FRANCIS I AND HIS ZEAL FOR RELIGION

 

UNFORTUNATELY for the reputation of Francis I among his contemporaries, his conduct at this juncture appeared a perfect contrast to that of his rival, as he laid hold on the opportunity afforded him, by the emperor’s having turned his whole force against the common enemy of Christendom, to revive his pretensions in Italy, and to plunge Europe into a new war.

The treaty of Cambray, as has been observed, did not remove the causes of enmity between the two contending princes; it covered up, but did not extinguish the flames of discord. Francis in particular, who waited with impatience for a proper occasion of recovering the reputation as well as the territories which he had lost, continued to carry on his negotiations in different courts against the emperor, taking the utmost pains to heighten the jealousy which many princes entertained of his power or designs, and to inspire the rest with the same suspicion and fear: among others, he applied to Francis Sforza, who, though indebted to Charles for the possession of the duchy of Milan, had received it on such hard conditions, as rendered him not only a vassal of the empire, but a tributary dependant upon the emperor.

The honor of having married the emperor’s niece did not reconcile him to this ignominious state of subjection, which became so intolerable even to Sforza, though a weak and poor-spirited prince, that he listened with eagerness to the first proposals Francis made of rescuing him from the yoke. These proposals were conveyed to him by Maraviglia, or Merveille, as he is called by the French historians, a Milanese gentleman residing at Paris; and soon after, in order to carry on the negotiation with greater advantage, Merveille was sent to Milan, on pretence of visiting his relations, but with secret credentials from Francis as his envoy. In this character he was received by Sforza. But, notwithstanding his care to keep that circumstance concealed, Charles suspecting, or having received information of it, remonstrated and threatened in such a high tone, that the duke and his ministers, equally intimidated, gave the world immediately a most infamous proof of their servile fear of offending the emperor. As Merveille had neither the prudence nor the temper which the function wherein he was employed required, they artfully decoyed him into a quarrel, in which he happened to kill his antagonist, one of the duke’s domestics, and having instantly seized him, they ordered him to be tried for that crime, and to be beheaded [Dec. 1533]. Francis, no less astonished at this violation of a character held sacred among the most uncivilized nations than enraged at the insult offered to the dignity of his crown, threatened Sforza with the effects of his indignation, and complained to the emperor, whom he considered as the real author of that unexampled outrage. But receiving no satisfaction from either, he appealed to all the princes of Europe, and thought himself now entitled to take vengeance for an injury, which it would have been, indecent and pusillanimous to let pass with impunity.

Being thus furnished with a pretext for beginning a war, on which he had already resolved, he multiplied his efforts in order to draw in other princes to take part in the quarrel. But all his measures for this purpose were disconcerted by unforeseen events. After having sacrificed the honor of the royal family of France by the marriage of his son with Catherine of Medici, in order to gain Clement the death of that pontiff had deprived him of all the advantages which he expected to derive from his friendship. Paul, his successor, though attached by inclination to the Imperial interest, seemed determined to maintain the neutrality suitable to his character as the common father of the contending princes.

The king of England, occupied with domestic cares and projects, declined, for once, engaging in the affairs of the continent, and refused to assist Francis, unless he would imitate his example, in throwing off the papal supremacy. These disappointments led him to solicit, with greater earnestness, the aid of the protestant princes associated by the league of Smalkalde. That he might the more easily acquire their confidence, he endeavored to accommodate himself to their predominant passion, zeal for their religious tenets. He affected a wonderful moderation with regard to the points in dispute; he permitted Bellay, his envoy in Germany, to explain his sentiments concerning some of the most important articles, in terms not far different from those used by the protestants: he even condescended to invite Melanchthon, whose gentle manners and pacific spirit distinguished him among the reformers, to visit Paris, that by his assistance he might concert the most proper measures for reconciling the contending sects which so unhappily divided the church. These concessions must be considered rather as arts of policy, than the result of conviction; for whatever impression the new opinions in religion had made on his sisters, the queen of Navarre and duchess of Ferrara, the gayety of Francis’s own temper, and his love of pleasure, allowed him little leisure to examine theological controversies.

But soon after he lost all the fruits of this disingenuous artifice, by a step very inconsistent with his declarations to the German princes. This step, however, the prejudices of the age, and the religious sentiments of his own subjects, rendered it necessary for him to take. His close union with the king of England, an excommunicated heretic; his frequent negotiations with the German protestants; but above all, his giving public audience to an envoy from sultan Solyman, had excited violent suspicions concerning the sincerity of his attachment to religion.

To have attacked the emperor, who, on all occasions, made high pretensions to zeal in defence of the catholic faith, and at the very juncture when he was preparing for his expedition against Barbarossa, which was then considered as a pious enterprise, could not have failed to confirm such unfavorable sentiments with regard to Francis, and called on him to vindicate himself by some extraordinary demonstration of his reverence for the established doctrines of the church. The indiscreet zeal of some of his subjects, who had imbibed the protestant opinions, furnished him with such an occasion as he desired. They had affixed to the gates of the Louvre, and other public places, papers containing indecent reflections on the doctrines and rites of the popish church. Six of the persons concerned in this rash action were discovered and seized. The king, in order to avert the judgments which it was supposed their blasphemies might draw down upon the nation, appointed a solemn procession.

The holy sacrament was carried through the city in great pomp; Francis walked uncovered before it, bearing a torch in his hand; the princes of the blood supported the canopy over it; the nobles marched in order behind. In the presence of this numerous assembly, the king, accustomed to express himself on every subject in strong and animated language, declared, that if one of his hands were infected with heresy, he would cut it off with the other, and would not spare even his own children, if found guilty of that crime. As a dreadful proof of his being in earnest, the six unhappy persons were publicly burnt before the procession was finished, with circumstances of the most shocking barbarity attending their execution.

 

THE FRENCH BACK IN ITALY