Part 2 — Chapter III. (These four articles abrogated by the four articles following them, 118-122.) Article 118. The Federal Constitution may at any time be amended. (continued 43)

F. P. Guizot, Popular History of France, chapter 23.

At Paris, "the two sovereigns [Henry V. and Charles VI.] kept distinct courts. That of Henry was by far the most splendidly equipped and numerously attended of the two. He was the rising sun, and all men looked to him. All offices of trust and profit were at his disposal, and the nobles and gentlemen of France flocked into his ante-chambers."

A. J. Church, Henry the Fifth, chapter 15.

ALSO IN: E. de Monstrelet, Chronicles (Johnes' translation), volume 1, book 1, chapters 171-264.

J. Michelet, History of France, book 9, chapters 2-3.

FRANCE: A. D. 1422. Accession of King Charles VII.

{1176}

FRANCE: A. D. 1429-1431. The Mission of the Maid.

"France divided—two kings, two regencies, two armies, two governments, two nations, two nobilities, two systems of justice—met face to face: father, son, mother, uncles, nephews, citizens, and strangers, fought for the right, the soil, the throne, the cities, the spoil and the blood of the nation. The King of England died at Vincennes [August 31, 1422], and was shortly followed [October 22] by Charles VI., father of the twelve children of Isabel, leaving the kingdom to the stranger and to ruin. The Duke of Bedford insolently took possession of the Regency in the name of England, pursued the handful of nobles who wished to remain French with the dauphin, defeated them at the battle of Verneuil [August 17, 1424], and exiled the queen, who had become a burden to the government after having been an instrument of usurpation. He then concentrated the armies of England, France and Burgundy round Orleans, which was defended by some thousands of the partisans of the dauphin, and which comprised almost all that remained of the kingdom of France. The land was everywhere ravaged by the passing and repassing of these bands—sometimes friends, sometimes enemies—driving each other on, wave after wave, like the billows of the Atlantic; ravaging crops, burning towns, dispersing, robbing, and ill-treating the population. In this disorganization of the country, the young dauphin, sometimes awakened by the complaints of his people, at others absorbed in the pleasures natural to his age, was making love to Agnes Sorel in the castle of Loches. … Such was the state of the nation when Providence showed it a savior in a child." The child was Jeanne D'Arc, or Joan of Arc, better known in history as the Maid of Orleans,—daughter of a peasant who tilled his own few acres at the village of Domrémy, in Upper Lorraine. Of the visions of the pious young maiden—of the voices she heard—of the conviction which came upon her that she was called by God to deliver her country—and of the enthusiasm of faith with which she went about her mission until all people bent to her as the messenger and minister of God—the story is a familiar one to all. In April, 1429, Joan was sent by the king, from Blois, with 10,000 or 12,000 men, to the succour of Orleans, where Dunois, the Bastard of Orleans, was in command. She reformed the army, purged it of all vile followers, and raised its confidence to that frenzied pitch which nothing can resist. On the 8th of May the English abandoned the siege and Orleans was saved. "Joan wasted no time in vain triumphs. She brought back the victorious army to the dauphin, to assist him in reconquering city after city of his kingdom. The dauphin and the queens received her as the messenger of God, who had found and recovered the lost keys of the kingdom. 'I have only another year,' she remarked, with a sad presentiment, which seemed to indicate that her victory led to the scaffold; 'I must therefore set to work at once.' She begged the dauphin to go and be crowned at Rheims, although that city and the intermediate provinces were still in the power of the Burgundians, Flemings, and English." Counsellors and generals opposed; but the sublime faith of the Maid overcame all opposition and all difficulties. The king's route to Rheims was rapidly cleared of his enemies. At Patay (June 18, 1429) the English suffered a heavy defeat and their famous soldier, Lord Talbot, was taken prisoner. Troyes, Chalons and Rheims opened their gates. "The Duke of Bedford, the regent, remained trembling in Paris. 'All our misfortunes,' he wrote to the Cardinal of Winchester, 'are owing to a young witch, who, by her sorcery, has restored the courage of the French.' … The king was crowned [July 17, 1429], and Joan's mission was accomplished. 'Noble king,' said she, embracing his knees in the Cathedral after the coronation, 'now is accomplished the will of God, which commanded me to bring you to this city of Rheims to receive your holy unction—now that you at last are king, and that the kingdom of France is yours.' … From that moment a great depression, and a fatal hesitation seem to have come over her. The king, the people, and the army, to whom she had given victory, wished her to remain always their prophetess, their guide, and their enduring miracle. But she was now only a weak woman, lost amid courts and camps, and she felt her weakness beneath her armor. Her heart alone remained courageous, but had ceased to be inspired." She urged an attack on Paris (Sept. 8, 1429) and experienced her first failure, being grievously wounded in the assault. The following spring, Compiègne being besieged, she entered the town to take part in the defence. The same evening (May 24, 1430) she led a sortie which was repulsed, and she was taken prisoner in the retreat. Some think she was betrayed by the commandant of the town, who ordered the raising of the drawbridge just as her horse was being spurred upon it. Once in the hands of her enemies, the doom of the unfortunate Maid was sealed. Sir Lionel de Ligny, her captor, gave his prisoner to the count of Luxembourg, who yielded her to the Duke of Burgundy, who surrendered her to the English, who delivered her to the Inquisition, by which she was tried, condemned and burned to death, at Rouen, as a witch (May 30, 1431). "It was a complex crime, in which each party got rid of responsibility, but in which the accusation rests with Paris [the University of Paris was foremost among the pursuers of the wonderful Maid], the cowardice with Luxembourg, the sentence with the Inquisition, the blame and punishment with England, and the disgrace and ingratitude with France. This bartering about Joan by her enemies, of whom the fiercest were her countrymen, had lasted six months. … During these six months, the influence of this goddess of war upon the troops of Charles VII.—her spirit, which still guided the camp and council of the king—the patriotic, though superstitious, veneration of the people, which her captivity only doubled,—and, lastly, the absence of the Duke of Burgundy, … all these causes had brought reverse after reverse upon the English, and a series of successes to Charles VII. Joan, although absent, triumphed everywhere."

A. de Lamartine, Memoirs of Celebrated Characters: Joan of Arc.

"It seems natural to ask what steps the King of France had taken … to avert her doom. If ever there had been a sovereign indebted to a subject, that sovereign was Charles VII., that subject Joan of Arc. … Yet, no sooner was she captive than she seems forgotten. We hear nothing of any attempt at rescue, of any proposal for ransom; neither the most common protest against her trial, nor the faintest threat of reprisals; nay, not even after her death, one single expression of regret! Charles continued to slumber in his delicious retreats beyond the Loire, engrossed by dames of a very different character from Joan's, and careless of the heroine to whom his security in that indolence was due. Her memory on the other hand was long endeared to the French people, and long did they continue to cherish a romantic hope that she might still survive. {1177} So strong was this feeling, that in the year 1436 advantage was taken of it by a female imposter, who pretended to be Joan of Arc escaped from her captivity. She fixed her abode at Metz, and soon afterwards married a knight of good family, the Sire des Armoises. Strange to say, it appears from a contemporary chronicle, that Joan's two surviving brothers acknowledged this woman as their sister. Stranger still, other records prove that she made two visits to Orleans, one before and one after her marriage, and on each occasion was hailed as the heroine returned. … The brothers of Joan of Arc might possibly have hopes of profit by the fraud; but how the people of Orleans, who had seen her so closely, who had fought side by side with her in the siege, could be deceived as to the person, we cannot understand, nor yet what motive they could have in deceiving. The interest which Joan of Arc inspires at the present day extends even to the house where she dwelt, and to the family from which she sprung. Her father died of grief at the tidings of her execution; her mother long survived it, but fell into great distress. Twenty years afterwards we find her in receipt of a pension from the city of Orleans; three francs a month; 'to help her to live.' Joan's brothers and their issue took, the name of Du Lis from the Lily of France, which the King had assigned as their arms. … It will be easy to trace the true character of Joan. … Nowhere do modern annals display a character more pure—more generous—more humble amidst fancied visions and undoubted victories—more free from all taint of selfishness—more akin to the champions and martyrs of old times. All this is no more than justice and love of truth would require us to say. But when we find some French historians, transported by an enthusiasm almost equal to that of Joan herself, represent her us filling the part of a general or statesman—as skilful in leading armies, or directing councils—we must withhold our faith. Such skill, indeed, from a country girl, without either education or experience, would be, had she really possessed it, scarcely less supernatural than the visions which she claimed. But the facts are far otherwise. In affairs of state, Joan's voice was never heard; in affairs of war, all her proposals will be found to resolve themselves into two—either to rush headlong upon the enemy, often in the very point where he was strongest, or to offer frequent and public prayers to the Almighty. We are not aware of any single instance in which her military suggestions were not these, or nearly akin to these. … Of Joan's person no authentic resemblance now remains. A statue to her memory had been raised upon the bridge at Orleans, at the sole charge … of the matrons and maids of that city: this probably preserved some degree of likeness, but unfortunately perished in the religious wars of the sixteenth century. There is no portrait extant; the two earliest engravings are of 1606 and 1612, and they greatly differ."

Lord Mahon, Historical Essays, pages 53-57.

"A few days before her death, when urged to resume her woman's dress, she said: 'When I shall have accomplished that for which I was sent from God, I will take the dress of a woman.' Yet, in one sense her mission did end at Rheims. The faith of the people still followed her, but her enemies—not the English, but those in the heart of the court of Charles—began to be too powerful for her. We may, indeed, conceive what a hoard of envy and malice was gathering in the hearts of those hardened politicians at seeing themselves superseded by a peasant girl. They, accustomed to dark and tortuous ways, could not comprehend or coalesce with the divine simplicity of her designs and means. A successful intrigue was formed against her. It was resolved to keep her still in the camp as a name and a figure, but to take from her all power, all voice in the direction of affairs. So accordingly it was done. … Her ways and habits during the year she was in arms are attested by a multitude of witnesses. Dunois and the Duke of Alençon bear testimony to what they term her extraordinary talents for war, and to her perfect fearlessness in action; but in all other things she was the most simple of creatures. She wept when she first saw men slain in battle, to think that they should have died without confession. She wept at the abominable epithets which the English heaped upon her; but she was without a trace of vindictiveness. 'Ah, Glacidas, Glacidas!' she said to Sir William Glasdale at Orleans, 'you have called me foul names; but I have pity upon your soul and the souls of your men. Surrender to the King of Heaven!' And she was once seen, resting the head of a wounded Englishman on her lap, comforting and consoling him. In her diet she was abstemious in the extreme, rarely eating until evening, and then for the most part, only of bread and water sometimes mixed with wine. In the field she slept in her armour, but when she came into a city she always sought out some honourable matron, under whose protection she placed herself; and there is wonderful evidence of the atmosphere of purity which she diffused around her, her very presence banishing from men's hearts all evil thoughts and wishes. Her conversation, when it was not of the war, was entirely of religion. She confessed often, and received communion twice in the week. 'And it was her custom,' says Dunois, 'at twilight every day, to retire to the church and make the bells be rung for half an hour, and she gathered the mendicant religious who followed the King's army, and made them sing an antiphon of the Blessed Mother of God.' From presumption, as from superstition, she was entirely free. When women brought her crosses and chaplets to bless, she said: 'How can I bless them? Your own blessing would be as good as mine.'"

J. O'Hagan, Joan of Arc, pages 61-66.

"What is to be thought of her? What is to be thought of the poor shepherd girl from the hills and forests of Lorraine, that—like the Hebrew shepherd boy from the hills and forests of Judea—rose suddenly out of the quiet, out of the safety, out of the religious inspiration, rooted in deep pastoral solitudes, to a station in the van of armies, and to the more perilous station at the right hand of kings? The Hebrew boy inaugurated his patriotic mission by an act, by a victorious act, such as no man could deny. But so did the girl of Lorraine, if we read her story as it was read by those who saw her nearest. Adverse armies bore witness to the boy as no pretender; but so they did to the gentle girl. Judged by the voices of all who saw them from a station of good-will, both were found true and loyal to any promises involved in their first acts. Enemies it was that made the difference between their subsequent fortunes. {1178} The boy rose to a splendour, and a noonday prosperity, both personal and public, that rang through the records of his people, and became a by-word amongst his posterity for a thousand years, until the sceptre was departing from Judah. The poor, forsaken girl, on the contrary, drank not herself from that cup of rest which she had secured for France. … This pure creature—pure from every suspicion of even a visionary self-interest, even as she was pure in senses more obvious—never once did this holy child, as regarded herself, relax from her belief in the darkness that was travelling to meet her. She might not prefigure the very manner of her death; she saw not in vision, perhaps, the aerial altitude of the fiery scaffold, the spectators without end on every road pouring into Rouen as to a coronation, the surging smoke, the volleying flames, the hostile faces all around, the pitying eye that lurked but here and there, until nature and imperishable truth broke loose from artificial restraints;—these might not be apparent through the mists of the hurrying future. But the voice that called her to death, that she heard for ever."

T. De Quincey, Joan of Arc (Collected Writings, volume 5).

A discussion of doubts that have been raised concerning the death of Joan at the stake will be found in

Octave Delepierre's Historical Difficulties and Contested Events, chapter 8.

ALSO IN: J. Michelet, History of France, book 10.

E. de Monstrelet, Chronicles (Johnes' translation), book 2, chapters 57-105.

H. Parr, Life and Death of Joan of Arc.

J. Tuckey, Joan of Arc.

Mrs. A. E. Bray, Joan of Arc.

FRANCE: A. D. 1431-1453. The English expelled.

"In Joan of Arc the English certainly destroyed the cause of their late reverses. But the impulse had been given, and the crime of base vengeance could not stay it. Fortune declared every where and in every way against them. In vain was Henry VI. brought to Paris, crowned at Notre Dame, and made to exercise all the functions of royalty in court and parliament. The duke of Burgundy, disgusted with the English, became at last reconciled to Charles; who spared no sacrifice to win the support of so powerful a subject. The amplest possible amends were made for the murder of the late duke. The towns beyond the Somme were ceded to Burgundy, and the reigning duke [but not his successors] was exempted from all homage towards the king of France. Such was the famous treaty of Arras [September 21, 1435], which restored to Charles his throne, and deprived the English of all hopes of retaining their conquests in the kingdom. The crimes and misrule of the Orleans faction were forgotten; popularity ebbed in favour of Charles. … One of the gates of Paris was betrayed by the citizens to the constable and Dunois [April, 1436]. Willoughby, the governor, was obliged to shut himself up in the Bastile with his garrison, from whence they retired to Rouen. Charles VII. entered his capital, after twenty years' exclusion from it, in November, 1437. Thenceforward the war lost its serious character. Charles was gradually established on his throne, and the struggle between the two nations was feebly carried on, broken merely by a few sieges and enterprises, mostly to the disadvantage of the English. … There had been frequent endeavours and conferences towards a peace between the French and English. The demands on either side proved irreconcilable. A truce was however concluded, in 1444, which lasted four years; it was sealed by the marriage of Henry VI. with Margaret of Anjou, daughter of Réné, and granddaughter of Louis, who had perished while leading an army to the conquest of Naples. … In 1449 the truce was allowed to expire. The quarrels of York and Lancaster had commenced, and England was unable to defend her foreign possessions. Normandy was invaded. The gallant Talbot could not preserve Rouen with a disaffected population, and Charles recovered without loss of blood [1449] the second capital of his dominions. The only blow struck by the English for the preservation of Normandy was at Fourmigny near Bayeux. … Normandy was for ever lost to the English after this action or skirmish. The following year Guyenne was invaded by the count de Dunois. He met with no resistance. The great towns at that day had grown wealthy, and their maxim was to avoid a siege at all hazards." Lord Talbot was killed in an engagement at Castillon (1450), and "with that hero expired the last hopes of his country in regard to France. Guyenne was lost [A. D. 1453] as well as Normandy, and Calais remained to England the only fruit of so much blood spilt and so many victories achieved."

E. E. Crowe, History of France, volume 1, chapter 4.

ALSO IN: J. Michelet, History of France, book 11.

E. de Monstrelet, Chronicles (Johnes' translation), book 2, chapter 109, book 3, chapter 65.

See, also, AQUITAINE: A. D. 1360-1453.

FRANCE: A. D. 1438. Pragmatic Sanction of Charles VII. Reforming decrees of the Council of Basel adopted for the Gallican church.

After the rupture between the reforming Council of Basel and Pope Eugenius IV. (see PAPACY: A. D. 1431-1448), Charles VII. of France "determined to adopt in his own kingdom such of the decrees of the Council as were for his advantage, seeing that no opposition could be made by the Pope. Accordingly a Synod was summoned at Bourges on May 1, 1438. The embassadors of Pope and Council urged their respective causes. It was agreed that the King should write to Pope and Council to stay their hands in proceeding against one another; meanwhile, that the reformation be not lost, some of the Basel decrees should be maintained in France by royal authority. The results of the synod's deliberation were laid before the King, and on July 7 were made binding as a pragmatic sanction on the French Church. The Pragmatic Sanction enacted that General Councils were to be held every ten years, and recognised the authority of the Council of Basel. The Pope was no longer to reserve any of the greater ecclesiastical appointments, but elections were to be duly made by the rightful patrons. Grants to benefices in expectancy, 'whence all agree that many evils arise,' were to cease, as well as reservations. In all cathedral churches, one prebend was to be given to a theologian who had studied for ten years in a university, and who was to lecture or preach at least once a week. Benefices were to be conferred in future, one-third on graduates, two-thirds on deserving clergy. Appeals to Rome, except for important causes, were forbidden. The number of Cardinals was to be 24, each of the age of 30 at least. Annates and first-fruits were no longer to be paid to the Pope, but only the necessary legal fees on institution. Regulations were made for greater reverence in the conduct of Divine service; prayers were to be said by the priest in an audible voice; mummeries in churches were forbidden, and clerical concubinage was to be punished by suspension for three months. Such were the chief reforms of its own special grievances, which France wished to establish. It was the first step in the assertion of the rights of national Churches to arrange for themselves the details of their own ecclesiastical organisation."

M. Creighton, History of the Papacy during the Period of the Reformation, book 3, chapter 9 (volume 2).

{1179}

FRANCE: A. D. 1447. Origin of the claims of the house of Orleans to the duchy of Milan.

See MILAN: A. D. 1447-1454.

FRANCE: A. D. 1453-1461. The reconstructed kingdom. The new plant of Absolutism.

"At the expulsion of the English, France emerged from the chaos with an altered character and new features of government. The royal authority and supreme jurisdiction of the parliament were universally recognised. Yet there was a tendency towards insubordination left among the great nobility, arising in part from the remains of old feudal privileges, but still more from that lax administration which, in the convulsive struggles of the war, had been suffered to prevail. In the south were some considerable vassals, the houses of Foix, Albret, and Armagnac, who, on account of their distance from the seat of empire, had always maintained a very independent conduct. The dukes of Britany and Burgundy were of a more formidable character, and might rather be ranked among foreign powers than privileged subjects. The princes, too, of the royal blood, who, during the late reign, had learned to partake or contend for the management, were ill-inclined towards Charles VII., himself jealous, from old recollections of their ascendancy. They saw that the constitution was verging rapidly towards an absolute monarchy, from the direction of which they would studiously be excluded. This apprehension gave rise to several attempts at rebellion during the reign of Charles VII., and to the war, commonly entitled, for the Public Weal ('du bien public'), under Louis XI. Among the pretenses alleged by the revolters in each of these, the injuries of the people were not forgotten; but from the people they received small support. Weary of civil dissension, and anxious for a strong government to secure them from depredation, the French had no inducement to intrust even their real grievances to a few malcontent princes, whose regard for the common good they had much reason to distrust. Every circumstance favoured Charles VII. and his son in the attainment of arbitrary power. The country was pillaged by military ruffians. Some of these had been led by the dauphin to a war in Germany, but the remainder still infested the high roads and villages. Charles established his companies of ordonnance, the basis of the French regular army, in order to protect the country from such depredators. They consisted of about nine thousand soldiers, all cavalry, of whom fifteen hundred were heavy-armed; a force not very considerable, but the first, except mere body-guards, which had been raised in any part of Europe as a national standing army. These troops were paid out of the produce of a permanent tax, called the taille; an innovation still more important than the former. But the present benefit cheating the people, now prone to submissive habits, little or no opposition was made, except in Guienne, the inhabitants of which had speedy reason to regret the mild government of England, and vainly endeavoured to return to its protection. It was not long before the new despotism exhibited itself in its harshest character. Louis XI., son of Charles VII., who during his father's reign, had been connected with the discontented princes, came to the throne greatly endowed with those virtues and vices which conspire to the success of a king."

H. Hallam, The Middle Ages, chapter 1, part 2.

FRANCE: A. D. 1458-1461. Renewed submission of Genoa to the King, and renewed revolt.

See GENOA: A. D. 1458-1464.

FRANCE: A. D. 1461. Accession of King Louis XI. Contemporary portrait of him by Commines.

"Of all the princes that I ever knew, the wisest and most dexterous to extricate himself out of any danger or difficulty in time of adversity, was our master King Louis XI. He was the humblest in his conversation and habit, and the most painful and indefatigable to win over any man to his side that he thought capable of doing him either mischief or service: though he was often refused, he would never give over a man that he wished to gain, but still pressed and continued his insinuations, promising him largely, and presenting him with such sums and honours as he knew would gratify his ambition; and for such as he had discarded in time of peace and prosperity, he paid dear (when he had occasion for them) to recover them again; but when he had once reconciled them, he retained no enmity towards them for what had passed, but employed them freely for the future. He was naturally kind and indulgent to persons of mean estate, and hostile to all great men who had no need of him. Never prince was so conversable, nor so inquisitive as he, for his desire was to know everybody he could; and indeed he knew all persons of any authority or worth in England, Spain, Portugal and Italy, in the territories of the Dukes of Burgundy and Bretagne, and among his own subjects; and by those qualities he preserved the crown upon his head, which was in much danger by the enemies he had created to himself upon his accession to the throne. But above all, his great bounty and liberality did him the greatest service: and yet, as he behaved himself wisely in time of distress, so when he thought himself a little out of danger, though it were but by a truce, he would disoblige the servants and officers of his court by mean and petty ways, which were little to his advantage; and as for peace, he could hardly endure the thoughts of it. He spoke slightingly of most people, and rather before their faces, than behind their backs, unless he was afraid of them, and of that sort there were a great many, for he was naturally somewhat timorous. When he had done himself any prejudice by his talk, or was apprehensive he should do so, and wished to make amends, he would say to the person whom he had disobliged, 'I am sensible my tongue has done me a great deal of mischief; but, on the other hand, it has sometimes done me much good; however, it is but reason I should make some reparation for the injury.' And he never used this kind of apologies to any person, but he granted some favour to the person to whom he made it, and it was always of considerable amount. It is certainly a great blessing from God upon any prince to have experienced adversity as well as prosperity, good as well as evil, and especially if the good outweighs the evil, as it did in the king our master. {1180} I am of opinion that the troubles he was involved in, in his youth, when he fled from his father, and resided six years together with Philip Duke of Burgundy, were of great service to him; for there he learned to be complaisant to such as he had occasion to use, which was no slight advantage of adversity. As soon as he found himself a powerful and crowned king, his mind was wholly bent upon revenge; but he quickly found the inconvenience of this, repented by degrees of his indiscretion, and made sufficient reparation for his folly and error, by regaining those he had injured, as shall be related hereafter. Besides, I am very confident that if his education had not been different from the usual education of such nobles as I have seen in France, he could not so easily have worked himself out of his troubles; for they are brought up to nothing but to make themselves ridiculous, both in their clothes and discourse; they have no knowledge of letters; no wise man is suffered to come near them, to improve their understandings; they have governors who manage their business, but they do nothing themselves."—Such is the account of Louis XI. which Philip de Commines gives in one of the early chapters of his delightful Memoirs. In a later chapter he tells naively of the king's suspicions and fears, and of what he suffered, at the end of his life, as the penalty of his cruel and crafty dealings with his subjects: "Some five or six months before his death, he began to suspect everybody, especially those who were most capable and deserving of the administration of affairs. He was afraid of his son, and caused him to be kept close, so that no man saw or discoursed with him, but by his special command. At last he grew suspicious of his daughter, and of his son-in-law the Duke of Bourbon, and required an account of what persons came to speak with them at Plessis, and broke up a council which the Duke of Bourbon was holding there, by his order. … Behold, then, if he had caused many to live under him in continual fear and apprehension, whether it was not returned to him again; for of whom could he be secure when he was afraid of his son-in-law, his daughter, and his own son? I speak this not only of him, but of all other princes who desire to be feared, that vengeance never falls on them till they grow old, and then, as a just penance, they are afraid of everybody themselves; and what grief must it have been to this poor King to be tormented with such terrors and passions? He was still attended by his physician, Master James Coctier, to whom in five months' time he had given fifty-four thousand crowns in ready money, besides the bishopric of Amiens for his nephew, and other great offices and estates for himself and his friends; yet this doctor used him very roughly indeed; one would not have given such outrageous language to one's servants as he gave the King, who stood in such awe of him, that he durst not forbid him his presence. It is true he complained of his impudence afterwards, but he durst not change him as he had done all the rest of his servants; because he had told him after a most audacious manner one day, 'I know well that some time or other you will dismiss me from court, as you have done the rest; but be sure (and he confirmed it with a great oath) you shall not live eight days after it'; with which expression the King was so terrified, that ever after he did nothing but flatter and bribe him, which must needs have been a great mortification to a prince who had been humbly obeyed all his life by so many good and brave men. The King had ordered several cruel prisons to be made; some were cages of iron, and some of wood, but all were covered with iron plates both within and without, with terrible locks, about eight feet wide and seven high; the first contriver of them was the Bishop of Verdun, who was immediately put in the first of them that was made, where he continued fourteen years. Many bitter curses he has had since for his invention, and some from me as I lay in one of them eight months together in the minority of our present King. He also ordered heavy and terrible fetters to be made in Germany, and particularly a certain ring for the feet, which was extremely hard to be opened, and fitted like an iron collar, with a thick weighty chain, and a great globe of iron at the end of it, most unreasonably heavy, which engines were called the King's Nets. … As in his time this barbarous variety of prisons was invented, so before he died he himself was in greater torment, and more terrible apprehension than those whom he had imprisoned; which I look upon as a great mercy towards him, and as it part of his purgatory; and I have mentioned it here to show that there is no person, of what station or dignity soever, but suffers some time or other, either publicly or privately, especially if he has caused other people to suffer. The King, towards the latter end of his days, caused his castle of Plessis-les-Tours to be encompassed with great bars of iron in the form of thick grating, and at the four corners of the house four sparrow-nests of iron, strong, massy, and thick, were built. The grates were without the wall on the other side of the ditch, and sank to the bottom. Several spikes of iron were fastened into the wall, set as thick by one another as was possible, and each furnished with three or four points. He likewise placed ten bow-men in the ditches, to shoot at any man that durst approach the castle before the opening of the gates; and he ordered they should lie in the ditches, but retire to the sparrow-nests upon occasion. He was sensible enough that this fortification was too weak to keep out an army, or any great body of men, but he had no fear of such an attack; his great apprehension was, that some of the nobility of his kingdom, having intelligence within, might attempt to make themselves masters of the castle by night. … Is it possible then to keep a prince (with any regard to his quality) in a closer prison than he kept himself? The cages which were made for other people were about eight feet square; and he (though so great a monarch) had but a small court of the castle to walk in, and seldom made use of that, but generally kept himself in the gallery, out of which he went into the chambers on his way to mass, but never passed through the court. … I have not recorded these things merely to represent our master as a suspicious and mistrustful prince; but to show, that by the patience which he expressed in his sufferings (like those which he inflicted on other people), they may be looked upon, in my judgment, as a punishment which our Lord inflicted upon him in this world, in order to deal more mercifully with him in the next, as well in regard to those things before-mentioned as to the distempers of his body, which were great and painful, and much dreaded by him before they came upon him; and, likewise, that those princes who may be his successors, may learn by his example to be more tender and indulgent to their subjects, and less severe in their punishments than our master had been: although I will not censure him, or say I ever saw a better prince; for though he oppressed his subjects himself he would never see them injured by anybody else."

Philip de Commines, Memoirs, book 1, chapter 10, and book 6, chapter 11.

{1181}

FRANCE: A. D. 1461-1468. The character and reign of Louis XI. The League of the Public Weal.

"Except St. Louis, he [Louis XI.] was the first, as, indeed (with the solitary exception of Louis Philippe), he is still the only king of France whose mind was ever prepared for the duties of that high station by any course of severe and systematic study. Before he ascended the throne of his ancestors he had profoundly meditated the great Italian authors, and the institutions and maxims of the Italian republics. From those lessons he had derived a low esteem of his fellowmen, and especially of those among them upon whom wealth, and rank, and power had descended as an hereditary birthright. … He clearly understood, and pursued with inflexible steadfastness of purpose the elevation of his country and the grandeur of his own royal house and lineage; but he pursued them with a torpid imagination, a cold heart, and a ruthless will. He regarded mankind as a physiologist contemplates the living subjects of his science, or as a chess-player surveys the pieces on his board. … It has been said of Louis XI., that the appearance of the men of the Revolution of 1789 first made him intelligible. … Louis was the first of the terrible Ideologists of France—of that class of men who, to enthrone an idolized idea, will offer whole hecatombs of human sacrifices at the shrine of their idol. The Idea of Louis was that of levelling all powers in the state, in order that the administration of the affairs, the possession of the wealth, and the enjoyment of the honours of his kingdom might be grasped by himself and his successors as their solitary and unrivalled dominion. … Before his accession to the throne, all the great fiefs into which France had been divided under the earlier Capetian kings had, with the exception of Bretagne, been either annexed to the royal domain, or reduced to a state of dependence on the crown. But, under the name of Apanages, these ancient divisions of the kingdom into separate principalities had reappeared. The territorial feudalism of the Middle Ages seemed to be reviving in the persons of the younger branches of the royal house. The Dukes of Burgundy had thus become the rulers of a state [see BURGUNDY: A. D. 1467] which, under the government of more politic princes, might readily, in fulfillment of their desires, have attained the rank of an independent kingdom. The Duke of Bretagne, still asserting the peculiar privileges of his duchy, was rather an ally than a subject of the king of France. Charles, Duke of Berri, the brother of Louis, aspired to the possession of the same advantages. And these three great territorial potentates, in alliance with the Duc de Bourbon and the Comte de St. Pol, the brothers-in-law of Louis and of his queen, united together to form that confederacy against him to which they gave the very inappropriate title of La Ligue du Bien Public. It was, however, a title which recognized the growing strength of the Tiers Étât, and of that public opinion to which the Tiers Étât at once gave utterance and imparted authority. Selfish ambition was thus compelled to assume the mask of patriotism. The princes veiled their insatiable appetite for their own personal advantages under the popular and plausible demands of administrative reforms—of the reduction of imposts—of the government of the people by their representatives—and, consequently, of the convocation of the States-General. To these pretensions Louis was unable to make any effectual resistance." An indecisive but bloody battle was fought at Montlehery, near Paris (July 16, 1465), from which both armies retreated with every appearance of defeat. The capital was besieged ineffectually for some weeks by the League; then the king yielded, or seemed to do so, and the Treaty of Conflans was signed. "He assented, in terms at least, to all the demands of his antagonists. He granted to the Duke of Berri the duchy of Normandy as an apanage transmissible in perpetuity to his male heirs. … The confederates then laid down their arms. The wily monarch bided his time. He had bestowed on them advantages which he well knew would destroy their popularity and so subvert the basis of their power, and which he also knew the state of public opinion would not allow them to retain. To wrest those advantages from their hands, it was only necessary to comply with their last stipulation, and to convene the States-General. They met accordingly, at Tours, on the 6th of April, 1468." As Louis had anticipated—or, rather, as he had planned—the States-General cancelled the grant of Normandy to the Duke of Berri (which the king had been able already to recover possession of, owing to quarrels between the dukes of Berri and Brittany) and, generally, took away from the princes of the League nearly all that they had extorted in the Treaty of Conflans. On the express invitation of the king they appointed a commission to reform abuses in the government—which commission "attempted little and effected nothing"—and, then, having assisted the cunning king to overcome his threatening nobles, the States-General were dissolved, to meet no more while Louis XI. occupied the throne. In a desperate situation he had used the dangerous weapon against his enemies with effect; he was too prudent to draw it from the sheath a second time.

Sir J. Stephen, Lectures on the History of France, lecture 11.

"The career of Louis XI. presents a curious problem. How could a ruler whose morality fell below that of Jonathan Wild yet achieve some of the greatest permanent results of patriotic statesmanship, and be esteemed not only by himself but by so calm an observer as Commines the model of kingly virtue? As to Louis's moral character and principles, or want of principle, not a doubt can be entertained. To say he committed the acts of a villain is to fall far short of the truth. … He possessed a kind of religious belief, but it was a species of religion which a respectable heathen would have scorned. He attempted to bribe heaven, or rather the saints, just as he attempted to win over his Swiss allies—that is, by gifts of money. … Yet this man, who was daunted by no cruelty, and who could be bound by no oath save one, did work which all statesmen must admire, and which French patriots must fervently approve. {1182} He was the creator of modern France. When he came to the throne it seemed more than likely that an utterly selfish and treacherous nobility would tear the country in pieces. The English still threatened to repeat the horrors of their invasions. The House of Burgundy overbalanced the power of the crown, and stimulated lawlessness throughout the whole country. The peasantry were miserably oppressed, and the middle classes could not prosper for want of that rule of law which is the first requisite for civilization. When Louis died, the existence of France and the power of the French crown was secured: 'He had extended the frontiers of his kingdom; Picardy, Provence, Burgundy, Anjou, Maine, Roussillon had been compelled to acknowledge the immediate authority of the crown.' He had crushed the feudal oligarchy; he had seen his most dangerous enemy destroyed by the resistance of the Swiss; he had baffled the attempt to construct a state which would have imperilled the national existence of France; he had put an end to all risk of English invasion; and he left France the most powerful country in Europe. Her internal government was no doubt oppressive, but, at any rate, it secured the rule of law; and his schemes for her benefit were still unfinished. He died regretting that he could not carry out his plans for the reform of the law and for the protection of commerce; and, in the opinion of Commines, if God had granted him the grace of living five or six years more, he would greatly have benefited his realm. He died commending his soul to the intercession of the Virgin, and the last words caught from his lips were: 'Lord, in thee have I trusted; let me never be confounded.' Nor should this be taken as the expression of hopeless self-delusion or gratuitous hypocrisy. In the opinion of Commines, uttered after the king's death, 'he was more wise, more liberal, and more virtuous in all things than any contemporary sovereign.' The expressions of Commines were, it may be said, but the echo of the low moral tone of the age. This, no doubt, is true; but the fact that the age did not condemn acts which, taken alone, seem to argue the utmost depravity, still needs explanation. The matter is the more worthy of consideration because Louis represents, though in an exaggerated form, the vices and virtues of a special body of rulers. He was the incarnation, so to speak, of kingcraft. The word and the idea it represents have now become out of date, but for about two centuries—say, roughly, from the middle of the seventeenth century—the idea of a great king was that of a monarch who ruled by means of cunning, intrigue, and disregard of ordinary moral rules. We here come across the fact which explains both the career and the reputation of Louis and of others, such as Henry VII. of England, who were masters of kingcraft. The universal feeling of the time, shared by subjects no less than by rulers, was that a king was not bound by the rules of morality, and especially by the rules of honesty, which bind other men. Until you realize this fact, nothing is more incomprehensible than the adulation lavished by men such as Bacon or Casaubon on a ruler such as James I. … The real puzzle is to ascertain how this feeling that kings were above the moral law came into existence. The facts of history afford the necessary explanation. When the modern European world was falling into shape the one thing required for national prosperity was the growth of a power which might check the disorders of the feudal nobility, and secure for the mass of the people the blessings of an orderly government. The only power which, in most cases, could achieve this end, was the crown. In England the monarchs put an end to the wars of the nobility. In France the growth of the monarchy secured not only internal quiet, but protection from external invasion. In these and in other cases the interest of the crown and the interest of the people became for a time identical. … Acts which would have seemed villainous when done to promote a purely private interest, became mere devices of statesmanship when performed in the interest of the public. The maxims that the king can do no wrong, and that the safety of the people is the highest law, blended together in the minds of ambitious rulers. The result was the production of men like Louis XI."

A. V. Dicey, Willert's Louis XI. (The Nation, December 7, 1876).

"A careful examination of the reign of Louis the Eleventh has particularly impressed upon me one fact, that the ends for which he toiled and sinned throughout his whole life were attained at last rather by circumstances than by his labours. The supreme object of all his schemes was to crush that most formidable of all his foes, Burgundy. And yet had Charles confined his ambition within reasonable limits, had he possessed an ordinary share of statecraft, and, above all, could he have controlled those fiery passions, which drove him to the verge of madness, he would have won the game quite easily. Louis lacked one of the essential qualities of statecraft—patience; and was wholly destitute of that necessity of ambition—boldness. An irritable restlessness was one of the salient points of his character. His courtiers and attendants were ever intriguing to embroil him in war, 'because,' says Comines, 'the nature of the King was such, that unless he was at war with some foreign prince, he would certainly find some quarrel or other at home with his servants, domestics, or officers, for his mind must be always working.' His mood was ever changing, and he was by turns confiding, suspicious, avaricious, prodigal, audacious, and timid. He frequently nullified his most crafty schemes by impatience for the result. He would sow the seed with the utmost care, but he could not wait for the fructification. In this he was false to the practice of those Italian statesmen who were avowedly his models. It was this irritable restlessness which brought down upon him the hatred of all classes, from the noble to the serf; for we find him at one time cunningly bidding for popularity, and immediately afterwards destroying all he had gained by some rash and inconsiderate act. His extreme timidity hampered the execution of all his plans. He had not even the boldness of the coward who will fight when all the strength is on his own side. Constantly at war, during a reign of twenty-two years there were fought but two battles, Montlehéry and Guingette, both of which, strange to say, were undecided, and both of which were fought against his will and counsel. … He left France larger by one-fourth than he had inherited it; but out of the five provinces which he acquired, Provence was bequeathed him, Roussillon was pawned to him by the usurping King of Navarre, and Burgundy was won for him by the Swiss. His triumphs were much more the result of fortune than the efforts of his own genius."

Louis the Eleventh (Temple Bar, volume 46, pages 523-524).

ALSO IN: J. Michelet, History of France, book 13.

P. F. Willert, The Reign of Louis XI.

J. F. Kirk, History of Charles the Bold, book 1, chapters 4-6.

P. de Commines, Memoirs, book 1.

E. de Monstrelet, Chronicles (Johnes' translation), book 3, chapters 99-153.

{1183}

FRANCE: A. D. 1467-1477. The troubles of Louis XI. with Charles the Bold, of Burgundy. Death of the Duke and Louis' acquisition of Burgundy.

See BURGUNDY: A. D. 1467-1468, to 1477.

FRANCE: A. D. 1483. The kingdom as left by Louis XI.

Louis XI., who died Aug. 30, A. D. 1483, "had joined to the crown Berry, the apanage of his brother, Provence, the duchy of Burgundy, Anjou, Maine, Ponthieu, the counties of Auxerre, of Mâcon, Charolais, the Free County, Artois, Marche, Armagnac, Cerdagne, and Roussilon. … The seven latter provinces did not yet remain irrevocably united with France: one part was given anew in apanage, and the other part restored to foreign sovereigns, and only returned one by one to the crown of France. … The principal work of Louis XI. was the abasement of the second feudality, which had raised itself on the ruins of the first, and which, without him, would have replunged France into anarchy. The chiefs of that feudality were, however, more formidable, since, for the most part, they belonged to the blood royal of France. Their powerful houses, which possessed at the accession of that prince a considerable part of the kingdom, were those of Orleans, Anjou, Burgundy, and Bourbon. They found themselves much weakened at his death, and dispossessed in great part, as we have seen in the history of the reign, by confiscations, treaties, gifts or heritages. By the side of these houses, which issued from that of France, there were others whose power extended still, at this period, in the limits of France proper, over vast domains. Those of Luxembourg and La Mark possessed great wealth upon the frontier of the north; that of Vaudemont had inherited Lorraine and the duchy of Bar; the house of La Tour was powerful in Auvergne; in the south the houses of Foix and Albert ruled, the first in the valley of Ariége, the second between the Adour and the Pyrenees. In the west the house of Brittany had guarded its independence; but the moment approached when this beautiful province was to be forever united with the crown. Lastly, two foreign sovereigns held possessions in France; the Pope had Avignon and the county Venaissin; and the Duke of Savoy possessed, between the Rhone and the Saône, Bugey and Valromey. The time was still distant when the royal authority would be seen freely exercised through every territory comprised in the natural limits of the kingdom. But Louis XI. did much to attain this aim, and after him no princely or vassal house was powerful enough to resist the crown by its own forces, and to put the throne in peril."

E. de Bonnechose, History of France, volume 1, pages 315-318, and foot-note.

FRANCE: A. D. 1483. Accession of King Charles VIII.

FRANCE: A. D. 1485-1487. The League of the Princes.

Charles VIII., son and successor of Louis XI., came to the throne at the age of thirteen, on the death of his father in 1483. His eldest sister, Anne, married to the Lord of Beaujeu, made herself practically regent of the kingdom, by sheer ability and force of character; and ruled during the minority, pursuing the lines of her father's policy. The princes of the blood-royal, with the Dukes of Orleans and Bourbon at their head, formed a league against her. They were supported by many nobles, including Philip de Commines, the Count of Dunois and the Prince of Orange. They also received aid from the Duke of Brittany, and from Maximilian of Austria, who now controlled the Netherlands. Anne's general, La Trémouille, defeated the league in a decisive battle (A. D. 1487) near St. Aubin du Cormier, where the Duke of Orleans, the Prince of Orange, and many nobles and knights were made prisoners. The Duke and the Prince were sent to Anne, who shut them up in strong places, while most of their companions were summarily executed.

E. de Bonnechose, History of France, volume 1, book 3, chapter 3.

ALSO IN: F. P. Guizot, Popular History of France, ch. 26.

FRANCE: A. D. 1491. Brittany, the last of the great fiefs, united to the crown. The end of the Feudal System.

See BRITTANY: A. D. 1491.

FRANCE: A. D. 1492-1515. The reigns of Charles VIII. and Louis XII. Their Italian Expeditions and Wars. The effects on France. Beginning of the Renaissance.

Louis XI. was succeeded by his son, Charles VIII., a boy of thirteen years, whose elder sister Anne governed the kingdom ably until he came of age. She dealt firmly with a rebellion of the nobles and suppressed it. She frustrated an intended marriage of Anne of Brittany with Maximilian of Austria, which would have drawn the last of the great semi-independent fiefs into a dangerous relationship, and she made Charles instead of his rival the husband of the Breton heiress. When Charles, who had little intelligence, assumed the government, he was excited with dreams of making good the pretensions of the Second House of Anjou to the Kingdom of Naples. Those pretensions, which had been bequeathed to Louis XI., and which Charles VIII. had now inherited, had the following origin: "In the eleventh century, Robert Guiscard, of the Norman family of Hauteville, at the head of a band of adventurers, took possession of Sicily and South Italy, then in a state of complete anarchy. Roger, the son of Robert, founded the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies under the Pope's suzerainty. In 1189 the Guiscard family became extinct, whereupon the German Emperor laid claim to the kingdom in right of his wife Constance, daughter of one of the Norman kings. The Roman Pontiffs, dreading such powerful neighbours, were adverse to the arrangement, and in 1254 King Conrad, being succeeded by his son Conradin, still a minor, furnished a pretext for bestowing the crown of the Two Sicilies on Charles d' Anjou, brother of St. Louis. Manfred, guardian of the boy Conradin, and a natural son of the Emperor Frederick II., raised an army against Charles d' Anjou, but was defeated, and fell in the encounter of 1266. Two years later, Prince Conradin was cruelly beheaded in Naples. Before his death, however, he made a will, by which he invested Peter III. of Aragon, son-in-law of Manfred, with full power over the Two Sicilies, exhorting him to avenge his death [see ITALY: A. D. 1250-1268]. {1184} This bequest was the origin of the rivalry between the houses of Aragon and Anjou, a rivalry which developed into open antagonism when the island of Sicily was given up to Peter of Aragon and his descendants, while Charles d' Anjou still held Naples for himself and his heirs [see ITALY: A. D. 1282-1300]. In 1435 Joan II., Queen of Naples, bequeathed her estates to Alfonso V. of Aragon, surnamed the Magnanimous, to the exclusion of Louis III. of Anjou. After a long and bloody struggle, Alfonso succeeded in driving the Anjou dynasty out of Naples [see ITALY: A. D. 1343-1389, and 1386-1414]. Louis III. was the last representative of this once-powerful family. He returned to France, survived his defeat two-and-twenty years, and by his will left all his rights to the Count of Maine, his nephew, who, on his death, transferred them to Louis XI. The wily Louis was not tempted to claim this worthless legacy. His successor, Charles VIII., less matter-of-fact, and more romantic, was beguiled into a series of brilliant, though sterile, expeditions, disastrous to national interests, neglecting the Flemish provinces, the liege vassals of France, and thoroughly French at heart. Charles VIII. put himself at the head of his nobles, made a triumphal entry into Naples and returned without having gained an inch of territory [see ITALY: A. D. 1492-1494, and 1494-1496]. De Commines judges the whole affair a mystery; it was, in fact, one of those dazzling and chivalrous adventures with which the French delighted to astonish Europe. Louis XII., like Charles VIII. [whom he succeeded in 1498], proclaimed his right to Naples, and also to the Duchy of Milan, inherited from his grandmother, Valentine de Visconti. These pretended rights were more than doubtful. The Emperor Wenceslas, on conferring the duchy on the Viscontis, excluded women from the inheritance, and both Louis XI. and Charles VIII. recognised the validity of the Salic law in Milan by concluding an alliance with the Sforzas. The seventeen years of Louis XII.'s reign was absorbed in these Italian wars, in which the French invariably began by victory, and as invariably ended in defeat. The League of Cambrai, the Battles of Agnadel, Ravenna, Novara, the Treaties of Grenada and Blois, are the principal episodes of this unlucky campaign."

C. Coignet, Francis the First and His Times, chapter 3.

See, also, ITALY: A. D. 1499-1500.

"The warriors of France came back from Italy with the wonders of the South on their lips and her treasures in their hands. They brought with them books and paintings, they brought with them armour inlaid with gold and silver, tapestries enriched with precious metals, embroidered clothing, and even household furniture. Distributed by many hands in many different places, each precious thing became a separate centre of initiative power. The châteaux of the country nobles boasted the treasures which had fallen to the share of their lords at Genoa or at Naples; and the great women of the court were eager to divide the spoil. The contagion spread rapidly. Even in the most fantastic moment of Gothic inspiration, the French artist gave evidence that his right hand obeyed a national instinct for order, for balance, for completeness, and that his eye preferred, in obedience to a national predilection, the most refined harmonies of colour. Step by step he had been feeling his way; now, the broken link of tradition was again made fast; the workmen of Paris and the workmen of Athens joined hands, united by the genius of Italy. It must not, however, be supposed that no intercourse had previously existed between France and Italy. The roads by Narbonne and Lyons were worn by many feet. The artists of Tours and Poitiers, the artists of Paris and Dijon, were alike familiar with the path to Rome. But an intercourse, hitherto restricted, was rendered by the wars of Charles VIII. all but universal. … Cruelly as the Italians had suffered at the hands of Charles VIII. they still looked to France for help; they knew that though they had been injured they had not been betrayed. But the weak and generous impulses of Charles VIII. found no place in the councils of his successors. … The doom of Italy was pronounced. Substantially the compact was this. Aided by Borgia, the French were to destroy the free cities of the north, and in return France was to aid Borgia in breaking the power of the independent nobles who yet resisted Papal aggression in the south. In July 1499 the work began. At first the Italians failed to realise what had taken place. When the French army entered the Milanese territory the inhabitants fraternised with the troops, Milan, Genoa, Pavia opened their gates with joy. But in a few months the course of events, in the south, aroused a dread anxiety. There, Borgia, under the protection of the French king, and with the assistance of the French arms, was triumphantly glutting his brutal rage and lust, whilst Frenchmen were forced to look on helpless and indignant. Milan, justly terrified, made an attempt to throw herself on the mercy of her old ruler. To no purpose. Louis went back over the Alps, leaving a strong hand and a strong garrison in Milan, and dragging with him the unfortunate Louis Sforza, a miserable proof of the final destruction of the most brilliant court of Upper Italy. … By the campaign of 1507, the work, thus begun, was consummated. The ancient spirit of independence still lingered in Genoa, and Venice was not yet crushed. There were still fresh laurels to be won. In this Holy War the Pope and the Emperor willingly joined forces with France. … The deathblow was first given to Genoa. She was forced, Marot tells us, 'la corde au coul, la glaive sous la gorge, implorer la clémence de ce prince.' Venice was next traitorously surprised and irreparably injured. Having thus brilliantly achieved the task of first destroying the lettered courts, and next the free cities of Italy, Louis died, bequeathing to François I. the shame of fighting out a hopeless struggle for supremacy against allies who, no longer needing help, had combined to drive the French from the field. There was, indeed, one other duty to be performed. The shattered remains of Italian civilisation might be collected, and Paris might receive the men whom Italy could no longer employ. The French returned to France empty of honour, gorged with plunder, satiated with rape and rapine, boasting of cities sacked, and garrisons put to the sword. They had sucked the lifeblood of Italy, but her death brought new life to France. The impetus thus acquired by art and letters coincided with a change in political and social constitutions. The gradual process of centralisation which had begun with Louis XI. transformed the life of the whole nation. … The royal court began to take proportions hitherto unknown. {1185} It gradually became a centre which gathered together the rich, the learned, and the skilled. Artists, who had previously been limited in training, isolated in life, and narrowed in activity by the rigid conservative action of the great guilds and corporations, were thus brought into immediate contact with the best culture of their day. For the Humanists did not form a class apart, and their example incited those with whom they lived to effort after attainments as varied as their own, whilst the Court made a rallying point for all, which gave a sense of countenance and protection even to those who might never hope to enter it. … Emancipation of the individual is the watchword of the sixteenth century; to the artist it brought relief from the trammels of a caste thraldom, and the ceaseless efforts of the Humanists find an answer even in the new forms seen slowly breaking through the sheath of Gothic art."

Mrs. Mark Pattison, The Renaissance of Art in France, volume 1, chapter 1.

FRANCE: 16th Century. Renaissance and Reformation.

"The first point of difference to be noted between the Renaissance in France and the Renaissance in Italy is one of time. Roughly speaking it may be said that France was a hundred years behind Italy. … But if the French Renaissance was a later and less rapid growth, it was infinitely hardier. The Renaissance literature in Italy was succeeded by a long period of darkness, which remained unbroken, save by fitful gleams of light, till the days of Alfieri. The Renaissance literature in France was the prelude to a literature, which, for vigour, variety, and average excellence, has in modern times rarely, if ever, been surpassed. The reason for this superiority on the part of France, for the fact that the Renaissance produced there more abiding and more far-reaching results, may be ascribed partly to the natural law that precocious and rapid growths are always less hardy than later and more gradual ones, partly to the character of the French nation, to its being at once more intellectual and less imaginative than the Italian, and therefore more influenced by the spirit of free inquiry than by the worship of beauty; partly to the greater unity and vitality of its political life, but in a large measure to the fact that in France the Renaissance came hand in hand with the Reformation. … We must look upon the Reformation as but a fresh development of the Renaissance movement, as the result of the spirit of free inquiry carried into theology, as a revolt against the authority of the Roman Church. Now the Renaissance in Italy preceded the Reformation by more than a century. There is no trace in it of any desire to criticise the received theology. … In France on the other hand the new learning and the new religion, Greek and heresy, became almost controvertible terms. Lefèvre d' Étaples, the doyen of French humanists, translated the New Testament into French in 1524: the Estiennes, the Hebrew scholar François Vatable, Turnèbe, Ramus, the great surgeon Ambroise Paré, the artists Bernard Palissy and Jean Goujon were all avowed protestants; while Clement Marot, Budé, and above all Rabelais, for a time at least, looked on the reformation with more or less favour. In fact so long as the movement appeared to them merely as a revolt against the narrowness and illiberality of monastic theology, as an assertion of the freedom of the human intellect, the men of letters and culture with hardly an exception joined hands with the reformers. It was only when they found that it implied a moral as well as an intellectual regeneration, that it began to wear for some of them a less congenial aspect. This close connexion between the Reformation and the revival of learning was, on the whole, a great gain to France. It was not as in Germany, where the stronger growth of the Reformation completely choked the other. In France they met on almost equal terms, and the result was that the whole movement was thereby strengthened and elevated both intellectually and morally. … French humanism can boast of a long roll of names honourable not only for their high attainments, but also for their integrity and purity of life. Robert Estienne, Turnèbe, Ramus, Cujas, the Chancellor de l'Hôpital, Estienne Pasquier, Thou, are men whom any country would be proud to claim for her sons. And as with the humanists, so it was with the Renaissance generally in France. On the whole it was a manly and intelligent movement. … The literature of the French Renaissance, though in point of form it is far below that of the Italian Renaissance, in manliness and vigour and hopefulness is far superior to it. It is in short a literature, not of maturity, but of promise. One has only to compare its greatest name, Rabelais, with the greatest name of the Italian Renaissance, Ariosto, to see the difference. How formless! how crude! how gross! how full of cumbersome details and wearisome repetitions is Rabelais! How limpid! how harmonious is Ariosto! what perfection of style, what delicacy of touch! He never wearies us, he never offends our taste. And yet one rises from the reading of Rabelais with a feeling of buoyant cheerfulness, while Ariosto in spite of his wit and gaiety is inexpressibly depressing. The reason is that the one bids us hope, the other bids us despair; the one believes in truth and goodness and in the future of the human race, the other believes in nothing but the pleasures of the senses, which come and go like many-coloured bubbles and leave behind them a boundless ennui. Rabelais and Ariosto are true types of the Renaissance as it appeared in their respective countries."

A. Tilley, The Literature of the French Renaissance, chapter 2.

FRANCE: A. D. 1501-1504. Treaty of Louis XII. with Ferdinand of Aragon for the partition of Naples. French and Spanish conquest. Quarrel of the confederates, and war. The Spaniards in possession of the Neapolitan domain.

See ITALY: A. D. 1501-1504.

FRANCE: A. D. 1504. Norman and Breton fishermen on the Newfoundland banks.

See NEWFOUNDLAND: A. D. 1501-1578.

FRANCE: A. D. 1504-1506. The treaties of Blois, with Ferdinand and Maximilian, and the abrogation of them. Relinquishment of claims on Naples.

See ITALY: A. D. 1504-1506.

FRANCE: A. D. 1507. Revolt and subjugation of Genoa.

See GENOA: A. D. 1500-1507.

FRANCE: A. D. 1508-1509. The League of Cambrai against Venice.

See VENICE: A. D. 1508-1509.

FRANCE: A. D. 1510-1513. The breaking up of the League of Cambrai. The Holy League formed by Pope Julius II. against Louis XII. The French expelled from Milan and all Italy.

See ITALY: A. D. 1510-1513.

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FRANCE: A. D. 1513-1515. English invasion under Henry VIII. The Battle of the Spurs. Marriage of Louis XII. with Mary of England. The King's death. Accession of Francis I.

"The long preparations of Henry VIII. of England for the invasion of France [in pursuance of the 'Holy League' against Louis XII., formed by Pope Julius II. and renewed by Leo X.,—see ITALY: A. D. 1510-1513] being completed, that king, in the summer of 1513, landed at Calais, whither a great part of his army had already been transported. The offer of 100,000 golden crowns easily persuaded the Emperor to promise his assistance, at the head of a body of Swiss and Germans. But at the moment Henry was about to penetrate into France, he received the excuses of Maximilian, who, notwithstanding a large advance received from England, found himself unable to levy the promised succours. Nothing disheartened by this breach of faith, the King of England had already advanced into Artois; when the Emperor, attended by a few German nobles, appeared in the English camp, and was cordially welcomed by Henry, who duly appreciated his military skill and local knowledge. A valuable accession of strength was also obtained by the junction of a large body of Swiss, who, encouraged by the victory of Novara, had already crossed the Jura, and now marched to the seat of war. The poverty of the Emperor degraded him to the rank of a mercenary of England; and Henry consented to grant him the daily allowance of 100 crowns for his table. But humiliating as this compact was to Maximilian, the King of England reaped great benefit from his presence. A promiscuous multitude of Germans had flocked to the English camp, in hopes of partaking in the spoil; and the arrival of their valiant Emperor excited a burst of enthusiasm. The siege of Terouenne was formed: but the bravery of the besieged baffled the efforts of the allies; and a month elapsed, during which the English sustained severe loss from frequent and successful sorties. By the advice of the Emperor, Henry resolved to risk a battle with the French, and the plain of Guinegate was once more the field of conflict [August 18, 1513]. This spot, where Maximilian had formerly struck terror into the legions of Louis XI., now became the scene of a rapid and undisputed victory. The French were surprised by the allies, and gave way to a sudden panic; and the shameful flight of the cavalry abandoned the bravest of their leaders to the hands of their enemies. The Duke of Longueville, La Palisse, Imbercourt, and the renowned Chevalier Bayard, were made prisoners; and the ridicule of the conquerors commemorated the inglorious flight by designating the rout as the Battle of the Spurs. The capture of Terouenne immediately followed; and the fall of Tournay soon afterwards opened a splendid prospect to the King of England. Meanwhile the safety of France was threatened in another quarter. A large body of Swiss, levied in the name of Maximilian but paid with the gold of the Pope, burst into Burgundy; and Dijon was with difficulty saved from capture. From this danger, however, France was extricated by the dexterous negotiation of Trémouille; and the Swiss were induced to withdraw. … Louis now became seriously desirous of peace. He made overtures to the Pope, and was received into favour upon consenting to renounce the Council of Pisa. He conciliated the Kings of Aragon and England by proposals of marriage; he offered his second daughter Renée to the young Charles of Spain; and his second Queen, Anne of Bretainy, being now dead, he proposed to unite himself with Mary of England, the favourite sister of Henry. … But though peace was made upon this footing, the former of the projected marriages never took place: the latter; however, was magnificently solemnized, and proved fatal to Louis. The amorous King forgot his advanced age in the arms of his young and beautiful bride; his constitution gave way under the protracted festivities consequent on his nuptials; and on the 1st of January, 1515, Louis XII. was snatched from his adoring people, in his 53d year. He was succeeded by his kinsman and son-in-law, Francis, Count of Angoulême, who stood next in hereditary succession, and was reputed one of the most accomplished princes that ever mounted the throne of France."

Sir R. Comyn, History of the Western Empire, chapter 38 (volume 2).

ALSO IN: J. S. Brewer, The Reign of Henry VIII., chapter 1.

L. von Ranke, History of the Latin and Teutonic Nations from 1494 to 1514, book 2, chapter 4, sections 7-8.

FRANCE: A. D. 1515. Accession of Francis I. His invasion of Italy. The Battle of Marignano.

"François I. was in his 21st year when he ascended the throne of France. His education in all manly accomplishments was perfect, and … he manifested … an intelligence which had been carefully cultivated. … Unfortunately his moral qualities had been profoundly corrupted by the example of his mother, Louise of Savoy, a clever and ambitious woman, but selfish, unscrupulous, and above all shamelessly licentious. Louise had been an object of jealousy to Anne of Britany, who had always kept her in the shade, and she now snatched eagerly at the prospect of enjoying power and perhaps of reigning in the name of her son, whose love for his mother led him to allow her to exercise an influence which was often fatal to the interests of his kingdom. … Charles duke of Bourbon, who was notoriously the favoured lover of Louise, was appointed to the office of constable, which had remained vacant since 1488; and one of her favourite ministers, Antoine Duprat, first president of the parliament of Paris, was entrusted with the seals. Both were men of great capacity; but the first was remarkable for his pride, and the latter for his moral depravity. The first cares of the new king of France were to prepare for war. … Unfortunately for his country, François I. shared in the infatuation which had dragged his predecessors into the wars in Italy; and all these warlike preparations were designed for the reconquest of Milan. He had already intimated his design by assuming at his coronation the titles of king of France and duke of Milan. … He entered into an alliance with Charles of Austria, prince of Castile, who had now reached his majority and assumed the government of the Netherlands. … A treaty between these two princes, concluded on the 24th of March, 1515, guaranteed to each party not only the estates they held or which might subsequently descend to them, but even their conquests. … The republic of Venice and the king of England renewed the alliances into which they had entered with the late king, but Ferdinand of Aragon refused even to prolong the truce unless the whole of Italy were included in it, and he entered into a separate alliance with the emperor, the duke of Milan, and the Swiss, to oppose the designs of the French king. {1187} The efforts of François I. to gain over the Swiss had been defeated by the influence of the cardinal of Sion. Yet the pope, Leo X., hesitated, and avoided compromising himself with either party. In the course of the month of July [1515], the most formidable army which had yet been led from France into Italy was assembled in the district between Grenoble and Embrun, and the king, after entrusting the regency to his mother, Louise, with unlimited powers, proceeded to place himself at its head."

T. Wright, History of France, book 3, chapter 1 (volume 1).

"The passes in Italy had already been occupied by the Swiss under their captain general Galeazzo Visconti. Galeazzo makes their number not more than 6,000. … They were posted at Susa, commanding the two roads from Mont Cenis and Geneva, by one of which the French must pass or abandon their artillery. In this perplexity it was proposed by Triulcio to force a lower passage across the Cottian Alps leading to Saluzzo. The attempt was attended with almost insurmountable difficulties. … But the French troops with wonderful spirits and alacrity … were not to be baffled. They dropped their artillery by cables from steep to steep; down one range of mountains and up another, until five days had been spent in this perilous enterprise, and they found themselves safe in the plains of Saluzzo. Happily the Swiss, secure in their position at Susa, had never dreamed of the possibility of such a passage. … Prosper Colonna, who commanded in Italy for the Pope, was sitting down to his comfortable dinner at Villa Franca, when a scout covered with dust dashed into his apartment announcing that the French had crossed the Alps. The next minute the town was filled with the advanced guard, under the Sieur d'Ymbercourt and the celebrated Bayard. The Swiss at Susa had still the advantage of position, and might have hindered the passage of the main body of the French; but they had no horse to transport their artillery, were badly led, and evidently divided in their councils. They retired upon Novara," and to Milan, intending to effect a junction with the viceroy of Naples, who advanced to Cremona. On the morning of the 13th of September, Cardinal Scheimer harangued the Swiss and urged them to attack the French in their camp, which was at Marignano, or Melignano, twelve miles away. His fatal advice was acted on with excitement and haste. "The day was hot and dusty. The advanced guard of the French was under the command of the Constable of Bourbon, whose vigilance defeated any advantage the Swiss might otherwise have gained by the suddenness and rapidity of their movements. At nine o'clock in the morning, as Bourbon was sitting down at table, a scout, dripping with water, made his appearance. He had left Milan only a few hours before, had waded the canals, and came to announce the approach of the enemy. … The Swiss came on apace; they had disencumbered themselves of their hats and caps, and thrown off their shoes, the better to fight without slipping. They made a dash at the French artillery, and were foiled after hard fighting. … It was an autumnal afternoon; the sun had gone down; dust and night-fall separated and confused the combatants. The French trumpets sounded a retreat; both, armies crouched down in the darkness within cast of a tennis-ball of each other. … Where they fought, there each man laid down to rest when darkness came on, within hand-grip of his foe." The next morning, "the autumnal mist crawled slowly away, and once more exposed the combatants to each other's view. The advantage of the ground was on the side of the French. They were drawn up in a valley protected by a ditch full of water. Though the Swiss had taken no refreshment that night, they renewed the fight with unimpaired animosity and vigour. … Francis, surrounded by a body of mounted gentlemen, performed prodigies of valour. The night had given him opportunity for the better arrangement of his troops; and as the day wore on, and the sun grew hot, the Swiss, though 'marvellously deliberate, brave, and obstinate,' began to give way. The arrival of the Venetian general, D'Alviano, with fresh troops, made the French victory complete. But the Swiss retreated inch by inch with the greatest deliberation, carrying off their great guns on their shoulders. … The French were too exhausted to follow. And their victory had cost them dear; for the Swiss, with peculiar hatred to the French gentry and the lance-knights, had shown no mercy. They spared none, and made no prisoners. The glory of the battle was great. … The Swiss, the best troops in Europe, and hitherto reckoned invincible … had been the terror and scourge of Italy, equally formidable to friend and foe, and now their prestige was extinguished. But it was not in these merely military aspects that the battle of Marignano was important. No one who reads the French chronicles of the times, can fail to perceive that it was a battle of opinions and of classes even more than of nations; of a fierce and rising democratical element, now rolled back for a short season, only to display itself in another form against royalty and nobility;—of the burgher classes against feudality. … The old romantic element, overlaid for a time by the political convulsions of the last century, had once more gained the ascendant. It was to blaze forth and revive, before it died out entirely, in the Sydneys and Raleighs of Queen Elizabeth's reign; it was to lighten up the glorious imagination of Spenser before it faded into the dull prose of Puritan divinity, and the cold grey dawn of inductive philosophy. But its last great battle was the battle of Marignano."

J. S. Brewer, The Reign of Henry VIII., volume 1, chapter 3.

ALSO IN: Miss Pardoe, Court and Reign of Francis I., volume 1, chapters 6-7.

L. Larchey, History of Bayard, book 3, chapters 1-2.

FRANCE: A. D. 1515-1518. Francis I. in possession of Milan. His treaties with the Swiss and the Pope. Nullification of the Pragmatic Sanction of Charles VII. The Concordat of Bologna.

"On the 15th of September, the day after the battle [of Marignano], the Swiss took the road back to their mountains. Francis I. entered Milan in triumph. Maximilian Sforza took refuge in the castle, and twenty days afterwards on the 4th of October, surrendered, consenting to retire to France, with a pension of 30,000 crowns, and the promise of being recommended for a cardinal's hat, and almost consoled for his downfall 'by the pleasure of being delivered from the insolence of the Swiss, the exactions of the Emperor Maximilian, and the rascalities of the Spaniards.' Fifteen years afterwards, in June, 1530, he died in oblivion at Paris. {1188} Francis I. regained possession of all Milaness, adding thereto, with the pope's consent, the duchies of Parma and Piacenza, which had been detached from it. … Two treaties, one of November 7, 1515, and the other of November 29, 1516, re-established not only peace, but perpetual alliance, between the King of France and the thirteen Swiss Cantons, with stipulated conditions in detail. Whilst these negotiations were in progress, Francis I. and Leo X., by a treaty published at Viterbo, on the 13th of October, proclaimed their hearty reconciliation. The pope guaranteed to Francis I. the duchy of Milan, restored to him those of Parma and Piacenza, and recalled his troops which were still serving against the Venetians." At the same time, arrangements were made for a personal meeting of the pope and the French king, which took place at Bologna in December, 1515. "Francis did not attempt to hide his design of reconquering the kingdom of Naples, which Ferdinand the Catholic had wrongfully usurped, and he demanded the pope's countenance. The pope did not care to refuse, but he pointed out to the king that everything foretold the very near death of King Ferdinand; and 'Your Majesty,' said he, 'will then have a natural opportunity for claiming your rights; and as for me, free, as I shall then be, from my engagements with the King of Arragon in respect of the crown of Naples, I shall find it easier to respond to your majesty's wish.' The pope merely wanted to gain time. Francis, putting aside for the moment the kingdom of Naples, spoke of Charles VII.'s Pragmatic Sanction [see above: A. D. 1438], and the necessity of putting an end to the difficulties which had arisen on this subject between the court of Rome and the Kings of France, his predecessors. 'As to that,' said the pope, 'I could not grant what your predecessors demanded; but be not uneasy; I have a compensation to propose to you which will prove to you how dear your interests are to me.' The two sovereigns had, without doubt, already come to an understanding on this point, when, after a three days' interview with Leo X., Francis I. returned to Milan, leaving at Bologna, for the purpose of treating in detail the affair of the Pragmatic Sanction, his chancellor, Duprat, who had accompanied him during all this campaign as his adviser and negotiator. … The popes … had all of them protested since the days of Charles VII. against the Pragmatic Sanction as an attack upon their rights, and had demanded its abolition. In 1461, Louis XI. … had yielded for a moment to the demand of Pope Pius II., whose countenance he desired to gain, and had abrogated the Pragmatic; but, not having obtained what he wanted thereby, and having met with strong opposition in the Parliament of Paris to his concession, he had let it drop without formally retracting it. … This important edict, then, was still vigorous in 1515, when Francis I., after his victory at Melegnano and his reconciliation with the pope, left Chancellor Duprat at Bologna to pursue the negotiation reopened on that subject. The 'compensation,' of which Leo X., on redemanding the abolition of the Pragmatic Sanction, had given a peep to Francis I., could not fail to have charms for a prince so little scrupulous, and for his still less scrupulous chancellor. The pope proposed that the Pragmatic, once for all abolished, should be replaced by a Concordat between the two sovereigns, and that this Concordat, whilst putting a stop to the election of the clergy by the faithful, should transfer to the king the right of nomination to bishoprics and other great ecclesiastical offices and benefices, reserving to the pope the right of presentation of prelates nominated by the king. This, considering the condition of society and government in the 16th century, in the absence of political and religious liberty, was to take away from the church her own existence, and divide her between two masters, without giving her, as regarded either of them, any other guarantee of independence than the mere chance of their dissensions and quarrels. … Francis I. and his chancellor saw in the proposed Concordat nothing but the great increment of influence it secured to them, by making all the dignitaries of the church suppliants at first and then clients of the kingship. After some difficulties as to points of detail, the Concordat was concluded and signed on the 18th of August, 1516. Five months afterwards, on the 5th of February, 1517, the king repaired in person to Parliament, to which he had summoned many prelates and doctors of the University. The Chancellor explained the points of the Concordat. … The king ordered its registration, 'for the good of his kingdom and for quittance of the promise he had given the pope.'" For more than a year the Parliament of Paris resisted the royal order, and it was not until the 22d of March, 1518, that it yielded to the king's threats and proceeded to registration of the Concordat, with forms and reservations "which were evidence of compulsion. The other Parliaments of France followed with more or less zeal … the example shown by that of Paris. The University was heartily disposed to push resistance farther than had been done by Parliament."

F. P. Guizot, Popular History of France, chapter 28 (volume 4).

"The execution of the Concordat was vigorously contested for years afterwards. Cathedrals and monastic chapters proceeded to elect bishops and abbots under the provisions of the Pragmatic Sanction; and every such case became a fresh source of exasperation between the contending powers. … But the Parliament, though clamouring loudly for the 'Gallican liberties,' and making a gallant stand for national independence as against the usurpations of Rome, was unable to maintain its ground against the overpowering despotism of the Crown. The monarchical authority ultimately achieved a complete triumph. In 1527 a peremptory royal ordinance prohibited the courts of Parliament from taking further cognisance of causes affecting elections to consistorial benefices and conventual priories; and all such matters were transferred to the sole jurisdiction of the Council of State. After this the agitation against the Concordat gradually subsided. But although, in virtue of its compulsory registration by the Parliament, the Concordat became part of the law of the land, it is certain that the Gallican Church never accepted this flagrant invasion of its liberties."

W. H. Jervis, History of the Church of France, volume 1, pages 109-110.

{1189}

FRANCE: A. D. 1515-1547. The institution of the Court. Its baneful influence.

"Francis I. instituted the Court, and this had a decisive influence upon the manners of the nobility. Those lords, whose respect royalty had difficulty in keeping when they were at their castles, having come to court, prostrated themselves before the throne, and yielded obedience with their whole hearts. A few words will describe this Court. The king lodged and fed in his own large palace, which was fitted for the purpose, the flower of the French nobility. Some of these lords were in his service, under the title of officers of his household—as chamberlains, purveyors, equerries, &c. Large numbers of domestic offices were created solely as an excuse for their presence. Others lived there, without duties, simply as guests. All these, besides lodging and food, had often a pension as well. A third class were given only a lodging, and provided their own table; but all were amused and entertained with various pleasures, at the expense of the king. Balls, carousals, stately ceremonials, grand dinners, theatricals, conversations inspired by the presence of fair women, constant intercourse of all kinds, where each could choose for himself, and where the refined and literary found a place as well as the vain and profligate,—such was court life, a truly different thing from the monotonous and brutal existence of the feudal lord at his castle in the depths of his province. So, from all sides, nobles flocked to court, to gratify both the most refined tastes and the most degraded passions. Some came hoping to make their fortune, a word from the king sufficing to enrich a man; others came to gain a rank in the army, a lucrative post in the finance department, an abbey, or a bishopric. From the time kings held court, it became almost a law, that nothing should be granted to a nobleman who lived beyond its pale. Those lords who persisted in staying on their own estates were supposed to rail against the administration, or, as we of the present would express it, to be in opposition. 'They must indeed be men of gross minds who are not tempted by the polish of the court; at all events it is very insolent in them to show so little wish to see their sovereign, and enjoy the honor of living under his roof.' Such was almost precisely the opinion of the king in regard to the provincial nobility. … Ambition drew the nobles to court; ambition, society, and dissipation kept them there. To incur the displeasure of their master, and be exiled from court was, first, to lose all hope of advancement, and then to fall from paradise into purgatory. It killed some people. But life was much more expensive at court than in the castles. As in all society where each is constantly in the presence of his neighbor, there was unbounded rivalry as to who should be most brilliant, most superb. The old revenues did not suffice, while, at the same time, the inevitable result of the absence of the lords was to decrease them. Whilst the expenses of the noblemen at Chambord or Versailles were steadily on the increase, his intendant, alone and unrestrained upon the estate, filled his own pockets, and sent less money every quarter, so that, to keep up the proper rank, the lord was forced to beg a pension from the king. Low indeed was the downfall of the old pride and feudal independence! The question was how to obtain these pensions, ranks, offices, and favors of all kinds. The virtues most prized and rewarded by the kings were not civic virtues,—capacity, and services of value for the public good; what pleased them was, naturally, devotion to their person, blind obedience, flattery, and subservience."

P. Lacombe, A Short History of the French People, chapter 23.