384 pages, Harper,
ISBN-13: 978-0061563096
I
had heard of King Francis I of France before, of course, but only as a
secondary character in whatever it was I was reading at the time: biographies
of Henry VIII, Charles V or Martin Luther; histories of the Reformation and
Renaissance; or any number of other related topics. Thus, it was with a sense of
excitement that I picked up Leonie Frieda’s Francis
I: The Maker of Modern France, for at long last a major gap in my knowledge
of this era was about to be filled as this secondary character was promoted
from bit-part to leading role. However, after completing this book, I was glad
that I had read so much around Francis, for though Frieda more-or-less succeeds
in her attempt to rehabilitate François
du Grand Nez, if I hadn’t read all that I had prior to this work, I feel
that a lot of detail and backstory would have been lost and I would be none the
wiser.
To
begin with, Frieda explores why Francis I’s reputation has suffered such a serious
decline for, allowing that Francis I was a “deeply flawed figure” (hell, yeah) who
was committed to the principle of absolutist rule and violently suppressed
dissenting religionists, the author lends him humanity by examining his
scholarly and artistic interests. His personal foibles and drawbacks and
failings and inconsistencies reveal more about the beginnings of France as a
nation than about this deeply flawed figure who had the ambition, but not the
means, of conquering the Italian peninsula but who nearly lost France. Frieda
appreciates that this king had many critics and that his extraordinary achievements
were in no small part from a Machiavellian skill that put his peers to shame.
But as she shows, Francis was also a man of letters who supported the works of such
luminaries as Andrea del Sarto, Leonardo da Vinci, and others, even if he
sometimes experienced disappointment at their hands (Leonardo never produced
the great work of art while residing in Paris that Francis hoped for, though he
did leave the Mona Lisa, which explains why it’s housed in the Louvre).
“Had
he acknowledged his errors, and devoted himself to furthering the interests of
his country, [he] would now be regarded as among France’s greatest kings” is
Frieda’s ultimate assessment, but he “was unable to leave the gambling table
with his winnings”, in politics or war. This seems to be on par with most
absolute monarchs throughout history; as for his gambler’s addiction, it could
be argued that his continual throws of the dice were because events placed him
in contention with the neighboring powers of Europe, including the Habsburgs of
Austria and the pope. While Francis “mired himself in a succession of
skirmishes and conflicts on too many fronts”, he took some interesting and
daring risks, including forging a short-lived alliance with Suleiman the
Magnificent, Sultan of the Ottoman Empire, leading to the arrival of a “large
and potentially dangerous Muslim population” within France; another
anti-Italian alliance with the pirate king Barbarossa led to the ransacking of
the French fleet.
Francis
saw himself as the first Renaissance king of France, a man who was the exemplar
of courtly and civilized behavior throughout Europe. A courageous and heroic
warrior, he was also a keen aesthete, an accomplished diplomat and an energetic
ruler who turned his country into a force to be reckoned with…yet he was also
capricious, vain and arrogant, taking hugely unnecessary risks, one of which resulted
in his capture and nearly resulted in the end of his kingdom. His great feud
with his nemesis Charles V, the Holy Roman Emperor, defined European diplomacy
and sovereignty, but his notorious alliance with the great Ottoman ruler
Suleiman the Magnificent threatened to destroy everything. With access to
never-before-seen private archives, Leonie Frieda's comprehensive and
sympathetic account explores the life of the most human of all Renaissance
monarchs – and the most enigmatic.
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