With the mission of 1537 the Bailly of Troyes vanishes from the arena of public affairs. How the following year and a half were spent, there is nothing to show. At the end of that time a cloud broke which for some years overwhelmed his fortunes and those of his brothers.

The chief offender seems to have been the youngest brother, Gaucher, Seigneur of Vanlay and Thennelières, though it is difficult to differentiate between him and Guillaume, Seigneur Deschenetz, who was implicated in the same disaster. What their crime was does not appear very clearly, beyond that they were accused of some form of high treason, involving, according to their enemies, a design upon the life of the king. That the whole story was a fabrication set afloat by evil-wishers, that at any rate against the Bishop of Auxerre, the Bailly of Troyes and probably also Deschenetz, there was no particle of incriminating evidence, seems more than probable, to judge by the course of subsequent events. But none the less it is certain that three out of the four brothers had to fly from France towards the end of 1538, and likely that even the Bailly was associated with the early stages of their flight. One account states indeed that the sentence of banishment issued by the angry king reached Jean de Dinteville at Polisy, and hardly allowed him time to get across the frontier within the prescribed interval, so stringent were its terms.⁠[249]

Almost every family document relating to the period of disgrace appears to have been intentionally destroyed. All that is known has to be gleaned from scattered allusions in State papers, or in documents of a later date, when fortune once more smiled upon the family at Polisy.⁠[250] From this fragmentary information it appears that Anne de Pisseleu, Duchesse d’Etampes, whose ascendency over Francis I. was now becoming more and more complete, was the avowed enemy of the Dinteville brothers, and permitted no opportunity to slip, by which she might hope to compass their ruin. The reason of her enmity was not difficult to gauge. The French Court was divided into two parties, each filled with bitter animosity towards the other. The King and Madame d’Etampes stood on one side; the Dauphin⁠[251] and Diane de Poitiers on the other.⁠[252] The Dinteville family, as we know, had been attached to the sons of Francis I. since their earliest youth. Deschenetz had been the governor of the new Dauphin; and Vanlay, although in early days connected with the deceased Dauphin François, had by his own words spent many years in the service of his successor.⁠[253] Francis I. was jealous of his heir, and harboured increasing suspicions of his son’s loyalty. It is easy to imagine how skilfully these cards were played by Madame d’Etampes, who saw in the Dauphin’s friends the party of the future, and, in their triumph, her own ultimate downfall.

The manœuvres of an ambitious and unscrupulous priest completed the catalogue of unfortunate circumstances that were made to tell against the brothers. This man, by name Pierre de Mareuil, used the influence he had obtained over the Duchesse d’Etampes to further his own unworthy objects. Just now he was endeavouring to secure his footing on the episcopal ladder by the overthrow of Francis, Bishop of Auxerre. The Bailly of Troyes, indeed, regarded Mareuil as the author of all the calamities which overtook his house.⁠[254]

Montmorency, whom, two years later, temporary eclipse was to befall from the same quarter and partially the same causes—for he also stood on friendly terms with the Dauphin—either could not or would not protect his cousins. He acted against them with a vehemence which suggests that he either shared the suspicions of their guilt or entertained fears for his own safety. So far as Jean de Dinteville was concerned, no reflection seems ever to have been made upon his loyalty to the throne. His past services had been too conspicuous and spoke for themselves. Besides this, his attachment to Charles, now Duke of Orleans, was well known; and as this prince was not on specially good terms with the Dauphin, it would have been absurd to suppose Dinteville capable of committing treason in favour of the elder brother. His flight was simply made necessary by the disgrace which had overtaken his relations. Three of the brothers certainly made good their escape to Venice, but whether the Bailly accompanied them as far as Italy seems doubtful. There is no hint in any authentic document of his presence there with them. Had he been permitted, when the first outburst of royal wrath had subsided, to return quietly to Polisy, there to await better days? It would almost seem so. A letter written by Claude de Lorraine, Duke of Guise, to Montmorency, from Dijon, probably in the early spring of 1539, speaks of only two brothers (obviously Deschenetz and Vanlay), whom, in deference to orders from the Connétable, he promises to arrest should they appear on French soil. He also thanks Montmorency for the gift “de la terre des Chenets,” in case it should be confiscated.⁠[255] The letters of Grignan, French ambassador at Rome, tell the same story. Only the Bishop of Auxerre and his two youngest brothers are mentioned in them. Of the Bailly there is never one word.

As though exile were not bad enough, it was aggravated in the case of Vanlay with a deep additional sting. Before the storm had burst he had quarrelled with his cousin, Jean du Plessis, “the young Savonnières.”⁠[256] The latter had incurred Vanlay’s wrath by some slighting remark. According to Du Plessis’ account, Vanlay consequently repaired to his room early one morning, accompanied by five armed men, and forced Du Plessis to sign a paper by which he took back the insulting observation. Du Plessis, furious at this act of coercion, demanded the king’s permission to challenge Vanlay to a duel. It does not redound to the credit of a king who prided himself upon his chivalrous qualities, nor to that of the young Savonnières himself, that permission was only granted, perhaps only asked, at a time when Vanlay was forbidden, under penalty of death, to set foot on French territory. The king’s mandate, which accompanied Du Plessis’ challenge, signified that the duel was to be fought in the royal presence wherever the Court might be on the 1st January, 1539. No safe-conduct was offered to the exile. The choice therefore presented to Vanlay was either to put his head into the lion’s mouth by returning to France, a course probably tantamount to death, or to incur the deep stain to his honour of neglecting the challenge. He was thus caught in a complete trap. Perhaps the infliction of this mortification was the real object of the defiance, as it only reached him at Venice, forwarded by his mother from Polisy, eleven days before the date fixed for the combat. Under the best of circumstances it would have been difficult for him to get back in time.

In his despair Vanlay appealed to the Dauphin, setting forth in a long letter the reasons which made it impossible for him to respond to the summons. He begs that a neutral place may be appointed where he can go in safety of his life. He will then thankfully accept the opportunity offered to him of clearing his honour.⁠[257]

In the end he retaliated by appointing his own rendezvous in Italy. On the non-appearance of Du Plessis he proceeded to bestow on the arms of the latter the same treatment which had been meted to his own in France. What that treatment was shall now be told.

On the appointed day the King of France, accompanied by the princes and princesses and lords and ladies of the Court, took up his position to await the spectacle of the combat. Vanlay having failed to appear, as was of course foreseen, the king ordered his arms to be torn from the pavilion on which they were emblazoned, and broken in pieces; after which they were dragged through the streets of Paris.⁠[258] Such was the vengeance wreaked by Francis on a banished servant, who had once enjoyed his highest confidence.

The Dinteville brothers had many acquaintances in Italy. The early sojourn of the Bishop of Auxerre at Padua, his subsequent residence at Rome, and the military missions of the two younger brothers to La Mirandola and other Italian centres, appeared to assure to them a sufficiency of friends in the land of their exile. The presence of a French princess at Ferrara, who made her Court the home of all needy countrymen, offered yet another refuge in case of necessity.⁠[259] They were not long permitted to enjoy these consolations. It is easy to gather from a letter from Grignan to Montmorency, written in April, 1539, the colours in which Vanlay had been painted to the French ambassador at Rome.⁠[260] He was reaping now the bitter fruit of having been unable to accept the French challenge, in addition to the harvest of ignominy heaped upon him by the king. If, as seems probable, he was innocent of the capital charge, he was indeed an injured man.

Not content with the severe measures already taken against the brothers, Francis I. now procured their banishment from the dominions of the Emperor, and from Venice, Mantua, and Ferrara. The fugitives took refuge at Rome. Here again the king’s arm overtook them, and the Pope was angrily called upon to exile them in like manner. The Bishop of Auxerre had sought to interest several of the Cardinals on behalf of himself and his brothers, in order to obtain permission to remain on Papal territory. But Paul III. dared not, if he would, give displeasure to the King of France. The next notice, a few months later, shows that Deschenetz and Vanlay had been at Bologna, but had left it again; while the Bishop of Auxerre was reported to be at Naples.⁠[261]

And here the curtain falls on the movements of the exiles. Hunted from place to place, in danger of their lives had they risked showing themselves in any of the forbidden states, the only hope of these once prosperous men lay in silence and concealment. Where did they next seek shelter? There is no word to tell.

Three years pass away. Once more the curtain rises; and, if the opening scene is not without shadows, it shows at least a promise of brighter days. The facts to be related have the additional interest of resting on Jean de Dinteville’s own narrative.⁠[262]

In the summer of 1542, France being again at war with Spain, Charles, Duke of Orleans, undertook the conquest of the Duchy of Luxemburg. On his way thither he halted for about a fortnight at Joinville and at Montier-sur-Saulx. The Bailly of Troyes was in attendance upon the duke, who was a faithful friend to him. The king was also of the party; and Dinteville seized the opportunity to endeavour, through the mediation of Admiral de Brion, to obtain the restitution to his brother François of the see of Auxerre and of the abbeys of Montier-la-Celle and Montier-Aramey. The revenue of these benefices had been seized three years before, when the bishop had been forced to fly. Pierre de Mareuil, who had become the unworthy successor of George de Selve in the bishopric of Lavaur,⁠[263] had, thanks to the influence of Madame d’Etampes, managed to get charge of the see of Auxerre during the bishop’s exile. He had appropriated or sold for his own benefit the costly furniture belonging to François de Dinteville; he had instituted his own creatures into various offices; he had taken possession of the rich abbeys held by the banished prelate. It was in vain that the Bailly of Troyes represented these facts. The ascendency of Madame d’Etampes over the king’s mind was too great to admit of any counter influence. Mareuil had secured that lady’s suffrage by presenting to her all or parts of a “chapelle d’or et argent doré, garnie de pierreries,” belonging to François de Dinteville, which Mareuil had removed from the Cathedral of Auxerre. Portions of this splendid “chapelle” had been seen by Madame Du Bellay and other friends of the Dinteville brothers in the possession of Madame d’Etampes. They comprised “ung reliquaire d’or garny de pierres precieuses; ung aultre d’argent doré garny de semblables pierres; ung aultre reliquaire d’argent emaillé de bleu, auquel y a une longue et grande pierre appelée lapis lazulli entaillée des misteres de la passion.”⁠[264] Reinstatement would of course mean restitution of stolen goods. Here, then, was motive enough for the lady’s antagonism, apart from all other causes.

Dinteville saw that the situation was too strong for him, and resolved to compromise. Such a man as the new Bishop of Lavaur could only be dealt with by a bribe. The Bailly of Dijon, Monsieur de Villiers les Potz, who was acting on behalf of Dinteville and Madame de Brion, advised him to sacrifice one of his brother’s abbeys. The Bishop of Auxerre, who had returned to France by the king’s permission, was at two leagues distance, “n’ousant s’approcher de la court.” He was consulted on the point, but wished, before replying, to discuss the matter with the Admiral. A quick decision was, however, imperative. Mareuil, seeing his position imperilled, was again stirring up Madame d’Etampes. So well had he succeeded, that she had almost gone off then and there to speak to the king. Fortunately her purpose was frustrated by good friends of the Dinteville family near at hand. Mademoiselle de Théligny,⁠[266] the daughter of their old acquaintance Madame de Montreuil, was in the castle. A hurried note reached Dinteville, “Depeschez-vous d’appointer et contenter cest homme, car il a mis ceste femme en collere contre Monsieur d’Aucerre.” The rest of the story is so curious that it shall be told in Dinteville’s own words:

⁠[265]“... Le lendemain, ladicte Damoyselle de Thelligny et Madame de Brou sa seur, s’en vindrent disner avec moi au logis de feu⁠[267] monseigneur d’Orleans. Lesquelles toutes deux me dirent qu’il failloit s’accorder avecques ledict sieur de Lavaur, et que madame d’Estampes s’estoit fort courroucé lorsque ledict sieur de Lavaur vint parler à elle en la chambre ou elle jouoit, et disoit que nous n’estions pas encores ou nous cuydions.... Quoy voyant, je congneuz bien qu’il estoit force de passer par la.⁠[268] Et le lendemain ou le jour mesme (ne scay lequel) je m’en allay trouver ledict sieur de Lavaur en son logis, en une petite chambre basse, où se trouva ledict sieur bailly de Dijon ... et quelques aultres ...; et diz telz motz ou semblables audict Monsieur de Lavaur:

“‘Monsieur, mes amys m’ont faict entendre que ma dame d’Estampes a tenu depuis deux jours quelques maulvays propos de Monsieur d’Aucerre et de mes frères. Par quoy plus tost que de retourner et rentrer en la malle grace du Roy, nous aymerions mieulx perdre et quitter tous noz biens. Vous scavez que par le passé nous sommes esté amis. Vous tenez propoz de vouloir avoir l’evesché d’Aucerre; je vous supplie et advise de vous contenter d’aultre chose.’

“Il insista d’avoir l’abbaye de Monstieraramey. Lors le priay de laisser ladicte abbaye de Monstieraramey. A quoy il fit instance, la voullant plus tost que celle de Monstier la Celle. Toutes foys, je lui remonstray que la dicte Abbaye de Monstieraramey estoit prochaine de Polisy et que celle de Monstier la Celle estoit a six ou sept cens livres près, la valleur de celle de Monstieraramey, qui n’estoit pas grand somme. A la fin, ledict sieur de Lavaur s’i accorda. Puis me fist grande instance d’avoir la maison d’Aucerre à Paris; ce que de tout je ne l’en vouluz accorder, bien que quand il seroit nostre amy, non pas ceste la seullement, mais que toutes les aultres estoient à son commendement....”

Gallantly spoken to this clerical cormorant! His greed for fat benefices was even now not appeased. There follows a whole string of minor demands, met by Dinteville with considerable skill, yielding here and declining there, according to the degree of importance of the point in question. At last an agreement was arrived at.

⁠[269] “... et fut conclud que l’on coucheroit par escript. Ce qu’il fut faict le lendemain en ma chambre, au logis de feu mon dict seigneur d’Orleans; absent mon dict seigneur d’Aucerre qui ne s’i voulut trouver.⁠[270] ... Et certiffie pour verité que la resignation de la dicte abbaye de Monstier la Celle qui fut faicte lors audict sieur de Lavaur, et les quittances des meubles et fruitz de l’evesché d’Aucerre, fut par la peur et crainte que Madame d’Estampes ne remist mon dict sieur d’Aucerre et nous tous, ses frères, en la malle grace du Roy, par le moyen et credit que ledict sieur de Lavaur avoit avecques ma dicte dame d’Estampes; et qu’il ne fallust encor s’enfuyr et absenter de ce royaulme, comme on avoit faict; et affin que ladicte dame d’Estampes et ledict sieur de Lavaur n’empeschassent plus que mon dict frere s’en peust revenir et remettre en ses maisons et benefices.”⁠[271]

But not satisfied with the results so far obtained, the Bailly of Troyes went to see the Dauphin at Fontainebleau on the subject of his brother’s wrongs. In a curious record of the actual conversation which passed there, Dinteville elicits from the future king, in a series of cleverly posed questions, a complete exculpation of the Bishop. Henri acknowledges that “la retraicte et absence de ce royaume de l’évêque d’Aucerre” was for no crime of his own, either towards Francis I. or anyone else, but only for the disfavour which had fallen on his brothers. He encourages Dinteville to defend him in every possible way. Moreover, in an interview which the Bishop himself had with the Dauphin, whether simultaneously with the Bailly, or on another occasion, does not appear, Henri promises him that justice shall be done to him, even should it be necessary to call in the arm of the law.⁠[272]

It is perhaps not surprising to find the Dauphin graciously disposed, in whose favour the imaginary conspiracy was supposed to have taken place. But a greater triumph effected by the Bailly was his success in bringing about a meeting between the bishop and Francis I. himself. On the return of the king from Burgundy, as he passed through Bar-sur-Seine and Joinville, François de Dinteville was granted an audience. In the course of this interview the king restored to him all his benefices and reinstated him in all his possessions.⁠[273] It shows the weakness of Francis that, notwithstanding this concession, the Bishop of Auxerre was unable to get the decree completely executed during the king’s lifetime. Madame d’Etampes, backed by Mareuil, succeeded in putting a spoke in the wheel with regard to a portion of the behest, although the bishop was able to resume possession of his see. It may here be stated, once for all, that on the accession of Henri II. in 1547, the Bishop of Auxerre instituted proceedings against Mareuil, and recovered everything of which he had been defrauded. The Dinteville family now returned to the highest favour, and henceforth their path was an unclouded one.

The latter years of the Bailly of Troyes were indeed saddened in another form. Always delicate, he was overtaken by complete paralysis, which obliged him to abandon his public career and to dwell in seclusion at Polisy. At what date this misfortune occurred is not known with precision. But it seems possible from the allusions to his health contained in a letter from Charles, Duke of Orleans, written in August, 1542, that the first symptoms of it may have appeared at about this time. This young prince, the most brilliant and fascinating of the sons of Francis I., was now twenty years of age. His genuine concern for the well-being of his former governour and lifelong friend, and his spirited description of the military operations on which he was engaged, give interest to his words.

⁠[274]“Bailly,” he writes, “aiant ici veu vostre basque,⁠[275] je n’ay voullu permettre s’en retourner, sans vous escripre, par luy, de mes nouvelles, qui sont graces à Dieu tres bonnes et telles que les desirez; et seront encore meilleures, quant j’entendray que vous aurez entierement recouvre vostre santé; à quoy je vous prie entendre bien soigneusement; et en recompense, je vous diray, bailly, que je faiz faire ce qu’il est possible pour la prinse d’Ivoy, que je feray demain commancer à battre d’un autre costé; et tant par cela que par tous autres moiens, j’espere l’emporter, moiennant l’aide de celluy qui donne les victoires. Au reste j’ay eu des nouvelles de Longueval qui n’est que à deux ou trois journées d’icy avec sa trouppe, autant belle et deslibérée que l’on scauroit veoir, ainsi qu’il m’a mandé. Je le feray temporiser au lieu ou il est avecques sa dite trouppe, attendant le retour d’Iversay que j’ay envoié devers le Roy pour me rapporter ce qui luy plaira me commander que je face de ladite trouppe et aussi de celle qui est icy avecques moy. Cependant n’aiant autre chose pour le present, feray fin de me recommander à vous et de priere à Nostre Seigneur, Bailly, qu’il vous doient aussi bonne santé que je la vous désire. Escripte au camp d’Ivoy ce XIIIJᵉ jour d’aoust.

“Votre bon maestre

“Charles.

“A Monr. le bailly de Troyes, l’ung de mes chambellans.”⁠[276]

The Duke of Orleans was successful in his military undertaking. Ivoy, a small town in the Ardennes, was reduced, and the conquest of the Duchy of Luxemburg completed. But, restless as quicksilver to be off in another direction as soon as his object was achieved, he disbanded his troops too soon, and the Imperialists reconquered the country in the space of a few days.

This rash and impulsive temperament led the young Duke, a few years later, to an untimely end. The Court was at Forestmontier in Picardy. The plague was about, and Charles insisted on entering a house where a man had just died of it. Persuaded that the dreaded enemy could not assail a scion of the royal house of France, he rushed into the room whence the body had just been removed, and, from sheer bravado, struck the bed with his sword. The infected feathers flew up in all directions. The result may be imagined. The unfortunate prince sickened, and after a brief illness paid the extreme penalty of his rash act. This took place in 1545.⁠[277]

The memoirs of the time contain many anecdotes of this young prince, whose wild impetuosity was balanced by many lovable traits. When a little boy five years of age, we hear of him gravely receiving the English ambassador at Court, repeating with graceful courtesy his “Soyez le très bien venu, Monsieur l’ambassadeur!” when that dignitary, preoccupied with his business, was disposed to overlook the greeting of a small boy whom he had failed to recognize.⁠[278] A few years later, when Montmorency was ill, the little Duke sent to him his own physician and apothecary. Such little acts of kindness endeared him to many hearts. His courage, indeed, was of the maddest description, and often overstepped the line which divides fearlessness from folly. As he grew up and learned to wield the sword, he indulged in fighting adventures which were more than mere boyish pranks. But a certain chevaleresque grace surrounded all he did—in marked contrast to the cold taciturnity which distinguished the character of the Dauphin Henri.

It is easy to guess the sorrow that the death of the Duke of Orleans must have occasioned the Bailly of Troyes, to whom, through good report and evil, he had been a constant friend. The Dinteville brothers recorded their grief by the erection of a trophy to his memory at Polisy. This monument is described as having been decorated with the arms of all the persons from whom the Dinteville family had received kindness.⁠[279]