Martyrs and Murderers: The Guise Family and the Making of Europe (16 page)

For both Guise brothers politics came before religious scruple; they were, in contemporary parlance,
politiques
untroubled by the moderate religious line pursued by their sister in Scotland. François showed little interest in religion, theology being a matter for priests. 
He took part in processions and occasionally went on pilgrimage, but he seems to have shunned the ostentatious shows of piety beloved of his mother and, at times, by his father.

The eagerness to conform did not mean that tensions with the Crown or with other families were absent. In his marriage contract, François had used the vacant title, Duke of Anjou, and soon after, Charles, who was initially called the Cardinal of Saint-Urbain, had tried, at the papal conclave which met to elect a successor to Paul III, to have his title changed to Anjou. This met with opposition by the French ambassador and Charles was forced to take the title Lorraine on the death of his uncle. Their claim to the title suffered a further setback when Henry II conferred the Duchy of Anjou on his third son, Edouard-Alexandre, the future Henry III, who was born in 1551.

The Guise were not yet a threat to the constable. Letters between them are full of affability and, in the early years of the reign, François and the constable’s nephew, Gaspard de Coligny, continued to remain close friends. More significant in these years was the growing gap between the lofty pretensions of the House of Bourbon, as princes of the blood, and its actual political influence. Public ceremonies were a barometer of social distinction and the precedence disputes they occasioned were everyday skirmishes in the eternal struggle for recognition. On a royal visit to Chambeŕy in Savoy in 1548, François de Lorraine won a victory over the new head of the House of Bourbon, the uncharismatic Antoine, claiming the right to walk beside him, just behind the king. He argued that once they left the kingdom of France his descent from a sovereign house made him the equal of his cousin, who was but a simple ‘subject and vassal of the Crown of France’. 30

The Guise had once traded on their close relationship to the Bourbon in order to gain influence at court; but now the position of the families was reversed. The Guise were rather snooty about Antoine’s 1548 marriage to Jeanne d’Albret, heir to the kingdom of Navarre, a title which sounded grander than it was, since half of the kingdom was in Spanish hands and what was left consisted substantially of mountains populated by sheep. Jeanne d’Albret’s mother, Marguerite of Navarre, was disliked by the Constable of Montmorency, and as a family they were further tainted in the eyes of the king for making secret approaches to Spain, only to have their correspondence inter cepted by the constable. As a result, the new King of Navarre had to rely on the Duke of Guise, who was only a few months his senior, to offset his disadvantageous wife. Relations between him and his cousins were for the time being cordial: in letters the cardinal referred to Navarre as his ‘brother’ and he in turn acted as godfather to one of the duke’s children. In 1548 the cardinal lobbied in Rome for the red hat for Antoine’s younger brother, Charles, ‘a matter which was very close to him given the proximity of their lineages’. 31 Favours from the king were harder to obtain, though the Guise did their best to secure some crumbs of patronage.

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Dreams of empire were in part responsible for the cold war between Henry II and Charles V turning hot in 1552. Renaissance humanists in both Germany and France hoped for a renewal of the ideals of the Holy Roman Empire in which the King of France would act as a reconciler of princes and a protector of German liberties. The myth of Germans and Franks united in defence of liberty against papal and Spanish despotism chimed with
Realpolitik
. Constable Montmorency had continued his successful policy of covert operations against Imperialist interests, supporting their enemies wherever possible and building up a system of alliances to counteract their domination of the continent. The treaty of alliance with England was followed by a renewal of friendship with the Ottoman Sultan; French support for the Ottoman attack on Tripoli held by the Knights of Malta causing a scandal throughout Christendom. The French also took action against the pro-imperialist Pope, Julius III, refusing to take part in the General Council called at Trent to reform the Catholic Church, seeing it as a threat to the independence of the Gallican Church.

Henry II threatened to convene a national council, even to the point of considering the appointment of the Cardinal of Bourbon as Patriarch of France; he ordered that papal revenues in France should cease to be paid and sent troops to support the Duke of Parma in his dispute with the Pope. Julius was forced to capitulate in April 1552, closing down Trent and recalling his troops from Parma. The victory over Julius was widely seen as victory over his ally, Charles V. French influence in Italy was at its highest for many years.

At the same time as French and imperial forces were fighting through proxies in Italy, a new front was opening up in Germany.

Crippled with gout, ageing and worn down by the burdens of running a world empire, Charles V entered his final years with the renewed hope of reuniting Catholic and Protestants in the Holy Roman Empire and of realizing the traditional Burgundian policy of control ling the Duchy of Lorraine. The work of the Council of Trent and the defeat of the German Lutheran princes at the battle of Mühlberg in 1547 suggested that the religious issues, which had troubled the whole of his reign, were finally reaching a resolution. Guided by Montmorency’s cunning, Henry II had bided his time, but in 1551 his opportunity to move on to the offensive came when the German Protestant princes appealed to the French king for help and secret negotiations got under way. The treaty signed at Chambord in January 1552 was an unusual alliance. It was a confederation between the signatories, the cause of which, as set out in its articles, was to prevent the princes and towns of Germany ‘from falling from their ancient
franchise
and liberty in a bestial, insupportable and perpetual servitude as has happened in Spain and elsewhere’. 32 This defence of liberty against Papal-Spanish hegemony was an idea that resonated for German Protestants and French Catholics alike, and the basis on which they had opposed Trent. Despite his persecution of their co-religionists, Protestant reformers throughout Europe still had hopes for the king of France, and Gallican writers—such as Rabelais, whose Quart Livre appeared in 1552—joined them in expressing strongly anti-Papal sentiments. The Cardinal of Lorraine designed the confederation’s standard, on which was written the inscription ‘Henricus secundus, Francorum rex, vindex libertatis germanicae et principum captivorum’. Protestant German troops adopted the white cross of France. In exchange for an initial payment of 240,000 crowns and thereafter 60,000 crowns per month to pay for the princes’ army, the French were to be permitted to occupy the strategically important towns of Metz, Toul, and Verdun and to remain as ‘vicars’ of the emperor over the
Welcheslanden
, namely those western imperial territories which spoke non-German dialects.

There was much flummery in all this talk of liberty. Within months of signing the treaty of Chambord most of the German princes made their peace with the emperor, changing sides in return for substantial concessions—a process aided by the inconclusive break-up of Trent.

The French, however, had hard-headed reasons for intervening in Germany. Montmorency was initially more cautious about risking open battle with the imperialists, but there were more bellicose counsels. The adventure appealed to Henry II personally not only because of his hatred for Charles, but because this was the emperor’s twilight and Valois success would lay the ground for a future bid for the imperial crown. More immediately, the idea of a new Franco-German empire built in the ancient Merovingian lands of
Austrasia
appealed to Henry, who was represented as a new Charlemagne in French propaganda. 33 There were two families at court who had had their lands in the empire seized by Charles V and fed Henry’s dreams of empire in the lands between the Moselle and the Rhine. The imperialists controlled Robert de la Marck’s duchy of Bouillon and could depend on his mother-in-law, Diane de Poitiers, to press his case. The Guise too had suffered at Charles V’s hands. The Cardinal of Lorraine had been prevented by the emperor from succeeding his uncle to the abbey of Gorze, which was strategically positioned on the Franco-imperial border. More seriously the Duchy of Lorraine had fallen within the imperial sphere of influence. Since the death of Duke Antoine in 1544, his widow, Christina of Denmark, had been regent and the Guise wanted her replaced by a member of their own kith and kin. In the summer of 1551 the Guise feared that the duchy would be occupied by imperial troops. They urged the king to bring the 8-year-old Charles III of Lorraine to Paris and marry him to his daughter, Claude, thereby ensuring that ‘our poor house would escape from a great danger’—namely the threat of foreign domination, a threat it had faced for a century and the reason why they referred to Charles V

and his family as ‘Burgundians’. When imperial troops garrisoned the strategically important fortress that adjoined the abbey of Gorze, on the west bank of the Moselle between Metz and Nancy, the threat became tangible.

The imperial free city of Metz, which proclaimed its special status by sporting an imperial eagle on its coat of arms, was the strategic key to the region, threatening Lorraine and, if under French control, the Rhineland too, as well as then cutting communications between Charles V’s dynastic lands in the Netherlands and south Germany.

French preparations centred on its capture. The 1552 campaign was one of the most successful in French military history and one in which the Guise family played an important role. Cardinal Charles was the city’s bishop but his arrival in the city would have been too conspicuous, and in any case the city was jealous of its privileges and resistant to episcopal interference. Instead, he resigned his see to one of his trusted clients, Robert de Lenoncourt, whose family seat at Vignory was close to Joinville and who was sent ahead of the French army to act as a fifth columnist, preparing the city for takeover. Montmorency’s talent for organization was evident in the army that gathered in Champagne. The main force was 50,000 strong and, with the reserve and supporting units in Picardy, in all 70,000 men required feeding and supplying. It was by far the largest and best-prepared French army of the sixteenth century; its like would not be seen again until the age of Richelieu. The Guise and other magnates melted down their plate to help pay for it. Henry II declared war on 15 February and he arrived at Joinville at the end of March to review the army. The campaign was conducted at lightning speed. Montmorency, the commander-in-chief, and Guise left Joinville on 2 April and marched on Gorze, whose defenders resisted for a few days before being overrun and massacred.

The constable entered Metz on 10 April without a fight. On 14 April the French army violated the neutrality of the duchy of Lorraine and marched on Nancy, where the Cardinal of Lorraine was already inside preparing for its arrival. Christina of Denmark was removed as regent and the Lorrainer nobility swore an oath of loyalty to the king of France as Protector to the young Duke Charles. Henry II announced his intention to marry his daughter to him and French garrisons were installed in the duchy’s principal towns. The king retired home while his army headed east into the Vosges and then swung north before it reached the Rhine, taking town after town and restoring the duchy of Bouillon to the la Marck. At Verdun, Cardinal Charles once again preceded the main army. Following his official entry into the city as bishop, he installed a garrison of 300 men.

The imperialists were caught off guard by the speed and complete success of the French advance, which was helped less by enthusiasm for the French cause than for antipathy to the policies of Charles V

and his ministers. The only obstacle to complete French victory was the behaviour of their allies. Despite his age and infirmity, Charles had responded with stoicism to defeat and invasion, swallowing his pride and meeting the rebel princes at Passau in August. He was determined to reverse the humiliation and his decision to go on to the offensive so late in the campaigning season was conditioned by the fact that communications between the Netherlands, the Franche-Comté, and his possessions in south Germany had been severed: it was imperative that Charles protect his inheritance in the region. The man who stood in his path as French commander of Metz was an old enemy, the 33-year-old François, Duke of Guise.

To undertake a siege so late in the season was a risky enterprise, but Charles’s confidence was boosted by the arrival of the Spanish general, the Duke of Alva. The huge imperial army, numbering 80,000 men, moved into Lorraine in October but it was slowed by the foulness of the weather and it did not arrive at Metz until 14 October. Guise had only 6,000 men with him, but was well informed of the emperor’s movements and he methodically prepared the city for a siege with the precious time he had. The city was well supplied and a scorched-earth policy was conducted in the surrounding area, denying the imperialists forage and shelter. The city’s suburbs were razed to create clear fields of fire. The masses of building material that resulted in this destruction were stored in the city or used to reinforce the earthworks and build the firing platforms that the duke was constructing for cannon. Controversially, this required the demolition of several churches and monasteries. The duke made strenuous efforts to keep the population on his side. As well as maintaining strict discipline, he ordered the removal of the bones of Charlemagne’s wife, Hildegard and son, Louis the pious, from the condemned monastery of Saint-Arnulf, which lay just beyond the city, with great pomp to safety inside the city. Townsfolk were drafted into digging the fortifications, but grumbling was limited by the duke’s common touch; he appeared at all hours of the night and day to encourage his engineers and labourers, and even picked up a shovel himself as an encouragement to others. Realizing that the greatest siege of the age was about to take place, the French aristocracy hurried to Metz in search of glory.