Margaret of Angoulême, Queen of Navarre (Robinson 1886)/Chapter 12
THE LEAGUE WITH SOLIMAN.
(1541–3.)
Francis, as we have said, was now resolved to win back his old allies, to disclose his real relations with the Emperor. For the Venetian embassy the King selected Cesare Fregoso, a son of the Doge of Genoa: for Constantinople, Antonio Rincon, a man of profound insight, one of the few who could answer the question of the East. As far as Venice they were to travel together, then Rincon should proceed alone to the Court of Soliman. The two ambassadors journeyed through Piedmont towards the Po, for, owing to the heaviness and corpulence of Rincon, they had resolved to take boat close to Turin and do as much as possible of their Journey by water. On the 1st of July 1541 they reached Rivoli, where they were met by messengers who beseeched them to halt, for news had come to the ears of Du Bellay, which it behoved them to learn before they left the town. At midnight Du Bellay himself arrived; he assured the ambassadors that he had discovered a plot on the part of Del Guasto and the Emperor to waylay their boat, murder them, and steal their despatches. But Fregoso laughed at this alarm; he had fought against Del Guasto in honourable warfare, and did not believe a great captain would stoop to such a deed. Rincon did not like to hang back alone; moreover, the corpulent ambassador dreaded the long journey on horseback, which Du Bellay advised. He therefore let Fregoso laugh his natural fears to scorn, and they departed by water, "a more easy way," says Du Bellay, "if less sure."
The next day a second messenger overtook the ambassadors. By him Du Bellay sent them accurate details of the ambush laid for them, beseeching them to return, or at least to send by the courier their despatches back to Rivoli, whence he, Du Bellay, would have them safely forwarded to Venice. Either through shame or false confidence, the ambassadors determined to proceed; but recognising that they had no right to imperil the safety of their message, they sent the despatches back to Du Bellay, Then, urging their oarsmen to make haste, they were rowed down the river all the night, passing Casale without any risk. They were now within a few miles of Pavia. But a little farther down, at a place called Cantalupo, a boat full of armed men suddenly boarded them, murdered the wise Rincon and the brave Fregoso, took the oarsmen and threw them into the dungeons of Pavia. Thus it was supposed the fate of the ambassadors would remain shrouded in mystery. But a second boat, conveying the attendants of Rincon and Fregoso, escaped from the ambush. Rowing swiftly to the bank, the servants escaped ashore and fled into the woods, and thence back to Du Bellay at Rivoli. Du Bellay hushed the matter up until he discovered the prison of the oarsmen who had witnessed the actual murder. This at last coming to his ears, he had the bars of their windows silently filed at night. They escaped; and having, finally, all the witnesses in his hands, Du Bellay turned on Del Guasto and accused him and his master of the crime. Their guilt was proved, and spread horror throughout Europe. "I cannot murder ambassadors like your Master!" cried Francis to the Ambassador of Spain.
And Venice, which could not execute the Emperor or his governor, insisted on the death of the assassins in their employ. So Rincon and Fregoso were avenged.
Charles V. was deeply vexed, not by the discovery of the murder, but by his failure to secure the dispatches. He, however, did what he could, inventing false papers and spreading abroad a rumour that Francis had offered Germany as a prize to the Turk in reward for Soliman's help against the Empire. "It is," says Margaret, with bitter resignation, "only another of his accustomed lies." But the lie did harm to France with credulous Germany.
At this moment Francis might opportunely have avenged himself on Charles. The little town of Marano on the Adriatic offered itself to the French King. The town was small, but the situation was invaluable. Planted between Italy and Austria, opposite Venice and neighbouring the East. Marano would have been a hand at the throat of the Empire, and a hand stretched out to the allies of France. Du Bellay strongly urged Francis to take possession at once. He did, indeed, put some few soldiers in it, but, ever hesitating, the French King vacillated, and shrank from offending Charles so openly. Before his decision was taken, Venice had bought the little place.
Francis had done much to estrange Soliman; he had as yet given no pledge of his good faith. Had he been able to point to Marano, the Turk might have believed him. As it was, Soliman felt an immense contempt for his credulous and vacillating ally. When Captain Paulin brought at length the long delayed despatches, Soliman refused to admit him to his presence.
Paulin, or Pollino, was a man of low origin, but shrewd talent and plausible address. He succeeded at last in gaining the ear of Soliman. The Turk promised, at length, to renew his alliance, and to send, next year, should the King require it, an Ottoman fleet to the aid of France. But his faith in Francis was destroyed. Meanwhile, at home, the King, at last awakened, was doing his best to regain his ground with the German Lutherans. But the Emperor's lie fought hard against him; and the news of the recently concluded alliance with the Porte did him harm with the League. "Germany for the Turks," the superstitious Germans heard, under the promises and advances of the King. All that Francis could do was by tolerance at home to give, as it were, a new guarantee to the Lutherans abroad. And his clemency to the rebellious Huguenots of La Rochelle served in some sort as a guarantee of his good faith.
The Court was now all for tolerance and the New Ideas; the Psalms of David, in Marot's version, were set to all the popular vaudevilles, or to airs composed for them at court. For one the Dauphin himself wrote the music. Everyone had an air, a psalm, and a text of his own. Villemadon, Margaret's envoy, marvelled to find the gay court of Fontainebleau thus out-Nérac Nérac. The Cardinal de Tournon looked on aghast. He might have spared his fears; this Lutheranism had no roots. It was but a demonstration against Catholic Spain, against the convictions of the Emperor. Charles appears to have understood the matter better. He, also, determined to have a device, and sent to Clément Marot, begging him to translate for him the Psalm "Confitemini Domino." If the duel between France and the Empire was to be fought with psalms, Charles would not neglect his weapons. But Charles took a surer means to outwit his adversary. Francis must not be permitted to throw his clemency and tolerance, like dust, into German eyes. Convoking a diet at Spires, the Emperor bid them look around and observe the deeds of this king, so clement in words. In the harbour at Marseilles, a Turkish fleet rode at anchor. Let them ask themselves what convictions inspired this psalm-singing monarch? He was ready to sacrifice St. Peter and Luther alike to Mahomet.
Germany listened; the Emperor's speech, with its caustic sarcasm, could not be refuted. It was almost a truth. For the Turk had revenged on Francis his many vacillations and infidelities. Soliman had indeed sent the promised fleet, for the Turk keeps his word; but the fleet was composed of Algerian pirate-ships, and their Admiral was the dreaded Barbarossa.
Such aid did Francis more harm than good. True, the Algerian pirates were brave and hardy, they filled Marseilles with trade and with gold; but they were lawless and insatiable. From Provence itself, they kidnapped boys and girls for the harems of Constantinople. When the fleet of Francis and the fleet of Barbarossa sailed side by side to the bombardment of Nice, the Germans remembered that old lie of Charles. "Germany for the Turks," they said to themselves. And forgetting a hundred cruelties and persecutions, they rallied round the Imperial standard.
The horror of Germany for France infected the German Duke of Cleves. Horror of France and fear of the Emperor. He had fought so valiantly for Francis, that Charles in his anger had sworn not to leave the Duke an inch of his dominions. The Duke fought well; but at last the growing contagion seized upon him. He threw down his arms and sued for forgiveness, promising to annul his alliance with the Valois. Jeanne, sore at heart, was already travelling to the frontier, to be given up to her abhorred bridegroom, when this news reached her. It appeared impossible. Of his own accord, the dragon had renounced Andromeda. "Vilain et infame!" cries Margaret, indignant, thinking of her brother betrayed. But Jeanne is happier than ever she had hoped to be again. They apply to the Pope to dissolve the marriage.
A worse blow struck Francis on the 11th February of this year 1543, when the Emperor concluded an alliance with Henry of England. France was now, indeed, alone. The Turkish admiral had sailed from the coasts of France, where there was no enemy to harass. He had promised to return in case of need; but Francis hesitated to call back so redoubtable an ally. The Lutherans of Germany and the Protestants of England were fighting against him under his enemy's standard. The Emperor was encamped in Champagne. The King of England was before Boulogne.
Francis, at this time, was seriously ill. He could not command his army. Tormented by internal wounds, oppressed by melancholy, he could neither act nor advise. The Queen, agonized by this war between husband and brother, was sick unto death. There was indeed an air of joy in the court of the Dauphin; but in the retinue of the King's favourite son there was a sense of failure and disappointment. In January, Catherine dei Medici had brought into the world a sickly and miserable son. The child could scarcely breathe, he was so weak. His body was covered with livid spots. A serious obstruction in his head would always prevent him from speaking plainly. Yet, such as he was, he, and no longer Charles of Orleans, was the heir of France.