his presence, he petitioned to be removed to the Aleazar of Madrid. The ministers of Charles, fearful that the French king might so far win upon him as to draw from him some imprudent concessions, got him away to Toledo, to preside at an assembly of the Cortes, before the arrival of Francis. The captive king, impatient of the recovery of his liberty, now offered to give up all claim to Naples, Milan, Genoa, and all the other territories in Italy; to relinquish the superiority over Flanders and Artois; to restore the Duke of Bourbon and his followers to their estates and honours; to marry Eleanora, the emperor's sister, and to pay 3,000,000 crowns for his ransom. These enormous concessions did not, however, satisfy the exacting spirit of Charles. He demanded the surrender of Burgundy, which, he maintained, had been wrested unjustly from his family. This Francis positively declined, and was thereupon informed that he must either restore it, or calculate on remaining a prisoner for life. But so determined on this point was Francis, knowing that with the possession of Burgundy his enemies could at any time penetrate into the very heart of his kingdom, that he signed his abdication in favour of the dauphin, and gave way so completely to the distressing influence of despair, that his health failed rapidly; and the emperor, alarmed lest his captive should escape out of his hands, and with him all the advantages he was endeavouring to extort from him, hastened from Toledo to Madrid, and, visiting Francis with an air of kindness, gave him hopes that all difficulties should be removed. This had such a cheering effect on the health of the captive, that Charles now again thought his fears unnecessary, and returned quietly to Toledo, leaving Francis in a confinement as strict as ever.
The chagrin of the French monarch brought back his dangerous symptoms, and the greedy emperor was once more seized with his old fears. His position at this moment was anything but enviable. His affairs in Germany were in a condition to excite many anxieties. The Turks had taken Rhodes, entered Hungary, and menaced his own dominions: but a far more formidable enemy was growing and becoming every day more fearful. This was the Reformation, which now had a very powerful body of adherents, and threatened to prostrate all the supporters of the ancient church. Barbarossa, who, from a pirate, was become a great prince, obstructed his commerce and menaced the coasts of Spain. His relative, the King of England, resenting his treatment, was become the fast friend of France; and France, under the able management of Louise, was again in a respectable posture of defence. His exchequer was empty, and he had no means of wresting Burgundy from France; and he might lose the very countries and the money offered him, should the king die, or should he effect his escape. He was aware that plots were on foot for the purpose; that no money would be spared by the lady regent; and the escape of the King of Navarre, in his servant's clothes, though he had been as strictly guarded since the battle of Pavia as Francis himself, brought the possibility of such a chance very vividly to his mind.
At length, therefore, on the 14th of January, 1526, was signed the famous treaty called the Concord of Madrid, one of the most grasping and impudent pieces of extortion which one prince ever forced from another in his necessity. By this treaty Francis gave up all that he had offered before—namely, all claims of superiority over Flanders and Artois, and the possession of Naples, Milan, Genoa, and the other Italian territories, for which France had spent so much blood and treasure. But besides this, Francis was to deliver to the emperor his two sons, the dauphin and the Duke of Orleans, as hostages, and also bind himself, if he did not, or could not, fulfil all his engagements within four months, to return and yield himself once more prisoner. He was to marry Queen Eleanora, and the dauphin the Princess Maria, the daughter of Eleanora. But these were but a small part of the demands of the insatiable emperor. Francis was bound to persuade the King of Navarre to surrender all his rights in that kingdom to Charles, and the Duke of Gueldres to appoint Charles the heir to his dominions; and if he could not persuade them, he was to give them no aid when the emperor invaded their states. Next, Francis was to lend his whole navy, 500 men-at-arms, and 6,000 foot soldiers, to put down the princes of Italy, who were uniting to effect his own freedom! Then, Francis was to pay to the King of England all those sums which the emperor himself had engaged to pay. Still more, he was to restore Bourbon and the rest of the rebels to their estates and honours. The whole of the conditions were so monstrous, that they cannot be read without astonishment at the rapacity of this triumphant prince.
When the treaty was signed, the emperor assumed once more his mien of kindness, fawned upon the man whom he had held in such rigorous durance, and from whom he had extorted not only his possessions, but his honour. He introduced him to his future queen, called him his dearest brother and most beloved friend, and vainly hoped to make his victim forget the royal rack on which he had stretched him. But such things never are forgotten. In the soul of Francis they lived strong and imperishably, and whilst he complied with the detestable pressure of this imperial vampire, he secretly swore to break every engagement, as forced, excessive, and unwarrantable. Could we have expected anything else, or could the unprincipled emperor have expected anything else, had he not been blinded by his greed? In all ages and nations, such forced and iniquitous engagements have been held void. It was a game played betwixt a man whose avarice had no bounds, and whose honour had no existence, and another, who consents to feign acquiescence to defeat the hideous machinations of his oppressor.
Hating and loathing the monster who had thus extracted from him in his captivity things more precious than his life's-blood, Francis set out for the frontiers under strong guard; and in a ship moored in the middle of the river Bidassoa, which separates France from Spain, Francis was permitted for a moment to embrace his two sons, who were going into captivity, that he might come out shorn to the quick. No sooner did he land in his own territory, than he mounted a Turkish horse, and shouting in transport, "I am a king again!" he galloped forward to St. Jean de Luz, and thence to Bayonne, where his subjects thronged out and welcomed him with the most enthusiastic delight. Can any one doubt what were his feelings towards his intended brother-in-law of Spain at that moment?
