Foreigners were not less impressed than the French themselves with this advance in order, activity, and prosperity amongst the French community. Machiavelli admits it, and with the melancholy of an Italian politician acting in the midst of rivalries amongst the Italian republics, he attributes it above all to French unity, superior to that of any other state in Europe.
As to the question, to whom reverts the honor of the good government at home under Louis XII., and of so much progress in the social condition of France, M. George Picot, in his Histoire des Etats Generaux [t. i. pp. 532-536], attributes it especially to the influence of the states assembled at Tours, in 1484, at the beginning of the reign of Charles VIII.: “They employed,” he says, “the greatest efforts to reduce the figure of the impost; they claimed the voting of subsidies, and took care not to allow them, save by way of gift and grant. They did not hesitate to revise certain taxes, and when they were engaged upon the subject of collecting of them, they energetically stood out for the establishment of a unique, classified body of receivers-royal, and demanded the formation of all the provinces into districts of estates, voting and apportioning their imposts every year, as in the cases of Languedoc, Normandy, and Dauphiny. The dangers of want of discipline in an ill-organized standing army and the evils caused to agriculture by roving bands drove the states back to reminiscences of Charles VII.‘s armies; and they called for a mixed organization, in which gratuitous service, commingled in just proportion with that of paid troops, would prevent absorption of the national element. To reform the abuses of the law, to suppress extraordinary commissions, to reduce to a powerful unity, with parliaments to crown all, that multitude of jurisdictions which were degenerate and corrupt products of the feudal system in its decay, such was the constant aim of the states-general of 1484. They saw that a judicial hierarchy would be vain without fixity of laws; and they demanded a summarization of customs and a consolidation of ordinances in a collection placed within reach of all. Lastly they made a claim, which they were as qualified to make as they were intelligent in making, for the removal of the commercial barriers which divided the provinces and prevented the free transport of merchandise. They pointed out the repairing of the roads and the placing of them in good condition as the first means of increasing the general prosperity. Not a single branch of the administration of the kingdom escaped their conscientious scrutiny: law, finance, and commerce by turns engaged their attention; and in all these different matters they sought to ameliorate institutions, but never to usurp power. They did not come forward like the shrievalty of the University of Paris in 1413, with a new system of administration; the reign of Louis XI. had left nothing that was important or possible, in that way, to conceive; there was nothing more to be done than to glean after him, to relax those appliances of government which he had stretched at all points, and to demand the accomplishment of such of his projects as were left in arrear and the cure of the evils he had caused by the frenzy and the aberrations of his absolute will.”
We do not care to question the merits of the states-general of 1484; we have but lately striven to bring them to light, and we doubt not but that the enduring influence of their example and their sufferings counted for much in the progress of good government during the reign of Louis XII. It is an honor to France to have always resumed and pursued from crisis to crisis, through a course of many sufferings, mistakes, and tedious gaps, the work of her political enfranchisement and the foundation of a regimen of freedom and legality in the midst of the sole monarchy which so powerfully contributed to her strength and her greatness. The states-general of 1484, in spite of their rebuffs and long years after their separation, held an honorable place in the history of this difficult and tardy work; but Louis XII.‘s personal share in the good home-government of France during his reign was also great and meritorious. His chief merit, a rare one amongst the powerful of the earth, especially when there is a question of reforms and of liberty, was that he understood and entertained the requirements and wishes of his day; he was a mere young prince of the blood when the states of 1484 were sitting at Tours; but he did not forget them when he was king, and, far from repudiating their patriotic and modest work in the cause of reform and progress, he entered into it sincerely and earnestly with the aid of Cardinal d’Amboise, his honest, faithful, and ever influential councillor. The character and natural instincts of Louis XII. inclined him towards the same views as his intelligence and moderation in politics suggested. He was kind, sympathetic towards his people, and anxious to spare them every burden and every suffering that was unnecessary, and to have justice, real and independent justice, rendered to all. He reduced the talliages a tenth at first and a third at a later period. He refused to accept the dues usual on a joyful accession. When the wars in Italy caused him some extraordinary expense, he disposed of a portion of the royal possessions, strictly administered as they were, before imposing fresh burdens upon the people. His court was inexpensive, and he had no favorites to enrich. His economy became proverbial; it was sometimes made a reproach to him; and things were carried so far that he was represented, on the stage of a popular theatre, ill, pale, and surrounded by doctors, who were holding a consultation as to the nature of his malady: they at last agreed to give him a potion of gold to take; the sick man at once sat up, complaining of nothing more than a burning thirst. When informed of this scandalous piece of buffoonery, Louis contented himself with saying, “I had rather make courtiers laugh by my stinginess than my people weep by my extravagance.” He was pressed to punish some insolent comedians; but, “No,” said he, “amongst their ribaldries they may sometimes tell us useful truths let them amuse themselves, provided that they respect the honor of women.” In the administration of justice he accomplished important reforms, called for by the states-general of 1484 and promised by Louis XI. and Charles VIII., but nearly all of them left in suspense. The purchase of offices was abolished and replaced by a two-fold election; in all grades of the magistracy, when an office was vacant, the judges were to assemble to select three persons, from whom the king should be bound to choose. The irremovability of the magistrates, which had been accepted but often violated by Louis XI., became under Louis XII. a fundamental rule. It was forbidden to every one of the king’, magistrates, from the premier- president to the lowest provost to accept any place or pension from any lord, under pain of suspension from their office or loss of their salary. The annual Mercurials (Wednesday-meetings) became, in the supreme courts, a general and standing usage. The expenses of the law were reduced. In 1501, Louis XII. instituted at Aix in Provence a new parliament; in 1499 the court of exchequer a Rouen, hitherto a supreme but movable and temporary court became a fixed and permanent court, which afterwards received under Francis I., the title of parliament. Being convinced before long, by facts themselves, that these reforms were seriously meant by their author, and were practically effective, the people conceived, in consequence, towards the king and the magistrates a general sentiment of gratitude and respect. In 1570 Louis made a journey from Paris to Lyons by Champaigne and Burgundy; and “wherever he passed,” says St. Gelais” men and women assembled from all parts, and ran after him for three or four leagues. And when they were able to touch his mule, or his robe, or anything that was his, they kissed their hands . . . with as great devotion as they would have shown to a reliquary. And the Burgundians showed as much enthusiasm as the real old French.”
Louis XII.‘s private life also contributed to win for him, we will not say the respect and admiration, but the good will of the public. He was not, like Louis IX., a model of austerity and sanctity; but after the licentious court of Charles VII., the coarse habits of Louis XI., and the easy morals of Charles VIII., the French public was not exacting. Louis XII. was thrice married. His first wife, Joan, daughter of Louis XI., was an excellent and worthy princess, but ugly, ungraceful, and hump-backed. He had been almost forced to marry her, and he had no child by her. On ascending the throne, he begged Pope Alexander VI. to annul his marriage; the negotiation was anything but honorable, either to the king or to the pope; and the pope granted his bull in consideration of the favors shown to his unworthy son, Caesar Borgia, by the king. Joan alone behaved with a virtuous as well as modest pride, and ended her life in sanctity within a convent at Bourges, being wholly devoted to pious works, regarded by the people as a saint, spoken of by bold preachers as a martyr, and “still the true and legitimate Queen of France,” and treated at a distance with profound respect by the king who had put her away. Louis married, in 1499, his predecessor’s widow, Anne, Duchess of Brittany, twenty-three years of age, short, pretty, a little lame, witty, able, and firm. It was, on both sides, a marriage of policy, though romantic tales have been mixed up with it; it was a suitable and honorable royal arrangement, without any lively affection on one side or the other, but with mutual esteem and regard. As queen, Anne was haughty, imperious, sharp-tempered, and too much inclined to mix in intrigues and negotiations at Rome and Madrid, sometimes without regard for the king’s policy; but she kept up her court with spirit and dignity, being respected by her ladies, whom she treated well, and favorably regarded by the public, who were well disposed towards her for having given Brittany to France. Some courtiers showed their astonishment that the king should so patiently bear with a character so far from agreeable; but “one must surely put up with something from a woman,” said Louis, “when she loves her honor and her husband.” After a union of fifteen years, Anne of Brittany died on the 9th of January, 1514, at the castle of Blois, nearly thirty-seven years old. Louis was then fifty-two. He seemed very much to regret his wife; but, some few months after her death, another marriage of policy was put, on his behalf, in course of negotiation. It was in connection with Princess Mary of England, sister of Henry VIII., with whom it was very important for Louis XII. and for France to be once more at peace and on good terms. The Duke de Longueville, made prisoner by the English at the battle of Guinegate, had, by his agreeable wit and his easy, chivalrous grace, won Henry VIII.‘s favor in London; and he perceived that that prince, discontented with his allies, the Emperor of Germany and the King of Spain, was disposed to make peace with the King of France. A few months, probably only a few weeks, after Anne of Brittany’s death, De Longueville, no doubt with Louis XII.‘s privity, suggested to Henry VIII. the idea of a marriage between his young sister and the King o France. Henry liked to do sudden and striking things: he gladly seized the opportunity of avenging himself upon his two allies, who, in fact, had not been very faithful to him, and he welcomed De Longueville’s idea. Mary was sixteen, pretty, already betrothed to Archduke Charles of Austria, and, further passionately smitten with Charles Brandon, the favorite of Henry VIII., who had made him Duke of Suffolk, and, according to English historians, the handsomest nobleman in England. These two difficulties were surmounted: Mary herself formally declared her intention of breaking a promise of marriage which had been made during her minority, and which Emperor Maximilian had shown himself in no hurry to get fulfilled; and Louis XII. formally demanded her hand. Three treaties were concluded on the 7th of August, 1514, between the Kings of France and England, in order to regulate the conditions of their political and matrimonial alliance; on the 13th of August, the Duke de Longueville, in his sovereign’s name, espoused the Princess Mary at Greenwich; and she, escorted to France by brilliant embassy, arrived on the 8th of October at Abbeville where Louis XII. was awaiting her. Three days afterwards the marriage was solemnized there in state, and Louis, who had suffered from gout during the ceremony, carried off his young queen to Paris, after having had her crowned at St. Denis Mary Tudor had given up the German prince, who was destined to become Charles V., but not the handsome English nobleman she loved. The Duke of Suffolk went to France to see her after her marriage, and in her train she had as maid of honor a young girl, a beauty as well, who was one day to be Queen of England—Anne Boleyn.
Less than three months after this marriage, on the 1st of January, 1515, “the death-bell-men were traversing the streets of Paris, ringing their bells and crying, ‘The good King Louis, father of the people, is dead.’” Louis XII., in fact, had died that very day, at midnight, from an attack of gout and a rapid decline. “He had no great need to be married, for many reasons,” says the Loyal Serviteur of Bayard, “and he likewise had no great desire that way; but, because he found himself on every side at war, which he could not maintain without pressing very hard upon his people, he behaved like the pelican. After that Queen Mary had made her entry, which was mighty triumphant, into Paris, and that there had taken place many jousts and tourneys, which lasted more than six weeks, the good king, because of his wife, changed all his manner of living: he had been wont to dine at eight, and he now dined at midday; he had been wont to go to bed at six in the evening, and he often now went to bed at midnight. He fell ill at the end of December, from the which illness nought could save him. He was, whilst he lived, a good prince, wise and virtuous, who maintained his people in peace, without pressing hard upon them in any way, save by constraint. He had in his time much of good and of evil, whereby he got ample knowledge of the world. He obtained many victories over his enemies; but towards the end of his days Fortune gave him a little turn of her frowning face. He was borne to his grave at St. Denis amongst his good predecessors, with great weeping and wailing, and to the great regret of his subjects.”
“He was a gentle prince,” says Robert de la Marck, lord of Fleuranges, “both in war and otherwise, and in all matters wherein he was required to take part. It was pity when this malady of gout attacked him, for he was not an old man.”
To the last of his days Louis XII. was animated by earnest sympathy and active solicitude for his people. It cost him a great deal to make with the King of England the treaties of August 7, 1514, to cede Tournai to the English, and to agree to the payment to them of a hundred thousand crowns a year for ten years. He did it to restore peace to France, attacked on her own soil, and feeling her prosperity threatened. For the same reason he negotiated with Pope Leo X., Emperor Maximilian, and Ferdinand the Catholic, and he had very nearly attained the same end by entering once more upon pacific relations with them, when death came and struck him down at the age of fifty-three. He died sorrowing over the concessions he had made from a patriotic sense of duty as much as from necessity, and full of disquietude about the future. He felt a sincere affection for Francis de Valois, Count of Angouleme, his son-law and successor; the marriage between his daughter Claude and that prince had been the chief and most difficult affair connected with his domestic life; and it was only after the death of the queen, Anne of Brittany, that he had it proclaimed and celebrated. The bravery, the brilliant parts, the amiable character, and the easy grace of Francis I. delighted him, but he dreaded his presumptuous inexperience, his reckless levity, and his ruinous extravagance; and in his anxiety as a king and father he said, “We are laboring in vain; this big boy will spoil everything for us.”
END OF THE THIRD VOLUME.