On arriving in France, the Bailly of Troyes hurried to Lyons to join the king on his return from the interview with the Pope.⁠[214] Francis was on his way to Bar-le-Duc, there to meet the Landgrave of Hesse, and to conclude with him a treaty in support of the exiled Duke of Wurtemberg in opposition to the Emperor.⁠[215]

On the way north, the royal party, which consisted of the king and queen, the dauphin, the Duke and Duchess of Orleans, the Duke of Angoulême, the two young princesses, Madeleine and Marguerite, George d’Amboise, Cardinal Legate, the Chancellor Duprat, and other notabilities, made a triumphal entry into Troyes.⁠[216] Great festivities attended this function, conducted no doubt by the Bailly in his official position.

The city of Troyes was well suited to an occasion of the kind. A traveller, who described it later in the century, represents it as a clean and beautiful town, one of the most delightful in France; closely built within the fortified walls, yet having such wide straight streets that there was space to see on all sides its rich and splendid edifices, public and private; amongst which the cathedral of St. Pierre was considered one of the finest churches in France.⁠[217]

Not long after these events Dinteville probably visited his cousin at Chantilly, in accordance with an invitation he had received from Montmorency shortly before leaving England. The records are silent as to his further proceedings in the interval which elapsed before his next visit to England. It is tolerably safe to infer that the larger part of it was spent at Court. Apart from his duties in connection with the Duke of Angoulême, the greater familiarity of tone in a letter addressed to him by Francis I. when on his next diplomatic errand, speaks clearly of increased intimacy and confidence.

The object of this mission, which took place in the autumn of 1535, was to convey to Henry VIII. the brief addressed to the French king by Pope Paul III.,⁠[218] in consequence of the execution of Fisher and More. In this letter Paul demanded that Francis should break off his friendship with the King of England, and be prepared to make war upon him at any moment the Pope might require. The King of France returned a temporizing answer to this peremptory request.⁠[219] Nevertheless, so urgent did he consider the case, that he despatched the Bailly of Troyes to England in all possible haste, bidding him dislodge at midnight and use extreme diligence. After all some delay occurred on the way, and Dinteville only landed in England after the middle of September.⁠[220]

The circumstances which led to this summary action on the part of the Pope were as follows:

John Fisher, Bishop of Rochester, and Sir Thomas More, had been sent to the Tower for refusing to subscribe to the Act of Supremacy, passed in November, 1534. By this Act Henry VIII. was declared Supreme Head of the Church in England, and the last vestiges of Papal authority in this kingdom were abolished. The new Pope, Paul III., had the indiscretion, at this delicate juncture, to bestow a cardinal’s hat upon the imprisoned bishop.

The fate of the two captives had been trembling in the balance. The Pope’s action immediately sealed it. The prisoners were once more called upon to subscribe to the Act, and, having again failed to comply, were condemned to death. The aged Fisher was led to the scaffold in June, 1535. The noble head of Sir Thomas More fell beneath the executioner’s axe early in the following month.

The news of these executions was everywhere received with horror and consternation. The infuriated Pope instantly prepared a Bull of deposition against Henry VIII., the publication of which was for the moment suspended by the intercession of the French king.

But Francis had no intention of bestowing his good offices gratis. Besides the communication of the brief, the Bailly was instructed to make various demands of the King of England, no doubt as the price at which the French king expected his mediation to be bought.

“Bailly,” thus familiarly begins a letter addressed by Francis I. to Dinteville soon after the departure of the latter for England, “outre la charge que je vous ay dernièrement donnée à vostre partement, de parler au Roy d’Angleterre du faict de la contribution, je veux que vous lui teniez propos, que si d’adventure l’Empereur me vouloit courir sus, et me ayant faict armer et équipper grossement comme je pourraye estre, et ... pour ne perdre l’occasion et ladicte despence, je la veuille employer au recouvrement de mon Estat et Duché de Milan, Seigneurie de Gennes et Conté d’Ast ... que, en ce cas, ledict Sieur Roy d’Angleterre sera tenu de contribuer jusques à la tierce partie de la despence qui je seray contraint de faire pour l’entretenement de madicte armée. Et ne faillez de tenir royde cela,” continues this curious document, “en façon que ledict Sieur Roy vous accorde ce que dessus.”⁠[221]

In case Henry should ask what his share of the profit was to be if he consented to this arrangement, Dinteville was to reply that the principal cause which moved the King of France to assemble the said army was for Henry’s defence and preservation!⁠[222]

The “contribution” mentioned no doubt referred to the terms of a treaty aimed against Charles V., which had been signed by the two kings when La Pommeraye was ambassador to England, in the spring of 1532.⁠[223] They had thereby bound themselves, amongst other conditions, to supply a given number of men to each other’s armies, under certain contingencies. But no money aid was included in the stipulations of that treaty, and this was what Francis now sought to obtain.

Of those personal details which lend colour and variety to the monotonous narrative of official life, few have survived of the Bailly’s visit to England in 1535.

A glimpse we catch of him, in a letter written by his friend, the Duke of Norfolk, riding by way of Kingston and Cobham to Winchester, where the king was now staying to avoid the sickness which had broken out in London. Norfolk himself had been hastily summoned by Cromwell to join the deliberations at Winchester. Stephen Gardiner, bishop of that see, who was about to be despatched to France with the answer to Dinteville’s proposals, no doubt took part in them also.⁠[224]

An expedition, of which a few more details have been preserved, was undertaken jointly by the Bailly of Troyes and Bishop of Tarbes,⁠[225] now the resident French ambassador in England. The ostensible object was to see the little Princess Elizabeth. Queen Anne, it appears, had frequently invited Castelnau to pay this visit. He had hesitated, however, to fulfil the behest until encouraged by Dinteville, who urged it as a possible means of obtaining an interview with Princess Mary. This point the ambassadors had much at heart just now. They were full of a scheme for marrying that princess to the Dauphin. To judge by a long paper of memoranda, apparently addressed to Dinteville to assist his memory when reporting in France, the Bishop of Tarbes was the originator of the plan.

The Frenchmen did not, however, succeed in their object of speaking to Princess Mary. They declared, which Chapuys records but did not believe, that the unfortunate princess was not only a captive in her chamber, but that the windows were nailed up through which she might have been seen. Chapuys thought she had voluntarily retired to her own room to conceal her annoyance at their visit to her sister, of the real explanation of which she was of course unaware.⁠[226] But the report of the Bishop of Tarbes, in the memoranda above referred to, is too circumstantial to admit of doubt that she was forbidden to speak to the ambassadors, although it says nothing of the excessive tyranny of closed-up windows.

⁠[227]“... Vous scavez le tumulte qui fut entre sa Gouvernante et elle,” so runs the minute, “quant nous fusmes veoir sa petite seur, et qu’il nous a esté dict qu’elle fust mise comme par force dans sa chambre, pour qu’elle ne parlast à nous, et qu’il ne fut possible de la rapaiser et contenir dedans sa chambre, que le Gentilhomme qui nous menoit ne luy eust premierement asseuré, que le Roy son pere luy avoit commandé de luy dire qu’elle ne se montrast point cepandant que nous serions la.”⁠[228]

In the second week of October the Bailly started on his return to France. He left not very well satisfied, apparently, with the results of his mission. Gardiner had not yet been despatched to France; and Dinteville was quite uncertain what measure of success might have been attained.

“Though he is very discreet,” says Chapuys, alluding to Dinteville, “he forgot himself so far as to say that the question discussed at Paris, whether a prince could be deprived for heresy and infidelity, could apply to no one but the King of England; and he judged him deserving of deprivation according to the decision of the question.”⁠[229]

The horror aroused by the execution of such men as More and Fisher was in fact driving Henry’s best friends into the opposite camp. But neither in France had things stood still. The placards posted by the Reformers against Mass, in 1534, had been answered by a bloody persecution early in 1535, which was still fresh in men’s minds. The two parties in religion were dividing off. Those among the French Roman Catholics who had hoped to avert a schism by opening wide the arms of tolerance to the new opinions, were beginning to see that the foundations of the conflict lay deeper than they had expected. It was not enough, in France, to make common cause against dissolute monks. It was certainly not enough, in England, to measure the power of the Reformation by the matrimonial vagaries of Henry VIII.

Evidently the Bailly of Troyes had hoped to obtain the money contribution sought by Francis, in bare cash. But Henry, as can be seen from his instructions to Gardiner, only offered to deduct it from the pensions due to him from France, as part-payment.⁠[230] Of the projected marriage for Princess Mary, those instructions breathe not one word.

Another factor shortly arose, which once more shuffled the cards of European diplomacy. The death of Katherine of Aragon in January, 1536, removed the stumbling-block which had so long stood in the way of amicable relations between Henry VIII. and Charles V. The change of position was at once felt on both sides. It was now the Emperor’s turn, as a token of rapprochement, to hinder publication of the Pope’s Bull of Privation. On Henry’s part, the altered state of things was quickly apparent in his desire to act as a neutral, or even as a mediator, in the quarrel between France and the Empire. Those powers were now in a state of open rupture.

Early in the year 1536 the French forces invaded Piedmont, and the Court moved to Lyons in order to be nearer to the seat of war. Here the English ambassadors, the Bishop of Winchester and Sir John Wallop, exchanged some diplomatic subtleties with the Bailly of Troyes on the delicate political situation which had arisen between England and France.⁠[231]

In April, 1536, the anxiety of the French king grew so great lest Henry should lend a willing ear to Imperial advances, that he once more despatched the Bailly of Troyes to England “to open unto us,” said Henry VIII., “the bottom of his heart.” The French were afraid that the King of England might back out of the half-hearted concessions of the previous year.

But Dinteville did not arrive as soon as was expected; and Henry, waiting to reply to proposals made by the Emperor, grew impatient. Excuses were proffered to him that the Bailly had fallen ill on the road, to account for the delay. In point of fact, the storm which preceded the trial and execution of Anne Boleyn had just burst; and Dinteville, judging this an unpropitious moment for the success of his mission, feigned illness to gain time.⁠[232] He was too experienced a diplomatist not to know the value of choosing his opportunity. At last postponement could be pushed no further, and he arrived in England on the 17th May, just in time to intercede in vain for his friend, young Weston, who was beheaded on the following day.

On the 19th Queen Anne Boleyn was executed within the Tower of London. A contrast, indeed, to the brilliant scenes at which Dinteville had assisted hardly three years before!

If Chapuys is correct in his account of a conversation between himself and Henry VIII. touching the demands made by the representatives of France,⁠[233] the Bailly had not been far wrong in believing that he should find the English king unfavourably disposed. “He could not well say,” so Henry is reported to have spoken, “for what the Bailiff of Troyes had come, for his commission was so vain and ill-founded that it was a shame; and that he would engage that the Bailly could not tell distinctly what charge he had; and that formerly the Bailiff had appeared to him a man of good judgment and experience, but now he found him quite otherwise.”⁠[234]

To this Chapuys craftily replied that “he thought it might be the fault of the matter, and not of the person, that had given him such an opinion of the Bailiff.”

But Henry was not to be thus pacified. He insisted that both causes concurred; and added a good deal more to the same effect. A subsequent letter throws more light on the king’s meaning. The young Duke of Angoulême had now been substituted for the dauphin in the project of a marriage for Princess Mary. The plan was evidently near the Bailly’s heart, and he urged it with proportionate warmth. But the king “doubted whether he had any commission to speak” of it,⁠[235] and consequently met the overtures of the ambassador with much irritation. Nevertheless the pourparlers on the subject of this alliance continued for some months, with much earnestness on the French side. La Pommeraye was specially sent over in November to speed the cause. The Imperialists, meanwhile, were urging with equal eagerness a union between Princess Mary and Don Loys of Portugal.⁠[236]

A letter from Cromwell to the English ambassadors in France conclusively reveals, however, the first and paramount object of the Bailly’s mission of 1536. Cromwell classed its objects under two heads. The first, probably a mere pretext, related to the summoning of a general Council. The second—and this was the true aim—was to know the king’s determination concerning the desired contribution.⁠[237] Here then was the real gist of the matter. Did Henry mean to disappoint the hopes he had raised the previous summer? If so, how far was the Emperor responsible for the change? And if the good understanding with Charles had really brought about this result, was it worth while for the King of France to exert himself further to maintain the fiction of friendship with England? Such questions were keenly exercising the minds of French politicians.

The answer of the King of England was extremely diplomatic. “As he perceived an inclination both in the Emperor and the French king to refer their quarrel to his arbitration, he thought the appointment of any such contribution at this time would make him an unmeet umpire between them.”⁠[238] With this reply the Frenchmen had to be content. On the 9th July Dinteville arrived in Lyons on his return from England.⁠[239] He had not left, however, until he had promised a pension to Cromwell, in the hope of attuning him favourably to French interests.⁠[240]

An event now took place which closely touched the Dinteville family, and perhaps was remembered against them unjustly when the days of their adversity fell upon them.

In the month of August, 1536, the Dauphin François met his death from the effects of drinking a glass of iced water when heated with a game of tennis. The idea that he had been poisoned at once arose, and suspicion fell on his Italian equerry, Count Sebastiano di Montecuculli. This unfortunate man was put to torture in order to extract from him the names of supposed confederates. In his agony, after first accusing of complicity the Imperial generals, he went on to state that he had communicated to Guillaume de Dinteville, Seigneur Deschenetz, both at Turin and at Susa, a further design to poison the King of France. Deschenetz, who was a gallant soldier, and had been employed by that king on various military duties in Italy, was happily able to clear himself. Indeed, most modern historians doubt the truth of the accusation against Montecuculli himself, which was supported by no vestige of evidence. The unhappy victim was, however, condemned to a cruel death, which he suffered at Lyons in the month of October. But before the capital sentence was carried out he was ordered to make “amende honorable” to Deschenetz. Bareheaded and barefoot, clad only in his shirt, and holding in his hands a lighted torch, he was conducted round the square of St. Jean at Lyons, confessing in a loud voice that the accusation brought by him against the Frenchman was an untruth. Ten thousand livres were further awarded to the latter from the property of the Count, which was declared confiscated to the King of France.⁠[241]

The year 1537 was memorable in English history for the efforts made by Cardinal Pole to incite the people to rebellion in favour of the Pope. The insurrection which had blazed in the north of England had hardly been subdued, when the newly-made cardinal, armed with full Papal authority, made his way northwards from Rome to endeavour to rekindle its flames. How signal was Pole’s failure is well known. But as his machinations formed the occasion of the fifth and, so far as we know, the last mission of the Bailly of Troyes to England, it will be well just to touch upon them here. No words better sum up the situation of the moment than those used by Francis I. in the instructions delivered to the Bailly of Troyes “de ce qu’il aura a dire et declarer au Roy d’Angleterre”:

⁠[242] ... “Le Pape a crée en consistoire Legat, le Cardinal Poule, Anglois, non-seulement en Angleterre mais en tous les lieux ou il luy conviendra a passer pour y aller ... en intention que ou ledit Roy d’Angleterre ne se voudroit reduire par l’amyable à l’obeissance de l’Eglise Romaine et du Sainct Siege, de faire delivrer audict Cardinal par la voye des Marchans une bonne somme d’argent pour donner secours au peuple contre ledict Roy, affin de le contraindre de venir a la dicte obeissance par le moyen de la force....”

The King of France thinks it right to warn his good brother of this danger, and asks Henry to let him know privately whether he, Francis, can do anything for him or for the good of his affairs.⁠[243]

In reply, Henry VIII. begged Francis to arrest the Cardinal on his way through France. In case this should be refused, and that Pole should escape to the Netherlands, Gardiner, to whom the orders are addressed, is immediately to forward a similar request to the Queen-Regent of those countries.⁠[244]

The French king made answer that Pole had entered his dominions with a safe-conduct. He was still too uneasy, however, lest Henry should declare himself for the Imperial side to venture to thwart him completely. He therefore warned the Cardinal Legate to leave French territory within ten days. Expelled from France, Pole betook himself to Flanders, only to find that the Regent Mary, equally anxious to conciliate England, declined to receive him at her court. Finally he took refuge with Cardinal La Marck, at Liége; whence, after a useless sojourn of some months, the Pope recalled him to Rome.

The English Channel, owing to the war between France and the Low Countries, was at this time bristling with Flemish boats, on the look-out for any desirable French quarry that might pass between the two shores. Rumours had apparently got about of the Bailly’s approaching departure from England, for he was not allowed to make the transit without encountering an unpleasant adventure. Sir Francis Brian had been entrusted by Henry with the task of communicating to the French king his reply to the message brought by Dinteville; and it seems to have been arranged that Brian should cross the Channel slightly in advance of the departing Frenchman. At any rate, at six o’clock in the morning of the 8th of April, Sir Francis arrived at Dover; and, the tide being favourable a couple of hours later, he set sail for Calais. He intended to prepare the way for Dinteville though the English territory in France by ordering him post-horses; these animals being just then scarce. But the Bailly, who had arrived at Dover on the previous day, had snuffed danger in the orders sent beforehand by Brian, that no man was to be allowed to cross the Channel until his arrival. What the motive of these orders was, it is impossible now to guess. Some intrigue seems to have been afoot, which made each envoy desire to be the first to gain the ear of the French king, who was close by in Picardy. But Dinteville was determined not to be outwitted, and took his own measures accordingly. A “busy friar,” one Jean du Pont, by his name a Frenchman, seems to have lent him a willing hand, to the acute chagrin of Thomas Winkfield, comptroller of the king’s works at Dover. A ship had been duly prepared for the Bailly of Troyes, but the start had been postponed in accordance with Brian’s orders. Du Pont thereupon “caused a boat to be made ready without knowledge of either the mayor, bailiff, or me” (so many dignitaries did it require in those days for an ambassador to put to sea!), “and before Mr. Brian was aboard the bailly of Troy was under sail for Boulogne.”⁠[245] Sir Francis Brian continues the story in a letter to Cromwell:

“Seeing the said bailiff would not take the ship that was prepared for him, and as I suppose thinking by the waye to prevent me,⁠[246] he took thother passenger that lay in the Rode, and went straight to Bollene. When half-way across we saw two little pinckes⁠[247] come from the French coast towards the bailiff’s ship, one made north-east and the other north-west and so they chased him. Our mariners said they were Flemings who had waited there three or four days. Having no news of him, I fear he is taken.”⁠[248]

It is provoking not to hear the end of this exciting scene. But perhaps the very silence of the records points to the conclusion that Dinteville escaped his pursuers and made good his landing at Boulogne.