The latter was the patron upon whom the Sorbonne thought they could rely. Enterprising and systematic, at once supple and firm, slavish and tyrannical, an intriguer and debauchee, often exasperated, never discouraged, ‘very clever, knowing, and subtle,’ says the Bourgeois de Paris ; ‘one of the most pernicious men that ever lived,’ says another historian: 633Duprat sold offices, ground the people down, and if any of them remonstrated against his disorders, he sent the remonstrants to the Bastille. 634This man, who was archbishop of Sens and cardinal, and who aspired to be made legate a latere , having become a prince of the Roman Church, placed at its service his influence, his iron will, and even his cruelty.
But nothing could be done without the king. Louisa of Savoy and the cardinal, knowing his fickleness and his love of pleasure, and knowing also that in religious matters he cared only for pomp and ceremony, hoped to induce him easily to oppose the Reformation. Yet Francis hesitated and even resisted. He pretended to have a great taste for letters, of which the Gospel, in his eyes, formed part. He yielded willingly to his sister, who pleaded warmly the cause of the friends of the Gospel. He detested the arrogance of the priests. The boldness with which they put forward ultramontane ideas; set another power (the power of the pope) above his; attacked his ideas in conversations, pamphlets, and even in the pulpit; their restless character, their presumptuous confidence in the triumph of their cause,—all this irritated one of the most susceptible monarchs that ever reigned; and he was pleased at seeing a man like Berquin take down the boasting of the clergy.
Yet it may well be that the king was influenced by higher motives. He saw the human mind displaying a fresh activity in every direction. The literary, the philosophical, the political, the religious world were all undergoing important transformations in the first half of the sixteenth century. In the midst of all these different movements, Francis I. may have sometimes had a confused feeling that there was one which was the mainspring, the dominant fact, the generating principle, and, if I may use the words, the fiat lux of the new creation. He saw that the Reformation was the great force then acting in the world; that all others were subordinate to it; that to it belonged, according to an ancient prophecy, the gathering of the people ; 635and in these moments, when his sight was clear, he wished to join himself to that invisible power which was effecting more than all the other powers. Unfortunately his passions soon disturbed his sight, and after having caught a glimpse of the day, he plunged back again into night.
As for Duprat he felt no hesitation; he resolutely put himself on the side of darkness, impelled by ambition and covetousness: he was always with the ultramontanists. The struggle was about to begin between the better aspirations of the king and the plots of the court of Rome. It was hard to say with which of these two powers the victory would ultimately remain. The chancellor-cardinal had, however, no doubt about it; he arranged the attack with skill, and thought he had hit upon a way, as vile as it was sure, of checking the Reform.
The king had to provide for the heavy charges which the treaty of Madrid imposed upon him, and he had no money. He applied to the clergy. ‘Good!’ said they; ‘let us take advantage of the opportunity given us.’ They furnished 1,300,000 livres, but demanded in return, according to Duprat’s suggestion, that his Majesty ‘should extirpate the damnable and insupportable Lutheran sect which some time since had secretly crept into the kingdom.’ 636The king, who wanted money, would be ready to grant everything in order to fill his coffers; it seemed, then, that all was over not only with Berquin, but with the Reformation.
Margaret, who was then at Fontainebleau with the King of Navarre, heard of the demand the clergy had made to the king, and trembled lest Francis should deliver up her friends to the persecutions of the cardinal. She immediately endeavoured to exercise over her brother that influence to which in those days he yielded readily. She succeeded: the king, although putting the contribution of the clergy into his treasury, did not order ‘the extirpation of the Lutheran heresy.’
Yet Margaret did not feel secure. She experienced the keenest anguish at the thought of the danger which threatened the Gospel.
True God of heaven, give comfort to my soul!
she said in one of her poems. Her soul was comforted. The aged Lefèvre, who was at that time translating the Bible and the homilies of St. Chrysostom on the Acts of the Apostles, and teaching his young pupil, the Duke of Angoulême, to learn the Psalms of David by heart, rekindled her fire, and with his failing voice strengthened her in the faith. ‘Do not be afraid,’ he said; ‘the election of God is very mighty.’ 637—‘Let us pray in faith,’ said Roussel; ‘the main thing is that faith should accompany our prayers.’ The friends at Strasburg entreated Luther to strengthen her by some good letter. As soon as Erasmus heard of the danger which the Gospel ran, he was moved, and, with the very pen with which he had discouraged Berquin, he wrote:
‘O queen, still more illustrious by the purity of your life than by the splendour of your race and of your crown, do not fear! He who works everything for the good of those whom he loves, knows what is good for us, and, when he shall judge fit, will suddenly give a happy issue to our affairs. 638It is when human reason despairs of everything that the impenetrable wisdom of God is made manifest in all its glory. Nothing but what is happy can befall the man who has fixed the anchor of his hopes on God. Let us place ourselves wholly in his hands. But what am I doing?... I know, Madame, that it is not necessary to excite you by powerful incentives, and that we ought rather to thank you for having protected from the malice of wicked men sound learning and all those who sincerely love Jesus Christ.’ 639
The queen’s condition tended erelong to give a new direction to her thoughts. She hoped for a daughter, and often spoke about it in her letters. This daughter was indeed given her, and she became the most remarkable woman of her age. Calm and somewhat dejected, Margaret, who was then living alone in the magnificent palace of Fontainebleau, sought diversion in the enjoyment of the beauties of nature, during her daily walks in the park and the forest. ‘My condition,’ she wrote on the 27th of September, 1527, ‘does not prevent my visiting the gardens twice a day, where I am wonderfully at my ease.’ She walked slowly, thinking of the child about to be given her, and rejoicing in the light of the sun. Then reverting to him who held the chief place in her heart, she called to mind the true sun (Jesus Christ), and, grieving that his rays did not enlighten the whole of France, exclaimed:
O truth, unknown save to a few,
No longer hide thyself from view
Behind the cloud, but bursting forth
Show to the nations all thy worth.
Good men thy coming long to see,
And sigh in sad expectancy.
Descend, Lord Jesus, quickly come,
And brighten up this darkling gloom;
Show us how vile and poor we are,
And take us, Saviour, to thy care. 640
It seems that Margaret’s presence near the king checked the persecutors; but she was soon compelled to leave the field open. The time of her confinement drew near. Henry d’Albret had not visited Bearn since his marriage; perhaps he desired that his child should be born in the castle of Pau. In October 1527 the King and Queen of Navarre set out for their possessions in the Pyrenees. 641On the 7th of January, two months later, Jeanne d’Albret was born; the statement that she was born at Fontainebleau or at Blois is a mistake.
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