CATHERINE DE MEDICI GIVEN TO FRANCE.
(OCTOBER 1533.)
This interview of the pope with the king might be more injurious to the
Gospel than all the attacks of the Sorbonne. If Clement united sincerely
with Francis against Charles; if Catherine de Medici became the pledge
of union between Rome and France; would not the Reformation soon be
buried by the mournful glare of the pale torches of this fatal marriage?
Yet men still hoped that the projected interview would not take place.
In fact, Henry VIII. and the emperor did all they could to prevent
Francis from meeting the pope.[458]
[Sidenote: THE INTENDED MARRIAGE.]
But Clement VII., more charmed than ever with a matrimonial union
between the family of the Florentine merchants and that of St. Louis,
cared naught for the emperor or the king of England; and about the end
of April 1533, he convoked a sacred college at Rome, to whom he
communicated his plans. They already knew something about them: the
Roman cardinals smiled and congratulated his Holiness, but the Spanish
cardinals looked very much out of humour. The pope tried to persuade
them that he only desired this marriage for the glory of God and of the
Church. 'It is for _holy opportunities_,' he told them. No one dared
oppose it openly; but, on leaving the meeting, the emperor's cardinals
hurried to his ministers and informed them of the pontifical
communication. The latter lost no time; they called upon all their
friends, managed them with great ability, and, by dint of energy and
stratagem, succeeded in holding a congregation at the beginning of June,
at which none of the French cardinals were present. Not daring to oppose
the marriage itself, Charles's prelates displayed extreme sensibility
for the honour and welfare of the pope. They appeared to be suddenly
seized with a violent affection for Clement. 'What! the pope in France!'
they exclaimed. 'Truly it must be something more than the marriage of a
niece to _move a pope from his seat_.' Then, as if Clement's health was
very precious to them, and the Roman air excellent, the crafty Spaniards
brought forward sanitary reasons. 'Such a journey would be dangerous,
_considering the extreme heat of Provence_.'—'Never mind that,'
cunningly answered the pope; 'I shall not start until after the first
rains.'
[Sidenote: IMPERIAL OBSTACLES.]
Charles then sought other means to prevent the conference. He will
contrive that the pope shall delay his departure from week to week,
until the winter sets in, and then it is not to be thought of. A very
natural occasion for these delays presented itself. The marriage of
Henry VIII. with Anne Boleyn having been made public, the emperor
haughtily demanded that justice should be done to the queen, his aunt.
Here, certainly, was matter enough to occupy the court of Rome for
months; but Clement, who had let the English business drag along for
years, being eager to finish the _other_ marriage, hastily assembled a
consistory, and pronounced against Henry VIII. all the censures which
Charles V. demanded. Then, in his zeal forgetting his usual cunning, he
made Catherine's marriage the peroration of his speech, and having done
with England and its king, he ended by saying: 'Gentlemen, if any of you
desire to make the voyage with me, you must hold yourselves in readiness
for departure.'[459]
Immediate preparations were made for fitting up the galleys of Rhodes in
which the pope was to sail. All was bustle in the harbour. Those long
low barks were supplied with everything necessary for subsistence, for
sailing, and even for attack and defence. The oars were fixed in their
places; the yards and sails were set; the flags were hoisted.... Then
the imperialists, trying to outwit the pope, had recourse to a new
stratagem; they were smitten with a sudden fondness for Coron.—'Coron,
that city in the south of Greece,' they said to the pope, 'a city of
such great importance to christendom, is attacked by the Turks; we
require the galleys of Rhodes to defend it; we must deliver the Greeks
our brothers from slavery, and restore the empire of the East.'... The
pope understood; it was difficult to beat him in cunning. 'Well, well,'
said he, 'make haste; fly to the help of christendom.... I will lend you
the said galleys, and will add my own ... and ... I will make the
passage on board the galleys of France.'[460]
Then the emperor turned to the Swiss; the Dukes of Savoy and Milan,
also, fearing that at the projected interview something would be
_brewed_ to their detriment, united with him. These three princes
attempted to induce the catholic cantons to enter the Italian league. If
these terrible Helvetic bands pass the Alps, all idea of travelling will
be abandoned by the pope. How could he expose himself to pikes and
arquebuses? Clement VII. had not the warlike disposition of Julius II.
'The King of France favours the protestants,' said Charles's deputies to
the catholic cantons; 'he desires to put the evangelical cantons in a
condition to avenge the defeat at Cappel; but if you join us, you have
nothing to fear.' At these words the catholics became eager[461] to
enter the league against the king and the pope; but Francis sent them
money to keep quiet, and they did not move.[462]
Were all his manœuvres to fail? Never had a marriage been heard of
against which so many obstacles had been raised; but it was written in
the book of fate, said many; the arms forged against it could not
succeed; and the haughty Charles vainly agitated all Europe—Swiss,
Germans, Greeks, and Turks. His ministers now had recourse to another
stratagem. Everybody knew that the pope was not brave. They revived
their tender affection for his person; and as Switzerland was not to be
tempted, they turned to Africa. 'Let your Holiness beware,' they said;
'if you undertake this voyage, you will certainly fall into the hands of
the Moors.[463]... A fleet of pirates, lurking behind the islands of
Hyères, will suddenly appear, fall on the ship in which you are sailing,
and carry you off.'[464] This time the pope was staggered. The terror
inspired by the barbarian ships was at that time very great. To be
carried away by the Moors! A pope captive in Algiers or Tunis! What a
dreadful thought!
Will he go or will he not? was the question Europe set itself. But the
matter was violently canvassed at Rome, where Guelphs and Ghibelines
almost came to blows. Arguments for the marriage, and consequently for
the voyage, were not wanting. 'The time has come,' said the papists,
'for a bold stroke to prevent France from being lost like Germany and
England.' There were loud discussions in the convents and churches, and
even in the public places. A Franciscan of the Low Countries, Herbom by
name, a monk of fiery fanaticism, stirred up the pontifical city.
'Luther, Zwingle, and Œcolampadius,' he said, 'are soldiers of Pilate;
they have crucified Jesus Christ.... But, alas! alas! this crime is
repeated in our days ... at Paris. Yes, even at Paris, by certain
disciples of Erasmus.' It was clearly necessary for the pope and his
little niece to hasten to France, in order to prevent what these
blaspheming monks dared to call the crucifixion of Jesus Christ.
[Sidenote: THE POPE DETERMINES TO GO.]
At last Clement made up his mind. He would brave the fury of the waves,
and risk the attacks of the corsairs, in order to conquer the _soldiers
of Pilate_ and give a royal husband to his niece. The galleys of France,
commanded by the Duke of Albany, left Marseilles in September to fetch
the pope, who had gone to Pisa, making a boast, wherever he went, of the
most noble disinterestedness. 'I am going to this interview,' he said,
'in order to procure the peace of Europe, to prepare an expedition
against the infidels, to lead back the King of England to the right
path, and, in a word, solely for the interests of christendom.' Then,
after thus disguising himself, like the wolf in the fable, under a
borrowed dress, he showed the tip of his ear, and begged the Duke of
Albany to escort _their common relative_ to Nice, where she would wait
for further orders. The honour done to his family was so great that
doubts were continually arising in his mind about the trustworthiness of
the French king's promises. He would not take his niece with him to
Marseilles, for fear he should have to bring her back. He will see
Francis alone first; he will speak to him and sound him. Clement
believed that his piercing eye would read the king's heart to the very
bottom. When all his fears are removed, Catherine shall come to France;
but until then, she shall only go part of the way.[465]
The young lady departed for Nice, and people said, pointing to her as
they saw her going on board ship: 'There is the real cause of the
strange journey of a pope to France! If it were a matter touching the
safety of the Church, Clement would not do so much; but it is to place a
Medici beside a throne, and perhaps set her upon it.'... The French
fleet put to sea: the ship, on whose mainmast the standard of France had
been hoisted, exhibited a sight at once gay and sad. Beneath the flags
and banners, at the side of the Duke of Albany, and in the midst of a
brilliant retinue, might be seen a kind of little fairy, who was then
making her first appearance in the world. She was a young creature, of
middle stature, with sparkling eyes and bell-like voice, who appeared to
possess some supernatural power, and singularly fascinated every one
that came near her. Her enchantments and her philtres were the subtle
poison on which the papacy relied for destroying heresy. This child,
between thirteen and fourteen years of age, skipped with joy about the
stately ship. 'I am going to be the daughter-in-law of the glorious King
of France,' she said to herself. Death, with whom this strange creature
seemed to have made a secret and terrible treaty, was in truth erelong
to raise her to the summit of power. The galleys of Albany, after having
conveyed _the girl_ to Nice (it is Guicciardini's word), returned to
Leghorn, the port of Pisa, and on the 4th of October the pope, with the
cardinals and all his household, put to sea.
[Sidenote: PAPAL PLANS, FRENCH HOPES.]
The papal fleet, all fluttering with banners, had a smooth passage.[466]
Clement could without interruption meditate on a thousand different
projects. Marry Catherine to the son of the King of France; free
himself, thanks to the support of this prince, from the patronage of the
emperor whom he detested; put off indefinitely the council which Charles
had been so bold as to promise to the protestants; and finally crush the
Reformation, both in France and elsewhere.... Such were Clement's
projects during the voyage. Before leaving Rome, he had drawn up (1st of
September) a bull against the heretics; he had it on board the ship, and
he purposed demanding its immediate execution from Francis, as a wedding
present. The winds blew softly in the direction of Marseilles; all
congratulated themselves on the beauty of the passage; but this fleet,
in appearance so inoffensive, which glided so smoothly over the waters
of the Mediterranean, carried, like the bark of Ulysses, stores of
future tempests.
Opinions were much divided in France about the pope's voyage. If Clement
satisfied Francis, the Reform was ruined; if he thwarted the king,
France would follow the example of England. Everybody admitted the
hypothesis that pleased him best. 'Francis and Clement,' said the
reformed, 'follow such opposite courses, that it is impossible for them
to coincide.'—'The king and the pope,' said the ultramontanists, 'are
about to be united by indissoluble bonds, and popery will be restored in
France in all its exclusive supremacy.'[467] There were however some of
the school of Erasmus who remained in doubt. 'As for me,' wrote
Professor Sturm to Bucer, 'I desire much that popery should be
overthrown, but ... I fear greatly that it will be restored.'[468] Sturm
did not compromise himself. To which side will Marseilles make
Francis I. incline? Historians have decided that he was won over to
Rome; but after hearing the historians, we must listen to history.
[Sidenote: THE POPE AT MARSEILLES.]
At the beginning of October 1533, the ancient city of the Phocæans was
in a state of great excitement; the King of France and the pope were
coming; what an honour! It is well known that the inhabitants of that
city are quick, enthusiastic, and fond of show and parade. Watchmen had
been placed on the highest points to telegraph the approaching fleet. At
length, on the 4th of October, the castles of If and Notre Dame de la
Garde suddenly gave the looked-for signals. One cry only was heard in
the streets of Marseilles: 'The flotilla with the pope on board has come
in sight.'[469] A feverish agitation pervaded the city; the sound of
trumpets, clarions, and hautboys filled the air; the people hurried to
the harbour. Nobles and prelates went on board the ships that had been
kept ready; their sails were unfurled, and in a short time this
extemporised fleet saluted that of the pope with deafening acclamations.
Many devout catholics trembled with joy and admiration; they could
hardly believe their eyes. 'Behold the real representative of Christ,'
they said, 'the father of all christians, the only man who can at will
give new laws to the Church;[470] the man who has never been mistaken
and never will be; whose name is alone in the world, _vice-God_ upon
earth.'[471] Clement smiled: in Italy he had never heard such
exclamations or witnessed such enthusiasm. O France! truly art thou the
eldest daughter of the Church! He did not know that vanity, curiosity,
love of pomp, and a fondness for noise had much to do with this rapture,
and that France, like her king Clovis, worships what it has cast down,
and casts down what it has worshipped. The pope had no leisure to
indulge in such reflections. At the moment his galley entered the
harbour, three hundred pieces of artillery fired a salute. Notre Dame de
la Garde, the tower of St. John, the abbey of St. Victor, the harbour
and its vicinity were all on fire.[472]
Francis was not to be seen among the vast and brilliant crowd which
filled Marseilles. There were princes of the blood, prelates,
diplomatists, magistrates, courtiers, and warriors; but the king,
although at the gates of the city, kept himself in the background and
apart. However, when the night came, and everybody had retired to their
quarters to rest after so fatiguing a day, a man, wrapped up in a cloak,
entered the city, glided mysteriously along the dark streets, and
stopped at the gate of the palace where the pope was lodging. This man
was immediately introduced into the apartments where Clement was
preparing to take his repose: it was the King of France.[473]... What
was the object of this nocturnal visit? Was it because the king wished
to sound the pontiff in secret, before receiving him officially? Was it
the etiquette of the time? However that may be, Francis, after a secret
and confidential conversation, returned with the same mystery, wearing a
very satisfied look. The pope had promised everything, all the rights,
all the possessions,—in a word, whatever he had made up his mind not to
give.
The next day the pope, dressed in his pontifical robes, and seated in a
magnificent chair borne on men's shoulders, made his solemn entry,
attended by his cardinals, also in all the brilliancy of their costume,
and by a great number of lords and ladies of France and Italy.[474]
[Sidenote: LATIN ADDRESS TO THE POPE.]
Early in the morning, and while the streets were echoing with cries of
joy, the president of the parliament, living in one of the handsomest
houses of Marseilles, was pacing his room with anxious brow,
gesticulating and carefully repeating some Latin phrases. That
magistrate had been commissioned, as a great orator, to deliver an
address to the pope; but as unfortunately Latin was not familiar to him,
he had had his speech written out beforehand, and by dint of labour he
had so far committed it to memory, as to be able to repeat it
off-hand—provided there was no change made in it.
At the same moment, a messenger from the pope appeared at the king's
levée with a paper, and requested, on behalf of the pontiff, who had a
great fear of the terrible Charles V., that the said oration should be
delivered as it was written on the paper he brought with him, so as to
give the emperor no offence. Francis despatched Clement's draft to the
president. What a disappointment! The new address was precisely the
contrary of what he had been learning by heart. The famous orator became
confused: he did not know what to do.... Alas! he had but a few minutes
to spare, and the sonorous words which would have offended the great
emperor, and which he had counted on reciting in his loudest voice, kept
recurring to his mind. He fancied himself in the presence of that
magnificent assembly of proud Roman prelates who knew Latin so well....
There could be no doubt about it ... he would become embarrassed, he
would stammer, he would not remember what he had to say, and would break
down. He was quite in a fever. The president, no longer master of
himself, hurried off to the king, and begged him to give the office to
some one else. 'Very well, then,' said Francis to Bishop du Bellay, 'you
must undertake it.' At that moment the procession started. It reached
its destination; the Bishop of Paris, although taken unawares, put a
bold face upon the matter; and being a good Latin scholar and able
orator, he executed his commission wonderfully well.[475]
The official conferences began shortly after, and neither king nor pope
spared protestations, stratagems, or falsehoods: the pope particularly
excelled in the latter article. 'He used so much artifice in the
business,' says Guicciardini,[476] 'that the king confided marvellously
in him.' What Francis required to compensate him for the misalliance was
not much: he asked for the duchies of Urbino and Milan, Pisa, Leghorn,
Reggio, Modena, Parma, Piacenza, and Genoa. But if the king was
inexhaustible in his demands, the pope was equally so in his promises,
being the more liberal as he intended to give nothing. Clement, touched
by the good-nature of Francis, who appeared to believe all that was told
him, sent at last to Nice for the youthful Catherine.
[Sidenote: BULL AGAINST HERETICS.]
It was not decorous for the pope to appear to have come so far only to
give away a young lady. He proposed, therefore, in order to conceal his
intrigues, to issue the bull against the heretics which he had brought
with him. It was his wedding present, and nothing could better
inaugurate Catherine's entry into France. But the diplomatist, William
du Bellay, did all in his power to prevent this truly Roman transaction.
He had several very animated conversations on this subject with the
cardinals and with the pope himself. He represented to him the necessity
of satisfying the protestants of Germany: 'A free council and mutual
concessions,' he said; but Clement was deaf. Du Bellay would not give
way; he struggled manfully with the pontiff, and conjured him not to
attempt to put down the Reformation with violence.[477] He used similar
language to Francis, and laid before him some letters which he had
recently received from Germany; but the king replied that he was taking
the matter too seriously. The bull of excommunication was simply a
_manner_, a papal form ... and nothing more. The bull was published, and
there was a great noise about it. Francis and Clement, each believing in
the other's good faith, were deceiving one another. The only truth in
all this Marseilles business was the gift the pope made to France of
Catherine de Medici. That was quite enough certainly.
As soon as the pope's niece arrived, preparations were made for the
marriage. The ministers of the king and of the pope took the contract in
hand, and the latter having spoken of an annuity of one hundred thousand
crowns: 'It is very little for so noble an alliance,' said the
treasurers of Francis I.—'True,' replied Strozzi, one of Clement's most
able servants; 'but observe that her grace the Duchess of Urbino brings
moreover three rings of inestimable value ... Genoa, Milan, and
Naples.'[478] These diamonds, whose brilliancy was to dazzle the king
and France, never shone on Catherine's fingers or on the crown of Henry
II.
[Sidenote: MARRIAGE OF CATHERINE AND HENRY.]
The ceremony was conducted with great magnificence. The bride advanced,
young, brilliant, radiant with joy, with smiling lips and sparkling eyes,
her head adorned with gold, pearls, and flowers; and in her train ...
Death.... Death, who was always her faithful follower, who served
her even when she would have averted his dart; who, by striking the
dauphin, was to make her the wife of the heir to the crown; by striking
her father-in-law, to make her queen; and by striking down successively
her husband and all her sons, to render her supreme controller of the
destinies of France. In gratitude, therefore, towards her mysterious and
sinister ally, the Florentine woman was forty years later, and in a
night of August, to give him a magnificent entertainment in the streets
of Paris, to fill a lake with blood that he might bathe therein, and
organise the most terrible festival that had ever been held in honour of
Death. Catherine approached the altar, trembling a little, though not
agitated. The pope officiated, desirous of personally completing the
grandeur of his house, and tapers without number were lighted. The King
and Queen of France, with a crowd of courtiers dressed in the richest
costumes, surrounded the altar. Catherine de Medici placed her cold hand
in the faithless hand of Henry of Valois, which was to deprive the
Reform of all liberty, and France herself, in the _Unhappy Peace_, of
her glory and her conquests. Clement gave his pontifical blessing to
this tragic pair. The marriage was concluded; the _girl_, as
Guicciardini calls her, was a wife; her eyes glanced as with fire. Was
it a beam of happiness and pride? Probably. We might ask also if it was
not the joy of the hyena scenting from afar the graves where it could
feast on the bodies of the dead; or of the tiger espying from its lair
in the African desert the groups of travellers upon whom it might spring
and quench its raging thirst for blood. But although the appetites which
manifested themselves in the St. Bartholomew massacre already existed in
the germ in this young wife, there is no evidence (it must be
acknowledged) that she allowed herself to be governed at Marseilles by
these cruel promptings.
There are creatures accursed of God, who, under a dazzling veil and fair
outward show, impart to a nation an active power of contagion, the venom
of corruption, an invisible principle of death which, circulating
through the veins, infects with its morbid properties all parts of the
body, and strikes the physical powers with general prostration. It was
thus at the commencement of the history of the human race that a fallen
being deceived man; by him sin entered into the world, and _death by
sin_. This first scene, which stands alone, has been repeated, however,
from time to time in the world, though on a smaller scale. It happened
to France when the daughter of the Medici crept into the family of its
kings. No doubt the disease was already among the people, but
Catherine's arrival was one of those events which bring the corruption
to a head. This woman, so false and dissolute, so vile as to crawl at
the feet of her husband's mistress and pick up secrets for her; this
woman, who gave birth to none but enervated, idiotic, distempered, and
vicious children, not only corrupted her own sons, but infected an
entire brilliant society that might have been noble and just (as Coligny
showed), and instilled her deadly venom into its veins. The niece of the
pope poisoned France.
'Clement's joy was incredible,' says Guicciardini.[479] He had even a
feeling of gratitude, and resolved to give the king four _hats_ for four
French bishops. Did he intend that these hats should supply the place of
Urbino, Genoa, Milan, and Naples? Nobody knows. One of the new cardinals
was Odet de Chatillon, then eleven years old, brother of the immortal
Coligny, and subsequently one of the supporters of protestantism in
France. The king, wishing to appear grateful for so many favours, wrote
to the Bishop of Paris, that 'as the crime of heresy increased and
multiplied, he should proceed to act against the heretics.'—'Do not
fail,' he added.[480] But the Bishop of Paris, brother of the
diplomatist Du Bellay, was the least inclined of all the prelates in
France to persecution. Francis knew this well, and for that very reason,
perhaps, gave him the order.
[Sidenote: THE POPE'S HEALTH DECLINES.]
The pope, delighted at having made so good a bargain in the city of
merchants, embarked on the 20th of November to return to Rome. Excess of
joy was hurtful to him, as it had been to his cousin Leo X. The threats
of the emperor, who demanded a council; the pressure of Francis I., who
claimed Catherine's _three rings_;[481] the quarrels of his two nephews,
who were fighting at Florence,—all filled poor Clement with uneasiness
and sorrow. He told his attendants that his end was near; and
immediately after his return, he had the ring and the garments prepared
which are used at the burial of the popes.[482] His only consolation,
the approaching destruction of the protestants, seemed to fail him in
his last days. Even during his interview with the pope, Francis was
secretly intriguing to unite with the most formidable of the enemies of
Rome. After embracing the old papacy with apparent emotion, the
chivalrous king gallantly held out his hand to the young Reformation. In
the space of two months he had two interviews as opposite as possibly
could be. These two contradictory conferences point out one of the
traits that best characterise the versatile and ambitious Francis. This
modern Janus had a head with two faces. We have just seen that which
looked backwards into the past; we shall soon see that which looked
forwards into the future. But before we follow the King of France in his
oscillation towards Germany and the protestants, we must return to
Calvin. In October 1533, Francis and Clement had met at Marseilles; and
on the 1st of November, while those princes were still diplomatising, a
great evangelical demonstration took place at Paris.
[Footnote 458: Henry VIII. to Norfolk, Aug. 8, 1533. _State Papers_,
vii. p. 493.]
[Footnote 459: Du Bellay, _Mémoires_, p. 195.]
[Footnote 460: Ibid. p. 185.]
[Footnote 461: 'En grand branle.']
[Footnote 462: Du Bellay, _Mém._ p. 195.]
[Footnote 463: 'Non licere ejus Sanctitati sine Maurorum periculo illuc
accedere.'—Vanner to Cromwell. _State Papers_, vii. p. 508.]
[Footnote 464: 'Ob insulas de Yeres, ubi piratarum classis posset ad
intercipiendum pontificem in insidiis latitare.'—Vanner to Cromwell,
_State Papers_, vii. p. 508.]
[Footnote 465: Guicciardini, _Wars of Italy_, ii. bk. xx.]
[Footnote 466: Guicciardini, _Wars of Italy_, ii. bk. xx. p. 901.]
[Footnote 467: 'Papam aut subversum, aut restitutum iri in suam et
inveteratam tyrannidem.'—Sturm to Bucer. Strasburg MSS.]
[Footnote 468: 'Alterum ego expecto magno cum desiderio, alterum non
mediocriter extimesco.'—Ibid.]
[Footnote 469: Du Bellay, _Mémoires_, p. 204.]
[Footnote 470: 'Quod illi soli licet pro temporis necessitate novas
leges condere.'—_Dict. Gregorii._]
[Footnote 471: 'Veri Dei vicem gerit in terris.'—_De Translatione
Episc._]
[Footnote 472: Du Bellay, _Mém._ p. 205. _State Papers_, vii. p. 515.]
[Footnote 473: Guicciardini, _Wars of Italy_, ii. bk. xx. p. 901.]
[Footnote 474: Du Bellay, _Mém._ p. 205.]
[Footnote 475: Du Bellay, _Mém._ p. 206.]
[Footnote 476: _Wars of Italy_, ii. bk. xx. p. 901.]
[Footnote 477: 'Legatum vehementer contendisse cum romano pontifice
Massiliæ, ne violenter agat.'—_Corp. Ref._ ii. p. 721.]
[Footnote 478: Guicciardini, _Hist. des Guerres d'Italie_, ii. liv. xx.
p. 901.]
[Footnote 479: _Guerres d'Italie_, ii. liv. xx. p. 901.]
[Footnote 480: _Lettre close à l'évêque de Paris_, p. 21.]
[Footnote 481: 'S. M. Christᵐᵃ dimando che da sua Santᵃ li fussino
osservate le promesse.'—Soriano, Ranke, _Päpste_, i. p. 127.]
[Footnote 482: Guicciardini, _Guerres d'Italie_, i. liv. xx. p. 902.]