Critical situation of France at the beginning of the campaign of 1544 — Brilliant victory of Enghien at Ceresole — France invaded by Charles V and Henry VIII — The mutual suspicion of the allies prevents their adhering to their original plan of advancing straight upon Paris — Henry VIII lays siege to Boulogne and Montreuil, and the Emperor to Saint-Dizier — A pretended letter from the Duc de Guise causes the garrison of Saint-Dizier to capitulate — Charge of treason against Madame d'Étampes considered — The Dauphin entrusted with the command of the French Grand Army, with orders to remain entirely on the defensive — He entreats the King to recall Montmorency, but François angrily refuses — Henry VIII declines to advance on Paris until Boulogne and Montreuil have fallen— Capture of the Dauphin's magazines at Épernay and Château-Thierry by the Imperialists — The Dauphin falls back to Meaux — Panic in the capital — The King succeeds in restoring the confidence of the Parisians — Charles V, finding that his ally still refuses to cross the Somme, makes overtures for peace — Peace of Crépy — Indignation of the Dauphin, who enters a secret protest against the treaty — Henry VIII and the bulk of his army return to England — The Dauphin in Picardy — Failure of the camisado of Boulogne
THE third campaign began, in 1544, under the most gloomy auspices. François was now isolated. During the winter Charles had succeeded in detaching Denmark and Sweden from the hostile coalition, while most of the German Protestants, irritated by the French King's supposed friendship with the Pope, had made their peace with the Emperor. Henry VIII had assembled an army of 30,000 men at Calais, which was subsequently joined by 15,000 Netherlanders, with the intention of marching through Picardy, straight upon Paris; while the Emperor was to advance upon the capital from Lorraine, and Del Guasto, having swept the French out of Piedmont, would enter France by way of Lyons. François's resources were practically exhausted. He had been accustomed to rely almost entirely on mercenaries, and to repose but little confidence in his own subjects, notwithstanding their undoubted courage and natural aptitude for war; and now there was no money to pay these hireling warriors. By incredible exertions, however, an army was raised in Piedmont and placed under the command of Enghien, with strict injunctions not to allow himself to be drawn into an engagement. Thanks to the persuasive eloquence of Blaise de Montluc, whom Enghien had sent to the Court, this order was subsequently revoked,01 and on April 14 the young general gained the great victory of Ceresole, in which the Imperialists were utterly routed with the loss of 12,000 men.
This brilliant success, the most decisive which France had won in Italy since Marignano, was barren of results, at least so far as the peninsula was concerned, for the danger in the north was too pressing for François to permit Enghien to invade Lombardy. He accordingly received orders to remain in Piedmont, and, towards the end of June, the greater part of his victorious troops was recalled to France, to assist in stemming the advancing tide of invasion.
It had been arranged between Charles and Henry that their campaign should begin in June, and that they should both advance direct upon Paris, without lingering to lay siege to any of the fortresses which lay on their respective lines of march. If this plan had been strictly adhered to, Paris must have fallen, and the dismemberment of France would probably have followed. But neither King nor Emperor trusted his ally, and the result of their mutual suspicion was that Henry turned aside to besiege Boulogne and Montreuil, while the Imperialists invested Saint-Dizier, on the Marne (July 8).
Although the fortifications of Saint-Dizier were in a very dilapidated condition, the heroism of its garrison arrested the advance of the invaders for nearly six weeks, and it was not until August 17 that it capitulated. Its fall came about in a singular manner.
The scouts of the investing army intercepted and brought to the Imperial Chancellor, Granvelle, who had accompanied his master, a packet in which was found "the alphabet of the cypher" which the Duc de Guise, governor of Champagne, employed for his correspondence with the Comte de Sancerre, who commanded the garrison of Saint-Dizier. Granvelle immediately forged a letter from Guise to Sancerre, in which he warned him that he must not expect any assistance and authorised him to surrender the place on honourable terms, which the Imperialists, of course, readily accorded.02
Several writers allege that it was not chance but treason which placed Guise's cypher in the enemies' hands. If we are to believe the historian Beaucaire, who wrote during the reign of Charles IX, under the name of Belcarius, Benvenuto Cellini, and Brantôme, Madame d'Étampes, alarmed at the declining health of her royal lover and the approach of the day when the Dauphin would succeed him, and her enemy, Diane de Poitiers, reign supreme, had become a warm friend and partisan of the Duc d'Orléans; and, in order to ensure herself an asylum on the King's death, ardently desired to bring about an arrangement between François and Charles V, which would secure to the young prince an independent sovereignty, such as the Emperor had offered him in 1540, and which the Dauphin's party had persuaded the King to reject. As she considered that the success of the Imperial arms would be the surest means of accomplishing this, she had established a secret correspondence with the Emperor, through the medium of one of her admirers, the Comte de Bossut-Longueval, and had resumed, from interested motives, the policy which her enemy Montmorency had embraced from religious fanaticism.
That Madame d'Étampes had constituted herself the champion of the younger brother against the elder and had the strongest reasons for wishing to see him established in an independent sovereignty, and that she used her influence with the King in favour of peace, is certainly true. But, though her enemies believed, or, at any rate, affected to believe, that she was at this time in communication with the Emperor, and though, after François's death, a prosecution for high treason was commenced against both her and Longueval, it is doubtful if there was any foundation for such a charge.
The stubborn defence of Saint-Dizier had given time for such troops as François had been able to raise to repel the invader to assemble on the left bank of the Marne between Châlons and Épernay.03 The King had entrusted the command of this army to the Dauphin, with Annebaut as his counsellor and guide, giving him stringent orders to keep the river between himself and the Imperialists, and dispute the passage whenever it should be attempted, but at all hazards to avoid a decisive engagement, the loss of which must inevitably entail that of Paris.
It was a heavy responsibility for a young man of twenty-six, and, as the Dauphin's confidence in his lieutenant had been rudely shaken by the Roussillon expedition, he entreated his father to recall Montmorency, whose presence in this extremity would be of incalculable value. But the King "took it in very bad part that one should have dared to speak to him of this, and fell into great wrath against the generals who were with the prince, whom he suspected of having counselled this request."04
On the capitulation of Saint-Dizier, Charles sent to urge Henry VIII to march at once on Paris, but the English King, who preferred the easier conquest of maritime Picardy, declined to move until Boulogne and Montreuil had capitulated. His refusal placed the Emperor in a very serious position, for he could not advance on the capital until his ally was ready to co-operate with him, and his supplies were nearly exhausted. In these circumstances, he decided to open negotiations for peace on the basis of the proposals which François had rejected in 1540, and pourparlers were held at La Chaussée, between Châlons and Vitry. They were without result, however, and François despatched an ambassador to Henry VIII to endeavour to treat separately with him.
In the first days of September, Charles began to advance along the right-bank of the Marne. It was believed that he intended to lay siege to Châlons, but he passed by that town and encamped about two miles beyond it. His situation was daily becoming more critical, for the light cavalry of the Dauphin had stripped the country bare on both sides of the river, and the Imperialists were on the verge of starvation. He had, indeed, already decided to retreat towards the Netherlands, when he received information — through Madame d'Étampes's agent, Longueval, if we are to believe Beaucaire — that the Dauphin had established the magazines of his army at Épernay and Château-Thierry, neither of which places was fortified, and that the bridge of Épernay had not yet been destroyed.
When the Dauphin, who was encamped opposite Châlons, perceived that the Imperialists had no intention of halting to besiege the town, he despatched a body of troops to destroy the bridge and to burn or throw into the river all the provisions which they were unable to bring away. But the officer who commanded them failed to execute his task with the necessary promptitude,05 and the Emperor, by a rapid march, forestalled him, and Épernay and Château-Thierry, with all the stores they contained, fell into the hands of the enemy.
On receiving this alarming intelligence, the Dauphin at once fell back on Meaux and La Ferté-sous-Jouarre, by which movement he covered the capital, but, at the same time, exposed himself to the danger of being taken in the rear by the English, should they advance from Picardy.
The panic of the Parisians when they learned that the enemy was within striking distance of the city was indescribable. Never in history had such terror been witnessed within its walls. "You would have seen," relates Paradin, "rich and poor, great and small, people of all ages and all conditions, flying and carrying away their property, by land, by water, by wagon; some dragging their children after them, others bearing old men on their shoulders." The Seine was so thickly covered with boats "that it was impossible to see the water of the river," and several of them, overloaded with passengers, sank with their cargoes. The same terror and confusion prevailed in the country round Paris, and the roads were blocked by flocks of sheep and herds of cattle, which their distracted owners were driving towards Normandy or the Loire. In their efforts to escape from the invader, many of the fugitives found that they had but exchanged one evil for another, for bands of robbers hung like vultures on the flanks of the procession and reaped a rich harvest amidst the general panic.06
However, the resolute attitude of the King, who had hastened from Fontainebleau to Paris immediately he was informed of the approach of the enemy, and who, accompanied by the Duc de Guise, rode on horseback through the streets, telling the citizens that "if he could not protect them from fear, he would protect them from harm," and that "he would die in their defence rather than live without saving them," produced an extraordinary effect. In a few hours the emotional Parisians had passed from craven terror to the most boundless confidence, and, declaring that "they were no longer afraid, since they had their King and M. de Guise for defenders," the whole city rose in arms.
Meanwhile, the Emperor had been sending urgent messages to his ally to advance, but Boulogne was now on the point of surrendering, and Henry VIII was not disposed to forgo so valuable a prize at the moment when it was within his grasp. Moreover, sickness was rife among his troops, and the Netherlands transport department, so far from being capable of supplying the army on a long march, had broken down under the easy task of attending upon a stationary camp within a few miles of the frontier.07 To cross the Somme at this juncture, he declared, was impossible.
Charles was in even worse case. His army, a bad one, consisting chiefly of inferior landsknechts and very deficient in cavalry, was dwindling every day from sickness, and still more from desertion — for, by some accident, the money to pay the troops had not reached him — while that of the Dauphin was constantly increasing. An advance upon Paris, now that Henry VIII's co-operation, upon which he had based all his hopes of success, had failed, would have been an extremely hazardous undertaking. Nor did he really desire the dismemberment of the French monarchy, his only object being to cripple François, so that he might be free to deal with the German Protestants and the Porte.08
Accordingly, instead of following the course of the Marne, he retired on Soissons, which he took and sacked (September 12), and from there reopened his negotiations with the French Court. François was, of course, ready enough to treat, and on September 18 peace was signed at Crépy, the King's acceptance of the Imperial terms being precipitated by the news that on the 14th Boulogne had fallen, and the fear that Charles might be far less generously inclined when he learned that his ally was now free to co-operate with him.
By this treaty, all conquests made by either monarch since the truce of Nice were to be restored; François renounced his pretensions to Naples, and to the suzerainty of Flanders and Artois, and his claim to Tournai, while Charles waived his right to Burgundy and ceded Hesdin. The King, "like a penitent sinner," agreed to break off his alliance with infidels and heretics and to take up arms against them conjointly with the Emperor. The Duc d'Orléans was to marry either the Infanta Maria or the daughter of Ferdinand, Charles being granted four months to decide which of the two princesses he should give him. If he decided in favour of the Infanta, she should receive the Netherlands, though during the lifetime of the Emperor the young couple would only rule the provinces in his name. In this event, François engaged to abandon his claim to the Milanese; but, if Orléans left no heirs, the King and Emperor would resume their rights to the Milanese and Burgundy. If Charles selected his niece, she should be given the Milanese, the Emperor, however, reserving the fealty of the duchy until an heir was born. Orléans was to receive as an appanage Orléans, Angouleme, Bourbon, and Châtellerault, and François agreed to restore the territories of the Duke of Savoy so soon as either the Netherlands or the Milanese was conferred upon his son.
"This was to revert, after three years of immense sacrifices," observes Henri Martin, "to the system proposed by Charles V in 1540, rendered only a little more acceptable by a few concessions.09
The treaty, which was hailed with joy by Madame d'Étampes and the friends of Orléans, excited the liveliest indignation in the party of the Dauphin; and, as Sismondi points out, there can be no doubt that the Emperor, who was perfectly informed of the jealousy existing between the two brothers, foresaw that if he married the younger to a princess of his House and took him under his protection, he would become a dangerous rival to the elder when he ascended the throne.10
The Dauphin himself was particularly indignant. He had wished to fight, instead of negotiating, in the belief that his army, strengthened by the troops lately arrived from Piedmont, would have been more than a match for that of the Emperor, and could have crushed it before the English had had time to come to its aid; and, when he learned of the proposed aggrandizement of his younger brother at the expense of his future kingdom, his wrath knew no bounds. Although he did not dare to refuse his signature to the treaty, he subsequently entered a secret protest against it, at Fontainebleau, in the presence of Vendôme, Enghien, and François de Lorraine, Comte d'Aumale, eldest son of the Duc de Guise, in which he declared that he had only signed "pour la crainte et révérence paternelle" (December 12, 1544). His example was followed a few weeks later by the Parlement of Toulouse.11
Henry VIII at first refused to credit the report that his ally had made a separate peace with France without even consulting him; but the withdrawal of the Netherlands contingent from before Montreuil, and the news that the Dauphin's army was advancing by forced marches to the relief of the place, soon dispelled all doubts on that score. In great wrath, he ordered the Duke of Norfolk to raise the siege of Montreuil, and, leaving that nobleman with some 11,000 men to guard Boulogne, retired with the rest of his forces to Calais, where, on September 30, he embarked for England.
The King's departure nearly occasioned the loss of the one advantage which England had gained. He had given orders to Norfolk to occupy the heights behind the town and to remain there so long as the Dauphin was in the field. But the duke, for some unaccountable reason, instead of obeying his instructions, threw a garrison of 3,000 men under Sir Thomas Poynings into Boulogne and retired within the Calais Pale.12
On learning of this retrograde movement, Henry VIII wrote Norfolk a violently angry letter, ordering him to return immediately to the position which he had been instructed to hold. But it was then too late for the duke to repair his error, as the French, in overwhelming force, already lay between him and Boulogne.
As the hurried march of the Dauphin had obliged him to leave all his artillery behind, and the country for many miles round had been stripped bare by the invaders, it was impossible to undertake a regular siege; but, perceiving that several of the breaches which the English cannon had made in the ramparts still remained unrepaired, the prince resolved to hazard a night attack on the lower town, in which he ascertained that the invading army had left a large quantity of stores and the bulk of its heavy artillery. In the event of success, he would then be in a position to attempt the reduction of the upper town and the citadel. Accordingly, on the night of October 9-10, he despatched some 6,000 men — chiefly Gascons, Italians, and Swiss — under Tais and Fougerolles to make their way through the breaches into the town, while the rest of the army was to follow, after a short interval, to support them.
The storming-party, among whom was Montluc, who has left a long and vivacious account of the affair in his Commentaires, wearing their shirts over their armour, in order to recognise one another in the darkness,13 readily effected an entrance, killed the sentinels, and broke into the neighbouring houses, "taking ther a great sorte of sicke persones and women in their beddes, whom without mercy they slew."14 They encountered little resistance, for the garrison was quartered in the citadel on the higher ground, and there was no one to oppose them but half-armed servants, labourers, and camp-followers, who were quickly cut down or put to flight, though not before Tais had been severely wounded by an arrow.
So far the success of the camisado had been complete; the lower town was in possession of the French, and in a meadow near the ramparts Montluc saw all the artillery which Henry VIII had left behind him, thirty casks full of corselets, which the King had ordered from Germany for the equipment of his troops, and a great convoy of provisions.
Had ordinary precautions been observed, all would have been well; but Tais, suffering as he was, neglected to give any orders; Fougerolles seems to have been quite incapable of maintaining discipline, and, in the fond belief that the day — or rather the night — was theirs, and that the garrison would not venture to quit the citadel, and aware that there was a great quantity of booty in the lower town awaiting removal to England, the troops dispersed in all directions in search of plunder.
While they were engaged in this congenial occupation, they found themselves suddenly assailed by the camp-followers, who, having obtained arms from the fortress, had returned, thirsting for revenge, and, with shouts of "Kill! Kill!" flung themselves furiously upon them. Dispersed as they were in small parties, the French were cut down by scores, Fougerolles being amongst the slain; while before Montluc and the other officers could succeed in rallying them, Poynings and the troops from the citadel came pouring down the hill. Thereupon the French, fearing that their retreat would be cut off, gave way on all sides, and, followed by a murderous storm of arrows, made a rush for the breaches and gates, leaving some eight hundred dead and wounded behind them. Montluc was the last to quit the town, with three arrows in his buckler and a fourth through the right sleeve of his coat-of-mail, "which," says he, "I bore as my booty to my quarters."15
In his Commentaires, Montluc lays the responsibility for this fiasco, not upon the officers who commanded the camisado, but upon the failure of the Dauphin to advance to their support. "I do not know," he writes, "what was the reason the Dauphin did not march, but I shall always maintain that he ought to have done so; and I know also very well that he was not the only one responsible. However, it would be to engage in controversy to say more about the matter. Had they arrived, the English would not have known which way to turn. I discovered them to be men of very little courage, and believe them to be better at sea than on land."16
The Dauphin, on his part, was furious at the conduct of the storming-party, and at once proposed to repair the disaster by a general assault.17 But it was pointed out to him that the day was breaking; that it would be impossible to approach the lower town without receiving the fire from the upper, and that the army was entirely without provisions and many of the soldiers so weak from starvation that they could scarcely carry their arms.18 The prince eventually allowed himself to be dissuaded, and, after an attempt to surprise Guines had also ended in failure, disbanded his army and returned to Court.
Notes
(1) See his vivacious account of his interview with the King and the Council in his famous Commentaires, which Henri IV used to call "The Soldier's Bible."
(2) Martin du Bellay, Mémoires; Brantôme, les Duels.
(3) He had detached a small corps under Vendôme to harass the English should they advance from Picardy.
(4) Martin du Bellay.
(5) Because, according to Beaucaire, he had accepted a heavy bribe from Longueval.
(6) Paradin, Histoire de noire temps.
(7) J. A. Froude, "History of England."
(8) Mr. Edward Armstrong, "The Emperor Charles V."
(9) Histoire de France.
(10) Histoire des Francais.
(11) Recueil de Ribier, in Martin.
(12) Froude says that Norfolk acted "through timidity or mistake." It is difficult to understand how he could have mistaken such very positive orders.
(13) Froude says that they wore their shirts in order to imitate the smock-frocks of the English labourers who were engaged in repairing the fortifications, but this is not confirmed by any French authority. The practice was a very common one in night-attacks; hence the word "camisado."
(14) "Hall's Chronicle."
(15) Commentaires.
(16) The explanation offered for the Dauphin's inaction is that after the departure of the storming-party a terrific thunderstorm came on, which rendered the road between Boulogne and La Marquise, where the army lay, quite impassable.
(17) According to Froude, the Dauphin was "smarting under the taunts of Montluc," who "had accused him of cowardice." Well, the incident to which Froude refers occurred not on the night of the camisado, but on the following evening, as Montluc himself tells us. Moreover, Montluc's words can hardly be interpreted as an imputation upon the prince's personal courage, which was beyond dispute; and elsewhere in his Commentaires the writer declares that "Henri II was the best king whom God ever gave the soldiers."
(18) Martin du Bellay.