A King In Captivity
Two great rivals were on the thrones of France and Spain,--Francis I., who
came to power in France in 1515, and Charles I., who became king of Spain
in 1516. In 1519 they were rivals for the imperial power in Germany.
Charles gained the German throne, being afterwards known as the emperor
Charles V., and during the remainder of their reigns these rival monarchs
were frequently at war. A league was formed against the French king by<
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Charles V., Henry VIII. of England, and Pope Leo X., as a result of which
the French were driven from the territory of Milan, in Italy. In 1524 they
were defeated at the battle of Sesia, the famous Chevalier Bayard here
falling with a mortal wound; and in 1525 they met with a more disastrous
defeat at the battle of Pavia, whose result is said to have caused Francis
to write to his mother, "Madame, tout est perdu fors l'honneur" ("All is
lost but honor").
The reason for these words may be briefly given. Francis was besieging
Pavia, with hopes of a speedy surrender, when the forces of Charles
marched to its relief. The most experienced French generals advised the
king to retire, but he refused. He had said he would take Pavia or perish
in the attempt, and a romantic notion of honor held him fast. The result
was ruinous, as may be expected where sentiment outweighs prudence.
Strongly as the French were intrenched, they were broken and put to rout,
and soon there was no resistance except where the king obstinately
continued to fight.
Wounded in several places, and thrown from his horse, which was killed
under him, Francis defended himself on foot with heroic valor, while the
group of brave officers who sought to save his life, one after another,
lost their own. At length, exhausted with his efforts, and barely able to
wield his sword, the king was left almost alone, exposed to the fierce
assault of some Spanish soldiers, who were enraged by his obstinacy and
ignorant of his rank.
At this moment a French gentleman named Pomperant, who had entered the
service of Spain, recognized the struggling king and hurried to his aid,
helping to keep off the assailants, and begging him to surrender to the
Duke of Bourbon, who was close at hand. Great as was the peril, Francis
indignantly refused to surrender to a rebel and traitor, as he held
Bourbon to be, and calling to Lannoy, a general in the imperial army who
was also near by, he gave up his sword to him. Lannoy, recognizing his
prisoner, received the sword with a show of the deepest respect, and
handed the king his own in return, saying,--
"It does not become so great a monarch to remain disarmed in the presence
of one of the emperor's subjects."
The lack of prudence in Francis had proved serious not only to himself,
but to his troops, ten thousand of whom fell, among them many
distinguished nobles who preferred death to dishonor. Numbers of high rank
were taken prisoners, among them the king of Navarre. In two weeks not a
Frenchman remained in Italy. The gains from years of war had vanished in a
single battle.
The tidings of the captivity of the French king filled France with
consternation and Spain with delight, while to all Europe it was an event
of the deepest concern, for all the nations felt the danger that might
arise from the ambition of the powerful emperor of Spain and Germany.
Henry VIII. requested that Francis should be delivered to him, as an ally
of Spain, though knowing well that such a demand would not gain a moment's
consideration. As for Italy, it was in terror lest it should be overrun by
the imperial armies.
Francis, whom Lannoy held with great respect, but with the utmost care to
prevent an escape, hoped much from the generosity of Charles, whose
disposition he judged from his own. But Charles proposed to weaken his
enemy and refused to set him free unless he would renounce all claims upon
Italy, yield the provinces of Provence and Dauphine to form a kingdom for
the Constable Bourbon, and give up Burgundy to Germany. On hearing these
severe conditions, Francis, in a transport of rage, drew his dagger,
exclaiming,--
"It were better that a king should die thus!"
A by-stander arrested the thrust; but, though Francis soon regained his
composure, he declared that he would remain a prisoner for life rather
than purchase liberty at such a price to his country.
Thinking that these conditions came from the Spanish council, and not from
Charles himself, Francis now became anxious to visit the emperor in Spain,
hoping to soften him in a personal interview. He even furnished the
galleys for that purpose, Charles at that time being too poor to fit out a
squadron, and soon the spectacle was seen of a captive monarch sailing in
his own ships past his own dominions, of which he had a distant and
sorrowful view, to a land in which he was to suffer the indignities of
prison life.
Landing at Barcelona, Francis was taken to Madrid and lodged in the
alcazar, under the most vigilant guard. He soon found that he had been far
too hasty in trusting to the generosity of his captor. Charles, on
learning of his captivity, had made a politic show of sympathy and
feeling, but on getting his rival fully into his hands manifested a plain
intention of forcing upon him the hardest bargain possible. Instead of
treating his prisoner with the courtesy due from one monarch to another,
he seemed to seek by rigorous usage to force from him a great ransom.
The captive king was confined in an old castle, under a keeper of such
formal austerity of manners as added to the disgust of the high-spirited
French monarch. The only exercise allowed him was to ride on a mule,
surrounded by armed guards on horseback. Though Francis pressingly
solicited an interview, Charles suffered several weeks to pass before
going near him. These indignities made so deep an impression on the
prisoner that his natural lightness of temper deserted him, and after a
period of deep depression he fell into a dangerous fever, in which he
bitterly complained of the harshness with which he had been treated, and
said that the emperor would now have the satisfaction of having his
captive die on his hands.
The physicians at length despaired of his life, and informed Charles that
they saw no hope of his recovery unless he was granted the interview he so
deeply desired. This news put the emperor into a quandary. If Francis
should die, all the advantage gained from the battle of Pavia would be
lost. And there were clouds in the sky elsewhere. Henry VIII. had
concluded a treaty of alliance with Queen Louise, regent of France, and
engaged to use all his efforts for the release of the king. In Italy a
dangerous conspiracy had been detected. There was danger of a general
European confederacy against him unless he should come to some speedy
agreement with the captive king.
Charles, moved by these various considerations, at length visited Francis,
and, with a show of respect and affection, gave him such promises of
speedy release and princely treatment as greatly cheered the sad heart of
the captive. The interview was short; Francis was too ill to bear a long
one; but its effect was excellent, and the sick man at once began to
recover, soon regaining his former health. Hope had proved a medicine far
superior to all the drugs of the doctors.
But the obdurate captor had said more than he meant. Francis was kept as
closely confined as ever. And insult was added to indignity by the
emperor's reception of the Constable Bourbon, a traitorous subject of
France, whom Charles received with the highest honors which a monarch
could show his noblest visitor, and whom he made his general-in-chief in
Italy. This act had a most serious result, which may here be briefly
described. In 1527 Bourbon made an assault on Rome, with an army largely
composed of Lutherans from Germany, and took it by assault, he being
killed on the walls. There followed a sack of the great city which had not
been surpassed in brutality by the Vandals themselves, and for months Rome
lay in the hands of a barbarous soldiery, who plundered and destroyed
without stint or mercy.
What Charles mainly insisted upon and Francis most indignantly refused was
the cession of Burgundy to the German empire. He was willing to yield on
all other points, but bitterly refused to dismember his kingdom. He would
yield all claim to territory in Italy and the Netherlands, would pay a
large sum in ransom, and would make other concessions, but Burgundy was
part of France, and Burgundy he would not give up.
In the end Francis, in deep despair, took steps towards resigning his
crown to his son, the dauphin. A plot for his escape was also formed,
which filled Charles with the fear that a second effort might succeed. In
dread that, through seeking too much, he might lose all, he finally agreed
upon a compromise in regard to Burgundy, Francis consenting to yield it,
but not until after he was set at liberty. The treaty included many other
articles, most of them severe and rigorous, while Francis agreed to leave
his sons, the dauphin and the Duke of Orleans, in the emperor's hands as
hostages for the fulfilment of the treaty. This treaty was signed at
Madrid, January 14, 1526. By it Charles believed that he had effectually
humbled his rival, and weakened him so that he could never regain any
great power. In this the statesmen of the day did not agree with him, as
they were not ready to believe that the king of France would live up to
conditions of such severity, forced from him under constraint.
FRANCIS I. REFUSING THE DEMANDS OF THE EMPEROR.
The treaty signed, the two monarchs seemed to become at once the best of
friends. They often appeared together in public; they had long conferences
in private; they travelled in the same litter and joined in the same
amusements; the highest confidence and affection seemed to exist between
them. Yet this love was all a false show,--Francis still distrusted the
emperor, and Charles still had him watched like a prisoner.
In about a month the ratification of the treaty was brought from France,
and Francis set out from Madrid with the first true emotions of joy which
he had felt for a year. He was escorted by a body of horse under Alarcon,
who, when the frontiers of France were reached, guarded him as
scrupulously as ever. On arriving at the banks of the Andaye River, which
there separated the two kingdoms, Lautrec appeared on the opposite bank,
with a guard of horse equal to that of Alarcon. An empty bark was moored
in mid-stream. The cavalry drew up in order on each bank. Lannoy, with
eight gentlemen and the king, put off in a boat from the Spanish side of
the stream. Lautrec did the same from the French side, bringing with him
the dauphin and the Duke of Orleans. The two parties met in the empty
vessel, where in a moment the exchange was made, Francis embracing his
sons and then handing them over as hostages. Leaping into Lautrec's boat,
he was quickly on the soil of France.
Mounting a Barbary horse which awaited him, the freed captive waved his
hand triumphantly over his head, shouted joyfully several times, "I am yet
a king!" and galloped away at full speed for Bayonne. He had been held in
captivity for a year and twenty-two days.
Our tale of the captivity of the king ends here, but the consequences of
that captivity must be told. A league was immediately afterwards formed
against Charles, named the Holy League, from the Pope being at its head.
The nobles of Burgundy refused to be handed over to the imperial realm,
and an assembly called by Francis absolved him from his oath to keep the
treaty of Madrid. Francis, bewailing his lack of power to do what he had
promised in regard to Burgundy, offered to pay the emperor two millions of
crowns instead. In short, Charles had overreached himself through his
stringency to a captive rival, and lost all through his eagerness to
obtain too much.
Ten years afterwards the relations between the two monarchs were in a
measure reversed. A rebellion had broken out in Flanders which needed the
immediate presence of Charles, and, for reasons satisfactory to himself,
he wished to go through France. His counsellors at Madrid looked upon such
a movement as fatally rash; but Charles persisted, feeling that he knew
the character of Francis better than they. The French king was ready
enough to grant the permission asked, and looked upon the occasion as an
opportunity to show his rival how kings should deal with their royal
neighbors.
Charles was received with an ostentatious welcome, each town entertaining
him with all the magnificence it could display. He was presented with the
keys of the gates, the prisoners were set at liberty, and he was shown all
the honor due to the sovereign of the country itself. The emperor, though
impatient to continue his journey, remained six days in Paris, where all
things possible were done to render his visit a pleasant one. Had Francis
listened to the advice of some of his ministers, he would have seized and
held prisoner the incautious monarch who had so long kept him in
captivity. But the confidence of the emperor was not misplaced; no
consideration could induce the high-minded French king to violate his
plighted word, or make him believe that Charles would fail to carry out
certain promises he had made. He forgot for the time how he had dealt with
his own compacts, but Charles remembered, and was no sooner out of France
than all his promises faded from his mind, and Francis learned that he was
not the only king who could enter into engagements which he had no
intention to fulfil.