A Popular History of France from the Earliest Times Volume III Part 12

"The archers did as they were bid, and he was borne into a mighty fine chamber, into the which the lady of the house herself conducted him; and, throwing herself upon her knees before him, she spoke after this fas.h.i.+on, being interpreted, 'n.o.ble sir, I present unto you this house, and all that is therein, for well I know it is yours by right of war; but may it be your pleasure to spare me my honor and life, and those of two young daughters that I and my husband have, who are ready for marriage.' The good knight, who never thought wickedness, replied to her, 'Madam, I know not whether I can escape from the wound that I have; but, so long as I live, you and your daughters shall be done no displeasure, any more than to my own person. Only keep them in your chambers; let them not be seen; and I a.s.sure you that there is no man in the house who would take upon himself to enter any place against your will.'

"When the good lady heard him so virtuously speak, she was all a.s.sured.

Afterwards, he prayed her to give instructions to some good surgeon, who might quickly come to tend him; which she did, and herself went in quest of him with one of the archers. He, having arrived, did probe the good knight's wound, which was great and deep; howbeit he certified him that there was no danger of death. At the second dressing came to see him the Duke of Nemours' surgeon, called Master Claude, the which did thenceforward have the healing of him; and right well he did his devoir, in such sort that in less than a month he was ready to mount a-horseback.

The good knight, when he was dressed, asked his hostess where her husband was; and the good lady, all in tears, said to him, 'By my faith, my lord, I know not whether he be dead or alive; but I have a shrewd idea that, if he be living, he will be in a large monastery, where be hath large acquaintance.' 'Lady,' said the good knight, 'have him fetched; and I will send in quest of him in such sort that he shall have no harm.' She set herself to inquire where he was, and found him; then were sent in quest of him the good knight's steward and two archers, who brought him away in safety; and on his arrival he had joyous cheer (reception) from his guest, the good knight, the which did tell him not to be melancholic, and that there was quartered upon him none but friends. . . . For about a month or five weeks was the good knight ill of his wound, without leaving his couch. One day he was minded to get up, and he walked across his chamber, not being sure whether he could keep his legs; somewhat weak he found himself; but the great heart he had gave him not leisure to think long thereon. He sent to fetch the surgeon who had the healing of him, and said to him, 'My friend, tell me, I pray you, if there be any danger in setting me on the march; me-seems that I am well, or all but so; and I give you my faith that, in my judgment, the biding will henceforth harm me more than mend me, for I do marvellously fret.' The good knight's servitors had already told the surgeon the great desire he had to be at the battle, for every day he had news from the camp of the French, how that they were getting nigh the Spaniards, and there were hopes from day to day of the battle, which would, to his great sorrow, have been delivered without him. Having knowledge whereof, and also knowing his complexion, the surgeon said, in his own language, 'My lord, your wound is not yet closed up; howbeit, inside it is quite healed.

Your barber shall see to dressing you this once more; and provided that every day, morning and evening, he put on a little piece of lint and a plaister for which I will deliver to him the ointment, it will not increase your hurt; and there is no danger, for the worst of the wound is a-top, and will not touch the saddle of your horse.' Whoso had given him ten thousand crowns, the good knight had not been so glad. He determined to set out in two days, commanding his people to put in order all his gear.

"The lady with whom he lodged, who held herself all the while his prisoner, together with her husband and her children, had many imaginings. Thinking to herself that, if her guest were minded to treat with rigor herself and her husband, he might get out of them ten or twelve thousand crowns, for they had two thousand a year, she made up her mind to make him some worthy present; and she had found him so good a man, and of so gentle a heart, that, to her thinking, he would be graciously content. On the morning of the day whereon the good knight was to dislodge after dinner, his hostess, with one of her servitors carrying a little box made of steel, entered his chamber, where she found that he was resting in a chair, after having walked about a great deal, so as continually, little by little, to try his leg. She threw herself upon both knees; but incontinently he raised her up, and would never suffer her to speak a word, until she was first seated beside him. She began her speech in this manner: 'My lord, the grace which G.o.d did me, at the taking of this town, in directing you to this our house, was not less than the saving to me of my husband's life, and my own, and my two daughters', together with their honor, which they ought to hold dearer still. And more, from the time that you arrived here, there hath not been done to me, or to the least of my people, a single insult, but all courtesy; and there hath not been taken by your folks of the goods they found here the value of a farthing without paying for it. My lord, I am well aware that my husband, and I, and my children, and all of this household are your prisoners, for to do with and dispose of at your good pleasure, as well as the goods that are herein; but, knowing the n.o.bleness of your heart, I am come for to entreat you right humbly that it may please you to have pity upon us, extending your wonted generosity.

Here is a little present we make you; you will be pleased to take it in good part.' Then she took the box which the servitor was holding, and opened it before the good knight, who saw it full of beautiful ducats.

The gentle lord, who never in his life made any case of money, burst out laughing, and said, 'Madam, how many ducats are there in this box?' The poor soul was afraid that he was angry at seeing so few, and said to him, 'My lord, there are but two thousand five hundred ducats; but, if you are not content, we will find a larger sum.' Then said he, 'By my faith, madam, though you should give me a hundred thousand crowns, you would not do so well towards me as you have done by the good cheer I have had here, and the kind tendance you have given me; in whatsoever place I may happen to be, you will have, so long as G.o.d shall grant me life, a gentleman at your bidding. As for your ducats, I will none of them; and yet I thank you; take them back; all my life I have always loved people much better than crowns. And think not in any wise that I do not go away as well pleased with you as if this town were at your disposal, and you had given it to me.'

"The good lady was much astounded at finding herself put off. 'My lord,'

said she, 'I should feel myself forever the most wretched creature in the world, if you did not take away with you so small a present as I make you, which is nothing in comparison with the courtesy you have shown me heretofore, and still show me now by your great kindness.' When the knight saw her so firm, he said to her, 'Well, then, madam, I will take it for love of you; but go and fetch me your two daughters, for I would fain bid them farewell.' The poor soul, who thought herself in paradise, now that her present was at last accepted, went to fetch her daughters, the which were very fair, good, and well educated, and had afforded the good knight much pastime during his illness, for right well could they sing and play on the lute and spinet, and right well work with the needle. They were brought before the good knight, who, whilst they were attiring themselves, had caused the ducats to be placed in three lots, two of a thousand each, and the other of five hundred. They, having arrived, would have fallen on their knees, but were incontinently raised up, and the elder of the two began to say, 'My lord, these two poor girls, to whom you have done so much honor as to guard them, are come to take leave of you, humbly thanking your lords.h.i.+p for the favor they have received, for which, having nothing else in their power, they will be for-ever bound to pray G.o.d for you.' The good knight, half-weeping to see so much sweetness and humility in those two fair girls, made answer, 'Dear demoisels, you have done what I ought to do; that is, thank you for the good company you have made me, and for which I feel myself much beholden and bounden. You know that fighting men are not likely to be laden with pretty things for to present to ladies; and for my part, I am sore displeased that I am in no wise well provided for making you such present as I am bound to make. Here is your lady-mother, who has given me two thousand five hundred ducats, which you see on this table; of them I give to each of you a thousand towards your marriage; and for my recompense, you shall, an if it please you, pray G.o.d for me.' He put the ducats into their ap.r.o.ns, whether they would or not; and then, turning to his hostess, he said to her, "Madam, I will take these five hundred ducats for mine own profit, to distribute them amongst the poor sisterhoods which have been plundered; and to you I commit the charge of them, for you, better than any other, will understand where there is need thereof, and thereupon I take my leave of you." Then he touched them all upon the hand, after the Italian manner, and they fell upon their knees, weeping so bitterly that it seemed as if they were to be led out to their deaths. Afterwards, they withdrew to their chambers, and it was time for dinner. After dinner, there was little sitting ere the good knight called for the horses; for much he longed to be in the company so yearned for by him, having fine fear lest the battle should be delivered before he was there. As he was coming out of his chamber to mount a-horseback, the two fair daughters of the house came down and made him, each of them, a present which they had worked during his illness; one was two pretty and delicate bracelets, made of beautiful tresses of gold and silver thread, so neatly that it was a marvel; the other was a purse of crimson satin, worked right cunningly. Greatly did he thank them, saying that the present came from hand so fair, that he valued it at ten thousand crowns; and, in order to do them the more honor, he had the bracelets put upon his arms, and he put the purse in his sleeve, a.s.suring them that, so long as they lasted, he would wear them for love of the givers."

[Ill.u.s.tration: Bayard's Farewell----358]

Bayard had good reason for being in such a hurry to rejoin his comrades-in-arms, and not miss the battle he foresaw. All were as full of it as he was. After the capture of Brescia, Gaston de Foix pa.s.sed seven or eight days more there, whilst Bayard was confined by his wound to his bed. "The prince went, once at least, every day to see the good knight, the which he comforted as best he might, and often said to him, 'Hey! Sir Bayard, my friend, think about getting cured, for well I know that we shall have to give the Spaniards battle between this and a month; and, if so it should be, I had rather have lost all I am worth than not have you there, so great confidence have I in you.' 'Believe me, my lord,' answered Bayard, 'that if so it is that there is to be a battle, I would, as well for the service of the king my master as for love of you and for mine own honor, which is before everything, rather have myself carried thither in a litter than not be there at all.' The Duke of Nemours made him a load of presents according to his power, and one day sent him five hundred crowns, the which the good knight gave to the two archers who had staid with him when he was wounded."

Louis XII. was as impatient to have the battle delivered as Bayard was to be in it. He wrote, time after time, to his nephew Gaston that the moment was critical, that Emperor Maximilian harbored a design of recalling the five thousand lanzknechts he had sent as auxiliaries to the French army, and that they must be made use of whilst they were still to be had; that, on the other hand, Henry VIII., King of England, was preparing for an invasion of France, and so was Ferdinand, King of Spain, in the south: a victory in the field was indispensable to baffle all these hostile plans. It was Louis XII.'s mania to direct, from Paris or from Lyons, the war which he was making at a distance, and to regulate its movements as well as its expenses. The Florentine amba.s.sador, Pandolfini, was struck with the perilousness of this mania; and Cardinal d'Amboise was no longer by to oppose it. Gaston de Foix asked for nothing better than to act with vigor. He set out to march on Ravenna, in hopes that by laying siege to this important place he would force a battle upon the Spanish army, which sought to avoid it. There was a current rumor in Italy that this army, much reduced in numbers and cooled in ardor, would not hold its own against the French if it encountered them. Some weeks previously, after the siege of Bologna had been raised_ by the Spaniards, there were distributed about at Rome little bits of paper having on them, "If anybody knows where the Spanish army happens to be, let him inform the sacristan of peace; he shall receive as reward a lump of cheese." Gaston de Foix arrived on the 8th of April, 1512, before Ravenna. He there learned that, on the 9th of March, the amba.s.sador of France had been sent away from London by Henry VIII.

Another hint came to him from his own camp. A German captain, named Jacob, went and told Chevalier Bayard, with whom he had contracted a friends.h.i.+p, "that the emperor had sent orders to the captain of the lanzknechts that they were to withdraw incontinently on seeing his letter, and that they were not to fight the Spaniards: 'As for me,' said he, 'I have taken oath to the King of France, and I have his pay; if I were to die a hundred thousand deaths, I would not do this wickedness of not fighting; but there must be haste.' The good knight, who well knew the gentle heart of Captain Jacob, commended him marvellously, and said to him, by the mouth of his interpreter, 'My dear comrade and friend, never did your heart imagine wickedness. Here is my lord of Nemours, who has ordered to his quarters all the captains, to hold a council; go we thither, you and I, and we will show him privately what you have told me.' 'It is well thought on,' said Captain Jacob: 'go we thither.' So they went thither. There were dissensions at the council: some said that they had three or four rivers to cross; that everybody was against them, the pope, the King of Spain, the Venetians, and the Swiss; that the emperor was anything but certain, and that the best thing would be to temporize: others said that there was nothing for it but to fight or die of hunger like good-for-noughts and cowards. The good Duke of Nemours, who had already spoken with the good knight and with Captain Jacob, desired to have the opinion of the former, the which said, 'My lord, the longer we sojourn, the more miserable too will become our plight, for our men have no victual, and our horses must needs live on what the willows shoot forth at the present time. Besides, you know that the king our master is writing to you every day to give battle, and that in your hands rests, not only the safety of his duchy of Milan, but also all his dominion of France, seeing the enemies he has to-day. 'Wherefore, as for me, I am of opinion that we ought to give battle, and proceed to it discreetly, for we have to do with cunning folks and good fighters. That there is peril in it is true; but one thing gives me comfort: the Spaniards for a year past have, in this Romagna, been always living like fish in the water, and are fat and full-fed; our men have had and still have great lack of victual, whereby they will have longer breath, and we have no need of ought else, for whoso fights the longest, to him will remain the 'field.'" The leaders of note in the army sided with the good knight, "and notice thereof was at once given to all the captains of horse and foot."

The battle took place on the next day but one, April 11. "The gentle Duke of Nemours set out pretty early from his quarters, armed at all points. As he went forth he looked at the sun, already risen, which was mighty red. 'Look, my lords, how red the sun is,' said he to the company about him. There was there a gentleman whom he loved exceedingly, a right gentle comrade, whose name was Haubourdin, the which replied, 'Know you, pray, what that means, my lord? To-day will die some prince or great captain: it must needs be you or the Spanish viceroy.' The Duke of Nemours burst out a-laughing at this speech, and went on as far as the bridge to finish the pa.s.sing-in-review of his army, which was showing marvellous diligence." As he was conversing with Bayard, who had come in search of him, they noticed not far from them a troop of twenty or thirty Spanish gentlemen, all mounted, amongst whom was Captain Pedro de Paz, leader of all their jennettiers [light cavalry, mounted on Spanish horses called jennets]. "The good knight advanced twenty or thirty paces and saluted them, saying, 'Gentlemen, you are diverting your-selves, as we are, whilst waiting for the regular game to begin; I pray you let there be no firing of arquebuses on your side, and there shall be no firing at you on ours.'" The courtesy was reciprocated. "Sir Bayard," asked Don Pedro de Paz, who is yon lord in such goodly array, and to whom your folks show so much honor?" "It is our chief, the Duke of Nemours,"

answered Bayard; "nephew of our prince, and brother of your queen."

[Germaine de Foix, Gaston de Foix's sister, had married, as his second wife, Ferdinand the Catholic.] Hardly had he finished speaking, when Captain Pedro de Paz and all those who were with him dismounted and addressed the n.o.ble prince in these words: "Sir, save the honor and service due to the king our master, we declare to you that we are, and wish forever to remain, your servants." The Duke of Nemours thanked them gallantly for their gallant homage, and, after a short, chivalrous exchange of conversation, they went, respectively, to their own posts.

The artillery began by causing great havoc on both sides. "'Od's body,"

said a Spanish captain shut up in a fort which the French were attacking, and which he had been charged to defend, "we are being killed here by bolts that fall from heaven; go we and fight with men;" and he sallied from the fort with all his people, to go and take part in the general battle. "Since G.o.d created heaven and earth," says the Loyal Serviteur of Bayard, "was never seen a more cruel and rough a.s.sault than that which French and Spaniards made upon one another, and for more than a long half hour lasted this fight. They rested before one another's eyes to recover their breath; then they let down their vizors and so began all over again, shouting, France! and Spain! the most imperiously in the world.

At last the Spaniards were utterly broken, and constrained to abandon their camp, whereon, and between two ditches, died three or four hundred men-at-arms. Every one would fain have set out in pursuit; but the good knight said to the Duke of Nemours, who was all covered with blood and brains from one of his men-at-arms, that had been carried off by a cannon-ball, 'My lord, are you wounded?' 'No,' said the duke, 'but I have wounded a many others.' 'Now, G.o.d be praised!' said Bayard; 'you have gained the battle, and abide this day the most honored prince in the world; but push not farther forward; rea.s.semble your men-at-arms in this spot; let none set on to pillage yet, for it is not time; Captain Louis d'Ars and I are off after these fugitives that they may not retire behind their foot; but stir not, for any man living, from here, unless Captain Louis d'Ars or I come hither to fetch you.' "The Duke of Nemours promised; but whilst he was biding on his ground, awaiting Bayard's return, he said to the Baron du Chimay,--"an honest gentleman who had knowledge," says Fleuranges, "of things to come, and who, before the battle, had announced to Gaston that he would gain it, but he would be in danger of being left there if G.o.d did not do him grace,--Well, Sir Dotard, am I left there, as you said? Here I am still.' 'Sir, it is not all over yet,' answered Chimay; whereupon there arrived an archer, who came and said to the duke, 'My lord, yonder be two thousand Spaniards, who are going off all orderly along the causeway.' 'Certes,' said Gaston, 'I cannot suffer that; whoso loves me, follow me.' And resuming his arms he pushed forward. 'Wait for your men,' said Sire de Lautrec to him; but Gaston took no heed, and followed by only twenty or thirty men-at-arms, he threw himself upon those retreating troops." He was immediately surrounded, thrown from his horse, and defending himself all the while, "like Roland at Roncesvalles," say the chroniclers, he fell pierced with wounds. "Do not kill him," shouted Lautrec; "it is the brother of your queen." Lautrec himself was so severely handled and wounded that he was thought to be dead. Gaston really was, though the news spread but slowly. Bayard, returning with his comrades from pursuing the fugitives, met on his road the Spanish force that Gaston had so rashly attacked, and that continued to retire in good order. Bayard was all but charging them, when a Spanish captain came out of the ranks and said to him, in his own language, "What would you do, sir? You are not powerful enough to beat us; you have won the battle; let the honor thereof suffice you, and let us go with our lives, for by G.o.d's will are we escaped." Bayard felt that the Spaniard spoke truly; he had but a handful of men with him, and his own horse could not carry him any longer: the Spaniards opened their ranks, and he pa.s.sed through the middle of them and let them go. "'Las!" says his Loyal Serviteur, "he knew not that the good Duke of Nemours was dead, or that those yonder were they who had slain him; he had died ten thousand deaths but he would have avenged him, if he had known it."

When the fatal news was known, the consternation and grief were profound.

At the age of twenty-three Gaston de Foix had in less than six months won the confidence and affection of the army, of the king, and of France. It was one of those sudden and undisputed reputations which seem to mark out men for the highest destinies. "I would fain," said Louis XIL, when he heard of his death, "have no longer an inch of land in Italy, and be able at that price to bring back to life my nephew Gaston and all the gallants who perished with him. G.o.d keep us from often gaining such victories!"

"In the battle of Ravenna," says Guicciardini, "fell at least ten thousand men, a third of them French, and two thirds their enemies; but in respect of chosen men and men of renown the loss of the victors was by much the greater, and the loss of Gaston de Foix alone surpa.s.sed all the others put together; with him went all the vigor and furious onset of the French army." La Palisse, a warrior valiant and honored, a.s.sumed the command of this victorious army; but under pressure of repeated attacks from the Spaniards, the Venetians, and the Swiss, he gave up first the Romagna, then Milanes, withdrew from place to place, and ended by falling back on Piedmont. Julius II. won back all he had won and lost.

Maximilian Sforza, son of Ludovic the Moor, after twelve years of exile in Germany, returned to Milan to resume possession of his father's duchy.

By the end of June, 1512, less than three months after the victory of Ravenna, the domination of the French had disappeared from Italy.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Gaston de Foix----364]

Louis XII. had, indeed, something else to do besides crossing the Alps to go to the protection of such precarious conquests. Into France itself war was about to make its way; it was his own kingdom and his own country that he had to defend. In vain, after the death of Isabella of Castile, had he married his niece, Germaine de Foix, to Ferdinand the Catholic, whilst giving up to him all pretensions to the kingdom of Naples. In 1512 Ferdinand invaded Navarre, took possession of the Spanish portion of that little kingdom, and thence threatened Gascony. Henry VIII., King of England, sent him a fleet, which did not withdraw until after it had appeared before Bayonne and thrown the south-west of France into a state of alarm. In the north, Henry VIII. continued his preparations for an expedition into France, obtained from his Parliament subsidies for that purpose, and concerted plans with Emperor Maximilian, who renounced his doubtful neutrality and engaged himself at last in the Holy League.

Louis XII. had in Germany an enemy as zealous almost as Julius II. was in Italy: Maximilian's daughter, Princess Marguerite of Austria, had never forgiven France or its king, whether he were called Charles VIII. or Louis XII., the treatment she had received from that court, when, after having been kept there and brought up for eight years to become Queen of France, she had been sent away and handed back to her father, to make way for Anne of Brittany. She was ruler of the Low Countries, active, able, full of pa.s.sion, and in continual correspondence with her father, the emperor, over whom she exercised a great deal of influence. [This correspondence was published in 1839, by the _Societe de l'Histoire de France_ (2 vols. 8vo.), from the originals, which exist in the archives of Lille.] The Swiss, on their side, continuing to smart under the contemptuous language which Louis had imprudently applied to them, became more and more p.r.o.nounced against him, rudely dismissed Louis de la Tremoille, who attempted to negotiate with them, re-established Maximilian Sforza in the duchy of Milan, and haughtily styled themselves "vanquishers of kings and defenders of the holy Roman Church." And the Roman Church made a good defender of herself. Julius II. had convoked at Rome, at St. John Lateran, a council, which met on the 3d of May, 1512, and in presence of which the council of Pisa and Milan, after an attempt at removing to Lyons, vanished away like a phantom. Everywhere things were turning out according to the wishes and for the profit of the pope; and France and her king were reduced to defending themselves on their own soil against a coalition of all their great neighbors.

"Man proposes and G.o.d disposes." Not a step can be made in history without meeting with some corroboration of that modest, pious, grand truth. On the 21st of February, 1513, ten months since Gaston de Foix, the victor of Ravenna, had perished in the hour of his victory, Pope Julius II. died at Rome at the very moment when he seemed invited to enjoy all the triumph of his policy. He died without bl.u.s.ter and without disquietude, disavowing nought of his past life, and relinquis.h.i.+ng none of his designs as to the future. He had been impa.s.sioned and skilful in the employment of moral force, whereby alone he could become master of material forces; a rare order of genius, and one which never lacks grandeur, even when the man who possesses it abuses it. His constant thought was how he might free Italy from the barbarians; and he liked to hear himself called by the name of liberator, which was commonly given him. One day the outspoken Cardinal Grimani said to him that, nevertheless, the kingdom of Naples, one of the greatest and richest portions of Italy, was still under the foreign yoke; whereupon Julius II., brandis.h.i.+ng the staff on which he was leaning, said, wrathfully, "a.s.suredly, if Heaven had not otherwise ordained, the Neapolitans too would have shaken off the yoke which lies heavy on them." Guicciardini has summed up, with equal justice and sound judgment, the princ.i.p.al traits of his character: "He was a prince," says the historian, "of incalculable courage and firmness; full of boundless imaginings which would have brought him headlong to ruin if the respect borne to the Church, the dissensions of princes and the conditions of the times, far more than his own moderation and prudence, had not supported him; he would have been worthy of higher glory had he been a laic prince, or had it been in order to elevate the Church in spiritual rank and by processes of peace that he put in practice the diligence and zeal he displayed for the purpose of augmenting his temporal greatness by the arts of war.

Nevertheless he has left, above all his predecessors, a memory full of fame and honor, especially amongst those men who can no longer call things by their right names or appreciate them at their true value, and who think that it is the duty of the sovereign-pontiffs to extend, by means of arms and the blood of Christians, the power of the Holy See rather than to wear themselves out in setting good examples of a Christian's life and in reforming manners and customs pernicious to the salvation of souls--that aim of aims for which they a.s.sert that Christ has appointed them His vicars on earth."

The death of Julius II. seemed to Louis XII. a favorable opportunity for once more setting foot in Italy, and recovering at least that which he regarded as his hereditary right, the duchy of Milan. He commissioned Louis de la Tremoille to go and renew the conquest; and, whilst thus reopening the Italian war, he commenced negotiations with certain of the coalitionists of the Holy League, in the hope of causing division amongst them, or even of attracting some one of them to himself. He knew that the Venetians were dissatisfied and disquieted about their allies, especially Emperor Maximilian, the new Duke of Milan Maximilian Sforza, and the Swiss. He had little difficulty in coming to an understanding with the Venetian senate; and, on the 14th of May, 1513, a treaty of alliance, offensive and defensive, was signed at Blois between the King of France and the republic of Venice. Louis hoped also to find at Rome in the new pope, Leo X. [Cardinal John de' Medici, elected pope March 11, 1513], favorable inclinations; but they were at first very ambiguously and reservedly manifested. As a Florentine, Leo X. had a leaning towards France; but as pope, he was not disposed to relinquish or disavow the policy of Julius II. as to the independence of Italy in respect of any foreign sovereign, and as to the extension of the power of the Holy See; and he wanted time to make up his mind to infuse into his relations with Louis XII. good-will instead of his predecessor's impa.s.sioned hostility. Louis had not, and could not have, any confidence in Ferdinand the Catholic; but he knew him to be as prudent as he was rascally, and he concluded with him at Orthez, on the 1st of April, 1513, a year's truce, which Ferdinand took great care not to make known to his allies, Henry VIII., King of England, and the Emperor Maximilian, the former of whom was very hot-tempered, and the latter very deeply involved, through his daughter Marguerite of Austria, in the warlike league against France. "Madam" [the name given to Marguerite as ruler of the Low Countries], wrote the Florentine minister to Lorenzo de' Medici, "asks for nought but war against the Most Christian king; she thinks of nought but keeping up and fanning the kindled fire, and she has all the game in her hands, for the King of England and the emperor have full confidence in her, and she does with them just as she pleases." This was all that was gained during the year of Julius II.'s death by Louis XII.'s attempts to break up or weaken the coalition against France; and these feeble diplomatic advantages were soon nullified by the unsuccess of the French expedition in Milaness. Louis de la Tremoille had once more entered it with a strong army; but he was on bad terms with his princ.i.p.al lieutenant, John James Trivulzio, over whom he had not the authority wielded by the young and brilliant Gaston de Foix; the French were close to Novara, the siege of which they were about to commence; they heard that a body of Swiss was advancing to enter the place; La Tremoille s.h.i.+fted his position to oppose them, and on the 5th of June, 1513, he told all his captains in the evening that "they might go to their sleeping-quarters and make good cheer, for the Swiss were not yet ready to fight, not having all their men a.s.sembled;" but early next morning the Swiss attacked the French camp. "La Tremoille had hardly time to rise, and, with half his armor on, mount his horse; the Swiss outposts and those of the French were already at work pell-mell over against his quarters." The battle was hot and bravely contested on both sides; but the Swiss by a vigorous effort got possession of the French artillery, and turned it against the infantry of the lanzknechts, which was driven in and broken. The French army abandoned the siege of Novara, and put itself in retreat, first of all on Verceil, a town of Piedmont, and then on France itself. "And I do a.s.sure you," says Fleuranges, an eye-witness and partaker in the battle, "that there was great need of it; of the men-at-arms there were but few lost, or of the French foot; which turned out a marvellous good thing for the king and the kingdom, for they found him very much embroiled with the English and other nations." War between, France and England had recommenced at sea in 1512: two squadrons, one French, of twenty sail, and the other English, of more than forty, met on the 10th of August somewhere off the island of Ushant; a brave Breton, Admiral Herve Primoguet, aboard of "the great s.h.i.+p of the Queen of France," named the Cordeliere, commanded the French squadron, and Sir Thomas Knyvet, a young sailor "of more bravery than experience,"

according to the historians of his own country, commanded, on board of a vessel named the Regent, the English squadron. The two admirals' vessels engaged in a deadly duel; but the French admiral, finding himself surrounded by superior forces, threw his grappling-irons on to the English vessel, and, rather than surrender, set fire to the two admirals'

s.h.i.+ps, which blew up at the same time, together with their crews of two thousand men.

The sight of heroism and death has a powerful effect upon men, and sometimes suspends their quarrels. The English squadron went out again to sea, and the French went back to Brest. Next year the struggle recommenced, but on land, and with nothing so striking. An English army started from Calais, and went and blockaded, on the 17th of June, 1513, the fortress of Therouanne in Artois. It was a fortnight afterwards before Henry VIII. himself quitted Calais, where festivities and tournaments had detained him too long for what he had in hand, and set out on the march with twelve thousand foot to go and join his army before Therouanne. He met on his road, near Thournehem, a body of twelve hundred French men-at-arms with their followers a-horseback, and in the midst of them Bayard. Sire de Piennes, governor of Picardy, was in command of them. "My lord," said Bayard to him, "let us charge them: no harm can come of it to us, or very little; if, at the first charge, we make an opening in them, they are broken; if they repulse us, we shall still get away; they are on foot and we a-horseback;" and "nearly all the French were of this opinion," continues the chronicler; but Sire de Piennes said, Gentlemen, I have orders, on my life, from the king our master, to risk nothing, but only hold his country. Do as you please; for my part I shall not consent thereto.' Thus was this matter stayed; and the King of England pa.s.sed with his band under the noses of the French." Henry VIII. arrived quietly with his army before Therouanne, the garrison of which defended itself valiantly, though short of provisions. Louis XII. sent orders to Sire de Piennes to revictual Therouanne "at any price." The French men-at-arms, to the number of fourteen hundred lances, at whose head marched La Palisse, Bayard, the Duke de Longueville, grandson of the great Dunois, and Sire de Piennes himself, set out on the 16th of August to go and make, from the direction of Guinegate, a sham attack upon the English camp, whilst eight hundred Albanian light cavalry were to burst, from another direction, upon the enemies' lines, cut their way through at a gallop, penetrate to the very fosses of the fortress, and throw into them munitions of war and of the stomach, hung to their horses' necks. The Albanians carried out their orders successfully. The French men-at-arms, after having skirmished for some time with the cavalry of Henry VIII. and Maximilian, began to fall back a little carelessly and in some disorder towards their own camp, when they perceived two large ma.s.ses of infantry and artillery, English and German, preparing to cut off their retreat. Surprise led to confusion; the confusion took the form of panic; the French men-at-arms broke into a gallop, and, dispersing in all directions, thought of nothing but regaining the main body and the camp at Blangy. This sudden rout of so many gallants received the sorry name of the affair of spurs, for spurs did more service than the sword. Many a chosen captain, the Duke de Longueville, Sire de la Palisse, and Bayard, whilst trying to rally the fugitives, were taken by the enemy. Emperor Maximilian, who had arrived at the English camp three or four days before the affair, was of opinion that the allies should march straight upon the French camp, to take advantage of the panic and disorder; but "Henry VIII. and his lords did not agree with him." They contented themselves with pressing on the siege of Therouanne, which capitulated on the 22d of August, for want of provisions. The garrison was allowed to go free, the men-at-arms with lance on thigh and the foot with pike on shoulder, with their harness and all that they could carry." But, in spite of an article in the capitulation, the town was completely dismantled and burnt; and, by the advice of Emperor Maximilian, Henry VIII. made all haste to go and lay siege to Tournai, a French fortress between Flanders and Hainault, the capture of which was of great importance to the Low Countries and to Marguerite of Austria, their ruler.

On hearing these sad tidings, Louis XII., though suffering from an attack of gout, had himself moved in a litter from Paris to Amiens, and ordered Prince Francis of Angouleme, heir to the throne, to go and take command of the army, march it back to the defensive line of the Somme, and send a garrison to Tournai. It was one of that town's privileges to have no garrison; and the inhabitants were unwilling to admit one, saying that Tournai never had turned and never would turn tail; and, if the English came, they would find some one to talk to them." "Howbeit," says Fleuranges, "not a single captain was there, nor, likewise, the said lord duke, but understood well how it was with people besieged, as indeed came to pa.s.s, for at the end of three days, during which the people of Tournai were besieged, they treated for appointment (terms) with the King of England." Other bad news came to Amiens. The Swiss, puffed up with their victory at Novara and egged on by Emperor Maximilian, had to the number of thirty thousand entered Burgundy, and on the 7th of September laid siege to Dijon, which was rather badly fortified. La Tremoille, governor of Burgundy, shut himself up in the place and bravely repulsed a first a.s.sault, but "sent post-haste to warn the king to send him aid; whereto the king made no reply beyond that he could not send him aid, and that La Tremoille should do the best he could for the advantage and service of the kingdom." La Tremoille applied to the Swiss for a safe-conduct, and "without arms and scantily attended" he went to them to try whether "in consideration of a certain sum of money for the expenses of their army they could be packed off to their own country without doing further displeasure or damage." He found them proud and arrogant of heart, for they styled themselves chastisers of princes," and all he could obtain from them was "that the king should give up the duchy of Milan and all the castles appertaining thereto, that he should restore to the pope all the towns, castles, lands, and lords.h.i.+ps which belonged to him, and that he should pay the Swiss four hundred thousand crowns, to wit, two hundred thousand down and two hundred thousand at Martinmas in the following winter." [_Corps Diplomatique du Droit des Gens,_ by Dumont, t. vi. part 1, p. 175.] As brave in undertaking a heavy responsibility as he was in delivering a battle, La Tremoille did not hesitate to sign, on the 13th of September, this harsh treaty; and, as he had not two hundred thousand crowns down to give the Swiss, he prevailed upon them to be content with receiving twenty thousand at once, and he left with them as hostage, in pledge of his promise, his nephew Rend d'Anjou, lord of Mezieres, "one of the boldest and discreetest knights in France." But for this honorable defeat, the veteran warrior thought the kingdom of France had been then undone; for, a.s.sailed at all its extremities, with its neighbors for its foes, it could not, without great risk of final ruin, have borne the burden and defended itself through so many battles. La Tremoille sent one of the gentlemen of his house, the chevalier Reginald de Moussy, to the king, to give an account of what he had done, and of his motives. Some gentlemen about the persons of the king and the queen had implanted some seeds of murmuring and evil thinking in the mind of the queen, and through her in that of the king, who readily gave ear to her words because good and discreet was she. The said Reginald de Moussy, having warning of the fact, and without borrowing aid of a soul (for bold man was he by reason of his virtues), entered the king's chamber, and, falling on one knee, announced, according to order, the service which his master had done, and without which the kingdom of France was in danger of ruin, whereof he set forth the reasons. The whole was said in presence of them who had brought the king to that evil way of thinking, and who knew not what to reply to the king when he said to them, 'By the faith of my body, I think and do know by experience that my cousin the lord of La Tremoille is the most faithful and loyal servant that I have in my kingdom, and the one to whom I am most bounden to the best of his abilities. Go, Reginald, and tell him that I will do all that he has promised; and if he has done well, let him do better.' The queen heard of this kind answer made by the king, and was not pleased at it; but afterwards, the truth being known, she judged contrariwise to what she, through false report, had imagined and thought." [_Memoires de la Tremoille,_ in the Pet.i.tot collection, t. xiv. pp. 476-492.]

Word was brought at the same time to Amiens that Tournai, invested on the 15th of September by the English, had capitulated, that Henry VIII. had entered it on the 21st, and that he had immediately treated it as a conquest of which he was taking possession, for he had confirmed it in all its privileges except that of having no garrison.

Such was the situation in which France, after a reign of fifteen years and in spite of so many brave and devoted servants, had been placed by Louis XII.'s foreign policy. Had he managed the home affairs of his kingdom as badly and with as little success as he had matters abroad, is it necessary to say what would have been his people's feelings towards him, and what name he would have left in history? Happily for France and for the memory of Louis XII., his home-government was more sensible, more clear-sighted, more able, more moral, and more productive of good results than his foreign policy was.

When we consider this reign from this new point of view, we are at once struck by two facts: 1st, the great number of legislative and administrative acts that we meet with bearing upon the general interests of the country, interests political, judicial, financial, and commercial; the _Recueil des Ordonnances des Rois de France_ contains forty-three important acts of this sort owing their origin to Louis XII.; it was clearly a government full of watchfulness, activity, and attention to good order and the public weal; 2d, the profound remembrance remaining in succeeding ages of this reign and its deserts--a remembrance which was manifested, in 1560, amongst the states-general of Orleans, in 1576 and 1588 amongst the states of Blois, in 1593 amongst the states of the League, and even down to 1614 amongst the states of Paris. During more than a hundred years France called to mind, and took pleasure in calling to mind, the administration of Louis XII. as the type of a wise, intelligent, and effective regimen. Confidence may be felt in a people's memory when it inspires them for so long afterwards with sentiment of justice and grat.i.tude.

If from the simple table of the acts of Louis XII.'s home-government we pa.s.s to an examination of their practical results it is plain that they were good and salutary. A contemporary historian, earnest and truthful though panegyrical, Claude do Seyssel, describes in the following terms the state of France at that time: "It is," says he, "a patent fact that the revenue of benefices, lands, and lords.h.i.+ps has generally much increased. And in like manner the proceeds of gabels, turnpikes, law- fees and other revenues have been augmented very greatly. The traffic, too, in merchandise, whether by sea or land, has multiplied exceedingly.

For, by the blessing of peace, all folks (except the n.o.bles, and even them I do not except altogether) engage in merchandise. For one trader that was in Louis XI.'s time to be found rich and portly at Paris, Rouen, Lyons, and other good towns of the kingdom, there are to be found in this reign more than fifty; and there are in the small towns greater number than the great and princ.i.p.al cities were wont to have. So much so that scarcely a house is made on any street without having a shop for merchandise or for mechanical art. And less difficulty is now made about going to Rome, Naples London, and elsewhere over-sea than was made formally about going to Lyons or to Geneva. So much so that there are some who have gone by sea to seek, and have found, new homes. The renown and authority of the king now reigning are so great that his subjects are honored and upheld in every country, as well at sea as on land."

Foreigners were not less impressed than the French themselves with this advance in order, activity, and prosperity amongst the French community.

Machiavelli admits it, and with the melancholy of an Italian politician acting in the midst of rivalries amongst the Italian republics, he attributes it above all to French unity, superior to that of any other state in Europe.

As to the question, to whom reverts the honor of the good government at home under Louis XII., and of so much progress in the social condition of France, M. George Picot, in his _Histoire des Etats Generaux_ [t. i. pp.

532-536], attributes it especially to the influence of the states a.s.sembled at Tours, in 1484, at the beginning of the reign of Charles VIII.: "They employed," he says, "the greatest efforts to reduce the figure of the impost; they claimed the voting of subsidies, and took care not to allow them, save by way of gift and grant. They did not hesitate to revise certain taxes, and when they were engaged upon the subject of collecting of them, they energetically stood out for the establishment of a unique, cla.s.sified body of receivers-royal, and demanded the formation of all the provinces into districts of estates, voting and apportioning their imposts every year, as in the cases of Languedoc, Normandy, and Dauphiny. The dangers of want of discipline in an ill-organized standing army and the evils caused to agriculture by roving bands drove the states back to reminiscences of Charles VII.'s armies; and they called for a mixed organization, in which gratuitous service, commingled in just proportion with that of paid troops, would prevent absorption of the national element. To reform the abuses of the law, to suppress extraordinary commissions, to reduce to a powerful unity, with parliaments to crown all, that mult.i.tude of jurisdictions which were degenerate and corrupt products of the feudal system in its decay, such was the constant aim of the states-general of 1484. They saw that a judicial hierarchy would be vain without fixity of laws; and they demanded a summarization of customs and a consolidation of ordinances in a collection placed within reach of all. Lastly they made a claim, which they were as qualified to make as they were intelligent in making, for the removal of the commercial barriers which divided the provinces and prevented the free transport of merchandise. They pointed out the repairing of the roads and the placing of them in good condition as the first means of increasing the general prosperity. Not a single branch of the administration of the kingdom escaped their conscientious scrutiny: law, finance, and commerce by turns engaged their attention; and in all these different matters they sought to ameliorate inst.i.tutions, but never to usurp power. They did not come forward like the shrievalty of the University of Paris in 1413, with a new system of administration; the reign of Louis XI. had left nothing that was important or possible, in that way, to conceive; there was nothing more to be done than to glean after him, to relax those appliances of government which he had stretched at all points, and to demand the accomplishment of such of his projects as were left in arrear and the cure of the evils he had caused by the frenzy and the aberrations of his absolute will."

We do not care to question the merits of the states-general of 1484; we have but lately striven to bring them to light, and we doubt not but that the enduring influence of their example and their sufferings counted for much in the progress of good government during the reign of Louis XII.

It is an honor to France to have always resumed and pursued from crisis to crisis, through a course of many sufferings, mistakes, and tedious gaps, the work of her political enfranchis.e.m.e.nt and the foundation of a regimen of freedom and legality in the midst of the sole monarchy which so powerfully contributed to her strength and her greatness. The states-general of 1484, in spite of their rebuffs and long years after their separation, held an honorable place in the history of this difficult and tardy work; but Louis XII.'s personal share in the good home-government of France during his reign was also great and meritorious. His chief merit, a rare one amongst the powerful of the earth, especially when there is a question of reforms and of liberty, was that he understood and entertained the requirements and wishes of his day; he was a mere young prince of the blood when the states of 1484 were sitting at Tours; but he did not forget them when he was king, and, far from repudiating their patriotic and modest work in the cause of reform and progress, he entered into it sincerely and earnestly with the aid of Cardinal d'Amboise, his honest, faithful, and ever influential councillor. The character and natural instincts of Louis XII. inclined him towards the same views as his intelligence and moderation in politics suggested. He was kind, sympathetic towards his people, and anxious to spare them every burden and every suffering that was unnecessary, and to have justice, real and independent justice, rendered to all. He reduced the talliages a tenth at first and a third at a later period. He refused to accept the dues usual on a joyful accession. When the wars in Italy caused him some extraordinary expense, he disposed of a portion of the royal possessions, strictly administered as they were, before imposing fresh burdens upon the people. His court was inexpensive, and he had no favorites to enrich. His economy became proverbial; it was sometimes made a reproach to him; and things were carried so far that he was represented, on the stage of a popular theatre, ill, pale, and surrounded by doctors, who were holding a consultation as to the nature of his malady: they at last agreed to give him a potion of gold to take; the sick man at once sat up, complaining of nothing more than a burning thirst. When informed of this scandalous piece of buffoonery, Louis contented himself with saying, "I had rather make courtiers laugh by my stinginess than my people weep by my extravagance." He was pressed to punish some insolent comedians; but, "No," said he, "amongst their ribaldries they may sometimes tell us useful truths let them amuse themselves, provided that they respect the honor of women." In the administration of justice he accomplished important reforms, called for by the states-general of 1484 and promised by Louis XI. and Charles VIII., but nearly all of them left in suspense. The purchase of offices was abolished and replaced by a two-fold election; in all grades of the magistracy, when an office was vacant, the judges were to a.s.semble to select three persons, from whom the king should be bound to choose. The irremovability of the magistrates, which had been accepted but often violated by Louis XI., became under Louis XII. a fundamental rule. It was forbidden to every one of the king', magistrates, from the premier- president to the lowest provost to accept any place or pension from any lord, under pain of suspension from their office or loss of their salary.

The annual Mercurials (Wednesday-meetings) became, in the supreme courts, a general and standing usage. The expenses of the law were reduced. In 1501, Louis XII. inst.i.tuted at Aix in Provence a new parliament; in 1499 the court of exchequer a Rouen, hitherto a supreme but movable and temporary court became a fixed and permanent court, which afterwards received under Francis I., the t.i.tle of parliament. Being convinced before long, by facts themselves, that these reforms were seriously meant by their author, and were practically effective, the people conceived, in consequence, towards the king and the magistrates a general sentiment of grat.i.tude and respect. In 1570 Louis made a journey from Paris to Lyons by Champaigne and Burgundy; and "wherever he pa.s.sed," says St. Gelais"

men and women a.s.sembled from all parts, and ran after him for three or four leagues. And when they were able to touch his mule, or his robe, or anything that was his, they kissed their hands . . . with as great devotion as they would have shown to a reliquary. And the Burgundians showed as much enthusiasm as the real old French."

Louis XII.'s private life also contributed to win for him, we will not say the respect and admiration, but the good will of the public. He was not, like Louis IX., a model of austerity and sanct.i.ty; but after the licentious court of Charles VII., the coa.r.s.e habits of Louis XI., and the easy morals of Charles VIII., the French public was not exacting. Louis XII. was thrice married. His first wife, Joan, daughter of Louis XI., was an excellent and worthy princess, but ugly, ungraceful, and hump-backed. He had been almost forced to marry her, and he had no child by her. On ascending the throne, he begged Pope Alexander VI. to annul his marriage; the negotiation was anything but honorable, either to the king or to the pope; and the pope granted his bull in consideration of the favors shown to his unworthy son, Caesar Borgia, by the king. Joan alone behaved with a virtuous as well as modest pride, and ended her life in sanct.i.ty within a convent at Bourges, being wholly devoted to pious works, regarded by the people as a saint, spoken of by bold preachers as a martyr, and "still the true and legitimate Queen of France," and treated at a distance with profound respect by the king who had put her away. Louis married, in 1499, his predecessor's widow, Anne, d.u.c.h.ess of Brittany, twenty-three years of age, short, pretty, a little lame, witty, able, and firm. It was, on both sides, a marriage of policy, though romantic tales have been mixed up with it; it was a suitable and honorable royal arrangement, without any lively affection on one side or the other, but with mutual esteem and regard. As queen, Anne was haughty, imperious, sharp-tempered, and too much inclined to mix in intrigues and negotiations at Rome and Madrid, sometimes without regard for the king's policy; but she kept up her court with spirit and dignity, being respected by her ladies, whom she treated well, and favorably regarded by the public, who were well disposed towards her for having given Brittany to France. Some courtiers showed their astonishment that the king should so patiently bear with a character so far from agreeable; but "one must surely put up with something from a woman," said Louis, "when she loves her honor and her husband." After a union of fifteen years, Anne of Brittany died on the 9th of January, 1514, at the castle of Blois, nearly thirty-seven years old. Louis was then fifty-two. He seemed very much to regret his wife; but, some few months after her death, another marriage of policy was put, on his behalf, in course of negotiation. It was in connection with Princess Mary of England, sister of Henry VIII., with whom it was very important for Louis XII. and for France to be once more at peace and on good terms. The Duke de Longueville, made prisoner by the English at the battle of Guinegate, had, by his agreeable wit and his easy, chivalrous grace, won Henry VIII.'s favor in London; and he perceived that that prince, discontented with his allies, the Emperor of Germany and the King of Spain, was disposed to make peace with the King of France. A few months, probably only a few weeks, after Anne of Brittany's death, De Longueville, no doubt with Louis XII.'s privity, suggested to Henry VIII. the idea of a marriage between his young sister and the King o France. Henry liked to do sudden and striking things: he gladly seized the opportunity of avenging himself upon his two allies, who, in fact, had not been very faithful to him, and he welcomed De Longueville's idea. Mary was sixteen, pretty, already betrothed to Archduke Charles of Austria, and, further pa.s.sionately smitten with Charles Brandon, the favorite of Henry VIII., who had made him Duke of Suffolk, and, according to English historians, the handsomest n.o.bleman in England. These two difficulties were surmounted: Mary herself formally declared her intention of breaking a promise of marriage which had been made during her minority, and which Emperor Maximilian had shown himself in no hurry to get fulfilled; and Louis XII. formally demanded her hand. Three treaties were concluded on the 7th of August, 1514, between the Kings of France and England, in order to regulate the conditions of their political and matrimonial alliance; on the 13th of August, the Duke de Longueville, in his sovereign's name, espoused the Princess Mary at Greenwich; and she, escorted to France by brilliant emba.s.sy, arrived on the 8th of October at Abbeville where Louis XII. was awaiting her. Three days afterwards the marriage was solemnized there in state, and Louis, who had suffered from gout during the ceremony, carried off his young queen to Paris, after having had her crowned at St. Denis Mary Tudor had given up the German prince, who was destined to become Charles V., but not the handsome English n.o.bleman she loved. The Duke of Suffolk went to France to see her after her marriage, and in her train she had as maid of honor a young girl, a beauty as well, who was one day to be Queen of England--Anne Boleyn.

Less than three months after this marriage, on the 1st of January, 1515, "the death-bell-men were traversing the streets of Paris, ringing their bells and crying, 'The good King Louis, father of the people, is dead.'"

Louis XII., in fact, had died that very day, at midnight, from an attack of gout and a rapid decline. "He had no great need to be married, for many reasons," says the Loyal Serviteur of Bayard, "and he likewise had no great desire that way; but, because he found himself on every side at war, which he could not maintain without pressing very hard upon his people, he behaved like the pelican. After that Queen Mary had made her entry, which was mighty triumphant, into Paris, and that there had taken place many jousts and tourneys, which lasted more than six weeks, the good king, because of his wife, changed all his manner of living: he had been wont to dine at eight, and he now dined at midday; he had been wont to go to bed at six in the evening, and he often now went to bed at midnight. He fell ill at the end of December, from the which illness nought could save him. He was, whilst he lived, a good prince, wise and virtuous, who maintained his people in peace, without pressing hard upon them in any way, save by constraint. He had in his time much of good and of evil, whereby he got ample knowledge of the world. He obtained many victories over his enemies; but towards the end of his days Fortune gave him a little turn of her frowning face. He was borne to his grave at St.

Denis amongst his good predecessors, with great weeping and wailing, and to the great regret of his subjects."

"He was a gentle prince," says Robert de la Marck, lord of Fleuranges, "both in war and otherwise, and in all matters wherein he was required to take part. It was pity when this malady of gout attacked him, for he was not an old man."

To the last of his days Louis XII. was animated by earnest sympathy and active solicitude for his people. It cost him a great deal to make with the King of England the treaties of August 7, 1514, to cede Tournai to the English, and to agree to the payment to them of a hundred thousand crowns a year for ten years. He did it to restore peace to France, attacked on her own soil, and feeling her prosperity threatened. For the same reason he negotiated with Pope Leo X., Emperor Maximilian, and Ferdinand the Catholic, and he had very nearly attained the same end by entering once more upon pacific relations with them, when death came and struck him down at the age of fifty-three. He died sorrowing over the concessions he had made from a patriotic sense of duty as much as from necessity, and full of disquietude about the future. He felt a sincere affection for Francis de Valois, Count of Angouleme, his son-law and successor; the marriage between his daughter Claude and that prince had been the chief and most difficult affair connected with his domestic life; and it was only after the death of the queen, Anne of Brittany, that he had it proclaimed and celebrated. The bravery, the brilliant parts, the amiable character, and the easy grace of Francis I. delighted him, but he dreaded his presumptuous inexperience, his reckless levity, and his ruinous extravagance; and in his anxiety as a king and father he said, "We are laboring in vain; this big boy will spoil everything for us."

END OF THE THIRD VOLUME.