1562 King Charles IX Passport: Throckmorton’s Mission
A King’s Signature, A Spy’s Errand: Inside the 1562 Passport of Charles IX
Direct Answer: A surviving 1562 French royal passport, signed by King Charles IX and issued to English ambassador Sir Nicholas Throckmorton, sold at auction for £2,125, making it one of the earliest collectible passports tied to a documented diplomatic mission.
I missed this one by a whisker. A few pounds over my maximum bid, and a genuinely important document slipped through my fingers and into someone else’s collection. I won’t pretend that didn’t sting. But losing an auction is also a good excuse to sit with a document and think about what it actually represents, which is often more interesting than owning it.
This is a passport issued in the name of Charles IX, King of France, on 5 January 1562, in Paris. It carries his own signature, simply “Charles.” And it wasn’t issued to just anyone. It was issued to Sir Nicholas Throckmorton, England’s ambassador to the French court.
Why a King Would Personally Sign a Travel Document
Direct Answer: In 16th-century France, a royal passport functioned as both a travel authorization and a diplomatic instrument, requiring the monarch’s own signature when issued to a foreign ambassador on sensitive business.
Modern travelers are used to passports as bureaucratic formalities, stamped by some clerk at a counter. This document is a reminder that it wasn’t always so. In 1562, a passport for a foreign ambassador was personal, political, and occasionally dangerous to get wrong.
The text itself spells out the purpose with unusual clarity. It permits Throckmorton to leave Paris and travel to see the Queen Mother, Catherine de Medici, so that he might pass along information on behalf of “our sister,” meaning Queen Elizabeth I. The original French line reads: “…affin de lui faire entendre information choses de la part de notre seur…”
![Passport signed ("Charles"), issued to Sir Nicholas Throckmorton, the English ambassador, allowing him to leave Paris and visit the Queen Mother [Catherine de Médicis]](https://www.passport-collector.com/wp-content/uploads/Charles-King-of-France-1562.jpg)
The verso carries an English endorsement that confirms exactly what this document was for: “Kings Passport for Sr N. Throcke: Ambassador to goe and speake with the Queene Mother of Fransse from Parys.” Someone, likely Throckmorton’s own staff, filed this away with a plain-English label so there’d be no confusion later about what it authorized.
The Ambassador Who Needed It
Direct Answer: Sir Nicholas Throckmorton served as England’s resident ambassador to France from 1559 to 1564, a posting that placed him at the center of the religious and political tensions preceding the French Wars of Religion.

I don’t think you can appreciate this passport without knowing who was holding it. Throckmorton (sometimes spelled Throgmorton) was no ordinary envoy. He’d already survived a treason trial under Mary I, talked his way out of the Tower of London, and emerged as one of Elizabeth I’s most trusted diplomats. By January 1562, when this passport was issued, he’d been stationed in Paris for the better part of three years, watching the fragile peace between French Catholics and Protestants come apart at the seams.
The timing matters enormously to a collector. Just weeks after this passport was signed, the Massacre of Wassy in March 1562 would ignite the first of France’s Wars of Religion. Throckmorton’s errand to Catherine de Medici, carrying word from Elizabeth, sat right at the hinge point between an uneasy truce and outright civil war. This wasn’t routine travel. It was a diplomat being moved into position as a crisis broke.
Charles IX: A Boy King in a Burning Kingdom
Direct Answer: Charles IX became King of France in 1560 at age ten, and his reign was defined by the religious civil wars between Catholics and Huguenots that culminated in the St. Bartholomew’s Day Massacre of 1572.
The signature on this passport belongs to a king who was barely out of childhood. Charles IX, born Charles Maximilien in June 1550, inherited the French throne in 1560 following the death of his brother Francis II, making him the penultimate Valois monarch.
His reign is remembered for one thing above all else: the catastrophic religious violence that consumed France during his rule. In 1572, in a last attempt to reconcile Catholic and Protestant factions, Charles arranged the marriage of his sister Margaret to Henry of Navarre, a leading Huguenot nobleman. The wedding instead became the backdrop for the St. Bartholomew’s Day Massacre, in which numerous Huguenot leaders gathered in Paris were killed. Historians still debate how directly Charles himself was involved, though the order is widely attributed to pressure from his mother, Catherine de Medici. Charles later attempted to capitalize on the resulting disarray among the Huguenots by laying siege to the Protestant stronghold of La Rochelle, an effort that ultimately failed.
A passport bearing this king’s own signature, issued a decade before that defining catastrophe, is a document that predates the worst of it but sits squarely in the years when the fuse was already lit.
What Makes a Document Like This So Rare
Direct Answer: Passports from the 16th century rarely survive in private hands because they were single-use travel instruments, not retained personal documents, making authenticated royal-issue examples exceptionally scarce at auction.
Early passports like this one almost never turn up. Most were single-sheet authorizations, used once, filed away in an archive, or simply lost to four centuries of fires, floods, and indifferent record-keeping. When one does surface tied to a named, documented historical figure (and one with a Wikipedia-length biography, no less) it tends to draw serious bidding.
This example carries some light staining at the center folds and dust-staining, but remains in sound, attractive condition, a single folio sheet. For a document this old, that’s a remarkably good survival state.
The final hammer price was £2,125, just above my own ceiling. I’ll be honest: that result felt entirely fair for what the document represents. Congratulations to whoever walked away with it. It’s a fantastic piece of history, and I hope it ends up properly archived rather than simply tucked into a drawer.
A Related Document Worth Your Attention
If diplomatic and intelligence-related travel documents interest you the way they interest me, I’ve also written about the British passport issued to a Secret Service agent’s wife, a fascinating 20th-century counterpart to this 16th-century royal document, separated by nearly four centuries but connected by the same underlying truth: travel documents tend to surface exactly where the history gets interesting.
Tom Topol | Passport Historian & Author
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