THE FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD

The third of the three French kings who were served by Bayard was Francis I, who was somewhat of a spoiled child, but lovable and brave. One of his first exploits with the sword took place in a room of his own palace. He had just captured a wild boar in the forest, and for some whim let it loose in the courtyard. A little later, one of the doors was burst open, and in rushed the angry beast. The courtiers ran for their lives, but the prince drew his sword, and soon the dead body of the boar was tumbling down the stairs and back into the courtyard.

When Francis came to the throne, he was only twenty years old, and was longing for adventure and glory. The two preceding kings had gained nothing permanent in Italy, and Francis determined to do better. He crossed the Alps, building bridges and blowing up rocks to make a way for his army, and met the Italians, together with the Swiss, whom they had hired to help them, on the field of Marignano, and was victorious. “I have been in seventeen battles,” said one of the French marshals, “and they have been only child’s play compared with this.”

Francis was not only brave himself, but he appreciated bravery in others, and before he left the battle-field he went straight to Bayard and said, “Bayard, I pray you to bestow upon me the honor of knighthood.” “But, sire,” replied Bayard, “the king of so noble a realm, he who has been crowned and consecrated with oil sent down from heaven, is knight over all other knights.” “Bayard, my friend,” returned the king, “make haste. Do not quote laws or canons here, but do my bidding.” “Assuredly, sire,” said Bayard, “I will do it, since it is your pleasure.”

So it was that Francis was made a knight, and there on the field he knighted those of his followers who had done most valiant service. He gained no new dominions by his Italian wars, but he did gain new ideas of art and architecture, and when he returned to France, he carried with him paintings and statuary made by the greatest artists of Italy.

Francis delighted in magnificence and display, and only four or five years after the battle of Marignano, he had an opportunity to be just as gorgeous as he chose. A certain young Austrian prince by the name of Charles had by the death of one of his grandfathers become King of Spain, and also of Naples, Sicily, Sardinia, and the Netherlands. Then, too, this was in 1519, when Cortez was conquering Mexico, and great stores of gold and silver were coming into the coffers of Spain from the New World across the Atlantic. Charles was already a very powerful and wealthy monarch; and now, by the death of his other grandfather, Austria fell into his hands. Even worse than that, in the eyes of Francis I of France and Henry VIII of England, was the fact that he was soon chosen Emperor of Germany. This put into his control all western Europe except France and the British Isles.

Francis and Henry had each hoped to be chosen emperor, and they were now two badly disappointed young monarchs. What could they do about it? Francis decided to make war against Charles, and Henry was apparently quite willing to unite with him. They agreed to meet and talk over their plans.

The place of meeting was to be near Calais, where English and French territory met, so that each king could be on his own soil. Splendid preparations were made by both sovereigns. Henry had sent eleven hundred skilled workmen from Holland and Flanders to build him a summer palace. Its windows were glazed with finer and more transparent glass than had ever been seen before. Posts and mullions were overlaid with gold. Statues of men in glittering armor were everywhere. Close to the entrance was a fountain flowing, not with water, but with wine, and over it in letters of gold was the inscription, “Make good cheer who will.” Within the palace all things were rich and elegant. The ceilings of the corridors were covered with fluted white silk, and those of the chambers with roses on a golden groundwork. The hangings were of silk, of different colors and beautifully embroidered. Tapestry of silk and gold, Turkish cushions, cloths and draperies of golden tissue and rich embroidery adorned the state apartments.

Francis had put up a tent, but such a tent as never was seen before, for it was dome-shaped and covered with cloth of gold. It was lined with blue velvet studded with golden stars. Adjoining the tent were other tents, smaller, but just as richly decorated.

There were hundreds of tents for the members of the two courts, and banners of all colors floated above them. Coats of arms were emblazoned upon them, and at the door of each stood a sentinel with glittering bill and lance. Knights were all about in their dazzling armor. It is no wonder that from that day to this the plain has been known as the “Field of the Cloth of Gold.”

But in the midst of all this splendor there was important business to attend to, and before long the two kings, most richly dressed, met and made a treaty which, among other provisions, bound the French king to marry the four-year-old daughter of the English king. The sovereigns made speeches of friendship, took wine together, and after the presentation of their respective courts, the meeting came to an end.

For more than two weeks there were feasts and tournaments and all kinds of entertainments. But through it all the officials of the two kingdoms feared treachery, and the two kings were obliged to meet with much formality. This was especially annoying to Francis, and one morning he slipped out of his bedroom and with only two gentlemen and a little page to attend him went to call on Henry. “Surrender, I have come to take the castle,” he cried merrily to the astounded English guards. “Where is the chamber of the king, my brother?” he demanded. The governor of the palace did not dare refuse to answer, but pleaded, “Sire, the king is not yet awake.” Francis went on, knocked at Henry’s door and walked into the room. Naturally the English king was amazed, but also much gratified at the trust which the French king had shown in him. Henry gave his guest a jeweled necklace, and Francis presented to him in return a valuable bracelet which he had brought with him. “I will wait upon you,” Francis declared, and, quite in the fashion of a valet, he handed King Henry his shirt and other clothes.

After this, everything was delightfully friendly between the kings and between their peoples; and yet, not long before Henry had crossed the English Channel, Charles of Spain had visited England, and Henry on his way home visited Charles in Flanders and spent three days with him in Calais, and when war broke out two years later he became the ally of the Spanish king!

Francis won no more such victories as that of Marignano, and at length, at the battle of Pavia, he was captured, and shut up in a gloomy Spanish prison. To win his freedom, he signed a treaty with Spain and delivered his two little sons to Charles as hostages. Before long he declared that since he had been forced to sign this treaty, it was not binding upon him, and war followed. He was ready to pay any price for the help of England, and Henry now joined the French side. This helped Francis very little, but in the peace that followed, the two boys were given back to their father. This time it was Charles who broke the treaty, and war began again. So it went on till a short time before the death of the French king.

These wars, which lasted most of the time during a quarter of a century, aimed at preserving what is called the balance of power in Europe; that is, preventing any one country from becoming strong enough to control other countries. This struggle began in the reign of Francis, and has lasted for four hundred years, each nation living in fear lest some neighboring nation should become too powerful. It is this which has made it necessary to keep standing armies of troops always ready for warfare; and it is this which has increased so heavily the weight of taxation upon the people of European lands.

Francis was interested in the New World, and he sent out explorers in spite of the wrath and indignation of Spain and Portugal. These countries, because of their early voyages to America, claimed the whole continent; but Francis only laughed at their complaints, and returned the rather exasperating reply, “Show me the clause in the will of Father Adam which divides America between Spain and Portugal, and excludes France.”

Francis appreciated art and architecture and music and literature. He built handsome palaces. He invited poets and artists and musicians to his court, and some of them made it their home. In such ways as these he did a great deal for his country, and if his life could only have been free from war, he would have been able to do much more.