What a person remembers is her or his truth.
This is true of the memoirs of Marguerite de Valois (1553 – 1615), the youngest daughter of Henri II of France and Catherine de Medici. She was the first wife of Henri IV, king of France and Navarre. Many probably know Marguerite from Alexandre Dumas' novel Queen Margot. The real Marguerite has little in common with her fictional counterpart, "la reine Margot." Marguerite is one of those historical figures whose real life and personality are surrounded by myths and legends. Some of those stories have been successfully debunked, while over others a question mark remains. It is hardly possible to separate fact from fiction in some cases, but it is clear that the legend is never the same as the real person.
While we may never know what Marguerite was "in reality," she certainly has the right to present her version of events.
As usual with memoirs, many observations should be taken with a grain of salt unless they can be independently corroborated. And independent verification, as we know, can be a very tricky task when it comes to the 16th century. Nevertheless, Marguerite is a valuable witness to the tumultuous history of 16th-century France. Most of her life coincided with the bloody religious wars that ravaged the French kingdom.
She knew how to write. After several centuries, her writing style is still very readable, with elegant lines tossed here and there, even though phrases like "the King my brother", "the King my husband", and "the Queen my mother" litter her text.
That said, I do not consider her memoirs to be anything special. For example, Charlotte Arbaleste Duplessis-Mornay's recollections are equally well-written and also offer the perspective of an educated woman.
Marguerite's writing reveals the good education she received as a French princess. However, along with her education and intelligence, there is a certain vanity that transpires through her narrative. It seems that Marguerite likes to talk about clothes and appearances.
Even when she was on a mission in Flanders to promote her younger brother's interests, she found an opportunity to mention clothes.
Of course, she was the princess and the queen, and an emphasis on dress is somewhat understandable, given the cultural codes of the time, where clothing played a large part in how one was perceived. That's why queens and princesses were often described as gorgeous and beautiful, while servant girls were just pretty. Still, I can't help but think that Marguerite sometimes sounds a bit vain.
The queen provides a lovely description of the court of Nerac (a power seat of her husband), where Protestants and Catholics peacefully coexisted.
"Our residence, for the most part of the time I have mentioned, was at Nerac, where our Court was so brilliant that we had no cause to regret our absence from the Court of France. We had with us the Princesse de Navarre, my husband's sister, since married to the Duc de Bar; there were besides a number of ladies belonging to myself. The King my husband was attended by a numerous body of lords and gentlemen, all as gallant persons as I have seen in any Court; and we had only to lament that they were Huguenots. This difference of religion, however, caused no dispute among us; the King my husband and the Princess his sister heard a sermon, whilst I and my servants heard mass.<...> The rest of the day was passed in innocent amusements; and in the afternoon, or at night, we commonly had a ball."
Marguerite’s account of the massacre of St. Bartholomew is important because it is one of the rare testimonies of someone who witnessed this terrible event inside the royal palace. But we should remember that she was writing long after the fact.
Like most memoirists, Marguerite de Valois was anxious to present herself and her actions in a favorable light and to defend herself against certain accusations.
A careful reading of the memoirs shows that Marguerite, although in her own words wishing them well, revealed to her mother the plans of her husband and younger brother François as these two young men planned their escape from Paris, thus betraying them.
Her narrative ends in the early 1580s, thus leaving out her involvement in the plots against both her brother (Henri III) and her husband, when she sought collaboration with the Catholic League and the Spanish. Even if we accept that circumstances (including her failure to provide her husband with an heir) and the political situation in France pushed her in this direction, these were her choices. In the end, she can be considered fortunate to have survived all the chaos, considering the laws and norms of that age.
Marguerite's eventual reconciliation with her ex-husband, now king Henri IV of France, after their demarriage speaks well of both of them. Marguerite also developed a friendly relationship with the dauphin Louis, the future Louis XIII.