Catherine de’ Medici didn’t earn the nickname “The Serpent Queen” because she smiled too sweetly. She earned it because she survived a court of men who would’ve gladly cut her throat if it meant moving up the food chain. And she did it by playing a longer game—one that pulled from politics, religion, and, yes, the occult.
This isn’t some romantic story about a queen with a spooky mirror. It’s about power, perception, and the calculated use of fear. Catherine understood something every good magician learns early: if people think you can curse them, that’s almost as good as the curse itself.
The Mirror That Sees Too Much
Let’s start with the mirror. Catherine owned a black scrying mirror—likely made of obsidian or polished glass—used for what’s called “catoptromancy,” or divination through reflection. She would sit and stare into that dark surface, looking for visions, messages, or signs about the future of her court and country. This wasn’t fortune cookie magic. It was methodical. It was strategic.
Historical accounts vary, but we know she used the mirror often during the Wars of Religion. She was trying to hold the kingdom together while Catholics and Protestants tore it apart from both ends. When politics failed her, she turned to her mirror. Not for show. For survival.
In today’s world, we’d call that intuitive leadership. In hers, it got her labeled a witch.
Court of the Unseen
Catherine’s spiritual circle wasn’t made up of casual hobbyists. These were heavy-hitters in the occult world. One of her most trusted advisors was Cosimo Ruggeri, an astrologer and alchemist known for his skill in both prediction and poison. He was accused of everything from necromancy to plotting royal deaths—and somehow always escaped the noose. That should tell you how much protection Catherine gave him.
Then there was Nostradamus. Yes, that Nostradamus. She invited him to court after reading his prophecies and had him cast horoscopes for her children. She wanted to know which ones would live long enough to rule—and which ones wouldn’t. That’s not a mother being sentimental. That’s a queen managing succession planning.
People like to paint her as obsessed. The truth is simpler: she was informed.
The Serpent Queen: How She Used Fear as a Tool
The Starz series The Serpent Queen doesn’t get everything right, but it gets the tone. Catherine wasn’t passive. She knew how to take up space in a room full of men who thought she didn’t belong there. And if that meant using a mirror, a spell, or the threat of spiritual retaliation? So be it.
The series shows her young, underestimated, and learning to fight dirty when necessary. It also shows how women in power were often called witches, not because they were witches, but because it was the fastest way to strip them of legitimacy. Catherine leaned into it. She didn’t just accept the label—she weaponized it.
You think the mirror scared people? It did. But not because they thought she saw demons. It was because they were afraid she saw them—their lies, their betrayals, their schemes.
Saints, Massacres, and the Stain of Blood
Catherine’s darkest legacy is the St. Bartholomew’s Day Massacre. Thousands of Huguenots were slaughtered in Paris in 1572. Whether she ordered it or allowed it is still debated. But her enemies didn’t care. Her reputation was sealed.
From that day forward, she wasn’t just a queen. She was the queen who bathed in blood. The woman with the mirror. The one who whispered in shadows. She became the villain in every Protestant’s story of Catholic tyranny—and the “occult queen” image stuck.
Some even claimed she used wax poppets and cursed objects to eliminate her enemies. There’s no proof. But again, when fear is your currency, people’s imaginations do the heavy lifting for you.
Occult as Strategy
Here’s the thing folks miss when they talk about Catherine’s use of magic. They think it was about superstition. But Catherine was a Medici. She was raised in a world where science, art, and magic all shared a table. Alchemy wasn’t fringe—it was just the edge of science. Astrology wasn’t “woo”—it was politics by another name.
What Catherine did was use the occult as another instrument of rule. She didn’t replace diplomacy with divination. She used both. She used everything.
The mirror didn’t make her weak. It made her dangerous. Because the men who underestimated her couldn’t understand what she was really seeing—or what she was willing to do with it.
The Reputation That Outlived Her
Catherine de’ Medici died in 1589, but her legend didn’t. For centuries, she’s been used as a cautionary tale: the foreign queen who brought poison and paganism to the French crown. The devil’s widow. The dark mother.
But look a little closer, and you’ll see something else.
You’ll see a woman using every tool available to survive a court that wanted her gone. You’ll see a ruler who understood the power of symbols, timing, and fear. You’ll see a queen who stared into a black mirror not to summon demons—but to hold onto her kingdom.
If that makes her a witch, then maybe the word “witch” needs rethinking.
Catherine de’ Medici didn’t invent the occult. But she used it like a scalpel—precisely, quietly, and only when it counted. That mirror didn’t just show visions of the future. It showed her the truth of her present: that in a world built for kings, a queen had to fight dirty, or not at all.
History turned her into a villain. That’s nothing new for a powerful woman who wouldn’t back down. But for those of us who understand magic not as fantasy, but as a tool of agency and control, Catherine’s legacy is worth revisiting.
She wasn’t the serpent. She was the fire they tried to stamp out—reflected in a dark mirror, and still burning.