This is a very entertaining work of popular history, covering a time period in Renaissance France that I knew virtually nothing about, with a focus on two royal women who had very eventful lives. That said it’s more lightweight than I’d previously taken Goldstone to be. I love that she’s a great storyteller with a dry sense of humor (and that she writes historical biographies of women from non-English-speaking countries and known for something other than their love lives—this is hard to come by!), but here she’s also extremely partisan, unwilling to admit a single positive quality in Catherine de Medici, nor a single negative one in her daughter Marguerite de Valois. I like my biographies more balanced than this.
Catherine de Medici arrived in France an unwanted 14-year-old bride, and it’s easy to see how she became a historical villain: given how traumatic, humiliating and loveless the first 40 years of her life were, she was never going to be someone who used power in a thoughtful and pro-social way. Instead she adapted to keep herself safe by pleasing others, until she came into enough power that she no longer needed to. Now, not every hated historical woman ought necessarily be rehabilitated—this one was behind the Saint Bartholomew’s Day Massacre after all, in which thousands of French Protestants were murdered. (Interestingly, Catherine overall favored the Huguenots, but doing what it took to remain in power was her first priority). That said, Goldstone is trying to refute later historians who interpret Catherine as brutal but effective and astute, arguing that she was actually short-sighted, reactive, and not very bright. Not having read any other works about her, I can’t necessarily argue, but Goldstone focuses in on the dramatic interpersonal moments without really addressing Catherine’s day-to-day running of the government, and her assessment seems clouded by her love of Marguerite (usually at odds with her mother) and a lot of judgment about Catherine’s apparent lack of attachment to most of her children. To which I can only say, no wonder: she never had parents herself, or any kind of safe and stable environment as a child; she didn’t get to raise her kids, who were taken away to be raised by staff chosen and supervised by her husband and his mistress; and it was the 16th century, a time period in which Catherine’s having ten kids and outliving eight was normal.
Marguerite though—Catherine’s youngest daughter, who became Queen of Navarre and very nearly of France—Goldstone clearly adores. Marguerite certainly had an interesting life, including a lot of political intrigue, daring escapes, love affairs, and brushes with death. She also left a memoir, which is helpful in reconstructing her life. That said, Goldstone seems inclined to take all Marguerite’s claims at face value, to characterize her words and actions in flattering ways, and to excuse all her mistakes while highlighting and underlining her suffering whenever anything goes wrong—all quite at odds with how she handles Catherine.
Nevertheless, as an entertaining and highly readable account of a time period I knew very little about, I still enjoyed the book. Goldstone really is an excellent storyteller, but she also seems familiar with the primary sources and to be writing based on real research and knowledge of the period, while avoiding too much speculation. Some of these events are truly wild, with plots and counterplots, spies everywhere, captures and rescues, religious wars and double-dealing and absurd incompetence. And I enjoy Goldstone’s bringing some perspective and common sense to her relation of events, putting the knights and courtiers in context, for instance, as testosterone-fueled young men. It’s unfortunate that she virtually only cites the sources for direct quotes (of which there are a lot, again, overwhelmingly from Marguerite). In the end, while I came away with the urge to read another account to counteract this author’s biases, this fun and lively account of 16th century France was still worth my time.