Catherine, who had founded great hopes on the age of her rival, tried more than once to overthrow her.  It was a dumb, underhand, terrible struggle.  The day came when Catherine believed herself for a moment on the verge of success.  In 1554, Diane, who was ill, begged the king to go to Saint-Germain and leave her for a short time until she recovered.  This stately coquette did not choose to be seen in the midst of medical appliances and without the splendors of apparel.  Catherine arranged, as a welcome to her husband, a magnificent ballet, in which six beautiful young girls were to recite a poem in his honor.  She chose for this function Miss Fleming, a relation of her uncle the Duke of Albany, the handsomest young woman, some say, that was ever seen, white and very fair; also one of her own relations, Clarice Strozzi, a magnificent Italian with superb black hair, and hands that were of rare beauty; Miss Lewiston, maid of honor to Mary Stuart; Mary Stuart herself; Madame Elizabeth of France (who was afterwards that unfortunate Queen of Spain); and Madame Claude.  Elizabeth and Claude were eight and nine years old, Mary Stuart twelve; evidently the queen intended to bring forward Miss Fleming and Clarice Strozzi and present them without rivals to the king.  The king fell in love with Miss Fleming, by whom he had a natural son, Henri de Valois, Comte d’Angouleme, grand-prior of France.  But the power and influence of Diane were not shaken.  Like Madame de Pompadour with Louis XV., the Duchesse de Valentinois forgave all.  But what sort of love did this attempt show in Catherine?  Was it love to her husband or love of power?  Women may decide.

A great deal is said in these days of the license of the press; but it is difficult to imagine the lengths to which it went when printing was first invented.  We know that Aretino, the Voltaire of his time, made kings and emperors tremble, more especially Charles V.; but the world does not know so well the audacity and license of pamphlets.  The chateau de Chenonceaux, which we have just mentioned, was given to Diane, or rather not given, she was implored to accept it to make her forget one of the most horrible publications ever levelled against a woman, and which shows the violence of the warfare between herself and Madame d’Etampes.  In 1537, when she was thirty-eight years of age, a rhymester of Champagne named Jean Voute, published a collection of Latin verses in which were three epigrams upon her.  It is to be supposed that the poet was sure of protection in high places, for the pamphlet has a preface in praise of itself, signed by Salmon Macrin, first valet-de-chambre to the king.  Only one passage is quotable from these epigrams, which are entitled:  IN PICTAVIAM, ANAM AULIGAM.

“A painted trap catches no game,” says the poet, after telling Diane that she painted her face and bought her teeth and hair.  “You may buy all that superficially makes a woman, but you can’t buy that your lover wants; for he wants life, and you are dead.”