The Constable De Bourbon

Presently the king was taken past a spot where the dead lay thickest, and here it was evident, from the rich accoutrements of the slain, that the flower of his young nobility had fallen while fighting so valiantly in his defence. The spoilers were already at work stripping them of their valuables. It was a sad sight to François, and lacerated his heart so severely, that he wished he were lying amongst them.

As he averted his gaze from this painful spectacle, his eye alighted upon a knight accoutred in black armour, who had just ridden up. As this warrior had his visor down, François could not distinguish his features.

“Halt!” exclaimed the knight, authoritatively. And the soldiers immediately obeyed.

The knight then raised his beaver, and disclosed the dark lineaments of Bourbon, now flushed with triumph.

“Ha! by Saint Denis! I felt that a traitor was nigh!” exclaimed the wounded king, raising himself, and gazing fiercely at the other. “Are you come to insult me?”

“No, sire,” replied Bourbon. “I have no such design. This is not the moment, when we have changed positions, that I would exult in your defeat. Were it possible, I would soothe the bitterness of your feelings.”

“You would soothe them by telling me I have lost my kingdom,” cried François, fiercely. “You would soothe them by reminding me that I am a captive. You would soothe them by pointing out all those valiant nobles and captains who have died for me. You would soothe them by telling me how many you yourself have slain. Whose blood dyes your sword?”

“The blood of one who has brought all these misfortunes upon you, sire,” rejoined Bourbon.

“You would have me understand that Bonnivet has died by your hand? ha!” demanded François.

“Even so, sire,” rejoined Bourbon. “His guilty soul has just gone to its account. In avenging my own wrongs upon his head, I have avenged you.”

“He has much to answer for,” exclaimed the king. “But Heaven forgive him, even as I forgive him.”

“I will not trouble you with my presence further, sire,” said Bourbon. “I have only intruded upon you now to give you the assurance that we shall never forget what is due to your exalted rank, and that our victory will be used with moderation and generosity.”

“What generosity can I expect from the Emperor, or from you?” cried François, bitterly. “Answer me one question ere you go. How many men have you lost in the battle?”

“Our total losses, as far as we can estimate them, are under seven hundred men, sire,” replied Bourbon.

“And mine! how many have I lost?” demanded the king. “Fear not to speak,” he added, seeing Bourbon hesitate; “I would know the exact truth.”

“Sire,” replied Bourbon, in a sombre tone, “it is impossible to compute your losses at this moment, but I shall not overstate them in saying that eight thousand of your soldiers have fallen upon this plain. Twenty of your proudest nobles are lying within a few paces of us.”

Groaning as if his heart would burst, François sank backwards.

Bourbon signed to the soldiers to proceed with their burden, and then rode off with his Burgundian lances.

François did not again unclose his eyes, and scarcely, indeed, manifested any signs of consciousness, until he was taken into the court of the Certosa.

When he was there set down, the prior with the principal monks came forth to meet him, and would have conveyed him to the interior of the convent, but François refused to have his wounds dressed till he had prayed to Heaven, and desired the prior to conduct him at once to the church.

His injunctions were complied with, and the prior gave him his arm, for he could not walk without assistance. On entering the magnificent fabric, he was taken to the nearest chapel, and ere he knelt down his eye fell upon this inscription on the wall:

BONUM MIHI QUIA HUMILIA STI ME, UT DISCAM JUSTIFICATIONES TUAS

The unfortunate king could not fail to apply these Words to his own situation. Profoundly touched, he humbled himself before Heaven, acknowledging his manifold and great offences, and imploring forgiveness.

His devotions ended, he was taken to the principal chamber of the monastery, where his wounds were carefully dressed.

For three days he remained at the Certosa, the monastery being strictly guarded by the Spanish soldiery, and during his detention there he was visited by the Viceroy of Naples, the Marquis del Vasto, and Pescara, who had only partially recovered from the wounds he had received in the battle.

The king was then removed to the fortress of Pizzighettone, under the charge of the vigilant Captain Alarcon, with a guard of two hundred cavalry and twelve hundred fantassins, there to be kept a close prisoner till the Emperor’s pleasure concerning him could be ascertained.

Before his departure from the Certosa, François announced his defeat to his mother in these memorable words:

“Madame, tout est perdu, fors l’honneur.”

END OF THE FIFTH BOOK

BOOK VI. – CHARLES V

I. HOW FRANÇOIS I. WAS TAKEN TO MADRID, AND CONFINED IN A MOORISH

CASTLE

Had the Duke de Bourbon been able to follow up the great and decisive victory won at Pavia by an immediate invasion of France, he must inevitably have become master of the destinies of that kingdom.

His march to Paris could scarcely have been opposed. The king was a captive – many of his best leaders were slain – others were prisoners – the flower of the French chivalry was destroyed – the gendarmerie annihilated. All that was needed was an army. But this Bourbon could not obtain.

At no previous time was the Imperial army less under the control of its leaders than after the battle of Pavia. Though enriched by the immense booty they had acquired, the insatiate Spaniards absolutely refused to proceed upon any fresh campaign until they received their arrears of pay; while the German lanz-knechts and reiters, fully satisfied with their share of the plunder, disbanded, and returned to their own country.

Thus Bourbon was again prevented from reaping the fruits of his victory. The crown of France was within reach, if he could have grasped it. But this was impossible without an army. He had counted upon the aid of Von Frundsberg, but that bold commander, though devoted to him, and ready to accompany him, could not keep together his men, who were determined to place their plunder in the care of their families.

Time was thus given to the Duchess d’Angoulême, Regent of France, who displayed extraordinary courage and activity in the emergency, to prepare for the defence of the kingdom by levying fresh forces in Switzerland, by entering into an alliance with England, and by negotiating with the different Italian states.

Immediately after the battle of Pavia the whole of the Milanese was evacuated by the French troops, who made their way across the Alps with the utmost expedition, and the different cities were at once taken possession of by the Imperialists. Francesco Sforza returned to Milan, and ostensibly resumed his former sway, but being now little better than a vassal of the Emperor, he exercised no real authority in the duchy. Hence he naturally became anxious to throw off the yoke imposed upon him, and entered into a league with the rest of the Italian states for protection against their common enemy.

Meanwhile François I. had been detained a close prisoner within the fortress of Pizzighettone, strictly guarded by the harsh and incorruptible Alarcon. But as it was not unlikely that rescue might be attempted, or that the illustrious captive, though ever so carefully watched, might contrive to effect his escape, it was judged prudent to remove him to Spain, and he was accordingly conducted to Madrid by Alarcon and Lannoy – contrary to the wishes of Bourbon, who desired to keep him in Italy.

On his arrival at Madrid, the unfortunate king was placed in an old Moorish castle, and treated with unbecoming severity. Charles V. refused to see him, hoping that the tediousness of captivity would make him yield to the hard conditions he had proposed to him.

Bourbon followed the royal prisoner to Madrid, and was received with the greatest distinction by the Emperor, but neither his brilliant achievements nor his princely rank could reconcile the haughty Castilian nobles to his presence at the court. They regarded him as a rebel and a traitor, and could scarcely refrain from manifesting their scorn and aversion. He came attended by a large retinue, and as the Emperor did not desire to assign him apartments in the royal palace, he begged the Marquis de Villena to lend him his mansion – one of the largest and most magnificent in Madrid.

“Sire,” replied the proud marquis, “I can refuse you nothing. But I declare that as soon as the Duke de Bourbon has quitted my house I will burn it to the ground as a place infected with treason, and unworthy to be inhabited by men of honour.”

“As you please, my lord,” said Charles V., smiling sternly. “But as I have instigated the duke to his treason, I must share the reproach, and since you will not lend him your house, I must perforce lodge him in the Alcazar.”

Bourbon expected that the treaty for the liberation of the captive monarch would be speedily concluded, but such was not the Emperor’s policy. Months elapsed, and François still languished in confinement. On one point only the Emperor relaxed his severity. He permitted the Duchess d’Alençon to enter Spain, and soothe her royal brother in his captivity.

33?

Marguerite de Valois was now a widow, the Duke d’Alençon having died shortly after his ignominious flight from the battle of Pavia, and it was the hope of the intriguing Duchess d’Angoulême that the charms of her daughter might Captivate the Emperor, who was still unmarried. The death of Queen Claude, which occurred immediately after his departure for Italy, had likewise set François I. free, and he intimated his willingness to espouse the Emperor’s sister, Leanor of Austria; the prineess, it will be remembered, who had already been promised to the Duke de Bourbon. To this alliance Charles V. was favourably inclined – he had long since manifested his disinclination to fulfil his promise to Bourbon – but he had not yet given his assent to the proposal. In fact, he intended that the marriage between François I. and Leanor should form one of the conditions of the king’s liberation.

To the Charms of the lovely Marguerite de Valois, who produced a great effect at the Court of Madrid, and enchanted the grandees by her beauty and accomplishments, the Emperor was insensible, his choice being already fixed upon the fair Isabella of Portugal – a princess to whom he was subsequently united.

At this time Charles V., whose power and successes alarmed all the sovereigns of Europe, was still in the prime of early manhood, not having completed his twenty-fifth year, but the gravity of his deportment and the sternness of his aspect made him look much older. Young as he was, however, he had already crowded the events of a long life into his term of existence, and had all the sagacity, prudence, and caution which years alone are generally supposed to confer. His mode of life offered a perfect contrast to that of François I. Little addicted to pleasure, he devoted himself laboriously to affairs of state. Bigoted in religion, he was ever ready to manifest his zeal for the Catholic Church by the persecution of heresy. In manner he was serious and reserved – in disposition obstinate and inflexible. He was a profound hypocrite, as was exemplified by his conduct after the battle of Pavia, when he feigned the greatest humility, and forbade any public demonstrations of joy at so important a victory. “It seems,” says Voltaire, “that at this juncture he was wanting to his fortune. Instead of entering France, and profiting by the victory gained by his generals in Italy, he remained inactive in Spain.” But he could not follow up his success. Lacking the means of carrying on the war, he resolved to impose the hardest conditions possible upon his royal captive, and extort a heavy ransom from him. With this view, the unfortunate king was treated with the unjustifiable severity we have described.

A more remarkable countenance than that of Charles V has seldom been seen. At the period in question, his physiognomy had not acquired the sternness, almost grimness, which characterised it in later life, but even then it was cold and severe. His eyes were grey, searching in expression, and seemed to read the thoughts of those he gazed upon. His brow was lofty, and indeed the upper part of his face was extremely handsome. The nose was well formed, though not set quite straight, but the main defect of the countenance was the chin, the lower jaw protruding so much beyond the upper that the teeth could not meet properly. Notwithstanding this drawback, which was transmitted to all his descendants, and formed a characteristic of the House of Austria, his face was cast in a noble mould, and power, inflexibility, and wisdom could be read in every lineament.

In stature Charles V was not above the middle height, but his port was erect and stately. His limbs were strong and well proportioned, and if his movements lacked lightness and grace, they were never deficient in majesty.

Nearly a year had elapsed since the unfortunate François had been brought to Madrid, and he was still kept a close prisoner in the Moorish castle, when one morning the Duke de Bourbon solicited an audience of the Emperor, which was immediately granted. Charles V. was in his cabinet at the time, and with him were the Viceroy of Naples and his chancellor, Gattinara.

The Emperor was attired, as usual, in habiliments of a sombre hue. His doublet and hose were of black taffety, His black damask mantle was trimmed with sable, and embroidered with the cross of Santiago. Over his shoulders he wore the collar of the Toison d’Or, and his black velvet cap was simply ornamented with a golden chain.

To the Emperor’s surprise, Bourbon was accompanied by the Duchess d’Alençon, and a look of displeasure crossed the monarch’s brow on beholding her. From his manner he appeared disinclined to receive her.

“Sire,” said Bourbon, approaching him, “I beseech you not to dismiss the duchess unheard.” Then lowering his voice, he added, “I have it on the physician’s authority that the king’s life is in imminent danger. He cannot survive many days unless he is allowed more freedom. If he dies, your majesty will lose your ransom.”

The Emperor appeared much struck with what was said, and he inquired somewhat anxiously, “Have you seen him?”

“No, sire,” replied Bourbon, “but I have conversed with the physician. I pray you listen to the Duchess d’Alençon. Approach, madame,” he added to her, “his majesty will hear you.”

Thus invited, the beautiful princess, whose countenance bespoke her affliction, came forward and threw herself at the Emperor’s feet. Charles endeavoured to raise her, but she would not move from her suppliant posture till she had spoken.

“Sire,” she said, in accents well calculated to move the Emperor, “if your majesty has any compassion for your unfortunate prisoner you will see him without delay. You alone have power to cure his malady, which is caused by grief, and aggravated by mental irritation. That he cannot long survive if he continues in this state is quite certain, for his disease is beyond the reach of medicine. His physicians can do no more for him, and leave him to your majesty. If you abandon him, he will die, and then you will have a perpetual reproach upon your conscience. Save him, sire! – save him, while there is yet time!”

“Rest easy, madame, I will save him,” said the Emperor, raising her. “I had no idea it had come to such a pass with your royal brother. I would not have him die for all my dominions. Haste and tell him so, madame. I will come to him speedily.”

“The message will give him new life, sire,” rejoined Marguerite. “I will prepare him for the visit.”

And with a grateful obeisance to the Emperor she retired, and, quitting the palace, hastened to the old Moorish castle in which François was confined.

As soon as the duchess was gone, Gattinara said to the Emperor, “Sire, permit me to observe, that if you visit the king at this juncture, you must grant him his liberty unconditionally. Otherwise, your visit will be attributed to unworthy motives.”

“Would you have the king die, as he infallibly will do, unless his Imperial Majesty sees him?” cried Bourbon.

“I have deemed it my duty to point out to his majesty the construction that will be put upon his visit,” rejoined Gattinara, gravely.

“The solid advantages of the victory are not to be sacrificed to an over-strained sense of honour,” remarked Lannoy. “If the king dies, all will be lost.”

“Humanity dictates the course to be pursued,” said Bourbon. “To refuse to see the king would be to condemn him to death.”

“By Santiago! I will see him,” said the Emperor; “and, what is more, I will conclude the treaty with him. Bring it with you, Gattinara. Now to the prison.”

II. HOW THE TREATY OF MADRID WAS SIGNED

When Marguerite was admitted by the guard into the chamber in which her royal brother was confined, he was alone, and stretched upon a couch.

“I have good tidings for your majesty,” she cried, flying towards him, and taking his hand. “The Emperor is coming to see you.”

“It is too late,” said François. “He can do me no good now. I have lost all hope. Look here,” he added, taking a paper from beneath the cushion on which he was reclining, “this is an act by which I renounce the crown of France, and place it in the hands of the Dauphin, exhorting my family and my people to regard me as dead – and most likely I shall be dead ere this act can be delivered to my son.”

“I shall not need to take it,” she rejoined. “I am persuaded you will now be able to make terms with the Emperor.”

“I will rather die than submit to his conditions,” rejoined the king.

“Hear me, François,” she said, “and do not think the course I am about to suggest unworthy of you. You must be delivered from this prison at any price.”

“Not at the price of my honour, Marguerite,” he cried. “You cannot counsel that?”

“You must dissemble with the tyrant, brother,” she rejoined. “You must beat him with his own weapons. A treaty signed in prison cannot be binding on you. The circumstances render it invalid. Promise all the Emperor asks – but perform only what is reasonable and just.

“I must perform all I promise,” said François,

“No,” she rejoined. “You are justified in deceiving a pitiless conqueror who abuses his position. France will absolve you.”

At this moment, the door was thrown open and gave admittance to the Emperor, who was attended by Bourbon, Lannoy, and Gattinara.

Charles V. paused near the door to look at his prisoner, and was sensibly touched by his altered appearance.

“Can this be the magnificent François de Valois?” he muttered to Bourbon. “Mother of Heaven! how he is changed!”

“Sadly changed, indeed, sire,” rejoined Bourbon. “Even I can pity him.”

On beholding the Emperor, François raised himself with his sister’s support, and said, in accents of mingled bitterness and reproach, “Your majesty has come to see your prisoner die.”

“No, I have come to bid you live,” rejoined Charles V., hastening towards him, “You are no longer my prisoner, but my friend and brother. From this moment you are free.”

As these gracious words were uttered, François withdrew from his sister, and flung his arms round the Emperor’s neck. On recovering from his emotion, he said, “I thank your majesty from the bottom of my heart for your goodness towards me. You have performed a magical cure. In giving me freedom you have instantly restored me to health and strength.”

“I am rejoiced to hear it, my good brother,” rejoined Charles Y. “I should never have forgiven myself if aught had befallen you, You shall be liberated this very day – that is, as soon as we have arranged the terms of the treaty,” he hastened to add, “That is a necessary preliminary step, as you know.”

“Of course, sire,” rejoined the king. “We can settle the treaty now. I am well enough to attend to it.”

And, assisted by the Emperor and Marguerite, he rose from the couch, and seated himself near the table, on which writing materials were placed.

“You have indeed recovered in a marvellous manner, my good brother,” remarked Charles V., smiling.

“It is all your doing, sire,” rejoined François. “But let us proceed to business. I repeat, I am quite equal to it.”

“‘Twill be best that the matter should be concluded at once, brother,” said Charles V., seating himself opposite the king. “The treaty has already been drawn out by the grand-chancellor, and shall be read to you.”

“The treaty drawn out!” exclaimed François, frowning. “Then we cannot discuss the terms.”

“If we discuss the terms it may prolong your captivity, brother,” rejoined Charles Y.

“Agree,” whispered Marguerite, who was standing near the king.

“Well, let me hear the conditions,” said François to Gattinara, who had unfolded a large parchment, and was preparing to-read it. “Give the substance of the treaty, my lord. I care not for the formalities.”

“By this treaty, sire,” said Gattinara, “you will cede to his Imperial Majesty all your pretensions to the kingdom of Naples, the duchy of Milan, Genoa, and Asti – in a word, all your rights in Italy.”

He then paused for a moment, but as François made no observation, he went on:

“You will also cede the duchy of Burgundy to his Imperial Majesty – ”

“It should be ‘restore,’ rather than ‘cede,’” interrupted Charles V., “since the duchy was the patrimony of my ancestress, Mary of Burgundy. But proceed.”

“Your majesty will cede the duchy of Burgundy,” continued the chancellor, “the countship of Charolois, the signories of Noyers and of Château-Chinon, the viscounty of Auxonne, and the jurisdiction of Saint-Laurent.”

François uttered an exclamation of impatience, but was restrained by his sister, who grasped his hand.

“A moment’s patience, brother,” remarked Charles V, “We will speak of Burgundy anon.”

“Your majesty shall remove your protection from Henri d’Albret, who was taken prisoner at the battle of Pavia, but who has since escaped, and prevail upon him to renounce the title of King of Navarre.”

“Pâques Dieu! I cannot do this,” cried François.

“Let the chancellor go on, brother,” said the Emperor.

“Your majesty shall likewise remove your protection from the Duke of Gueldres,” pursued Gattinara, “the Duke of Wurtemberg, and Robert de la Marck.”

“By Saint Louis! I will not thus sacrifice my friends and allies!” cried François.

“Hear him out, brother! – hear him out!” said the Emperor.

Gattinara paused for a moment, and then resumed. Aware of what was coming, Bourbon watched the king narrowly.

“Your majesty shall restore to the Duke de Bourbon all the lands, fiefs, and signories of which he has been deprived, and shall add to them Provence and Dauphiné. These states shall be erected into a kingdom to be possessed by the Duke de Bourbon, without tenure from the crown of France.”

“Never!” exclaimed François, rising. “I will remain in thraldom all my days rather than consent to this indignity. I agree to restore Bourbon’s possessions, and will indemnify him for all his losses, but I will not dismember France in order to create a kingdom for him. Even if I were disposed to yield, the laws of the State are opposed to any such alienation, and would prevent it.”

“I will take my chance of that,” remarked Bourbon, sternly. “What has been gained by the sword can be maintained by the sword. The condition must be subscribed.”

“The king agrees,” said Marguerite, as François, by her persuasion, sat down again.

At a sign front the Emperor, Gattinara went on.

“Your majesty shall re-establish the Seigneur de Pomperant, and all the other partisans of the Duke de Bourbon, in their possessions. And you shall release the Prince of Orange, who has been confined in the castle of Lusignan, and deprived of his possessions for his zeal towards the Emperor.”

“To the latter condition I unhesitatingly agree,” said François.

“Lastly,” said Gattinara, “your majesty shall pay to the King of England five hundred thousand crowns, and to his Imperial Majesty as a ransom two millions.”

“These are onerous conditions, sire,” said François, as the chancellor concluded.