Brantome writes like a “gentleman of the sword,” with dash and elan, and as one, to use his own words, who has been “toujours trottant, traversant, et vagabondant le monde” (always trotting, traversing, and tramping the world).  Not in the habit of a vagabond, however, for the balls, banquets, tournaments, masques, ballets, and wedding-feasts which he describes so vividly were occasions for the display of sumptuous costumes; and Messire Pierre de Bourdeille doubtless appeared as elegant as any other gallant in silken hose, jeweled doublet, flowing cape, and long rapier.  What we value most are his paintings of these festive scenes, and the vivid portraits which he has left of the Valois women, who were largely responsible for the luxuries and the crimes of the period:  women who could step without a tremor from a court-masque to a massacre; who could toy with a gallant’s ribbons and direct the blow of an assassin; and who could poison a rival with a delicately perfumed gift.  Such a court Brantome calls the “true paradise of the world, school of all honesty and virtue, ornament of France.”  We like to hear about Catherine de’ Medici riding with her famous “squadron of Venus”:  “You should have seen forty or fifty dames and demoiselles following her, mounted on beautifully accoutred hackneys, their hats adorned with feathers which increased their charm, so well did the flying plumes represent the demand for love or war.  Virgil, who undertook to describe the fine apparel of Queen Dido when she went out hunting, has by no means equaled that of our Queen and her ladies.”

Charming, too, are such descriptions as “the most beautiful ballet that ever was, composed of sixteen of the fairest and best-trained dames and demoiselles, who appeared in a silvered rock where they were seated in niches, shut in on every side.  The sixteen ladies represented the sixteen provinces of France.  After having made the round of the hall for parade as in a camp, they all descended, and ranging themselves in the form of a little oddly contrived battalion, some thirty violins began a very pleasant warlike air, to which they danced their ballet.”  After an hour the ladies presented the King, the Queen-Mother, and others with golden plaques, on which were engraved “the fruits and singularities of each province,” the wheat of Champagne, the vines of Burgundy, the lemons and oranges of Provence, etc.  He shows us Catherine de’ Medici, the elegant, cunning Florentine; her beautiful daughters, Elizabeth of Spain and Marguerite de Valois; Diana of Poitiers, the woman of eternal youth and beauty; Jeanne d’Albret, the mother of Henry IV.; Louise de Vaudemont; the Duchesse d’Etampes; Marie Touchet; and all their satellites,—­as they enjoyed their lives.

Very valuable are the data regarding Mary Stuart’s departure from France in 1561.  Brantome was one of her suite, and describes her grief when the shores of France faded away, and her arrival in Scotland, where on the first night she was serenaded by Psalm-tunes with a most villainous accompaniment of Scotch music.  “He! quelle musique!” he exclaims, “et quel repos pour la nuit!”