Star Struck: Catherine de Médicis and the Science of Superstition
By Sophie Perinot (Guest Contributor)
In 1572 work on a palace under construction for Catherine de Médicis, Queen Mother of France, was called to an abrupt halt. The project, eventually completed as the Palace des Tuileries, was eight-years and millions of écus underway when one of Catherine’s astrologers predicted that the Queen would die “near St Germain.” As the worksite was part of the diocese of St Germain l’auxerrois, Catherine was determined to take no chances. Her partially completed palace was abandoned, and she ordered construction of what became the Hôtel de Soissons into which she subsequently moved.
Today we would doubtless view Catherine’s astrology-based decision as rooted in
superstition. But in the 16th century astrology was widely considered a respectable science, and it mingled freely with its close cousin astronomy:
“. . . astrology was a part of every man’s picture of the cosmos, the educated even more so than the uneducated. Astrology was used in nearly every facet of life, from tracing lost articles and determining the nature of diseases to plotting the course of nations.”
There were a variety of specializations within the field of astrology, from the very respectable basics of using heavenly observations to make general predictions about the weather, finances, etc., to the more controversial practice of casting a chart based on the moment a question was posed and then providing an answer according to celestial aspects. And Catherine was hardly the only monarch employing astrology or astrologers in decision-making. The severe and devout Philip II of Spain consulted them, even upon the creation of his tomb. And who has not heard of John Dee in connection with England’s Elizabeth I? It was not until the opening years of the 17th century, with the proliferation of the telescope and overthrow of the earth-centered universe, that astrology began to seriously lose followers.
So, rather than making her seem foolish, Catherine’s fascination with the observable movements of the heavens and her belief that they influenced human fate would have reinforced her image as a woman of science. This was a reputation she enjoyed from the moment she set foot in France as the bride-to-be of the then Dauphin, when her pronounced interest in geography, physics and astronomy set her apart from the court’s other ladies. Although Catherine may not be remembered for her scientific bent now, during her lifetime she was clearly celebrated for it by her contemporaries, including the poet Ronsard.
The astrologer who made the palace-stopping prediction had arrived in France as part of Catherine’s entourage. His name was Cosimo Ruggieri, and he was descended from a family long patronized and protected by the Medici in Florence for their astrological talents. Ruggieri was not Catherine’s only astrologer—her name is often linked with that of Nostradamus, and there were certainly others. Such was Catherine’s mania for the movements of and messages in the stars, that in addition to employing professionals she personally studied astronomy and astrology.
As part of that study she owned a number of books with bronze or brass pages full of revolving disks and tools to help her analyze her celestial observations. By their description, these were likely astronomical compendiums, like the one illustrated at left (part of the collection at Florence’s Museo Galileo, which I credit for the photo). Compendiums were works of art with scientific purposes. The owner of a well-equipped astronomical compendium would be able to make purely scientific calculations—like the expected time of a sunrise or sunset—while simultaneously having volvelles at hand specifically designed to aid in astrologically prognostications.
So next time you read a judgmental description of Catherine as a practitioner of the “dark arts,” bear in mind that astrology would not have fallen within that category at the time the Queen was alive. Prognosticating based on the stars in the heavens would have been considered science not superstition.
Lawrence E. Jerome. “Astrology and Modern Science: A Critical Analysis. Leonardo
Vol. 6, No. 2 (Spring, 1973), pp. 121-130
Ibid.
It is worth noting that even in the 17th century astrology continued to cling tenaciously to its cultural perch. Thus, even as Galileo was being sanctioned by the Pope for his purely scientific assertion of a heliocentric universe, that same Pope was secretly practicing astrology which his church on his authority prohibited. (Mormando, Franco. Bernini: His Life and His Rome. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2013.) And shortly before his death in 1630 the great Kepler drew up horoscopes as a means of supporting himself declaring, “Mother Astronomy would certainly have to suffer if the daughter Astrology did not earn the bread.” (Bart J. Bok and Margaret W. Mayall . “Scientists Look at Astrology.” The Scientific Monthly, Vol. 52, No. 3 (Mar., 1941), pp. 233-244.)
Arguably Catherine deserves greater recognition than she receives for bringing science to the court of France and employing it to aid the state. Wellman, Kathleen. Queens and Mistresses of Renaissance France. Yale University Press, 2013
Sophie Perinot is the author of several works of historical fiction, including the recent novel, Médicis Daughter which tells the story of the 16th century French Valois court through the eyes of Catherine de Médicis’ youngest daughter, Margot. When Sophie is not visiting corners of the past, she lives in Great Falls, Virginia, with her three children, two cats, one dog and one husband.
