Chapter 16. Years of Dust & Shadow
1525-1526; France, Germany, Italy & Spain.
“Truly, we are dust and shadow; truly, desire is blind and greedy; truly, hope deceives.”
— Plutarch, To Laura in Death
Music Accompaniment: Calata ala Spagnola
The Château de Saumur pictured in Les Très Riches Heures du Duc de Berri.
Emperor Charles V’s capture at Lodi was a high point for French successes in the sixteenth century, everything that the previous kings—Charles VIII and Louis XII—had fought for. All the French blood that had been sacrificed for the ambitions of France’s monarchs in Italy was now completely vindicated; the capture of the emperor would give France the upper hand they needed to secure their position in Italy. Charles V was held only briefly in Italy—following a short stay in Genoa, he was soon transferred via ship to France, where he stayed for a time at the Château de l’Empéri before being ultimately transferred to the Château of Saumur—the former home of René d’Anjou located in the province of Maine, which kept the emperor nearly two hundred miles from the nearest port, and some distance from his dominions in both Spain and the Low Countries. Though the emperor’s confinement was overseen by one of king’s bosom companions, Anne, the Baron of Montmorency—with François ordering that the emperor be treated with
all the honors due to his rank. A six-month long truce was also negotiated. Along with a suite of servants that composed of some of the noblemen that had been captured alongside the emperor, Charles was granted funds to allow him to keep a sumptuous table. None of this mattered, however, when the emperor’s chief request was denied: a meeting with the king of France himself. François, having remained in Italy, instead chose to dispatch an envoy to Saumur to lay his terms before the emperor.
François was not prepared to deal lightly with Charles; he had scored a major victory and was prepared to follow through with it to his advantage. The terms delivered by the king’s envoy were crushing. Not only was the emperor to accede to a marriage between his eldest daughter, Isabella, to the Dauphin, but he would endow her with certain territories as her dowry that would be ceded to France immediately: Artois, and the County of Burgundy, with the Princess Isabella to be reared in France as a
fille de France. The emperor would also be required to renounce for himself and his heirs any claims to the ancestral Duchy of Burgundy—while also recognizing French claims in Italy—including not only the Duchy of Milan, but French pretensions to the Kingdom of Naples, and to abandon their occupation of Lower Navarre and restore it to the Kingdom of Navarre per the Treaty of Noyon. A final insult would be the king’s ransom that François would claim before he would authorize the emperor’s release—a sum of two and a half million crowns. François also demanded that the emperor should pay the costs of the French crown’s debts to the City of Paris—another 500,000 crowns. When the terms were delivered, the emperor was all fury—even pulling a dagger upon the envoy, snapping:
“Does the King of France wish for me to cede my soul, as well?” It took the Baron of Montmorency to disarm the emperor, as well as soothing his temper before things calmed—even so, the emperor flatly rejected the terms offered, offering the envoy counter terms to take to the king: a betrothal between the Princess Isabella and the Dauphin, with Artois and 250,000 ducats to be offered as her dowry, his renunciation of Burgundy, recognition of French claims over Milan, and the payment of the demanded ransom. It could be of little surprise that François, holding the upper hand, flatly rejected the emperor’s offer. Discussions within the king’s council concerned the emperor’s potential freedom—one section of the king’s councilors believed that the emperor should not be freed until he signed the terms demanded by the king, while others wanted his freedom to be contingent on the terms as well as the required ransom. A third group advocated that the emperor should be held regardless, to ensure he could not cause further trouble to France—but the king demurred from this idea. Still, he made it clear: if the emperor wished to reject his offered terms, then he would remain where he was until he came around.
Delays in the negotiation meant that the truce expired with the emperor still held in close confinement—with no treaty in site. France, meanwhile, continued to maintain the upper hand—with the Pope defecting from the imperial alliance to align his interests with France, including plans for a campaign in Naples. Even England, long the emperor’s stalwart ally, chose to negotiate a separate peace with France that included the cession of Boulogne. Venice, too, once more reaffirmed it’s alliance with France, while Florence, under the rule of Cardinal Guilio di Medici was also eager to realign it’s interests towards that of France—the
Treaty of Pisa not only affirmed an alliance between France and the Florentines, but also arranged for a betrothal for Florence’s future lord—Lorenzo III[1], the son and heir of Lorenzo II, to a daughter of the French nobility—Jacqueline de la Trémoille, daughter of the Viscount of Thouars. With negotiations having borne little fruit, the French king soon declared an assault upon the Naples—led by Jacques de La Palice. The French troops were supported by auxiliary troops from France’s Italian allies—a contingent of Papal troops were led by the Duke of Urbino, while Florence subsidized the so-called Black Bands under Ludovico di Medici, who now formally entered French service. Naval support was provided not only by the French navy, but by a squadron of Genoese ships under Filippo Doria, the famed nephew of Andrea Doria, while the Venetians furnished a small command under Vincenzo Capello—albeit suffering some disorder, and mainly limited to observational tasks. Gaeta fell after a short siege, and soon Naples fell under siege as well. With the Spanish army in Naples virtually vanquished in the aftermath of Lodi, the remaining contingent troops within the kingdom fell under the command of Alfonso d’Ávalos—who was intent that the emperor should suffer no further defeats from the fiendish French.
As the French campaign continued—it remained to the emperor’s other dominions to continue the struggle without their sovereign, who remained in custody. In the Low Countries, it was the Empress Mary who spearheaded the effort for her husband’s release—in the negotiations to arrange the marriage of her nephew to Queen Mary of England, she attempted, to no avail to ratify an alliance once more with England. Catherine of Aragon, her position shaken badly by England’s poor performance in the war of 1521, found herself unable to offer any support—but promised to do all she could to agitate for Charles’ release from custody. When Mary heard of the terms that François proposed—including the potential marriage of her eldest daughter that would require Isabella to be raised in France, the empress openly wept, telling her closest confidantes that:
“My eldest son died at the altar of politics; I shall not sacrifice my eldest daughter to the same fate.” In Spain, effective command of the government fell to Prince Ferdinand. When François made his first demands to the Empress Mary, primarily concerning the emperor’s ransom, it fell to her to deliver that news to her brother-in-law. Such a massive sum being demanded could not be raised in the Low Countries alone—it would have to be sought throughout the whole of the emperor’s domains. The news stunned Ferdinand, but also produced a problem: though Spain was a wealthy country, it’s regular revenues and expenses meant that assisting with the emperor’s ransom would no doubt require a grant from the Cortes. The Cortes of Castile was now in an ascendant position following the revolt of the communities and had received greater powers following the Treaty of Segovia. These powers had not yet been tested—and if the Cortes was summoned, this would be their first meeting under the new terms. Another pressing issue sat before Ferdinand: the Cortes was summoned in the king’s name, but it’s sessions could not begin properly typically without the king’s presence; this was an issue that had caused issues previously and had helped spurn the
Comunidads in the first place, when Ferdinand and the Cardinal of Tortosa had opened the Cortes of Valencia in the steed of the king.
“You must do what is needed,” Empress Mary wrote in a letter to Ferdinand.
“You are loved and respected in Spain in a way that the emperor and I could only hope to be—all you do is for the good of your brother. I ask only that you think upon it and do what you decide is best—whatever you decide, I shall offer my full support—the emperor shall as well.” 1525 also dawned with troubles abroad, in Hungary: Louis II, the emperor’s brother-in-law found himself under siege from the Ottomans. The fortress of Belgrade had fallen in 1522—and Hungary, long dominated by the magnates, was ill-equipped to deal with the Turkish scourge—with both Louis II and his wife, Mary, appealing abroad for assistance to turn back the Ottoman armies.
Siege of Belgrade, c. 1456. Turkish Painting (c. 1580).
Empress Mary, in the meantime, spearheaded the effort to raise her husband’s ransom—summoning the States General in her husband’s name to appeal for the needed subsidies.
“I summon you not just as empress and regent, but as both a wife and mother in the deference of your sovereign, who remains ensnared in French chains,” Mary began in a bold speech towards the deputies.
“I beseech you, do your honor towards your sovereign lord so that he may be free and able to avenge these slights put upon him and his family.” Though the Empress was forthright and inspiring in his speech, the Estates were unwilling to shoulder the entire burden of the emperor’s ransom—they offered to raise some ƒ950,000 for the emperor, asking the empress to intercede with the Spaniards to raise the remainder of the ransom—which still stood at some two million crowns.
“The burghers have proved most intransigent with my requests,” A letter from the empress to Ferdinand stated, mid-1526.
“I am beseeched on all corners—your sister in Hungary writes to me for our aid; the German princes clamor to be of assistance against the Turks, and yet… our focus remains upon the troubles of my husband, your brother. The Estates are only willing to shoulder a portion of the ransom—and though a committee of burghers are resolved to raise an additional ƒ
200,000—I possess nowhere what we need, and it shall take time for the funds to be raised. I am prepared to fleece what I can from my own privy purse—perhaps some ƒ50,000… but I am aware it is a paltry amount, and the sum we still require is much greater: some two million. I ask you, most humbly, as your suffering sister—do what you can to see if the Spanish shall assist us.”
Ferdinand knew that Spain would likely shoulder the heaviest burden of the emperor’s ransom; after all, riches galore had been found with the toppling of the Aztec Empire—and even more wealth was promised to soon flow from what was now called
Nueva España. Now urged by the empress, Ferdinand decided that the plunge must be made—he ordered the summoning of the Cortes of Castile: ostensibly under the name of his brother and under his authority, by in truth under the command of Ferdinand. Though the Cortes assembled without complaint and without restriction before Ferdinand as Viceroy of Castile and all of Spain, it is little surprise that they submitted before their prince a document of demands that they wished to be accepted before they would consider any extraordinary grant to pay for the emperor’s ransom. The first demands were innocuous: they demanded that the Treaty of Segovia be enshrined into law as a statute. They also pressed for further concessions—that the Cortes be allowed assemble without the presence of his king, or even his representative, and that the Cortes should be summoned regularly. This became known as the
Contract of Valladolid, named after the city, where the Cortes had assembled. Most radically, the Cortes put forth a question on the succession: they demanded that Ferdinand be recognized as Prince of Asturias and Girona as heir to Spain—demanding that
their prince should be assigned the Spanish inheritance—whether the emperor had another son or not. They asked that Ferdinand should not only govern Spain the emperor’s absence, but that he should play a vital role in the government going forward. They also demanded an end to Ferdinand’s long-standing betrothal to Anna Jagiellon—beseeching that the prince seek out a marriage that would be more amiable to Spanish interests instead. It has long been a question of historians regarding the 1526 Cortes of Valladolid—was Ferdinand aware of the terms that would be put before him? One class of historians believe that the Cortes were aware of Ferdinand’s position in seeking assistance for his brother—and were determined to press it to the fullest: that included ensuring that he would be their eventual king, whether it be in five years or thirty. Other historians tend to a darker role: that Ferdinand, being in the position of calling forth the Cortes, was able to ensure that the representatives chosen were partisans of his cause. Some believe that by 1526, Ferdinand had tired of being his brother’s satrap, without a concrete position or authority of his own, and that he was prepared to use his brother’s weakness as an excuse to solidify his own influence in Spain to ensure that he would one day reign in Spain as king. Certainly, arguments could be made for this—Ferdinand held no position outside that of Viceroy and had been denied any say in the larger Habsburg inheritance, or even granted lands or revenues of his own.
The petition for Ferdinand to be named as heir to Spain was also supported by the royal council, with a joint deputation from the Councils of Aragon and Castile presenting Ferdinand with the offer—headed by Juan Pardo de Tavera, the Archbishop of Santiago.
“We desire that you, and no other—should accept this offer from our hands; there is no prince worthier of the honor except for you,” The head of the deputation lavished praise upon Ferdinand and his virtues. Little surprise, that whatever his personal feelings, Ferdinand accepted the offer placed before him. In exchange, the Cortes was more than generous: they endowed Ferdinand with the rents and revenues from several towns and districts within Asturias, totaling some 450,000 maravedis per annum; they were also prepared to offer the prince a grant to pay for the emperor’s ransom. A portion would be granted out of the revenues of the quinto real, or tax on precious metals and treasures—while a portion would be made out as a subsidy—totaling together almost a million ducats. This was not even close to the full amount required, leading Ferdinand to resort to other methods to raise funds: he ordered the seizure of an entire shipment of silver that totaled some 250,000 ducats, with the owners to be given
juros, or government bonds that could be repaid later. The remainder of the funds would be raised through loans—Ferdinand would contract
asientos with both the Fugger and Wesler banking houses, while Empress Mary would seek out loans from Antwerp, Amsterdam, and Brussels. Though Ferdinand and Mary could surely raise the vast sum required, the primary issue remained: it would take time to raise the necessary funds.
“The Cortes has agreed to fund part of the ransom.” Ferdinand wrote in a letter to the empress.
“Though they do not do so lightly—I am attaching in a proscript the statutes which they have demanded in exchange. I am fully aware that I do not legally possess the authority to accept these demands, but it is what they have asked—and that I have gladly given. All I do is for our family, and for the emperor.” Empress Mary regarded the terms placed before Ferdinand as odious, but knew it was the price for ensuring the freedom of her husband.
“You have been placed in a most difficult position, and have handled it with great aplomb,” Mary wrote soothingly to Ferdinand in the aftermath of his appointment as Prince of Asturias.
“Charles would see that all you do is in service to his cause; you are his worthy successor in Spain…” Little surprise that the empress offered words of approval—given her own distaste of Spain; better Ferdinand to succeed his brother, rather than one of her darling daughters.
Etching of Anne de Boullan, c. 1525: King François' newest Maîtresse-en-titre.
Meanwhile, the emperor’s confinement continued at Saumur—with little resolution in site. François returned from Italy towards the end of 1525 as a crowned victor and was able to return to his raucous bachelorhood which he had adopted following the death of his wife, Claude. Though the king’s mother was eager for him to remarry—she was incessant in her promotion of Isabella of Portugal, as well as several lesser princesses, such as Hedwig of Poland—the king seemed to have little desire to consider remarriage. The end of 1525 marked an end towards François’ relationship with his chief mistress, Françoise de Foix. At nearly thirty, the old mistresses influence had begun to wane—and the king’s wandering eye had been piqued by the interest of a young Englishwoman who had grown up within his court into a beautiful young woman—Anne Boleyn, better known now as
Anne de Boullan. Anne had led a rather delightful life at the French court, and following the death of Queen Claude, she entered the household of the Duchess of Alençon, with the pair becoming fast friends. Though Anne’s father had long desired her recall to England, to arrange a marriage for her, his options were somewhat limited with the stagnation of his own career. Anne is said to have told her friends:
´Better to be merry and single in France—than married and miserable in England.” Michelle Contay, a diarist of the period who would eventually become one of Anne’s closest friends wrote in her story of Anne’s life that:
“At nineteen, Anne was ravishingly beautiful—she possessed not only that sparkling wit and charm that the king so valued in his female companions, but she was also an expert tease. She was a flirt who enjoyed being chased—and at the French court there were many beaux to chase her; before her connection to the king, it is said she enjoyed a brief romance with the Duke of Lorraine, who entertained the idea of marriage before doing his duty and wedding Maria of Montferrat; she was also allegedly connected to the young King of Navarre and even the Duke of Alençon—but once the king’s eyes fell upon her, none else mattered. Unlike many who found themselves seduced and ravished by the king; Anne did not give into his desires immediately. She was a consummate actress, skilled at increasing the king’s ardor while increasing his interest—a skill which some say lay in her techniques which she had learned from the Duke of Lorraine—a known debauché who often boasted ‘It is easy to make love to a virgin when other tricks are involved…’ Whatever the reasoning, the king was enraptured—it took nearly a full six months before Anne dared to yield to the king’s desires. And when she did so? It is said that she drove a hard bargain for the courtesy which she was bestowing upon the king—bartering like a merchant’s wife and extracting a payment of some 15,000₶ from the king for the pleasure. Though many thought that the king laying with Boullan would be end of their affair, given his brief attachment to her sister, they were wrong: it was only the beginning of her reign as his maîtresse-en-titre.”
Anne was soon installed into sumptuous apartments near to the king’s own and given an establishment that rivaled that of his former queen, to the dismay of the late queen’s partisans. François was quick to lavish his new lover with material gifts of silks, dresses, and jewels—but she was also given an annual pension of some 30,000₶ per annum. The new mistress was unabashed in her promotion of her own family and relations in a way that shocked even the most vulgar French courtiers—for her eldest sister, Marie, Anne arranged for her marriage to a French nobleman—Jean du Tillet, the Sieur de La Bussiére. Her younger brother, George—who would become known in France as
Georges de Boullan saw his fortunes raised by his sister’s new position; she gifted him with a captaincy in the
Garde Écossaises—with her eye on the lookout for a plum heiress amongst the illustrious French nobility, with her hopes of raising the Boullan family to ever greater heights in France. This certainly complicated things for the Boullan family patriarch, Thomas Boleyn, an English diplomat who had served both Henry VIII and Catherine of Aragon primarily in the Low Countries and in France. Though his diplomatic career had largely been curtailed by 1525, his daughter’s connection to the French king did him no favors—he would be entrusted with no further diplomatic missions following this date, though the King of France did deign to grant
Père Boullan the Order of Saint Michael—and all knew why it was granted, with one anonymous quip stating:
“The grateful king has named the father a knight for that most valiant service—raising up a whore into the royal bed.”
The lack of a resolution regarding the emperor’s freedom hinged primarily upon Charles V himself. He remained intransigent regarding the terms put forward by François—while François himself made it very clear that his freedom hinged not only on the payment of his ransom, but his signing of the treaty.
“You must not lose hope,” Empress Mary wrote in a letter to her husband.
“It remains very clear that no amount of gold will sway the King of France. I ask that you continue to keep faith and continue to beseech him. Please—Isabella cannot be parted from us.” Yet despite the empresses’ words, most of those around the emperor was encouraging him to come to terms with the reality of his situation: François held all the cards and would set the terms. This was odious to Charles’ honor—already badly damaged by his capture at Lodi, he was not prepared to give the King of France another inch and suffer yet another humiliation. Charles was so tortured by the terms that had been placed before him that he even considered abdication—he instructed two of his servants, George of Frundsburg and Cesare Hercolani to prepare instruments of abdication that would leave Ferdinand with the Habsburg lands in Austria as well as the Spanish inheritance, while his daughter Isabella would inherit the Low Countries as Duchess of Burgundy—with the proviso that Isabella should marry his brother’s son and heir, or whomever Ferdinand chose in lieu of his future son. Attached to the instruments were letters to the German princes and electors—abdicating his title as emperor and extorting them to elect Ferdinand as emperor in his steed. Perhaps it was Charles’ hope that once he had abdicated, his brother and wife would be free to continue to war against the French, while Charles—without titles or possessions, would be useless as a prisoner and unable to convey or agree to any of the French terms demanded. Regardless, the plan failed primarily because of Charles’ servants: they begged the emperor not to abdicate, and reasoned with the emperor that even if he
did give up his dominions, it would likely not sway François to release him; it would also cause further disorder and disarray within the emperor’s realms when it was not needed. When the Baron of Montmorency heard of the emperor’s plot to abdicate, he wrote immediately to the king:
“I beseech you, your majesty—though you have held off from meeting with the emperor in hopes of extracting the desired terms, I fear that it has not been to France’s benefit. The emperor’s mind suffers greatly; I ask that you consider meeting with him in person, to reason with him—sovereign to sovereign, that he must know what must be done.”
View of the Bay of Naples, 16th Century.
It was not until December that François finally agreed to meet with Charles—ordering that the emperor be transferred from Saumur to the Château de Rambouillet—and issuing strict orders to Montmorency that the emperor be limited to the area around the perimeter of the Château; while the emperor would be free to take walks and even hunt with his armed guard, the king was determined that none should see the emperor; he also had an aversion to bringing the emperor into his capital, and thus left Charles on the outskirts of Paris. Though Charles was brought to Rambouillet, he spent December largely in seclusion—with the French court celebrating a raucous Christmas the Vincennes. The king gifted Anne Boullan with several strands of pearls—as well as a pendant bearing her initials, endowed with sapphires and diamonds, worth some 1500₶.
“Yet only few spoke of the lavish gifts given to Mademoiselle Boullan,” Wrote one anonymous writer of the time.
“Many more were eager to discuss her expanding waist and stomach, which she flaunted before all the court. There was no denying it… the king’s mistress was enceinte.” It was only after the Christmas celebrations that François deigned to pay a visit to Charles. When the emperor laid his eyes upon the king, he could not help but speak derisively:
“So, you have come to gaze upon your prisoner, I take it?” François was quick to respond:
“Not my prisoner—but my cousin and my friend. I have been desirous of your liberty when there are those amongst my council who would prefer to keep you exactly where you are.” The king then spent several hours in interview with the emperor—and though no formal terms were agreed upon, both sides felt they were inching closer to a resolution, despite the emperor’s continued reservations. When the king finally departed from the emperor, it was the emperor’s adherents who pressed the emperor to consider the king’s terms more carefully.
“The king has placed before you the most odious restrictions and believes he can crush your power and authority from within your prison cell,” Hercolani counselled the emperor carefully.
“Once you are free—you are the one who will hold all the power. All know how harsh these terms are—and no one, most especially your subjects, would balk at you breaking these terms as soon as you are able to do so.”
It was in January of 1526 that the final terms were finally reached on what would become the
Treaty of Rambouillet. Not only did the emperor agree to the terms placed before him by François—with it agreed that alongside the Princess Isabella that twelve noblemen selected by François would be surrendered to the King of France as hostages to ensure the emperor’s good behavior. Charles also pledged to ratify the treaty once more upon reaching his own dominions, as well as ensuring it’s ratification by the Cortes of Castile as well as the Great Council of Mechlen. The harsh terms of the treaty, so evident, caused great dismay to France’s Chancellor, Antoine Duprat—that he believed that France would never be able to enforce these terms upon the emperor once he was freed. Duprat attempted to convince the king to moderate his terms—and when this failed, he refused to affix his seal to the treaty at all—forcing François to sign the treaty personally. Though the ink on the parchment would soon dry, it took until March for arrangements to be made for the emperor’s handover ceremony at Cambrai—where he would be exchanged for the Princess Isabella and the demanded noblemen—Henry of Nassau-Breda, Philibert of Châlon, and Antonio de Leyva—among others. The terms of the treaty required the emperor to make good upon his promises for the return of the hostages—many of them some of his best generals. Princess Isabella’s dowry was to be ceded within six weeks, while he was given four months to ratify the treaty and ensure its acceptance in both the Low Countries and Spain, as well as cede Naples and return Lower Navarre to Henri II.
With France’s star rapidly in ascendance, it was of little surprise that many of it’s most stalwart allies in Italy were now reconsidering what French domination over the peninsula might mean.
[1]Born in 1519: only son and heir of Lorenzo II di Medici and Madeleine de la Tour d’Auvergne.
Lorenzo is the only son and child of Lorenzo II and Madeleine de la Tour d'Auvergne. Lorenzo will not only have a stake to his mother's inheritance, the County of Boulogne and the Lordship of St. Saturnin, but he's being groomed by Cardinal Guilio de Medici as future Lord of Florence. He's been betrothed to Jacqueline de la Trémoille, who is the eldest daughter of Louis III de la Trémoille and Anne de Laval.