Francis I. of France, after a brilliant campaign, in which he drove
back the Imperialists from Provence to the Milanese, very unwisely
employed his army in sieges, instead of pursuing his enemies with
vigour to the other side of the Carnic Alps. Accumulating errors,
he weakened an army of forty thousand men by dividing it; detaching
from it a body of ten thousand soldiers upon an expedition into the
kingdom of Naples. He thus left his enemy time to recover, and to
remain master, by means of the armies he was able to raise in Germany
and Naples. After having taken Milan, he commenced the siege of Pavia.
That city, well fortified, had for governor Antonio de Leva, a great
captain, commanding a numerous and warlike garrison. The French monarch
attacked the place with vigour, but he evinced indecision in his points
of attack. The siege was protracted; Pavia was reduced to extremity;
the garrison mutinied more than once for want of pay; the governor was
even in dread of seeing the city delivered up to the French by his
unruly troops; but his genius, equally firm and fertile in resources,
contrived to keep them to their duty. Lannoi, viceroy of Naples for
Charles V., was informed of the distress of Pavia. The taking of that
place might complete the disbanding of the Imperial troops for want of
money and subsistence; he felt that this was the moment to venture to
attack his enemy, and to attempt an action, hazardous without doubt,
but which might re-establish the affairs of Charles V. in Italy. He set
out then, accompanied by the marquis de Pescara and the constable De
Bourbon. At his approach, the French monarch called a council; prudence
would have commanded him to avoid an engagement, to raise the siege,
and to refresh and enlarge his army: “Sire,” said La Trémouille to him,
“the true honour in war is to succeed. A defeat can never be justified
by a battle; you risk your army, your person, and your kingdom, and
you risk nothing by raising the siege.” The monarch was deaf to the
counsels of wisdom; his romantic spirit fancied that his honour would
be compromised. The admiral Bonnevet promised so to dispose his troops
that he should conquer his enemies, that the Imperialists should not
dare to attack him, and that Pavia should fall into his hands. The
king followed this fatal and pernicious advice. The troops were nearly
equal in numbers on both sides, each reckoning about thirty thousand
men. The Imperialists first fell upon the rear-guard of the French,
placed at the castle and in the park of Mirabel. They expected to
carry it if the king did not come to its assistance; and, if he did
come, they should make him lose the advantage of the position in which
he was fortified. What Lannoi anticipated, happened. Scarcely did the
French monarch perceive the danger of his brother-in-law the duke of
Alençon, who commanded the rear-guard, than, impatient to signalize
himself, he rushed forward at the head of his cavalry, and fell upon
the Imperialists. His artillery, placed with much skill by Gaillon de
Genouillac, and served with great spirit, fired at first with such
success, that every volley carried away a file. The Spanish infantry,
being unable to resist this terrible fire, precipitately broke their
ranks, to seek shelter, in great disorder, in a hollow way. Such a
brilliant commencement dazzled Francis; he forgot that he owed all his
success to his artillery, believed himself already the conqueror, and
came out from his lines. This inconsiderate movement placed the prince
between his own artillery and the fugitives, and rendered his cannon
useless. The face of the battle was changed in a moment; the viceroy
advanced with the gendarmerie and a body of arquebusiers; the king was
pressed on all sides. The French gendarmerie did not, in this battle,
sustain its ancient reputation; it was beaten and almost destroyed by
two thousand Biscayans, of astonishing agility, who, separating by
platoons of ten, twenty, or thirty men, attacked it with inconceivable
celerity and address. They were seen, all at once, making a discharge,
disappearing at the moment they should be in turn attacked, and
re-appearing unexpectedly, again to disappear. It is said that Antonio
de Leva had, for some time, trained these arquebusiers to fight thus
in platoons, between the squadrons of the Spanish cavalry, and that he
had borrowed the manœuvre from the Greeks. A stratagem of Pescara’s
contributed still further to the success of the day. This general
having approached the enemy’s camp a little before the commencement of
the battle, returned to his own to announce that the king of France had
just published in his army a prohibition, under a capital punishment,
to grant quarter to any Spaniard. This information, although false,
produced so strong an impression upon his troops, that almost all the
Imperialists swore to spare the life of no Frenchman, and to die sooner
than surrender. This oath rendered the Spaniard equally invincible
in fight, and ferocious after victory. The French monarch sustained
the powerful charges of the enemy like a hero. Francis of Lorraine,
and Richard De la Pole, the last heir of the house of Suffolk,
endeavoured, with some companies of lansquenets, to disengage him;
but they were killed, and the soldiers instantly turned their backs.
Bonnevet perished fighting, and was regretted by nobody. Louis de la
Trémouille shared the same fate; nearly nine thousand warriors, all
gentlemen, were left lifeless on the field of battle. The _mêlée_ was
terrible around the king. Left almost alone in the midst of a host of
enemies, he inspired terror in all who ventured to approach him. He had
already immolated five of his assailants, when his horse was killed,
the monarch fell, and a rush was made to seize him. Springing up, he
recovered himself, and killed two more Spaniards. At this moment, Molac
de Kercado, first gentleman of the chamber, perceived the peril of his
master, and dispersed or killed all who stood in the way of his zeal.
He placed himself before his exhausted sovereign, protected him with
his sword, and checked the savage impetuosity of the Spanish soldiery;
but Kercado fell whilst defending the king, who refused to surrender
to anybody but the viceroy of Naples: “Monsieur de Lannoi,” said he,
“there is the sword of a king who deserves consideration, since, before
parting with it, he has employed it in shedding the blood of several
of your people, and who is not made prisoner by cowardice, but by a
reverse of fortune.” Lannoi fell on his knees, received the arms of
the king with respect, and kissed his hand, whilst presenting him with
another sword, saying, “I beg your majesty to accept of mine, which has
spared the blood of many of your subjects. It is not becoming in an
officer of the emperor to behold a king disarmed, although a prisoner.”
Francis was conducted, after the action, across the field of battle, to
the place he was to be confined in. The Imperialists made him observe
that all his Swiss guards had fallen in their ranks, and that they lay
dead close to one another. “If all my troops had done their duty,” said
he, much affected by this spectacle, “as well as these brave fellows, I
should not be your prisoner, but you would be mine.” Francis announced
this defeat to his mother in the energetic words: “Madame, all is lost
but honour.” Whilst the king’s wounds were being dressed, a Spanish
soldier, approaching him respectfully, said: “Knowing we should have
a battle, Sire, I cast a golden bullet, which I destined for your
majesty, and six silver ones, for the principal officers of your army.
The six have been used, but yours is left, because I could not find
the opportunity I watched for. I implore you, Sire, to accept of it,
and to keep it to form part of your ransom.” The king took it, thanked
the Spaniard, and praised his intelligence and generosity. The emperor
issued a decree, by which he forbade any rejoicings on account of the
victory; but this moderation was only apparent. Francis was taken to
Madrid. Charles assembled a council to consider how the captive king
ought to be treated. “As your brother and your friend,” replied the
bishop of Osma; “he must be restored to liberty, without any other
condition than that of becoming your ally.” Charles did not follow
this wise counsel; he behaved towards the king like a Corsair with a
rich prisoner. Francis recovered his liberty thirteen months after,
by an onerous treaty, in which he gave up his claims to the Milanese,
Genoa, and Asti. He was also to have ceded his rights to the duchy of
Burgundy, but when Lannoi came to demand that province in the name of
the emperor, Francis, as his only reply, required him to be present
at an audience of the deputies of Burgundy, who told the king that
he had not the power to dismember a province of the French monarchy.
Francis I. preserving a continual desire to avenge himself for the
disgrace before Pavia, entered into all the leagues that were formed
against Charles V. The emperor derived but little advantage from this
event, the most decisive and glorious of his reign. A modern writer
has discovered the reason of this. Money constitutes the sinews of
war, and the emperor could not pay his troops. He assembled the Cortes
of Castille at Madrid, and all orders refused him assistance: the
clergy, because they had no power to dispose of the goods consecrated
to religion; the nobility would have derogated from their privilege, if
they had paid a tribute; and the third estate, because, not having yet
had it in their power to pay a gratuitous gift which had been demanded
of them of four hundred thousand ducats, it was impossible for them
to furnish fresh sums. The emperor, although very much dissatisfied,
pretended to find these reasons good, although they defeated all his
designs.--Napoleon, with that jealousy which he always professed
to have for the honour of France, when master of Spain, caused the
unfortunate king, his victim, to restore the sword and armour of
Francis I., which were preserved at Madrid as a monument of this
victory.
Pavia experienced something approaching to sieges in 1655, 1733, and
1745, but they furnish no details worth relating. In 1796, likewise,
it was captured, without any trouble, by Buonaparte, who took the
opportunity for uttering one of his glorious fanfaronnades: “If the
blood of a single Frenchman,” said he, “had been shed, I would have
caused a column to be erected over the ruins of the city, upon which
should have been inscribed--HERE STOOD THE CITY OF PAVIA!”