Intrigues of the Guises with Paul IV — Their audacious projects in Italy — Despatch of Cardinal Carlo Caraffa to France — Treaty of Fontainebleau between France and the Pope against Philip II of Spain — Guise's Italian expedition — Futile invasion of Naples — War on the northern frontier — England declares war against France — Saint-Quentin is besieged by the Spaniards — Disastrous defeat of the Constable in an attempt to revictual the town; Montmorency and Saint-André taken prisoners — Consternation in France — The heroic defence of Saint-Quentin by Coligny saves the situation — Expedition of Guise against Calais — Failure of the English Government to reinforce the garrison — Calais and Guines are taken, and the English expelled from France
THE Court of France seems to have concluded the Truce of Vaucelles for the mere pleasure of breaking it; in a few months the dogs of war were again slipped.
The termination of hostilities in February 1556 had been a grave check to the Guises, who had built great hopes on the anti-Spanish proclivities of the new Pope and formed audacious projects on Italy for their personal aggrandizement. Six weeks before the truce, the Cardinal de Lorraine had concluded, at Rome, a secret treaty with Paul IV, in the name of the King, whereby it was agreed that the two sovereigns should make a combined attack upon the Spaniards and their allies in Italy, and re-establish the Republic of Florence by the expulsion of Cosimo de' Medici. In the event of the Spaniards being expelled from the Milanese, the Pope promised the investiture of the duchy to the King's second son, the Duc d'Orléans.
The Guises, however, themselves proposed to be the principal gainers by this alliance. The duke hoped that a great conflagration of Italy might afford him the chance of seizing the Crown of Naples, which his ancestors of the House of Anjou had worn; the cardinal aimed at the Papal tiara, and believed that, when the aged Pontiff should lay it aside, the presence of the French armies in Italy might not be without influence on the decision of the Conclave.
Paul IV shared the disgust of the Lorraine princes at the conclusion of the truce, and, urged on by his nephew, Carlo Caraffa, forthwith determined to use every possible persuasion to induce France to break it. This engaging personage, whom Paul had recently created a cardinal, notwithstanding the fact that he had once been a leader of condottieri and had committed at least two assassinations, was nominated Legate in France, with the avowed mission of bringing about a definite peace in Europe, but with the secret task of engaging the French Government in a fresh Italian enterprise.
The cardinal arrived at Fontainebleau, bearing a sword and a rosary both blessed by the Holy Father, which he presented to the King and Queen respectively. As a concession to the obligations of his official charge, he discoursed eloquently at his first audience on the blessings of peace, but no one doubted that he brought war under his red robe. The Guises had already prepared the way; Madame de Valentinois supported them; and, though the Constable urged that the truce should be observed, the war party, as in 1551, was too strong for him, and, fearing to compromise his position by a too strenuous resistance, he yielded,01 predicting, however, that "they would set out on horseback and return on foot." On July 31, war was decided upon; the Legate, in the name of the Pope, absolved Henri II from his oath to observe the truce, and it was agreed that the army of Italy should be entrusted to François de Guise.
Paul IV had not waited for this decision to provoke Philip II, and in September, Alva, now Viceroy of Naples, invaded the Campagna and compelled his Holiness to sign a truce until the end of the year. The mitred adventurer intimated his willingness to betray his new allies in return for the cession of the town of Siena; but this the King of Spain had already promised to Cosimo de' Medici.
Alva's invasion furnished France with a casus belli, but the efforts of Henri II to draw into the Pontifical alliance several Italian States met with little success; the Republic of Siena and the Duke of Ferrara alone joined it. In the last days of December, François de Guise crossed the Alps at the head of some 13,000 men and a crowd of noble volunteers, and having been joined in the plain of the Po by Brissac and the Army of Piedmont, marched on Valenza and carried it by assault (January 20). Almost simultaneously, hostilities began on the northern frontier, where Coligny, after an unsuccessful attempt to surprise Douai, took and burned Lens, in Artois, and on January 31, 1557 war was officially declared.
If Guise had confined his operations to the Milanese, in which the Spaniards were just then extremely weak, he must have speedily reduced the whole duchy to submission. But he sacrificed the interests of France to his own views on Naples and to the importunities of the Pope, who feared an attack by the Spaniards on Rome and a repetition of the horrors of 1527; and pushed on to the Eternal City, which he entered on March 2. Here he wasted a full month in disputes with the Caraffi, who urged him to invade Neapolitan territory, but failed to furnish him with the money and troops promised. "The Pope was content to be the soul of the enterprise of which France was to furnish the body."02
On April 5, he quitted Rome, penetrated into the Abruzzi, stormed and sacked Campi, and laid siege to Civitella. But the place was stubbornly defended; the besiegers were decimated by disease, and, on the approach of Alva at the head of an army superior to his own, Guise raised the siege and fell back to Tivoli, and finally to Rome, where, at the beginning of August, he received orders to return to France.
Paul IV's indignation on finding himself abandoned by the French knew no bounds. "Go, then," said he, when Guise came to take leave of him; "you have done little for your King's service, still less for the Church, and nothing at all for your own honour!" Such language came rather badly from the Holy Father, who, for some weeks past, had been negotiating with his "prodigal son" — as he called Philip II — behind his allies' back; and it was, in point of fact, the discovery of these intrigues by the French Government that had led to Guise's recall.03 On September 14, the Pope made peace with Spain on terms very much more advantageous than he deserved, and turned his energies to the suppression of heresy.
The war on the northern frontier was carried on in desultory fashion for some months. The best French troops were with Guise and Brissac in Italy; the reserves, disgusted at being summoned again into the field after so brief an interval of repose, answered the call slowly and reluctantly; while in the landsknecht market the supply just then was quite unequal to the demand, and it was only with great difficulty that the services of some 10,000 mercenaries were secured. France was therefore obliged to remain on the defensive; but Henri II and the Constable acted as though they had little to fear, and made no attempt to strengthen the Picardy frontier. Philip II, on the contrary, showed commendable energy, and assembled an army of some 60,000 men in the Netherlands under the command of the Duke of Savoy.
In conjunction with Mary, he also endeavoured to drag England into the war, and, thanks to the injudicious assistance rendered by Henri II to Sir Thomas Stafford's foolhardy descent upon the Yorkshire coast, which aroused great irritation in England, their efforts were eventually crowned with success; and on June 7 war was declared.04
Seven thousand English soldiers were shipped across the Channel, but their allies did not await their arrival to take the offensive. After a feint in the direction of Champagne, the Duke of Savoy invaded Picardy and laid siege to Saint-Quentin, on the Somme, one of the main bulwarks of Paris. Coligny, with a few hundred men, succeeded in throwing himself into the place before the investment was completed, and actively organized the defence; but the fortifications of Saint-Quentin were old-fashioned and crumbling, and he perceived that, unless help speedily arrived, its fate was sealed. Realizing the importance of succouring a town whose fall would open the road to the capital, the Constable hurried northwards with all the troops he could muster. These, however, did not exceed20,000 men, including 500 men-at-arms and 1,000 light horse, and a great number of nobles and gentlemen.05
The overwhelming superiority of the enemy in numbers decided Montmorency not to risk an engagement, but merely to make a feint against the besiegers' lines, and, under cover of this movement, to throw 2,000 men under Coligny's brother Andelot and a quantity of provisions into the town, after which he intended to retire.
Accordingly, at nine o'clock on the morning of August 10, the French guns opened a heavy cannonade against the quarters of the Duke of Savoy, who was compelled to beat a precipitate retreat. This was an excellent beginning, but the boats required by Andelot to cross the Somme had, through some misunderstanding, been left in the rear of the army; and it was not until after a delay of two hours that they were brought up.
This delay ruined everything. Andelot only succeeded in getting into the town with a mere handful of men; and when Montmorency began to retire, he found that the enemy had crossed the Somme by a ford of which he appears to have been in ignorance, seized the only road by which he could retreat, and cut his army right in two.
Surprised and hopelessly outnumbered, the French were completely routed. Nevers, Condé, and François de Montmorency succeeded in effecting their retreat to La Fère with the troops which they commanded. But the second Comte d'Enghien, Montmorency's son-in-law the Vicomte de Turenne, 600 gentlemen, and 2,500 men were killed, and more than 7,000 made prisoners, among whom were the Constable himself,06 his fourth son, Montmorency-Montbéron, Saint-André, Longueville, La Rochefoucauld, Gontaut-Biron — in fact, the finest nobility in France. It was a second Pavia.
The news of the battle of Saint-Quentin, or Saint-Laurent, as contemporary writers call it — it was fought on St. Lawrence's Day — created the utmost consternation in Paris, and it was feared that the Duke of Savoy would mask Saint-Quentin with a small force, overwhelm the débris of the routed army at La Fère, and march straight upon the capital. This, in fact, was the course which Philibert was anxious to pursue; "but," says Montluc, "God was pleased miraculously to deprive the King of Spain of his right judgment,"07and he ordered the Duke to remain before Saint-Quentin until the town had fallen."
Philip doubtless anticipated an easy task, but it proved a much more difficult one than he had bargained for, as the splendid example of Coligny inspired the garrison and the inhabitants to heroic efforts; and it was not until after a resistance of fifteen days, by which time eleven breaches had been made in the walls, that Saint-Quentin was taken by assault, amid the usual scenes of horror which marked such incidents at this period. Coligny was made prisoner and sent to join his relatives in Flanders. The English contingent, who had now arrived on the scene, shared in the storming and sack of the town.
Its heroic defence, however, had saved the situation. While the Spaniards were battering down its feeble walls, Paris, recovering from its first alarm, had voted, in response to an eloquent harangue by the Queen, who showed, in this crisis, admirable courage and presence of mind, a sum of 300,000 livres, an example which was followed by the principal towns of the kingdom; new companies of men-at-arms and infantry had been raised; mercenaries brought from Switzerland and Germany, and François de Guise, summoned to return with all possible speed, was approaching. "The advantage which my enemies have gained over me," wrote Henri II to the duke, "is not so great but that I have good hope, with the aid of God, of shortly having revenge."
He had, however, some little time to wait for his revenge, and, in the meanwhile, Philip II took Noyon and burned it literally to the ground. But, by the end of October, France had 50,000 men under arms, and Guise was at their head.
The duke, who had arrived at Saint-Germain on October 6, had found a clear field; the Constable and the greatest nobles of France were prisoners, and the Montmorency party utterly discredited by the disaster of Saint-Quentin, which had caused the Neapolitan fiasco to be forgotten. Upon himself all the hopes of France were now centred; and the King hastened to appoint him Lieutenant-General of the Kingdom, with the fullest powers.
Early in November, the inability or unwillingness of Philip II to furnish the money to pay the troops had compelled the Duke of Savoy to disband his army. Guise might have taken advantage of his retirement to attempt the recovery of Saint-Quentin; but the difficulties of a winter campaign in the ruined Vermandois caused him to discard this project for one which would gratify the national pride and assure to himself an immense popularity: the taking of Calais and the final expulsion of the English from French soil.
The loss and recovery of Boulogne had naturally drawn attention to Calais, since two hundred years in the possession of England, and the question of an attempt upon it appears to have several times been discussed. If we are to believe Brantôme, Coligny was "the first inventor of this enterprise," and in the previous year had drawn up elaborate plans of attack. Both Brantôme and the Huguenot historian La Place assert that in 1557 it was Henri II who suggested it, and the latter adds that the King insisted on Guise undertaking the expedition, although the duke, either because he believed the attempt impossible, or because he desired to exaggerate its difficulties in order to enhance the merits of his expected success, resisted for some time. But whoever ought to be given the credit of the idea, there can be no question that the merit of its execution belongs entirely to Guise.
The Calais Pale comprised three forts: Calais itself and the two outlying forts of Guines and Ham; the former lying about three miles from Calais; the latter between the two, equidistant from both. Two fortresses defended the approaches to Calais: one called by the French Nieullay, and by the English Newnham Bridge, commanded the only road across the marshes; the other, the Rysbank, protected the approach from the dunes along the shore, and commanded the entrance to the harbour and the town. There was also a smaller work called the Sandgate, which, as its name implies, covered the entrance to the dunes. At Nieullay, there were sluices through which, at high water, the sea could be let in over the marshes.
Calais had been so long in the possession of the English that they had come to regard it as impregnable,08 and during the winter it was the custom to keep but a few hundred men there. The fortifications, as well as those of Guines and Ham, had been repaired by Henry VIII in 1541, but they had been again allowed to fall into ruin, and the sluices at Neuillay were out of order. Guise made his preparations with the utmost secrecy and care, writing all his orders with his own hand, so that there might be no possibility of misunderstanding. Towards the end of December, all was in readiness, and the troops began assembling at Abbeville. Lord Grey de Wilton and Wentworth, who commanded at Guines and Calais respectively, wrote warning Mary of the French preparations; but, though the Queen gave orders for reinforcements to be sent, she subsequently countermanded them, on the ground that "she had intelligence that no enterprise was intended against Calais or the Pale."
On New Year's Day 1558, Calais was invested by 20,000 men, and on the following morning the French advanced in force against Nieullay, and attempted to take it by assault. The attack was gallantly repulsed, but before evening Guise had carried both the Sandgate and Rysbank forts, thus obtaining command of the entrance to the harbour and cutting off all communication with England.
Nothing now could save the town, which was only garrisoned by 500 men, unprovisioned for a siege, and exposed to a furious cannonade from the French batteries at the Rysbank, except the prompt advance of a relieving army from the Netherlands. The Duke of Savoy hurriedly collected some Spanish troops at Gravelines, and sent to England for assistance; but, when the men were ready to embark, there were no ships to transport them. The Spaniards, unaided, made a really gallant attempt to break through the besiegers' lines and force their way into the town; but they were easily repulsed, and on January 6 Calais surrendered.
Calais was lost; but Guines might perhaps have been saved, had not the scandalous mismanagement of the English Government prevented the reinforcements from sailing. And so, on January 20, after a brave defence, Guines surrendered, and the last remnant of the continental dominions of the Plantagenets was gone.
The capture of Calais had an immense moral effect. In England, it excited a violent outcry against the unpopular rule of Mary and undoubtedly hastened the death of the Queen. In France, it revived the confidence of the nation, so rudely shaken by the disaster of Saint-Quentin, and induced an assembly of Notables which the financial straits of the Government had compelled Henri II to convene in Paris to vote a loan of three million écus "for the service of the country."
In celebration of the recovery of Calais, the King, on the night of January 20, 1558, treated the Parisians to a sumptuous Oriental masquerade in the Rue Saint-Antoine. "By the light of forty-eight torches," writes Sauval, "the King and the Dauphin with several princes and other great nobles took part in a tournament. Some armed in Turkish fashion, others like Moors, and all mounted on small horses, issued from the Hôtel des Tournelles and from that of the Connétable de Montmorency, situated in the Rue Saint-Antoine. The Turks, among whom was Henri II, accompanied by the Dauphin and several Princes of the Blood, carried on the left shoulder a quiver full of arrows, and were dressed in garments of white silk, made like those of the Levantines. In one hand, they held a buckler, in the other, a hollow ball of terra-cotta. At their head marched the trumpeters of the King on horseback; and behind them twelve men clothed in white, in Turkish fashion, mounted on asses and mules, each having in front of him two drums and two tymbals. Scarcely had they reached the field of battle when the Moors arrived, and they all forthwith began to charge against one another; sometimes flinging their balls and sometimes shooting their arrows; at first two by two, and afterwards all together; always to the sound of the tymbals, drums, and trumpets, which made in truth a strange music, but rather well concerted. Finally, they rallied, and, ranging themselves in a circle, two by two and to the sound of the same instruments, they tried to make their horses dance in time, with appalling cries and whoops."
Notes
(1) His desire to placate the Pope, in the hope that he might be persuaded to pronounce in favour of his son in the affair of Mlle. de Piennes, was probably one of the reasons of his feeble resistance.
(2) Froude.
(3) And not the disaster of Saint-Quentin, as Henri Martin, Dr. Kitchin, and other historians seem to imagine. This defeat occurred some days after the orders for the recall of Guise were despatched.
(4) Mary was in so desperate a hurry to send her defiance to Henri II, whom she cordially hated, that the English herald arrived at Villers-Cotterets, where the Court then was, without a passport, without the insignia of his office, and without even announcing his coming. The King took this precipitancy in good part, and gave him a valuable gold chain; but the Constable was furious, and told the herald that he had rendered himself liable to be hanged.
(5) But the army was not, as some historians state, mainly French; nearly two-thirds of the infantry were landsknechts: to be precise, fifteen French companies and twenty-two German.
(6) Montmorency fought like a lion. "Gare, gare, reculez-vous!" he cried to those who endeavoured to restrain him. Having been severely wounded, however, he was obliged to surrender.
(7) Commentaires.
(8) Over the gates of Calais had once stood the following boastful inscription:
"Then shall the Frenchman Calais win
When iron and lead like cork shall swim,"