CHAPTER 29
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.’
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 mouths; 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.’ fe69
Immediate preparations were made for fitting up the galleys of Rhodes in which the pope was to sail. All was bustle in the harbor. Those long low barks were supplied with everything necessary for subsistence, for sailing, and even for attack and defense. 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.’
fe70
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 traveling 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 favors 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 fe71 to enter the league against the king and the pope; but Francis sent them money to keep quiet, and they did not move. fe72 Were all his maneuvers 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. fe73… A fleet of pirates, lurking behind the islands of Hyeres, will suddenly appear, fall on the ship in which you are sailing, and carry you’ off.’ fe74 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 Oecolampadius,’ 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.
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 car, and begged the Duke of Albany to escort their common relative to Nice, where she should wait for further orders. The honor 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 Francs; but until then, she shall only go part of the way. fe75
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 pops 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 Fewer, 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.
The papal fleet, all fluttering with banners, had a smooth passage. fe76 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.’ fe77 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.’ fe78 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.
At the beginning of October, 1533, the ancient city of the Phocaeans was in a state of great excitement; the King of France and the pope were coming; what all honor! It is well known that the inhabitants of that city are quick, enthusiastic, and fond of show and parade. Watch men 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.’ fe79 A feverish agitation pervaded the city; the sound of trumpets, clarions, and hautboys filled the air; the people hurried to the harbor.
Nobles and prelates went on board the ships that had been kept ready;
their sails were unfurled, and in a short time this extemporized 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; fe80 the man who has never been mistaken and never will be; whose name is alone in the world, vice-God upon earth.’ fe81 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 harbor, three hundred pieces of artillery fired a salute. Notre Dame de la Garde, the tower of St. John, the abbey or St. Victor, the harbor and its vicinity were all on fire. fe82
Francis was not to be seen among the vast and brilliant crowd which filled Marseilles. There were princes of the blood, prelates, diplomatizts, 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 were Clement was preparing to take his repose: it was the King of France. fe83… 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.’ fe84
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 labor 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 levee 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 offense. Francis dispatched 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 what 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. fe85
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, fe86 that the king confided marvelously 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 equaly 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.
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 diplomatizt, 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. fe87 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 Francis 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.’ fe88 These
diamonds whose brilliancy was to dazzle the king and France, never shone on Catherine’s fingers or on the crown of Henry II.
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, to 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 organize the most terrible festival that had ever been held in honor 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