some may have wondered whether the rites were ostentatious in order to divert attention from favours he sought to bestow on the Huguenots. Beyond this issue, Charles and Catherine endeavoured to convince his subjects to ratify and enforce measures that they deemed contrary to their interests. Huguenots in Agen and Marennes had experienced greater liberty of worship during the war than they now faced with the Edict of Amboise. Capitouls and the parlement in Toulouse saw little reason to show leniency to a Reformed community that had caused such discord and ruin in their great city. Protestant nobles at court continued to challenge the limitations of the edict in their personal and epistolary interactions with the Crown, despite his devotional activities that encouraged them to renounce their faith. As long as Charles resided in a given city, he was in a position to put pressure on its elites and even its wider populace to obey his will. His hosts often responded to this by enacting superficial changes that suggested progress was being made. Similarly, Protestant nobles refrained from ostentatious worship at court. However, once the king was out of sight, he was out of mind. While the use of Catholic performance to communicate the will of the Crown was cleverly conceived and offered another means to reunify the people alongside judicial processes, it was insufficient for fostering more than a temporary peace. The author would like to thank Gladstone’s Library, Hawarden, for the Revd Dr Murray McGregor Memorial Scholarship that made writing part of this article possible, Dr Sara Barker for her comments on an early draft, Dr Euan Roger at The National Archives for his assistance, and the anonymous reviewers for their insightful responses. Footnotes 1 A. de Ruffi, Histoire de la ville de Marseille, Contenant tout ce qui s’y est passé de plus memorable depuis sa fondation, durant le temps qu’elle a esté République, & soubs la domination des Romains, Bourguignons, Visigoths, Ostrogoths, Roys de Bourgogne, Vicomtes de Marseille, Comtes de Provence, & de nos Roys Tres-Chrestiens. (Marseille, 1642), 231. 2 M. Chardon, Histoire de la ville d’Auxerre (Auxerre, 1834), vol. 1, 314. L’Abbé Jean Lebeuf, on whom Chardon based much of his text, makes no mention of this event: M. L’Abbé Lebeuf, Memoires concernant l’histoire ecclésiastique et civile d’Auxerre (Paris, 1743), vol. 2, 392. 3 N. M. Sutherland, The Huguenot Struggle for Recognition (London, 1980), 356–7. 4 Catherine de Médicis to Admiral Coligny, 17 Apr. 1564. L[ettres de] C[atherine de] M[edici] ed. H. de la Ferrière (Paris, 1880–1943), vol. 2, 177. 5 P. Champion, Catherine de Médicis présente à Charles IX son royaume, 1564–1566 (Paris, 1937). 6 V. Graham and W. McAllister Johnson, The Royal Tour of France by Charles IX and Catherine de’ Medici: Festivals and Entries 1564–66 (Toronto, 1979); V. Scott and S. Sturm-Maddox, Performance, Poetry and Politics on the Queen’s Day: Catherine de Médicis and Pierre de Ronsard at Fontainebleau (Aldershot, 2007); R. J. Knecht, ‘Water festivals in the reign of Charles IX of France’, in M. E. Shewring with L. Briggs (eds), Waterborne Pageants and Festivities in the Renaissance (Aldershot, 2013), 67–77. 7 Festival books and manuscript accounts of these entries are reprinted in P. -L. Vaillancourt with M. Desrosiers, Les Entrées solennelles pendant le règne de Charles IX (Ottowa, 2007). 8 J. Boutier, A. Dewerpe and D. Nordman, Un Tour de France royal: le voyage de Charles IX, (1564–1566) (Paris, 1984), 302; 341–4. 9 M. Venard, ‘Catholicism and Resistance to the Reformation in France, 1555–1585’, in P. Benedict, G. Marnef, H. van Nierop and M. Venard (eds), Reformation, Revolt and Civil War in France and the Netherlands, 1555–1585 (Amsterdam, 1999), 135–6. 10 J. Foa, Le Tombeau de la paix. Une histoire des édits de pacification (1560–1572) (Limoges, 2015). 11 M. Nassiet, Les Lettres de pardon du voyage de Charles IX (1565–1566) (Paris, 2010). 12 P. Roberts, Peace and Authority during the French Religious Wars c.1560–1600 (Basingstoke, 2013). 13 Foa, Le Tombeau de la paix, 178. 14 A. Jouan, Recveil et Discovrs dv Voyage du Roy Charles IX: De ce nom à present regnant, accompagné des choses dignes de memoire faictes en chacun endroit faisant son dit voyage en ses païs & prouinces de Champaigne, Bourgoigne, Daulphiné, Proue[n]ce, Languedoc, Gascoigne, Baïonne, & plusieurs autres lieux, suyuant son retour depuis son partement de Paris iusques à son retour audit lieu, és annees Mil cinq cens soixante quatre & soixante cinq (Paris, 1566). 15 E. H. Kantorowicz, The King’s Two Bodies: A Study in Mediæval Political Theology (Princeton, 1997), 7–23; S. Bertelli, The King’s Body: Sacred Rituals of Power in Medieval and Early Modern Europe, trans. R. Burr Litchfield (University Park, PA, 2001), 70. 16 Charles took his seat in Parlement in Dijon (22 May 1564), Aix-en-Provence (19 Oct.1564), Toulouse (1 Feb. 1565) and Bordeaux (9 Apr. 1565). Jouan, Recveil, fols 14v, 22r–22v, 35v and 40r. 17 Nassiet, Les Lettres de pardon; P. Roberts, ‘Huguenot petitioning during the wars of religion’, in R. A. Mentzer and A. Spicer (eds), Society and Culture in the Huguenot World, 1559–1685 (Cambridge, 2002), 62–77. 18 By ordinance of Charles V, kings were to be fourteen before declaring their majority, but the king’s council determined that Charles IX was fit to rule, having entered his fourteenth year. R. Knecht, Catherine de’ Medici (London, 1988), 96. 19 L. Briggs, ‘“Concernant le service de leurs Majestez et auctorité de leur justice”: Perceptions of Royal Power in the Entries of Charles IX and Catherine de Médicis (1564–1566)’, in J. R. Mulryne with M. I. Aliverti and A. M. Testaverde (eds), Ceremonial Entries in Early Modern Europe: Iconography of Power (Aldershot, 2015), 37–52. 20 J. Foa, ‘Making Peace: The Commissions for Enforcing the Pacification Edicts in the Reign of Charles IX (1560–1574)’, French History, vol. 18, no. 3 (2004), 256–74. 21 J. Stevenson (ed.), Calender of State Papers: Foreign Series of the Reign of Elizabeth I (London, 1869; reprinted Nendeln, Liechtenstein, 1966), vol. 7, 164. 22 T. I. Crimando, ‘Two French views of the Council of Trent’, The Sixteenth Century Journal, 19 (1988), 173–4; A. Tallon, Conscience nationale et sentiment religieux au XVIesiècle. Essai sur la vision gallicane du monde (Paris, 2002), 154–5. 23 Catherine de Médicis to the Bishop of Rennes, 28 Feb. 1564. L[ettres de] C[atherine de] M[edici]. vol. 2, 153–4. 24 Anonymous, Ville d’Agen. Cavalcade Historique du 13 Mai 1879. Entrée des Cours de France et de Navarre à Agen, Le 23 Mars 1564 (Agen, 1879), 17; L’abbé Barrère, ‘Entrée et séjour de Charles IX à Agen’, Bulletin du Comité de la langue, de l’histoire et des arts de la France (1852–53), 474. 25 [A]rchives [H]istoriques du [D]épartement de la [G]ironde (Bordeaux, 1894), vol. 29, 50–1; L’abbé Barrère, ‘Entrée et séjour’, 475. 26 AHDG, vol. 29, 3–4. 27 Ibid., 5–6; 19. 28 Ibid., 25–26; ‘Documents pour servir à l’histoire des guerres de religion dans l’Agenais’, Revue de l’Agenais, vol. 9 (1882), 42–54. 29 K. Gould, Catholic Activism in South-west France, 1540–1570 (Aldershot, 2006), 97–100. 30 AHDG, vol. 29, 38. 31 J. Calvin, Petit Traicte de la saincte cene de nostre seigneur Jesus Christ (Geneva, 1541), G. Farel, De La Saincte Cene (Geneva, 1553) and P. Viret, Des Actes des vrais svccessevrs de Iesus Christ et de ses Apostres, & des apostats de l’eglise Papale: contenans La difference & conference de la saincte Cene de nostre Seigneur, & de la Messe (Geneva, 1554). 32 D. Nugent, Ecumenism in the Age of the Reformation: The Colloquy of Poissy (Cambridge, MA, 1974), 100. 33 C. Elwood, The Body Broken: The Calvinist Doctrine of the Eucharist and the Symbolization of Power in Sixteenth-Century France (Oxford, 1999), 127–8. 34 Anonymous, ‘Prise d’Agen par les Huguenots et désordres qu’ils y commettent’, in G. Tholin, Études sur l’architecture religieuse d’Agenais du dixième au seizième siècle (Agen, 1874), 334. 35 Foa, Le Tombeau de la paix, 202. 36 M. Bloch, Les Rois thaumaturges. Étude sur le caractère surnaturel attribué à la puissance royale particulièrement en France et en Angleterre (Paris, 1983), 38. 37 S. Grzybowski and E. A. Allen, ‘History and importance of scrofula’, The Lancet (346), 2 Dec. 1995, 1474. 38 Boutier et al., Un Tour de France royal, 343. 39 Henri IV also used the rite to legitimize his reign and present himself as a healer of the kingdom after the wars. A. Finley-Croswhite, ‘Henry IV and the diseased body politic’, in M. Gosman, A. MacDonald and A. Vanderjagt (eds), Princes and Princely Culture, 1450–1650 (Leiden, 2003), vol. 1, 139. 40 Quoted in B. D. Spinks, Early and Medieval Rituals and Theologies of Baptism: From the New Testament to the Council of Trent (Aldershot, 2006), 155. 41 Jouan, Recveil, fos 58r–58v. 42 J. -A. du Thou, Histoire Universelle (The Hague, 1740), vol. 3, 201. 43 T. Wanegffelen, ‘La reconnaissance mutuelle du baptême entre confessions catholique et réformée en France au XVIe siècle’, Études Théologiques et Religieuses 69 (2) (1994), 186–7; O. Christin, Une Révolution symbolique. L’iconoclasme huguenot et la reconstruction catholique (Paris, 1991), 208. 44 Wanegffelen, ‘La reconnaissance’, 188. 45 B. Palissy, Recepte véritable par laquelle tous les hommes de la France pourront apprendre à multiplier et augmenter leurs thrésors. (La Rochelle, 1563), fos 50r–50v. 46 M. Seguin, Histoire de l’Aunis et de la Saintonge: Le début des Tempes modernes 1480–1610 (Ligugé, 2005), 265. 47 O. de Saint-Affrique, ‘Les Temps Modernes (XVIe-XVIIIe siècles)’, in La Charente Maritime. L’Aunis et la Saintonge des origines à nos jours., ed. J.-N. Luc (Saint-Jean-d’Angély, 1981), 201. 48 A. Lételié, ‘L’Église de Marennes en Saintonge (1559–1602)’, Revue de Saintonge et D’Aunis, vol. 41 (1925), 326. 49 B[ibliothèque] n[ationale de] F[rance] MS. FR. 15879, fol. 185. 50 Jouan, Recveil, fos 58r-58v. 51 C. Haton, Mémoires de Claude Haton, ed. L. Bourquin (Paris, 2001), vol. 1, 472. 52 C. C. Pecknold and L. Laborde, S. S. J. ‘Confirmation’, in H. Boersma and M. Levering (eds), The Oxford Handbook of Sacramental Theology (Oxford, 2015), 489. 53 Bishop Faustus of Riez articulated this difference in the fifth century: ‘In baptism we are washed; after baptism we are strengthened... Confirmation arms and supplies those needing to be preserved for the struggles and battles of this world.’ Quoted in M. E. Johnson, The Rites of Christian Initiation: Their Evolution and Interpretation (Minnesota, 2007), 184–5. 54 The duc d’Alençon took his new name in January 1566. A. Tuetey (ed.), Registres des Délibérations du Bureau de la Ville de Paris (Paris, 1892), vol. 5, 553–4. 55 The National Archives, State Papers Foreign, Elizabeth I, SP 70/77, fos 112v–113r. 56 [A]rchives [M]unicipales de [T]oulouse BB 274, Chronique 240, 372; G. de La Faille, Annales De La Ville De Toulouse depuis la réünion de la comté de Toulouse à la Couronne, avec un abrégé de l’ancienne histoire de cette ville et un recueil de divers titres et actes pour servir de preuves ou d’éclaircissement à ces Annales (Toulouse, 1687–1701), vol. 2, 272–3. 57 H. Oliphant Old, The Shaping of the Reformed Baptismal Rite in the Sixteenth Century (Grand Rapids, MI, 1992), 224–6; G. Bode, ‘Instructions of the Christian faith by Lutherans after Luther’, in R. Kolb (ed.), Lutheran Ecclesiastical Culture, 1550–1675 (Leiden, 2008), 181–2. 58 J. Eastgate Brink, ‘Royal power through provincial eyes: Languedoc 1515–1560’, Proceedings of the Tenth Annual Meeting of the Western Society for French History (Lawrence, KS, 1984), 54–5. 59 AMT BB 274, Chronique 240, 333–4. 60 AMT AA 14, no. 19. 61 J. Garrisson-Estèbe, Protestants du Midi, 1559–1598 (Toulouse, 1980), 123–53. 62 C. L. Devic and J. Vaissète, Histoire générale de Languedoc (Toulouse, 1889), vol. 11, 351. 63 M. Greengrass, ‘The anatomy of a religious riot in Toulouse in May 1562’, Journal of Ecclesiastical History, 34 (1983), 367–91. 64 AMT BB 274, Chronique 241, 377. 65 P. -J. Souriac, Une Guerre civile. Affrontements religieux et militaires dans le Midi Toulousain (1562–1596) (Lonrai, 2008), 107. 66 Souriac, Une Guerre civile, 33. 67 J. Davies, ‘Persecution and Protestantism: Toulouse, 1562–1575’, Hist. Jl., 22 (1979), 31–51. 68 ‘Nous vous recommandons le repos, unyon et pacification de ladicte ville, affin que, en nostre arrivée par dellà, toutes choses y soient mieulx disposées à nous recevoir.’ Catherine de Médicis to the capitouls of Toulouse, 10 Sep. 1564. L[ettres de] C[atherine de] M[edici], vol. 2, 224. 69 Christin, Une Révolution symbolique, 177–8. 70 T. Godefroy, Le Ceremonial François (Paris, 1649), vol. 2, 580. 71 M. Turchetti, ‘Middle parties in France during the wars of religion’, in Benedict et al. (eds), Reformation, Revolt and Civil War, 165–83. 72 Jouan, Recveil, fol. 23r. 73 D. Mycoff, The Life of Saint Mary Magdalene and of her Sister Saint Martha: A Medieval Biography (Kalamazoo, 1999), 10. 74 Quoted in M. -É. Faillon, Monuments inédits sur l’apostolat de sainte Marie-Madeleine en Provence et sur les autres apôtres de cette controlée, Saint Lazare, Saint Maximin, Sainte Marthe et les Saintes Maries Jacobé et Salomé (Paris, 1848), vol. 1, 407–9. 75 F. Rochefort, La Vie de la belle et clere Magdalene. BN MS. FR. 24955, fos 54v–55r; 58v–59r. 76 BN. MS. FR. 24955, fos 12r–12v. 77 B. J. Johnston, ‘The Magdalene and “Madame”: piety, politics, and personal agenda in Louise of Savoy’s Vie de la Magdalene’, in M. A. Erhardt and A. M. Morris (eds), Mary Magdalene, Iconographic Studies from the Middle Ages to the Baroque (Leiden and Boston, 2012), 269–93. 78 M. L. Rostan, Notice sur l’Église de Saint-Maximin (Brignoles, 1859), 46. 79 Faillon, Monuments inédits, vol. 1, 1045. 80 Ibid., 1035; E. Baux, V. -L. Bourrilly and P. H. Mabilly, ‘Le voyage des Reines et de François Ier en Provence et dans la Vallée du Rhone (Décembre 1515-Février 1516)’, Annales du Midi. Revue Archéologique, Historique et Philologique de la France Méridionale, 1904, 36. 81 ‘François, most illustrious king of France, came to this holy temple, with Claude [his wife], his court and the two princesses his mother and sister. He arrived soon after the victory that he won in Italy. King François returned here to give thanks. Being then in the church of Saint Mary Magdalene, this powerful prince made rich presents to this place.’ Baux et al., ‘Le Voyage’, 44. 82 C. Piper Heming, Protestants and the Cult of the Saints in German-speaking Europe, 1517–1531 (Kirksville, MO, 2003), 53–65. 83 C. M. N. Eire, War Against the Idols: The Reformation of Worship from Erasmus to Calvin (Cambridge, 1989), 54–72. 84 Luke 24:12. 85 D. Cardon, ‘Un Saint-Suaire en soie: le saint Cabouin de Carcassonne’, Bulletin du Centre international d’étude des textiles anciens, 70 (1992), 101. 86 M. Fournié, ‘Le saint suaire de Carcassonne du Moyen Age’, Bulletin de la Société D’Études Scientifiques de l’Aude, 110 (2010), 68. 87 R. P. Bougès, Histoire Ecclesiastique et civile de la Ville et Diocese de Carcassonne, avec les Pieces Justicatives, & une Notice Ancienne & moderne de ce Diocese (Paris, 1741), 327. 88 A. Carles, Histoire du Saint-Suaire de Cadouin (Perigueux, 1868), 17–18. 89 Jouan, Recveil, fos. 33r–34r. 90 T. Pistollet de Saint-Ferjeux, ‘Langres pendant la Ligue’, Mémoires de la Société Historique et Archéologique de Langres, vol. 2 (1862), 87. 91 Daniel 3:1–30. 92 P. Jacques Dignier, Les Chroniques de l’Évêché de Langres, trans. Émile Jolibois (Chaumont, 1842), 44. 93 Reprinted in C. Lalore, ‘Inventaire des Reliques Pierreries, Joyaux Précieux et Argenterie de l’Eglise Cathédrale de Langres’, Revue de Champagne et de Brie, vol. 8 (1880), 10–14; 125–34; 442–8. 94 Ibid., 442. According to Exodus 25: 12–20, the reliquary would therefore have had a silver ring on each of its four corners, two silver rings on two sides, and a silver lid surmounted by two silver cherubim facing one another with their wings outstretched. 95 Anonymous, ‘Inventaire des Reliques et Autres Curiosités de l'Église Cathédrale de Langres Dressé le 30 Aout 1768’, Bulletin de la Société Historique et Archéologique de Langres (1872), 161. 96 D. Covelli, Langres. La Cathédrale Saint-Mammès (Paris, 2001), 58. 97 Lalore, ‘Inventaire des Reliques’, 442; Anonymous, ‘Inventaire des Reliques’, 161. 98 E. Jullien De La Boullaye, ‘Entrées et Séjours de François Ier à Langres’, Bulletin de la Société Historique et Archéologique de Langres (1872), 78. 99 Ibid., 82–4; 100. 100 A. Tachy, ‘Les Reliques des trois Benédicités à la cathédrale de Langres’, Revue de Champagne et de Brie, vol. 8 (1880), 287. 101 A. de La Croix, Tragi-comédie. L’argument pris du troisième chapitre de Daniel: avec le Cantique des trois enfans, chanté en la fornaise. [Nabuchodonosor] (Paris, 1561). 102 D. Di Mauro, ‘Antoine de Chandieu, auteur d’un drame biblique?’, Bulletin de la Société de l’Histoire du Protestantisme Français, 151 (2005), 219–29. 103 H. Carrington Lancaster, The French Tragi-Comedy: Its Origin and Development from 1552 to 1628 (Baltimore, MD, 1907), 48–51; R. Lebègue, La Tragédie Religieuse en France. Les Débuts (1514–1573) (Paris, 1929), 321–2; Y. Le Hir, Les Drames Bibliques de 1541 à 1600. Études de langue, de style et de versification (Grenoble, 1974), 33–5; Di Mauro, ‘Antoine de Chandieu’, 228. 104 S. K. Barker, Protestantism, Poetry and Protest: The Vernacular Writings of Antoine de Chandieu (c. 1534–1591) (Aldershot, 2009), 115–22. 105 La Croix, Nabuchodonosor, fos C4r–5r. 106 In essence, he paraphrases Matthew 22: 21: ‘Render therefore unto Caesar the things which are Caesar’s; and unto God the things that are God’s.’ 107 La Croix, Nabuchodonosor, fol. C5r–5v. 108 ‘Mirez-vous donq’ici gens d’estat, gens d’honneur,/ Riches, poures, puissants, mal-sains, ieunes et vieux,/ Grans, petits, foibles, forts, contristez et ioyeux.’ La Croix, Nabuchodonosor, fol. G2r. 109 La Croix, Nabuchodonosor, fol. G2r–2v. 110 ‘… ceste petite Tragi-comedie: laquelle a desia receu ta[n]t de faueur de vous, Madame, dès le temps qu’il pleut au Roy vostre mari me receuoir à son seruice.’ La Croix, Nabuchodonosor, fol. A2r. 111 Di Mauro, ‘Antoine de Chandieu’, 224; A. Evain, ‘Les Reines et Princesses de France, Mécènes, Patronnes et Protectrices du Théâtre au XVIe Siècle’, in K. Wilson-Chevalier and E. Pascal (eds), Patronnes et mécènes en France à la Renaissance (Saint-Étienne, 2007), 81–2. 112 ‘To the very excellent and very pious prince Henri, valorous combatant and bringer of hope to his people, the Senate and the people of Toulouse [erect this arch] in perpetual memory of so great a king.’ AMT BB 274, Chronique 240, 356–7. 113 ‘I am going to raise your father, your grandfather and your mother, you, Charles, and your acts beyond the stars on my indefatigable wings.’ Anonymous, Chant d’allégresse pour l’entrée de très chrétien prince Charles IXe de ce nom, roi de France, en sa ville de Troie, par Jean Passerat. (Paris, 1564), fol. 6r. 114 ‘… à tous de non chanter chanssons de malledicion ny impudicques et non blasphemer, renier et jurer le nom de Dieu.’ AHDG, vol. 29, 52. 115 Seguin, Histoire de l’Aunis, 296. 116 AMT BB 274, Chronique 241, 378. © The Author(s) 2018. Published by Oxford University Press on behalf of the Society for the Study of French History. All rights reserved. For permissions, please e-mail: journals.permissions@oup.com http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png French History Oxford University Press

Presenting the Most Christian King: Charles IX’S Performance of Catholic Ritual in the Royal Tour of France (1564–1566)

Loading next page...
 
/lp/ou_press/presenting-the-most-christian-king-charles-ix-s-performance-of-zkQeJ1hTtX
Publisher
Oxford University Press
Copyright
© The Author(s) 2018. Published by Oxford University Press on behalf of the Society for the Study of French History. All rights reserved. For permissions, please e-mail: journals.permissions@oup.com
ISSN
0269-1191
eISSN
1477-4542
D.O.I.
10.1093/fh/cry002
Publisher site
See Article on Publisher Site

Abstract

Abstract This article examines the complex reasoning that led Charles IX to perform a series of public and private acts that emphasized his Catholicism during his royal tour of France (1564–6). His visibility in leading crowds to attend Mass, assisting in baptisms and embarking on pilgrimages chimed uneasily with his professed purpose in undertaking the progress: to instil temporary toleration after the first war of religion (1562–3). The article argues that Charles and his mother, Catherine de Médicis, planned these rituals in order to achieve two objectives. Firstly, they were determined to communicate that the religion of the king should be the religion of the people. Secondly, Charles sought to legitimize his reign by emulating rituals performed by his predecessors, especially François Ier. In coupling his demands for toleration with ritual performances, Charles and Catherine hoped to encourage and provide the opportunity for his subjects to renew their Catholic faith. Antoine de Ruffi, the noted seventeenth-century historian of Marseille, included a striking vignette in his account of Charles IX’s visit to the city in November 1564. On the day after his ceremonial entry, Charles led the court, including Catherine de Médicis and the duc d’Anjou, to hear Mass at Sainte-Marie-Majeure Cathedral. Upon arriving at the cathedral door, Charles saw Henri de Navarre hesitate in crossing the threshold. With a laugh, the fourteen-year-old king plucked the cap from ten-year-old Henri’s head and threw it into the church, knowing that the Reformed noble would have to enter to retrieve it.1 Charles’s behaviour can be understood in two ways. On the one hand, this was a boy playing the jester to his friend and cousin; it was nothing more than an attempt to amuse. On the other hand, it was a calculated act by the Most Christian King, who took any opportunity to impress upon his subject his authority and the supremacy of the Catholic faith. The veracity of this account can be called into question. Although Ruffi sourced much of his material from local archives, later historians have found no further mention of this exchange at the cathedral door. Moreover, Olivier Jacques Chardon recorded, in his largely unsubstantiated nineteenth-century history of the city, that the incident happened in Auxerre.2 It may be that one or both events are apocryphal. However, throughout the period from 1564 to 1566, Charles IX performed a number of other public and private acts that emphasized his Catholicism. He embarked on short pilgrimages to kneel before holy relics, led crowds through city streets in procession to churches to celebrate Mass, and took part in baptisms. In each instance, he was visible to his court and on many occasions his performances were witnessed by the local populace. Charles’s conduct is remarkable because it chimed uneasily with his agenda in embarking on the Royal Tour of France. The progress was orchestrated in the months after the declaration of the Edict of Amboise (March 1563), which granted limited and temporary toleration to Huguenots following the first civil war (1562–3), including the right to worship in the homes of the nobility and in the suburbs of one appointed town per bailliage or sénéchausée.3 Charles and his mother, Catherine de Médicis, left Paris in January 1564 and undertook the twenty-one month tour with the express purpose of seeing the edict ratified and enforced throughout the provinces. This was made clear in a letter from Catherine to Admiral Coligny in April 1564: ‘[Il] est l’un des principalles causes qui a faict entreprendre au Roy mondict sieur et filz les voyaiges qu’il faict, affin de faire si clarement entendre par tous les lieux où il passe qu’elle est en cela son intention qu’il n’y ayt plus personne qui puisse se forger ung prétexte ou occasion d’y contrevenir la-dessus.’4 Charles’s practice of the sacraments and good works while demanding religious toleration was an approach that required great delicacy. Celebrating his faith in public had the potential to embolden Catholics and to alienate Huguenots. To Charles and Catherine, however, their actions were realistically compatible. Little has been written about the performance of religious ritual during the Royal Tour. In the first substantial modern account of the Royal Tour, Pierre Champion framed the progress as a means of promoting diplomatic relations between France and Spain, and so focused on the court festivities at Bayonne in June 1565.5 Private entertainments—such as dances, chivalric contests and naumachia—have long monopolized the attention of scholars interested in the court’s ritual activities.6 Charles’s ceremonial entries, meanwhile, await comprehensive assessment.7 Jean Boutier, Alain Dewerpe and Daniel Nordman’s magisterial work presented the Royal Tour as a strategic response to internal crisis: the Crown transformed into a peripatetic political system as it struggled to enforce the Edict of Amboise from afar. Religious ritual had a role to play in this strategy. Charles’s presence in the cortège alongside local officials articulated unity between king and subject, and his public performance of the sacraments encouraged conversion, while some Catholic observers advocated that the king’s steps reconsecrated defiled urban spaces. Lack of continuous documentation of these religious activities, however, has hampered a thorough study.8 Marc Venard has argued that some local authorities treated the king’s visit as an occasion to further their Catholic revanchism.9 The leading role that Charles and his court played in the performance of Catholic rituals has yet to be fully scrutinized. Recent scholarship on the edicts of pacification in the early years of the wars indicates that the Crown’s dedication to conflict resolution was authentic. Jérémie Foa has shown that Charles and Catherine adopted a considered approach to settling problems with the Edict of Amboise by choosing experienced and neutral commissioners to negotiate solutions directly with local communities.10 Charles’s presence in cities provided further opportunity to establish peace, as subjects lined up to air their grievances and to petition for mercy, in some cases directly to the king. Michel Nassiet’s study of royal pardons issued in 1565 and 1566, almost half of which concerned religious troubles, argues for the efficacy of the royal person.11 Penny Roberts has shown that, in the absence of traditional conflict resolution apparatus, Charles and Catherine turned to law and justice. The Crown itself became the mediator between Catholics and Huguenots, though it was reliant on a small team of commissioners, local authorities and governors to enforce the edicts. This constituted a difficult balancing act, in which the king aimed to uphold Catholicism while securing unity among all of his subjects.12 At the heart of these works is the question: how did the monarchy attempt to construct and manage a kingdom that was Catholic but pluralist, and at peace but deeply scarred by war?13 This article examines the complex reasoning that led Charles to participate in a series of sacred ceremonies that included a spectacular Lenten procession, the public confirmation of his young siblings and the donation of an expensive new reliquary. It draws on Abel Jouan’s contemporary account of the king’s progress, sixteenth-century manuscripts and prints, and the works of nineteenth-century provincial antiquarians, in order to establish that Charles undertook these rituals with a dual purpose.14 Firstly, he and his mother Catherine de Médicis were determined to communicate that the religion of the king should be the religion of the people, and so encourage his subjects to renew their Catholic faith. This meant Charles appearing as the embodiment of the Most Christian King, that is, a man of unimpeachable piety and the champion of the true religion in France. Secondly, they sought to legitimize his reign by emulating the rituals that many of his predecessors had performed. Charles tried in particular to evoke the memory of his much-admired grandfather François Ier, who had made numerous public shows of faith as he passed through provinces to fight in the Italian Wars (1521–46). Their agenda in the Royal Tour was therefore carefully considered and planned. Charles coupled the enforcement of the Edict of Amboise, which was designed to ensure temporary religious toleration, with a personal campaign to enhance his reputation as the monarch and to reinvigorate the Catholic faith among all his subjects: noble, commoner, Catholic and Huguenot. I The physical presence of the king was a powerful means of cultivating loyalty in provincial communities. Nowhere was this more evident than in public ceremonies, and in particular royal entries. Entries were a public affirmation of the relationship between the new king and his subjects: at the city gates, the populace witnessed local representatives pledge the obedience of the city in return for the monarch’s protection and his renewal of their privileges. Beyond this, the procession was an opportunity for the king, at once, to give flesh to the abstract idea of the Crown; to cast himself metaphorically as the head to the body politic; and to present his body as sacred by drawing a parallel between his own entry and Christ’s advent into Jerusalem.15 Each of these functions reinforced his legitimacy as ruler. In setting out on the royal tour, Charles sought to build upon the power of royal entries by presiding over further formal meetings with local authorities. This included lits de justice in four parlements, and private assembles in which he received harangues from judicial figures and nobles.16 He also heard petitions from both Catholics and Huguenots.17 He and Catherine reasoned that his demands for religious toleration would be satisfied if he expressed his desires by word and action in person. Catherine, rather than Charles, was the creative force behind the plan to engage directly with his provincial subjects. Charles had little experience of governing alone, having only declared his majority in 1563 aged thirteen.18 Catherine was his greatest advisor and her authority, though unofficial, was widely acknowledged both at court and by his subjects.19 Both knew too well the limitations of political proxies. They had dispatched commissioners throughout France shortly after the publication of the Edict of Amboise to negotiate agreements between Catholics and Huguenots that enabled councils to govern in the letter and the spirit of the edict. Although the commissioners often made progress, the many challenges they faced prevented widespread success.20 In the presence of the king, however, recalcitrant councils could no longer evade his will without endangering their privileges and protection. Royal entries elevated the significance of all other rituals performed by Charles in these cities. It created an environment of performance, in which further unexpected ceremonies were perceived to be equally imbued with a message from the king. Charles capitalized on this association and eagerly fulfilled their expectations by participating in numerous religious rites, both in churches and in the streets. His ostentatious piety was designed to communicate the notion that Catholicism was the undisputed religion of the Crown. Specifically, his subjects were to understand that he was the legitimate successor to the title of Most Christian King, and that he wanted them to embrace and renew their Catholic faith. The nuanced nature of his visits, in which his command for religious toleration was matched by his promotion of Catholic worship, was made explicit in a royal proclamation published on 24 June 1564. It ordered the suspension of Reformed practices in towns when the king was in residence; Huguenots were still allowed to celebrate their faith in private homes, but they had to travel to other cities where services were permitted by the Edict of Amboise if they wished to worship in public or hold marriage and baptism ceremonies.21 For Charles, enforcing religious toleration and revitalising Catholicism among his subjects were far from mutually exclusive acts. It was possible to achieve both, though these desires seemed contradictory. This approach had little to do with the Council of Trent (1545–63), which had recently concluded its certification of Roman Catholic doctrine and practices. The French monarchy consistently expressed reservations about the Tridentine reforms, even though the Papacy sought universal support for its decrees from Catholic rulers.22 In a letter to the Bishop of Rennes, written less than a month into the royal progress, Catherine finally confirmed that the Crown would not endorse or publish the decrees, on the grounds that the presidents of the Parlement de Paris had determined that some reforms encroached on the liberties of the Gallican Church.23 The message to Rome was clear: the king, as head of the Gallican Church, knew best how to revitalize the faith across France and only he had the power to direct the process. His will to renew Catholicism among his subjects was manifest in different ritual performances: the Mass, baptism and confirmation, and pilgrimage. II On 23 March 1565, Charles and his court entered the city of Agen to the sound of artillery and bells. He was preceded by clergymen from the cathedral, collegiate churches, parishes of Saint Foy and Saint Hilaire, and nuns from the four convents, who sang psalms and the Te Deum, intermittently interrupted with cries of ‘Long Live the King!’. At the conclusion of the procession, as was customary, Charles led his court into the cathedral to hear Mass.24 Hundreds of townspeople were witness to this act of faith. Over the course of his visit, Charles made several further personal appearances in church. The royal entourage returned to Saint Étienne Cathedral the following day to hear vespers, knowing that their attendance would draw public attention. On 25 March, Charles took a commanding role in the celebration of the Feast of the Annunciation. The cathedral was crowded with people from all sections of Agenais society. Mass was said by the bishop of Agen, Janus Frégose, after which Charles entered the cloister where a multitude of scrofula sufferers sat; in front of this assembly, the king bestowed his royal touch to cure them. Later that day, the canon led vespers in the cathedral with assistance from lords and ladies of the court, which concluded with Charles laying his hands on more sufferers.25 Charles’s participation in so many services over such a short time was calculated to maximize the number of witnesses to his piety. The timing of the court’s presence in Agen was almost certainly deliberate. It coincided with a solemnity in the liturgical calendar, which constituted an excellent opportunity to strengthen Catholic zeal in a city that had been destabilized by religious conflict. Tensions between the growing Protestant population and the Catholic majority in Agen were regularly recorded from July 1558, when the Parlement de Bordeaux issued an arrêt against preaching in public without the permission of the local bishop or priest.26 Iconoclastic attacks in December 1558 and April 1559 were followed by an escalation of violence across the city in September 1561: the extent of the ‘church sackings, seditions and scandals’ was so severe that Charles was forced to send the sieur de Burie to restore order.27 Hostilities peaked in April 1562 when the city fell to a Huguenot coup, during which officials of the king were imprisoned, Catholic homes and churches were pillaged and all Catholic rites were prohibited.28 Control was finally wrested from the rebels in August 1562, at which point local institutions fell into the hands of leading Catholics, who strove to punish and force out the vocal Huguenot minority despite the provisions of the Edict of Amboise.29 However, the Protestants were also guilty of disregarding the edict: in June 1563, Blaise de Monluc complained to the États d’Agennais that Huguenots throughout the province continued to carry arms and practise their faith in public.30 Charles stepped into this fray to communicate two messages. His principal aim was to reaffirm unreservedly that Catholicism was the religion of the king and his court. The Mass had come under sustained and virulent attack from Protestant writers, led by Jean Calvin, Guillaume Farel and Pierre Viret.31 Their arguments against the real presence were brought before the court in spectacular fashion when Théodore de Bèze declared at the Colloquy of Poissy in 1561 that Christ’s body was ‘as far removed from the bread and wine as is heaven from earth’.32 The performance of this ritual received similar ire from Reformers, who decried its visual nature as a distraction from the words of Christ.33 Accepting the Eucharist in Saint Étienne Cathedral demonstrated the monarch’s belief in the true nature of the Mass as the transformation of bread into the literal body of Christ. His presence also emphasized his faith in its ritual performance by priests. The entire scene was a visual demonstration of the enduring power of the Catholic faith, made all the more dramatic by the fact that the Masses were celebrated in what remained of the cathedral, which had been sacked and set alight by Huguenots in December 1561.34 A crucial element of the Eucharist was to form spiritual and social bonds within communities through the sharing of the bread. It was an inclusionary process, by which all participants were strengthened in their faith. Charles’s receipt of the Eucharist in Agen made him, in these moments, part of their community. The significance of taking bread with him heartened Catholics, who had most likely never before felt so close to their king, whom they knew to be God’s representative on earth. The Mass was an invitation to the Huguenot community to join in fellowship with their king. Royal agents elsewhere in France had worked to refute the division between Huguenots and Catholics by admitting to churches anyone who wished to attend Catholic Mass.35 Through this inclusion, Charles publicly affirmed to his Reformed subjects that Catholicism was the true faith, to which they should return. Charles’s second objective was to communicate, through his performance of the royal touch, his own divine nature. French monarchs had been ‘curing’ scrofula since the reign of Philippe Ier (1060–1108).36 The King’s Evil was an inflammation of the lymph nodes caused by tuberculosis, now understood to have been transmitted largely through unpasteurized milk.37 It often dramatically manifested as putrid sores, but was also prone to sudden bouts of remission. Many believed the disease to be a punishment for sin, and that the thaumaturgic touch of the king on affected areas could heal the afflicted. When Charles laid his hands on the men and women in Agen cathedral, those present felt themselves witness to the merciful power of God, as dispensed by their king. Charles gathered thousands of such witnesses to his healing powers across France by regularly healing the sick on solemnities. Between November 1564 and March 1565, he touched sufferers at least once a month.38 His actions proclaimed him the heir to the healing power of his ancestors and a true Catholic servant of Christ, both of which legitimized his rule.39 It was a powerful reminder to those present that the will of the king was the will of God. This extended beyond the confines of the church to Charles’s governance. His performance of the royal touch demonstrated to all his subjects that he expected his demand for toleration to be enforced. III Baptism, like the Eucharist, constituted a frontline on which Charles chose to defend the Catholic faith. The sacrament was celebrated in the Church in order to cleanse children of Original Sin and to initiate them into Christ. Its performance was deemed necessary to the attainment of salvation because baptism bestowed grace and allowed for the receipt of further sacraments. The Catechism of the Council of Trent (1566) would later explain that ‘it opens to us the portals of heaven which sin had closed against us’.40 Charles knew that baptism was both imperative for the souls of his subjects, who risked eternal damnation without it, and a powerful means of unifying a social and spiritual community. He saw an opportunity to champion the Catholic rite in his conspicuous assistance in a public baptism in Marennes. On 6 September 1565, Charles took up a place near the altar of the Church of Saint-Pierre-de-Salles and, over the course of the afternoon, witnessed the baptism of as many as nine hundred children, naming some Charles, Catherine or Marguerite, after himself, his mother and his sister. Abel Jouan provides the only known record of this event in his unofficial account of the royal progress, so his estimation may be inflated. Jouan took care to note that some of the children were old enough to respond to the priest during the rites.41 These children were almost certainly all in receipt of their first baptism. Catholic worship had been prohibited in Marennes since 1561, which would account for their quantity and maturity.42 Although the rebaptism of Huguenot children did occur after the first war, this was rare and concentrated in cities where Catholics had reclaimed control from Huguenots.43 Prominent Catholics generally agreed that baptisms performed by Huguenot ministers were valid. Furthermore, Charles would not have presided over a ceremony that included rebaptism, knowing that in March 1564 the Faculty of Theology at the Sorbonne had censured Simon Vigor for advocating that Huguenot baptism was ineffective.44 Charles faced an enormous challenge in attempting to re-establish the influence of the Catholic Church in Marennes. It was one of the many towns and cities across the Pays des Isles to adopt Protestantism in the 1550s. Bernard Palissy, the ceramicist and natural philosopher, recorded that the Reformed faith was first introduced in 1546 by exiled German monks, who proselytized along the well-connected trade roads in the province.45 The efforts of another itinerant preacher, Philibert Hamelin, led the Marennes community to grow so numerous that in 1557 its leaders sent a letter to Geneva asking for a permanent minister to teach them catechism and lead them in worship.46 A Reformed church was established in the city in 1558, the same year as in nearby Cognac and Saint-Jean-d’Angely, creating a patchwork of Protestant towns across the pays that included Arvert (1555) and Saintes (1557).47 The strength of this new church was such that, when a huissier de justice from Bordeaux visited Marennes in 1560, he reported seeing 3000 men assemble to hear a minister.48 At the outbreak of war, the city was firmly under a Huguenot hegemony, which lasted well beyond the ceasefire. Even after the proclamation of the Edict of Amboise, Reformed communities across the province continued to sack Catholic churches and refused to allow the celebration of Mass.49 Charles’s participation in the group baptism was, on a fundamental level, designed to raise the number of Catholics in Marennes. In the course of a single afternoon, he oversaw the expansion of the community to the largest it had been in years. However, this was only part of the process of restoration. The congregation developed a strong connection to their king, having borne witness with him and observed how instrumental he was in swelling Church membership. For at least a generation, he became an indelible part of their community. Those who were christened by the king, or at least in his presence, had an even greater connection: he was akin to a godparent or even a father. On the same day as the baptism, Charles also watched hundreds of his subjects perform the sacrament of confession for the first time in years.50 These events left Huguenots in no doubt that Catholicism was the religion of the king and he hoped to see all of his subjects restored to it. Claude Haton, the contemporary Catholic memorialist, asserted that this kind of public behaviour did affect the wider community: ‘ayans veu encores catholicques et aller à la messe si devostement qu’il y alloit, [les huguenots] quitterent l’heresie et furent catholicques, ou du moings firent semblant de l’estre: la religion que tient le prince, soit bonne ou malvaise, induist ses subjectz à la prendre’.51 Confirmation was similarly important in strengthening the Church, in part due to its intrinsic connection to baptism. Before the fifth century, the rites of confirmation and baptism had formed a single sacrament: the child was immersed in water by the bishop, after which he laid on his hands. As Christian communities grew in size, it became impossible to tend to all new children, so baptisms came to be performed by local priests while bishops entered the process at fixed times to confer confirmation.52 As the sacrament divided in two, each half assumed a distinct function: baptism conferred the grace that marked their entrance into the Christian community, while confirmation bestowed further grace and announced that the recipient was ready to do the Church’s work.53 Charles sought to emphasize the necessity of the sacrament in the confirmation of his sister and brother, Marguerite de Valois and Alexandre, duc d’Anjou. On 18 March 1565, the royal family and the court congregated in Saint Étienne Church in Toulouse, where the sacrament was administered by the archbishop, Georges d’Armagnac. In the course of the ceremony, Charles ordered that his brother henceforth take the name Henri, and that his youngest brother César, who did not travel with the court on account of his age, should assume the name François when the time came for his own confirmation.54 Ecclesiastics from all of the parish churches and convents in the city attended, as did the capitouls and officers of the parlement. Afterwards, the congregation walked in procession to Saint Sernin Church. Silver and gilt crosses were carried through the streets by monks and friars, who led the cardinals of Bourbon and Guise, the king, the queen mother, Marguerite and Henri.55 Georges d’Armagnac walked beneath a canopy carrying the monstrance, while the capitouls bore the relics of local saints under their holy banners. Public prayers were said as the court departed Saint Étienne and as they arrived at Saint Sernin, whereupon the king entered the church to hear vespers and a sermon from Pierre Finet, the superior of the nearby Minimes monastery.56 Marguerite and Alexandre’s confirmation was a public refutation of the Reformed view on the seven sacraments. Only baptism and the Eucharist had remained cornerstones of the faith, even though both Luther and Calvin recognized confirmation as a useful bridge between the two because it could test the individual’s mastery of the catechism.57 In ordering the ceremony, Charles affirmed his belief in the validity of the rite. The sight of Marguerite and Alexandre receiving grace and promising to do the work of the Church also strengthened the monarchy by portraying the royal family as united in its defence of Catholicism. This unity was made visible outside the church in the procession, through the participation of all members of royal family alongside Catholic princes of the blood. The procession deliberately evoked Corpus Christi and Feast Day celebrations in order to equate the body of the king with the body of Christ. This reminded the people who witnessed the king and the Eucharist in close proximity that Charles himself was divine as the representative of God on earth. However, the ceremony was designed to have special significance for Toulouse. Firstly, it was an ostentatious affair, in keeping with Toulouse’s dignity as one of the kingdom’s great cities. It was a means to show favour to a capital that had been consistently neglected by Charles’s predecessors: other cities in Languedoc, notably Montpellier and Béziers, had hosted the royal family in 1542, but Charles was the first monarch to visit Toulouse since 1533.58 Local authorities were evidently honoured by the occasion; the programme for his stay is recounted in remarkable detail in official records.59 Secondly, the procession was part of a broader plan to enforce the Edict of Amboise in Toulouse, which the Parlement de Toulouse had registered on 15 April 1563 but had subsequently appeared reluctant to implement.60 Toulouse was a divided city when Charles visited in March 1565. Prior to the war, Huguenots had become a significant minority, partly as a result of sustained evangelism from Genevan pastors in the late 1550s.61 In the summer of 1561, the parlement estimated there to be 4000 Protestants.62 The new faith was particularly popular among city elites and intellectuals, leading to a surge in Huguenots and sympathetic moderates taking public office. When, in May 1562, Huguenots attempted to take the city by force, fighting in the streets left hundreds dead and swathes of the cityscape in ruins.63 Iconoclasts stripped churches—including Saint Sernin—so bare that the buildings were later offered triumphal arches from Charles’s royal entry to mask the damage with an alternative splendour.64 The failed coup marked a turning point for the Huguenot community. The parlement seized administrative and military control of the city and proceeded to stymie the expanding church. The capitouls were driven from their posts into exile, with the exception of Adhémar Mandinelli, whose severed head was nailed to the door of the maison de ville.65 The parlement authorized the foundation of a Catholic defence league in March 1563 and commemorated the failed coup in a magnificent public procession in May 1563. Pierre-Jean Souriac has shown that the conflict of 1562–3 prompted the creation of an ultra-Catholic alliance between parlement, the municipal authorities and lieutenants-general, which contrived to maintain Huguenot repression for the duration of the wars.66 Its effect is evident in the sharp decline in the Huguenot population between 1562 and 1575.67 Charles and Catherine knew that it would be difficult to enforce toleration in these circumstances. Part of their plan to achieve this was to blend the performance of Catholic ritual with frank discourse in the lit de justice. The queen mother laid the groundwork for Charles’s visit in a letter to the capitouls, warning that their king expected peace and fraternity to be restored in the city in advance of his arrival.68 Charles then sought to present himself as a staunch Catholic monarch by taking part in what Olivier Christin has termed ‘une recharge de sacralité’.69 War had brought the desacralization of both Catholic churches and the clergy; in the procession, Charles emphasized the efficacy of devotional objects and the powers of priests. The Crown expected that the parlement would thus understand temporary toleration as the considered demand of the Most Christian King and find it hard to withhold its compliance. Charles reinforced this with his judicial demands in the lit de justice. He expressed frustration with the ways in which his officials had treated the local Huguenot population, and openly chastized the parlement for their failure to enforce the Edict of Amboise in its entirety. He was also unequivocal in his demands that it be implemented without amendment or delay: ‘Je vous ay bien voulu visiter pour vous faire entendre ma volonté, qui est que vous … faisiez garder et entretenir mes Edicts, et obeyssiez à mes commandemens, sans y faire faute.’70 To the ardent Catholics who dominated the chamber, this demand was insupportable. However, resistance was not easily justified in the presence of a pious monarch who had reminded them that his will was the will of God. Through this complex process, Charles sought to demonstrate that revitalising Catholicism among his subjects and enforcing religious toleration were not mutually exclusive acts. IV Charles was equally determined to convince his own court of his legitimacy as a Catholic monarch. In the early 1560s, his nobility began to fracture into powerful Protestant and Catholic factions, led by the prince de Condé and the duc de Guise respectively. Although there were some leading moderates, such as the Chancellor Michel de L’Hôpital, they were vastly outnumbered by zealots on both sides.71 In order to secure the obedience of these factions, Charles had to adopt the same balanced approach he had employed in his public events: he worked to secure religious toleration while personally articulating to his nobles that the Reformed should return to Catholicism. One of the most effective means of achieving this was being seen to perform pilgrimages and good works. During his royal progress, Charles visited three holy sites in private, taking care to select places that were renowned for their royal connections, in particular to François Ier. In recreating the pilgrimages of his ancestors, Charles presented himself as the legitimate heir to the throne and as a king who would—like his father and grandfather—strive to restore the Golden Age to France. The most gruelling pilgrimage undertaken by the court was the 2800ft climb into the mountains of Provence to visit the twin holy sites of Saint Maximin Church and the grotto of Sainte Baume on 25 October 1564. Jouan described the road to their destination as ‘long and unwelcoming’ and noted that the exhausted court did not complete their descent until two o’clock in the morning.72 The Church was the resting place of Mary Magdalene, her companion Saint Maximin and two early Christian saints, Sidoine and Marcella. Sainte Baume was considered one of the holiest places in France, because Mary Magdalene had used the grotto as a place for contemplation and penitence. In the sixteenth century, it was widely believed that, after the death of Christ, Mary Magdalene fled by boat from Judea to escape persecution by the Jews and landed in Provence, where she spent the rest of her life preaching the Gospel. One of the earliest extant accounts of this legend, written in the twelfth century and attributed to Raban-Maur, is De Vita Beatæ Mariæ Magdalenæ et Sororis Ejus Sanctæ Marthæ.73 This manuscript attests that, having sailed to Marseille and evangelized throughout Aix, Mary Magdalene was embalmed upon death by her companion Saint Maximin and placed in a church that he had built for her remains. The sepulchre then became so sacred that not even a king could enter without laying down his arms and banishing all violent thoughts. Women were not permitted to enter at all.74 Louise de Savoie, mother of François Ier, commissioned an illuminated manuscript of the life of Mary Magdalene in the 1520s to aid her in private devotion. Its beautifully illustrated roundels and accompanying text chart the marvellous journey and death of the saint in far greater detail than earlier accounts.75 It also intimately tied the souls of the royal family to Mary Magdalene, by calling upon her to intercede for Louise, her children François and Marguerite, and her son’s wife Claude, in their hours of need.76 Louise’s particular affection for the legend was the latest manifestation of a centuries-old royal connection between the French Crown and Sainte Baume.77 Philippe VI, the first king from the House of Valois, had visited the site in 1332, followed by Jean II in 1362 and Charles VI in 1389. Charles VII did not make a pilgrimage, but his wife Marie d’Anjou did in 1440. Louis XI then revived the tradition in 1447.78 In the reign of Charles IX, however, the monarch most associated with this pilgrimage was François Ier. He had visited the twin sites of Saint Maximin and Sainte Baume on three occasions: once as dauphin in the company of Anne de Bretagne, wife of his predecessor Louis XII (1503), and twice as king. These journeys were made with his first wife Claude, his mother Louise and his sister Marguerite (1516), and with his second wife Eleanor and his sons the future Henri II and Charles, duc d’Angouleme (1533).79 François’s commitment to the pilgrimage site developed during his visit in 1516. Having brought the Italian Wars to a temporary close following his victory at the battle of Marignano in September 1515, he arranged to meet his family and travel to Saint Maximin Church to give thanks. The building was in a state of reconstruction, and the arrival of the court provided a much-needed increase in funding. Claude provided a donation of 200 livres tournois a year for ten years, while Louise reduced the level of tax to be paid by the surrounding town. François gave the resident religious community the right to transport whatever construction materials they needed from across the kingdom without paying import tax and committed a further 300 livres tournois a year for ten years on behalf of himself and his mother.80 When the church was finished in 1529, the priest responsible for the repairs, Father Damien, placed an inscription in the chapel in homage to François. Rex super illustris Franciscus primus in œdes Venit, cum ducibus principibusque, sacras; Claudia, nobilium hic magna stipante caterva, Cum genetrice viri cumque sorore fuit; Hoc fuit italici post martia bella triumphi, Cum rex Franciscus debita vota daret; Cumque fuit presens in sancta Magdalis œde, Est rex largitus munera magna potens.81 This inscription no longer exists, but Charles and his court encountered it when they made their pilgrimage to Saint Maximin and Sainte Baume. The sight of the king standing beside it before venerating the holy relics drew a direct line between Charles and François, the best-loved king in living memory. Charles also knowingly positioned himself as the latest in a line of pious monarchs. Only Charles VIII and François II had neglected to make this pilgrimage, although François may well have done had he not died within a year of his accession to the throne. By continuing the tradition of his ancestors, Charles visibly assured his audience of nobles that he was the legitimate heir to the House of Valois. Another vital element of this pilgrimage was the Crown’s reaffirmation of the cult of saints. Reformers had denied the power of saints to intercede on behalf of those who prayed to them on the grounds that it had no scriptural basis; they deemed it a harmful practice that obscured the sinner’s direct relationship with God and the only true intercessor, Jesus Christ.82 Saints’ relics were considered useless, even dangerous, to those who sought grace and salvation, because they were idolatrous and a distraction from the true form of worship—hearing and reading the Word of the Bible.83 Iconoclasts, when destroying images and repurposing church fabrics, seldom left relics untouched. When Charles venerated the bones of Mary Magdalene and marvelled at the grotto in which she had made her penitence, he articulated that saints and their relics were genuine means to attaining grace. A few months later, in January 1565, Charles visited another relic in Carcassonne. The Augustinian church claimed to possess one of the shrouds that had enveloped the body of Christ in the grave prior to his resurrection.84 Its name, Saint Cabouin (meaning holy headdress), derived from the fact that it was said to be the piece that had clothed Christ’s head. Oral traditions within the religious community recorded that the shroud had been brought to the church in 1298 by two Augustinians returning from the Crusades.85 However, the earliest written evidence of its presence is a letter from Charles VI to the Augustinians in March 1397. It is likely that the community acquired the shroud only a decade prior to this, to provoke a visit from Charles VI during his proposed tour of his lands in Languedoc. It certainly worked, as the king came to admire it in both November 1389 and January 1390.86 Charles IX and Catherine de Médicis prayed before the relic several times during their residence in Carcassonne.87 This may have surprised the court, because there was no traditional connection between the French monarchy and the Saint Cabouin beyond the pilgrimages of Charles VI. In fact, the holy shroud of Cadouin in Dordogne—which was understood to be a piece of cloth from Christ’s body, rather than a headdress—had a far more illustrious history of royal visits. Reputed pilgrims included Saint Louis, Charles V, Charles VI, Charles VII and Marie of Anjou, Anne of Brittany, Louis XI, and Louis XII.88 Nevertheless, this alternative shroud was overlooked in the course of the royal tour. It seems the reason for this attention towards the Saint Cabouin was simply a matter of circumstance. Charles and his entourage arrived in Carcassonne on 12 January with the expectation that they would leave the following day. Heavy snowfall overnight meant that it was impossible to leave the city for ten days.89 The pilgrimage to Langres, by contrast, was planned well in advance and calculated to emphasize Charles’s likeness to his grandfather. In May 1564, the court spent two days in the town, during which time the king visited Saint Mammès Cathedral to venerate the relics of the Three Holy Children in the Fiery Furnace.90 Their story is told in the Book of Daniel: King Nebuchadnezzar commissioned a golden image and called upon his subjects to kneel before it in worship, but three Jewish men—Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego—refused to do so. They were cast into a fiery furnace as punishment and, to the king’s surprise, they did not burn. Instead, Nebuchadnezzar saw the Son of God stand among the men in the fire and the three men emerge from it unscathed. Having witnessed this miracle, he declared that anyone who henceforth spoke against their God would suffer his wrath.91 There is no written evidence for the arrival of these relics in Langres. The established narrative is that the Count of Langres brought them from Constantinople in 490, having received them as a gift from the Eastern Roman Emperor Zeno. This was in recognition of the service that the Count had rendered to the Emperor in his conflict with Odoacer, the King of Italy.92 It is unlikely that the bones entered the cathedral’s possession at such an early date. Charles did not come simply to pray before the relics; he came to provide a new reliquary. The earliest mention of this object is a cathedral inventory written in 1709 by Jean-Baptiste Charlet, the historiographer of the diocese of Langres.93 The fifteenth item listed is ‘un riche coffre d’argent chargé de pierreries et esmaillié, ou sont les reliques des trois Enfants de la fournaise de Babylone’. It further states that it was delivered by Charles in May 1564, having been made by a skilled silversmith called Joseph, who designed the chest to resemble the Ark of the Covenant because the saints were from the Old Testament.94 The reliquary is most probably no longer extant. It was last recorded in the cathedral inventory written on 30 August 1768, which provides verbatim details regarding its donation and physical description but omits its resemblance to the Ark of the Covenant.95 Many of the treasures in Saint Mammès Cathedral were dispersed or destroyed in the French Revolution.96 Langres was an unusual choice for the provision of a reliquary. The town was far less valuable than some cities to which the Crown might show favour, and its relics were no more sacred than many of those scattered across France. The reason for this pilgrimage was that François Ier had promised the cathedral a reliquary for the Three Holy Children.97 François visited Langres on four occasions, often passing through on his way to fight in the Italian Wars. He first entered the city in August 1521, accompanied by his wife Claude and the court, and it was at this time that he made his vow. Supposedly late one night, Michel Boudet, who was the Bishop of Langres and chaplain to the king, told François that the saints’ bones were interred in an underground chamber that was near collapse. Seized with an ardent desire to see these relics, the king started to dig at the spot in front of the high altar, where he discovered a chest. The lateness of the hour caused him to suspend his mission, but he soon returned with the cardinal de Lorraine, the bishops of Langres and Lisieux, and several nobles. When he finally recovered the bones, François took them in his hands and kissed them with great devotion before declaring he would ‘les ajuster d’une belle robe de blanc’, meaning rehouse them in a silver reliquary.98 François left Langres without settling arrangements for the provision of this gift, and neglected to honour his vow on subsequent visits in April 1522, January 1534 with his sons François and the future Henri II, and the summer of 1546.99 Charles thus sought to capitalize on this opportunity to associate himself with his grandfather by offering the new reliquary himself. In doing so, he elevated the connection between the town and the French Crown from one that focused solely on François Ier to one in which Langres could claim to have been visited by three successive monarchs. The power of this connection was such that, when Henri III returned from Poland to take up the French throne upon Charles’s death in 1574, the new king visited Langres on the way to be crowned at Reims. He entered the city on 3 February 1575 with Catherine de Médicis and the cardinal de Bourbon and heard Mass at Saint Mammès Cathedral before continuing his journey. Whilst in the cathedral, he prayed before the relics of the Three Holy Children and expressed a desire to take a bone from each of the saints for his own private devotion.100 There was more to Charles’s pilgrimage to Langres, however, than the development of his association with François Ier. He set out to reclaim the Three Holy Children as saints of the Catholic Church. In 1561, the saints had been co-opted by a Huguenot author known only as A.D.L.C. in the play L’argument pris du troisieme chapitre de Daniel: avec le Cantique des trois enfans, chanté en la fornaise.101 Damon Di Mauro has convincingly argued that these initials represent Antoine de La Croix, which was a pseudonym of the Reformed theologian Antoine de La Roche, sieur de Chandieu (1534–1591).102 Modern critics have designated the work, commonly referred to as Nabuchodonosor, as one of the earliest pieces of the Tragi-comedie genre, while Di Mauro suggests it can be described as a ‘Calvinist mystery play’.103 It was certainly designed to be a didactic work. Nabuchodonosor exploits several motifs that would have resonated with Reformed audiences, including religious persecution, the strength to accept martyrdom and hope for divine deliverance.104 Nabuchodonosor was offensive to Catholics for two reasons. Primarily, it was a parable that encouraged readers and viewers to reject the veneration of both saints and images. A conversation between the three protagonists on the subject of Nebuchadnezzar’s golden image reveals what La Croix considered to be the appropriate response to these forms of worship.105 When news reaches the men that the king has decreed all must worship the idol, Shadrach asks his companions whether they all ought to kneel as they will be put to death if they refuse. This character functions as a mirror for the Reformed audience: he represents their uncertainty in the face of such decisions, but also their determination to do what is right. When Abednego replies that adoring the image would be blasphemous, Shadrach presses that people must observe the edicts of the sovereign in whose lands they reside. Abednego advises that one must obey the temporal laws of the king, but in matters of religious conscience one must obey God.106 Abednego represents in this work the believer who knows what is right and must lead others to follow his example, so his criticism of images as ‘filthy and infected’ at the close of the conversation leaves the audience in no doubt as to their value in worship. Que l’homme qu’il a voulu faire, Prenant de soy son exemplaire, Voire mesme à son image, Eust vn si malheureux courage, Que de s’aller ainsi souiller, Que flechir, que s’agenouiller Deuant vne image orde, infecte, Que de sa main mesme il a faicte: Ne luy rendant en flechissant L’honneur deu au seul Tout-puissant, Et à tous de droict dénié: N’est-ce pas cela renié? Que sçauroit-il faire ou penser, Pour plus laschement offenser La grand’Maiesté du Seigneur?107 Nabuchodonosor denigrated the veneration of saints and their man-made likenesses not only as ineffectual, but as a profane act that insulted God. The above conversation implies that the Holy Children themselves would have objected to the adoration they received. In providing a reliquary for these saints, Charles repudiated the sentiments of the play. He confirmed that the Holy Children were, and always would be, part of the Catholic canon of saints, to whom the faithful could turn for intercession. La Croix caused further offence in the epilogue to the play, in which he levels a thinly-veiled attack on the French Crown. The epilogue calls upon all people to see themselves in the Holy Children, and to emulate them when faced with such a harrowing choice.108 Believers are counselled to put their faith in God, and hope that with His help they will overcome the persecution of their temporal lord. La Croix specifically states that God will punish tyrants: ‘Il a les cueurs des tyrans en ses mains…[Il] souuient la pensanteur de sa main punissante.’109 This threatening rhetoric suggested that Charles would receive divine punishment for his treatment of the Huguenots. Although it was probably intended for François II, such hostility to the Catholic Crown could not go unchallenged. This was particularly true in the case of Nabuchodonosor, which had been sponsored to some extent by the House of Navarre. In the preface, La Croix dedicates the work to the wife of his patron.110 There are several threads tying the play to Jeanne d’Albret, including the fact that the sieur de Chandieu offered his services to her husband Antoine de Bourbon in August 1558, and that Jeanne demonstrated considerable interest in sponsoring Calvinist dramas in order to teach and strengthen Reformed communities in their faith.111 Charles may not have known precisely who supported the publication of Nabuchodonosor, but La Croix’s reference to his patron as ‘[le] Roy vostre mari’ would have given strong indication that it was connected to the King of Navarre. It was thus important that Charles showed devotion to the Three Holy Children, whose reputations were so maligned by this play. His performance in praying to and providing a reliquary for their bones dismissed the beliefs of La Croix and his patrons. It was designed as a defence of the Catholic faith and of his own righteousness as the Most Christian King. His court was left in no doubt that he had aligned himself with the saints, and that they should do so too. V Charles and Catherine set out on his royal progress to execute a finely-balanced mission: to use performance as a means of restoring Catholic faith and of restoring confidence in his own rule. He knew that rituals had the power to communicate and he hoped that his subjects, who encountered rituals every day in church, the street and the home, would be able to understand what he had to say. To recommend the power of the seven sacraments, he participated in the rites of Mass, baptism and confirmation, while he defended the cult of saints with pilgrimages and his donation of a reliquary. He presented himself as the Most Christian King through his attempts to cure scrofula sufferers, walking in procession with the Eucharist, and in visiting shrines associated with his grandfather. These events were conducted variously in public and in private, with the result that both ordinary people and the court were exposed to Charles’s design. From other rituals performed in the tour, it is clear that Charles did not need to emphasize his lineage as he did. Ephemeral architecture created by local artists for his royal entries frequently compared him to his father and grandfather. In Toulouse, for example, the final monument that Charles encountered on his procession was a life-like statue of Henri II with an accompanying inscription that read: Henrico Princip[io] optimo pientissimo, Bellatori fortiss[immo] Publicæ spei generatori, S[enatus] P[opulus] Q[ue] T[olosanus] Perpetuæ tanti Regis memoriæ ergo.112 This statue was offered as a finale to provide Charles with a lasting example of a mighty king that he could reflect upon and strive to emulate. In Lyon, the connection between Charles and his predecessors was more explicit. One triumphal arch bore the inscription: ‘Patrem, et Avum, et matrem, teque et tua Carole facta nunquam defesso tollam super astra volatu.’113 But even this widespread recognition of Charles’s legitimacy and authority could not bring some communities to adhere to his demand for religious toleration. It is apparent from events following Charles’s departure from each city that his performances made little difference to the status quo. In Agen, the Reformed community continued to cause public disruption, leading the Parlement de Bordeaux to issue an arrêt in June 1565—only three months after the king’s visit—forbidding people from singing psalms outside their homes and forbidding all songs that were ‘impudent, blasphemous, or denounced and cursed the name of God’.114 In August 1566, less than a year after the group baptism, the noblewoman Jacqueline de la Trémouille noted that tenants in Marennes still scorned the edicts of pacification and refused to restore stolen crosses, chalices and domains to the Church.115 In May 1565, fewer than two months after his lit de justice in Toulouse, the Archbishop ordered the inhabitants to do good works to alleviate the drought that threatened the city with famine; this included praying for the decline of those who threatened the unity of the Catholic Church.116 Charles and Catherine calculated that performance was a key means of changing hearts and minds; people would be stirred as they reunited around their king in familiar rituals. It would also be effective on a large scale, because his presence commanded so many witnesses, literate and illiterate. However, the Crown faced the intrinsic problem that rituals were a matter of interpretation and it was not necessarily clear to subjects what their king expected them to do in response to his performance. Some may have asked themselves whether, in the midst of all the Catholic pomp, there lay a subtle command for violence. Equally, some may have wondered whether the rites were ostentatious in order to divert attention from favours he sought to bestow on the Huguenots. Beyond this issue, Charles and Catherine endeavoured to convince his subjects to ratify and enforce measures that they deemed contrary to their interests. Huguenots in Agen and Marennes had experienced greater liberty of worship during the war than they now faced with the Edict of Amboise. Capitouls and the parlement in Toulouse saw little reason to show leniency to a Reformed community that had caused such discord and ruin in their great city. Protestant nobles at court continued to challenge the limitations of the edict in their personal and epistolary interactions with the Crown, despite his devotional activities that encouraged them to renounce their faith. As long as Charles resided in a given city, he was in a position to put pressure on its elites and even its wider populace to obey his will. His hosts often responded to this by enacting superficial changes that suggested progress was being made. Similarly, Protestant nobles refrained from ostentatious worship at court. However, once the king was out of sight, he was out of mind. While the use of Catholic performance to communicate the will of the Crown was cleverly conceived and offered another means to reunify the people alongside judicial processes, it was insufficient for fostering more than a temporary peace. The author would like to thank Gladstone’s Library, Hawarden, for the Revd Dr Murray McGregor Memorial Scholarship that made writing part of this article possible, Dr Sara Barker for her comments on an early draft, Dr Euan Roger at The National Archives for his assistance, and the anonymous reviewers for their insightful responses. Footnotes 1 A. de Ruffi, Histoire de la ville de Marseille, Contenant tout ce qui s’y est passé de plus memorable depuis sa fondation, durant le temps qu’elle a esté République, & soubs la domination des Romains, Bourguignons, Visigoths, Ostrogoths, Roys de Bourgogne, Vicomtes de Marseille, Comtes de Provence, & de nos Roys Tres-Chrestiens. (Marseille, 1642), 231. 2 M. Chardon, Histoire de la ville d’Auxerre (Auxerre, 1834), vol. 1, 314. L’Abbé Jean Lebeuf, on whom Chardon based much of his text, makes no mention of this event: M. L’Abbé Lebeuf, Memoires concernant l’histoire ecclésiastique et civile d’Auxerre (Paris, 1743), vol. 2, 392. 3 N. M. Sutherland, The Huguenot Struggle for Recognition (London, 1980), 356–7. 4 Catherine de Médicis to Admiral Coligny, 17 Apr. 1564. L[ettres de] C[atherine de] M[edici] ed. H. de la Ferrière (Paris, 1880–1943), vol. 2, 177. 5 P. Champion, Catherine de Médicis présente à Charles IX son royaume, 1564–1566 (Paris, 1937). 6 V. Graham and W. McAllister Johnson, The Royal Tour of France by Charles IX and Catherine de’ Medici: Festivals and Entries 1564–66 (Toronto, 1979); V. Scott and S. Sturm-Maddox, Performance, Poetry and Politics on the Queen’s Day: Catherine de Médicis and Pierre de Ronsard at Fontainebleau (Aldershot, 2007); R. J. Knecht, ‘Water festivals in the reign of Charles IX of France’, in M. E. Shewring with L. Briggs (eds), Waterborne Pageants and Festivities in the Renaissance (Aldershot, 2013), 67–77. 7 Festival books and manuscript accounts of these entries are reprinted in P. -L. Vaillancourt with M. Desrosiers, Les Entrées solennelles pendant le règne de Charles IX (Ottowa, 2007). 8 J. Boutier, A. Dewerpe and D. Nordman, Un Tour de France royal: le voyage de Charles IX, (1564–1566) (Paris, 1984), 302; 341–4. 9 M. Venard, ‘Catholicism and Resistance to the Reformation in France, 1555–1585’, in P. Benedict, G. Marnef, H. van Nierop and M. Venard (eds), Reformation, Revolt and Civil War in France and the Netherlands, 1555–1585 (Amsterdam, 1999), 135–6. 10 J. Foa, Le Tombeau de la paix. Une histoire des édits de pacification (1560–1572) (Limoges, 2015). 11 M. Nassiet, Les Lettres de pardon du voyage de Charles IX (1565–1566) (Paris, 2010). 12 P. Roberts, Peace and Authority during the French Religious Wars c.1560–1600 (Basingstoke, 2013). 13 Foa, Le Tombeau de la paix, 178. 14 A. Jouan, Recveil et Discovrs dv Voyage du Roy Charles IX: De ce nom à present regnant, accompagné des choses dignes de memoire faictes en chacun endroit faisant son dit voyage en ses païs & prouinces de Champaigne, Bourgoigne, Daulphiné, Proue[n]ce, Languedoc, Gascoigne, Baïonne, & plusieurs autres lieux, suyuant son retour depuis son partement de Paris iusques à son retour audit lieu, és annees Mil cinq cens soixante quatre & soixante cinq (Paris, 1566). 15 E. H. Kantorowicz, The King’s Two Bodies: A Study in Mediæval Political Theology (Princeton, 1997), 7–23; S. Bertelli, The King’s Body: Sacred Rituals of Power in Medieval and Early Modern Europe, trans. R. Burr Litchfield (University Park, PA, 2001), 70. 16 Charles took his seat in Parlement in Dijon (22 May 1564), Aix-en-Provence (19 Oct.1564), Toulouse (1 Feb. 1565) and Bordeaux (9 Apr. 1565). Jouan, Recveil, fols 14v, 22r–22v, 35v and 40r. 17 Nassiet, Les Lettres de pardon; P. Roberts, ‘Huguenot petitioning during the wars of religion’, in R. A. Mentzer and A. Spicer (eds), Society and Culture in the Huguenot World, 1559–1685 (Cambridge, 2002), 62–77. 18 By ordinance of Charles V, kings were to be fourteen before declaring their majority, but the king’s council determined that Charles IX was fit to rule, having entered his fourteenth year. R. Knecht, Catherine de’ Medici (London, 1988), 96. 19 L. Briggs, ‘“Concernant le service de leurs Majestez et auctorité de leur justice”: Perceptions of Royal Power in the Entries of Charles IX and Catherine de Médicis (1564–1566)’, in J. R. Mulryne with M. I. Aliverti and A. M. Testaverde (eds), Ceremonial Entries in Early Modern Europe: Iconography of Power (Aldershot, 2015), 37–52. 20 J. Foa, ‘Making Peace: The Commissions for Enforcing the Pacification Edicts in the Reign of Charles IX (1560–1574)’, French History, vol. 18, no. 3 (2004), 256–74. 21 J. Stevenson (ed.), Calender of State Papers: Foreign Series of the Reign of Elizabeth I (London, 1869; reprinted Nendeln, Liechtenstein, 1966), vol. 7, 164. 22 T. I. Crimando, ‘Two French views of the Council of Trent’, The Sixteenth Century Journal, 19 (1988), 173–4; A. Tallon, Conscience nationale et sentiment religieux au XVIesiècle. Essai sur la vision gallicane du monde (Paris, 2002), 154–5. 23 Catherine de Médicis to the Bishop of Rennes, 28 Feb. 1564. L[ettres de] C[atherine de] M[edici]. vol. 2, 153–4. 24 Anonymous, Ville d’Agen. Cavalcade Historique du 13 Mai 1879. Entrée des Cours de France et de Navarre à Agen, Le 23 Mars 1564 (Agen, 1879), 17; L’abbé Barrère, ‘Entrée et séjour de Charles IX à Agen’, Bulletin du Comité de la langue, de l’histoire et des arts de la France (1852–53), 474. 25 [A]rchives [H]istoriques du [D]épartement de la [G]ironde (Bordeaux, 1894), vol. 29, 50–1; L’abbé Barrère, ‘Entrée et séjour’, 475. 26 AHDG, vol. 29, 3–4. 27 Ibid., 5–6; 19. 28 Ibid., 25–26; ‘Documents pour servir à l’histoire des guerres de religion dans l’Agenais’, Revue de l’Agenais, vol. 9 (1882), 42–54. 29 K. Gould, Catholic Activism in South-west France, 1540–1570 (Aldershot, 2006), 97–100. 30 AHDG, vol. 29, 38. 31 J. Calvin, Petit Traicte de la saincte cene de nostre seigneur Jesus Christ (Geneva, 1541), G. Farel, De La Saincte Cene (Geneva, 1553) and P. Viret, Des Actes des vrais svccessevrs de Iesus Christ et de ses Apostres, & des apostats de l’eglise Papale: contenans La difference & conference de la saincte Cene de nostre Seigneur, & de la Messe (Geneva, 1554). 32 D. Nugent, Ecumenism in the Age of the Reformation: The Colloquy of Poissy (Cambridge, MA, 1974), 100. 33 C. Elwood, The Body Broken: The Calvinist Doctrine of the Eucharist and the Symbolization of Power in Sixteenth-Century France (Oxford, 1999), 127–8. 34 Anonymous, ‘Prise d’Agen par les Huguenots et désordres qu’ils y commettent’, in G. Tholin, Études sur l’architecture religieuse d’Agenais du dixième au seizième siècle (Agen, 1874), 334. 35 Foa, Le Tombeau de la paix, 202. 36 M. Bloch, Les Rois thaumaturges. Étude sur le caractère surnaturel attribué à la puissance royale particulièrement en France et en Angleterre (Paris, 1983), 38. 37 S. Grzybowski and E. A. Allen, ‘History and importance of scrofula’, The Lancet (346), 2 Dec. 1995, 1474. 38 Boutier et al., Un Tour de France royal, 343. 39 Henri IV also used the rite to legitimize his reign and present himself as a healer of the kingdom after the wars. A. Finley-Croswhite, ‘Henry IV and the diseased body politic’, in M. Gosman, A. MacDonald and A. Vanderjagt (eds), Princes and Princely Culture, 1450–1650 (Leiden, 2003), vol. 1, 139. 40 Quoted in B. D. Spinks, Early and Medieval Rituals and Theologies of Baptism: From the New Testament to the Council of Trent (Aldershot, 2006), 155. 41 Jouan, Recveil, fos 58r–58v. 42 J. -A. du Thou, Histoire Universelle (The Hague, 1740), vol. 3, 201. 43 T. Wanegffelen, ‘La reconnaissance mutuelle du baptême entre confessions catholique et réformée en France au XVIe siècle’, Études Théologiques et Religieuses 69 (2) (1994), 186–7; O. Christin, Une Révolution symbolique. L’iconoclasme huguenot et la reconstruction catholique (Paris, 1991), 208. 44 Wanegffelen, ‘La reconnaissance’, 188. 45 B. Palissy, Recepte véritable par laquelle tous les hommes de la France pourront apprendre à multiplier et augmenter leurs thrésors. (La Rochelle, 1563), fos 50r–50v. 46 M. Seguin, Histoire de l’Aunis et de la Saintonge: Le début des Tempes modernes 1480–1610 (Ligugé, 2005), 265. 47 O. de Saint-Affrique, ‘Les Temps Modernes (XVIe-XVIIIe siècles)’, in La Charente Maritime. L’Aunis et la Saintonge des origines à nos jours., ed. J.-N. Luc (Saint-Jean-d’Angély, 1981), 201. 48 A. Lételié, ‘L’Église de Marennes en Saintonge (1559–1602)’, Revue de Saintonge et D’Aunis, vol. 41 (1925), 326. 49 B[ibliothèque] n[ationale de] F[rance] MS. FR. 15879, fol. 185. 50 Jouan, Recveil, fos 58r-58v. 51 C. Haton, Mémoires de Claude Haton, ed. L. Bourquin (Paris, 2001), vol. 1, 472. 52 C. C. Pecknold and L. Laborde, S. S. J. ‘Confirmation’, in H. Boersma and M. Levering (eds), The Oxford Handbook of Sacramental Theology (Oxford, 2015), 489. 53 Bishop Faustus of Riez articulated this difference in the fifth century: ‘In baptism we are washed; after baptism we are strengthened... Confirmation arms and supplies those needing to be preserved for the struggles and battles of this world.’ Quoted in M. E. Johnson, The Rites of Christian Initiation: Their Evolution and Interpretation (Minnesota, 2007), 184–5. 54 The duc d’Alençon took his new name in January 1566. A. Tuetey (ed.), Registres des Délibérations du Bureau de la Ville de Paris (Paris, 1892), vol. 5, 553–4. 55 The National Archives, State Papers Foreign, Elizabeth I, SP 70/77, fos 112v–113r. 56 [A]rchives [M]unicipales de [T]oulouse BB 274, Chronique 240, 372; G. de La Faille, Annales De La Ville De Toulouse depuis la réünion de la comté de Toulouse à la Couronne, avec un abrégé de l’ancienne histoire de cette ville et un recueil de divers titres et actes pour servir de preuves ou d’éclaircissement à ces Annales (Toulouse, 1687–1701), vol. 2, 272–3. 57 H. Oliphant Old, The Shaping of the Reformed Baptismal Rite in the Sixteenth Century (Grand Rapids, MI, 1992), 224–6; G. Bode, ‘Instructions of the Christian faith by Lutherans after Luther’, in R. Kolb (ed.), Lutheran Ecclesiastical Culture, 1550–1675 (Leiden, 2008), 181–2. 58 J. Eastgate Brink, ‘Royal power through provincial eyes: Languedoc 1515–1560’, Proceedings of the Tenth Annual Meeting of the Western Society for French History (Lawrence, KS, 1984), 54–5. 59 AMT BB 274, Chronique 240, 333–4. 60 AMT AA 14, no. 19. 61 J. Garrisson-Estèbe, Protestants du Midi, 1559–1598 (Toulouse, 1980), 123–53. 62 C. L. Devic and J. Vaissète, Histoire générale de Languedoc (Toulouse, 1889), vol. 11, 351. 63 M. Greengrass, ‘The anatomy of a religious riot in Toulouse in May 1562’, Journal of Ecclesiastical History, 34 (1983), 367–91. 64 AMT BB 274, Chronique 241, 377. 65 P. -J. Souriac, Une Guerre civile. Affrontements religieux et militaires dans le Midi Toulousain (1562–1596) (Lonrai, 2008), 107. 66 Souriac, Une Guerre civile, 33. 67 J. Davies, ‘Persecution and Protestantism: Toulouse, 1562–1575’, Hist. Jl., 22 (1979), 31–51. 68 ‘Nous vous recommandons le repos, unyon et pacification de ladicte ville, affin que, en nostre arrivée par dellà, toutes choses y soient mieulx disposées à nous recevoir.’ Catherine de Médicis to the capitouls of Toulouse, 10 Sep. 1564. L[ettres de] C[atherine de] M[edici], vol. 2, 224. 69 Christin, Une Révolution symbolique, 177–8. 70 T. Godefroy, Le Ceremonial François (Paris, 1649), vol. 2, 580. 71 M. Turchetti, ‘Middle parties in France during the wars of religion’, in Benedict et al. (eds), Reformation, Revolt and Civil War, 165–83. 72 Jouan, Recveil, fol. 23r. 73 D. Mycoff, The Life of Saint Mary Magdalene and of her Sister Saint Martha: A Medieval Biography (Kalamazoo, 1999), 10. 74 Quoted in M. -É. Faillon, Monuments inédits sur l’apostolat de sainte Marie-Madeleine en Provence et sur les autres apôtres de cette controlée, Saint Lazare, Saint Maximin, Sainte Marthe et les Saintes Maries Jacobé et Salomé (Paris, 1848), vol. 1, 407–9. 75 F. Rochefort, La Vie de la belle et clere Magdalene. BN MS. FR. 24955, fos 54v–55r; 58v–59r. 76 BN. MS. FR. 24955, fos 12r–12v. 77 B. J. Johnston, ‘The Magdalene and “Madame”: piety, politics, and personal agenda in Louise of Savoy’s Vie de la Magdalene’, in M. A. Erhardt and A. M. Morris (eds), Mary Magdalene, Iconographic Studies from the Middle Ages to the Baroque (Leiden and Boston, 2012), 269–93. 78 M. L. Rostan, Notice sur l’Église de Saint-Maximin (Brignoles, 1859), 46. 79 Faillon, Monuments inédits, vol. 1, 1045. 80 Ibid., 1035; E. Baux, V. -L. Bourrilly and P. H. Mabilly, ‘Le voyage des Reines et de François Ier en Provence et dans la Vallée du Rhone (Décembre 1515-Février 1516)’, Annales du Midi. Revue Archéologique, Historique et Philologique de la France Méridionale, 1904, 36. 81 ‘François, most illustrious king of France, came to this holy temple, with Claude [his wife], his court and the two princesses his mother and sister. He arrived soon after the victory that he won in Italy. King François returned here to give thanks. Being then in the church of Saint Mary Magdalene, this powerful prince made rich presents to this place.’ Baux et al., ‘Le Voyage’, 44. 82 C. Piper Heming, Protestants and the Cult of the Saints in German-speaking Europe, 1517–1531 (Kirksville, MO, 2003), 53–65. 83 C. M. N. Eire, War Against the Idols: The Reformation of Worship from Erasmus to Calvin (Cambridge, 1989), 54–72. 84 Luke 24:12. 85 D. Cardon, ‘Un Saint-Suaire en soie: le saint Cabouin de Carcassonne’, Bulletin du Centre international d’étude des textiles anciens, 70 (1992), 101. 86 M. Fournié, ‘Le saint suaire de Carcassonne du Moyen Age’, Bulletin de la Société D’Études Scientifiques de l’Aude, 110 (2010), 68. 87 R. P. Bougès, Histoire Ecclesiastique et civile de la Ville et Diocese de Carcassonne, avec les Pieces Justicatives, & une Notice Ancienne & moderne de ce Diocese (Paris, 1741), 327. 88 A. Carles, Histoire du Saint-Suaire de Cadouin (Perigueux, 1868), 17–18. 89 Jouan, Recveil, fos. 33r–34r. 90 T. Pistollet de Saint-Ferjeux, ‘Langres pendant la Ligue’, Mémoires de la Société Historique et Archéologique de Langres, vol. 2 (1862), 87. 91 Daniel 3:1–30. 92 P. Jacques Dignier, Les Chroniques de l’Évêché de Langres, trans. Émile Jolibois (Chaumont, 1842), 44. 93 Reprinted in C. Lalore, ‘Inventaire des Reliques Pierreries, Joyaux Précieux et Argenterie de l’Eglise Cathédrale de Langres’, Revue de Champagne et de Brie, vol. 8 (1880), 10–14; 125–34; 442–8. 94 Ibid., 442. According to Exodus 25: 12–20, the reliquary would therefore have had a silver ring on each of its four corners, two silver rings on two sides, and a silver lid surmounted by two silver cherubim facing one another with their wings outstretched. 95 Anonymous, ‘Inventaire des Reliques et Autres Curiosités de l'Église Cathédrale de Langres Dressé le 30 Aout 1768’, Bulletin de la Société Historique et Archéologique de Langres (1872), 161. 96 D. Covelli, Langres. La Cathédrale Saint-Mammès (Paris, 2001), 58. 97 Lalore, ‘Inventaire des Reliques’, 442; Anonymous, ‘Inventaire des Reliques’, 161. 98 E. Jullien De La Boullaye, ‘Entrées et Séjours de François Ier à Langres’, Bulletin de la Société Historique et Archéologique de Langres (1872), 78. 99 Ibid., 82–4; 100. 100 A. Tachy, ‘Les Reliques des trois Benédicités à la cathédrale de Langres’, Revue de Champagne et de Brie, vol. 8 (1880), 287. 101 A. de La Croix, Tragi-comédie. L’argument pris du troisième chapitre de Daniel: avec le Cantique des trois enfans, chanté en la fornaise. [Nabuchodonosor] (Paris, 1561). 102 D. Di Mauro, ‘Antoine de Chandieu, auteur d’un drame biblique?’, Bulletin de la Société de l’Histoire du Protestantisme Français, 151 (2005), 219–29. 103 H. Carrington Lancaster, The French Tragi-Comedy: Its Origin and Development from 1552 to 1628 (Baltimore, MD, 1907), 48–51; R. Lebègue, La Tragédie Religieuse en France. Les Débuts (1514–1573) (Paris, 1929), 321–2; Y. Le Hir, Les Drames Bibliques de 1541 à 1600. Études de langue, de style et de versification (Grenoble, 1974), 33–5; Di Mauro, ‘Antoine de Chandieu’, 228. 104 S. K. Barker, Protestantism, Poetry and Protest: The Vernacular Writings of Antoine de Chandieu (c. 1534–1591) (Aldershot, 2009), 115–22. 105 La Croix, Nabuchodonosor, fos C4r–5r. 106 In essence, he paraphrases Matthew 22: 21: ‘Render therefore unto Caesar the things which are Caesar’s; and unto God the things that are God’s.’ 107 La Croix, Nabuchodonosor, fol. C5r–5v. 108 ‘Mirez-vous donq’ici gens d’estat, gens d’honneur,/ Riches, poures, puissants, mal-sains, ieunes et vieux,/ Grans, petits, foibles, forts, contristez et ioyeux.’ La Croix, Nabuchodonosor, fol. G2r. 109 La Croix, Nabuchodonosor, fol. G2r–2v. 110 ‘… ceste petite Tragi-comedie: laquelle a desia receu ta[n]t de faueur de vous, Madame, dès le temps qu’il pleut au Roy vostre mari me receuoir à son seruice.’ La Croix, Nabuchodonosor, fol. A2r. 111 Di Mauro, ‘Antoine de Chandieu’, 224; A. Evain, ‘Les Reines et Princesses de France, Mécènes, Patronnes et Protectrices du Théâtre au XVIe Siècle’, in K. Wilson-Chevalier and E. Pascal (eds), Patronnes et mécènes en France à la Renaissance (Saint-Étienne, 2007), 81–2. 112 ‘To the very excellent and very pious prince Henri, valorous combatant and bringer of hope to his people, the Senate and the people of Toulouse [erect this arch] in perpetual memory of so great a king.’ AMT BB 274, Chronique 240, 356–7. 113 ‘I am going to raise your father, your grandfather and your mother, you, Charles, and your acts beyond the stars on my indefatigable wings.’ Anonymous, Chant d’allégresse pour l’entrée de très chrétien prince Charles IXe de ce nom, roi de France, en sa ville de Troie, par Jean Passerat. (Paris, 1564), fol. 6r. 114 ‘… à tous de non chanter chanssons de malledicion ny impudicques et non blasphemer, renier et jurer le nom de Dieu.’ AHDG, vol. 29, 52. 115 Seguin, Histoire de l’Aunis, 296. 116 AMT BB 274, Chronique 241, 378. © The Author(s) 2018. Published by Oxford University Press on behalf of the Society for the Study of French History. All rights reserved. For permissions, please e-mail: journals.permissions@oup.com

Journal

French HistoryOxford University Press

Published: Mar 1, 2018

There are no references for this article.

You’re reading a free preview. Subscribe to read the entire article.


DeepDyve is your
personal research library

It’s your single place to instantly
discover and read the research
that matters to you.

Enjoy affordable access to
over 18 million articles from more than
15,000 peer-reviewed journals.

All for just $49/month

Explore the DeepDyve Library

Search

Query the DeepDyve database, plus search all of PubMed and Google Scholar seamlessly

Organize

Save any article or search result from DeepDyve, PubMed, and Google Scholar... all in one place.

Access

Get unlimited, online access to over 18 million full-text articles from more than 15,000 scientific journals.

Your journals are on DeepDyve

Read from thousands of the leading scholarly journals from SpringerNature, Elsevier, Wiley-Blackwell, Oxford University Press and more.

All the latest content is available, no embargo periods.

See the journals in your area

DeepDyve

Freelancer

DeepDyve

Pro

Price

FREE

$49/month
$360/year

Save searches from
Google Scholar,
PubMed

Create lists to
organize your research

Export lists, citations

Read DeepDyve articles

Abstract access only

Unlimited access to over
18 million full-text articles

Print

20 pages / month

PDF Discount

20% off