The navigators whom he had sent had brought him back neither gold nor silver. John Cabot or Cabotte, of Venetian origin, established at Bristol, and his three sons Lewis, Sebastian and Sanches, had received from King Henry VII., on the 5th of March, 1496, letters patent, authorizing them to sail with five vessels in all seas, in order there to make discoveries and take possession of them in the name of England; the prudent monarch had reserved for himself one-fifth of the profits of the enterprise; it is to the first voyage of John Cabott and his son Sebastian in 1497 that we owe the discovery of Canada; in the same year, Vasco de Gama doubling the Cape of Good Hope for the first time, in his journey towards India, opened up to commerce a new route by which all the riches of the East were to flow into Europe. Notwithstanding all the overthrows and agitations which the world was yet to suffer, the time of material force, exclusive and brutal, was beginning to pass away; peaceful intelligence and activity saw a vast field of influence and effort, open up before them.
Parliament had become the docile instrument of the king, and unresistingly voted all that he was pleased to demand, but the subsidies granted in 1504 excited great murmuring among the people. The king had claimed the feudal gifts in honour of the knighthood conferred upon Prince Henry, and the marriage of Princess Margaret; the Commons offered forty thousand pounds sterling, but the king had the moderation to accept only thirty thousand. The malcontents appeared to have found a chief. Edmund de la Pole, second son of the Duke of Suffolk, and brother of the Earl of Lincoln, the protector of Simnel, who had been killed at Stoke, was an embittered and turbulent man. Henry VII. had refused to grant him his paternal inheritance, by alleging that he inherited of his brother and not of his father, and that Lord Lincoln, being declared a traitor, had had his property confiscated; Edmund had therefore been compelled to content himself with a shred of the estates of his family and the title of Earl of Suffolk. He had had the misfortune to kill a man in a quarrel; the king, still jealous of all that bore the name of Plantagenet, had taken advantage of this opportunity to accuse him of murder; Suffolk took refuge at the court of the Duchess of Burgundy; whence he hatched plots, it was said. The king caused him to be watched, charged a treacherous emissary to insinuate himself into his confidence, and according to the instructions received by this means, he suddenly caused the arrest of the men upon whom Suffolk relied most; his brother William de la Pole, Lord Courtenay, who had married one of the daughters of Queen Elizabeth Woodville, Sir James Tyrrel, accused of the murder of Edward V. and the Duke of York in the Tower, and a few other persons were secretly interrogated. Courtenay and De la Pole remained in prison, but Sir James Tyrrel confessed the crime formerly committed upon the young princes by order of Richard III., and he was executed, as well as certain accomplices of the Earl of Suffolk, although the conspiracy of the latter was in no respect proved. The murmurs which he had been accused of encouraging, were stifled, and the king, until the end of his life, dispensed henceforth with having recourse to Parliament; he contented himself with collecting taxes under the name of "benevolences," his coffers overflowed with gold, and he passed for the richest monarch of Christendom.
A favourable event happened and secured the vengeance of the king upon the Earl of Suffolk; the bad weather drove upon the coasts of England the Archduke Philip the Fair and his wife Joanna, who had become Queen of Castile by the death of her mother, Isabella the Catholic. The young sovereigns were repairing from Flanders to their new dominions; their counsellors urged them to face the tempest rather than to set foot upon English soil and thus to place themselves in the hands of the skilful Henry VII. Perhaps from curiosity, perhaps from fear, the Archduke insisted upon landing. The King of England appeared to have foreseen all; the illustrious travellers were immediately received with all the honours which were due them, and it was announced that the king was coming to meet them. Philip saw that he was caught in the trap, and being in a hurry to put an end to his compulsory visit, he hastened to anticipate Henry VII. The two monarchs met near Windsor, reciprocally lavishing the most touching marks of friendship and confidence. But the wise counsellors of the King of Castile had not been deceived; before the Spanish monarchs were able to take to the sea again, Philip had been compelled to consent to deliver up the Earl of Suffolk, who was living modestly in Flanders; to promise to the King of England the hand of his sister, the Duchess of Savoy, who was a widow and very rich, and finally to affiance his first-born son, who afterwards became the Emperor Charles V., to the little Princess Mary of England. After having besides granted great commercial advantages to the English in the Flemish markets, Philip the Fair was at length enabled to resume the journey to Spain. Suffolk being enticed to England, was thrown into prison, and one of the last orders which Henry VII. signed was that for his execution.
Before the negotiations for the marriage with the Duchess of Savoy were ended, Philip the Fair had died in Spain, and King Henry cast his eyes upon his widow, whom he supposed to be richer than her sister-in-law. Unfortunately Joanna was insane, hopelessly insane with grief. The health of the King of England grew more and more impaired, and it became evident to all those who approached him that it was time for him to think of death and not of marriage.
Amidst his exactions, of the harshness of which he had given proof, and the perfidy of his intrigues, Henry VII. was a religious prince, preoccupied with the future life and the salvation of his soul; the weakening of his powers warned him to think of his end, and he multiplied his alms; his complaint increasing in 1508, he for the first time lent ear to the cries of his subjects, ruined by the exactions and malversations of Empson and Dudley. The king wished to render justice, he said, and a sincere remorse for all the crimes which he had permitted appeared to have taken possession of his soul; "but Empson and Dudley, although they knew the scruples of the king, continued their practices as furiously as in the past, as though the soul of the king and his money had belonged to different places," says the chronicler.
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Chapel And Tomb Of Henry VII.
The health of the king had momentarily improved, his conscience had been somewhat quieted, and the treasures which he himself held locked up in his manor of Richmond regained all their charm in his eyes. When in the springtime of 1509, a return of his cough brought him to the threshold of the tomb, he had time to make his will, recommending his successor to repair the wrongs which he had done and to restore that which he had unjustly taken. He died at Richmond in the night of the 21st of April, 1509, at the age of fifty-two. He had reigned twenty-three years over a kingdom upset by internal dissensions, impoverished by wars, and a prey to the most frightful disorder: he had gradually calmed men's passions, repressed or stifled insurrections and conspiracies, favoured commerce and industry; but he had oppressed his subjects to wrest from them the money of which he was greedy, he had lowered the authority of the Parliaments, he had struck severe blows at the great aristocracy, and he had above all shrouded his policy in so many subterfuges, and pursued his ends through so many intrigues and falsehoods, that even time has not been able to throw light upon the truth; the real and only excuse of King Henry VII. is that he belonged to the age of Louis XI., and that he had to treat with Ferdinand of Aragon.
The reign of King Henry VIII. is characterized by three great facts, which have left a profound impression upon the destinies of England; religious reform, the absolute power of the crown in principle and often in practice, and the social and even political progress of the nation, notwithstanding the great outburst of tyranny on the part of the government and of servility on the part of the people. The history of this reign is naturally divided into two periods: Henry VIII. under the influence of Wolsey, his favourite, and in a short time his prime minister; Henry VIII. alone, after the disgrace and death of Wolsey. The first of these two periods extends from 1509 to 1529, the second from 1529 to 1547.
The young king ascended the throne under happy auspices and profoundly different from his father, whose shuffling policy and avaricious prudence had often exasperated his people, the extravagant tastes of Henry VIII., his playful humour, his open manners, his skill in all bodily exercises as well as the remarkable intelligence of which he gave promise, had raised very high the national hopes. He was not yet eighteen years of age; he was tall, robust, and handsome, and people loved to see him pass through the streets when starting for the hunt, where he would tire out several horses; his vices and even his minor faults did not yet manifest themselves. His marriage with the Princess Catharine of Aragon, which took place on the 3rd of June, 1509, caused keen satisfaction; the princess was twenty-five years of age, she had resided for six years past in England, of which she spoke the language well; a bull of the Pope had dissipated all doubts as to the legitimacy of the union; on the 24th of June, the king and the queen were solemnly crowned at Westminster.
The young king had surrounded himself with many of the old servants of his father, according to the advice of his grandmother, the old Countess of Richmond, whom he often consulted; but, from the first day, inspired both by a feeling of justice and by the spirit of reaction, he repudiated Empson and Dudley, making known his intention of punishing them; his counsellors identified themselves with this policy, but they would have been personally compromised if the "leeches" of the late king had been publicly accused of having sucked the blood and substance of the subjects; all the servants of Henry VII. had more or less exactions upon their consciences, and it was resolved to accuse the two lawyers of having hatched a plot to "deprive the present king of his rights and inheritance." Improbable as was the charge, the cause was judged beforehand and for peremptory reasons; Empson and Dudley were declared guilty of treason, and condemned to death. They languished one year in the Tower before the execution of their sentence; all their property was seized, and it was rumoured among the people that the queen was interceding in their favour; numerous petitions were addressed to the king demanding their death, and they were executed on Tower Hill, on the 17th of August, 1510, to the great satisfaction of the nation.
Henry VIII. was young and brilliant; he had not, like his father, learnt prudence in the hard school of exile; he thirsted for military glory; he willingly, therefore, allowed himself to be persuaded by his father-in-law, the astute Ferdinand, and by the warlike Pope, Julius II., to enter into the league which they had formed against Louis XII., formerly Duke of Orleans, now King of France, who had resumed the projects of his predecessor, Charles VIII., against Italy, adding thereto his pretensions to the Duchy of Milan, in the name of his grandmother, Valentine of Milan. A first herald from the King of England came to pledge Louis XII. to abstain from making war against the Pope, "the father of all Christians;" a second herald claimed the cession of Anjou, Maine, Normandy and Guienne, "a request which was equivalent to a declaration of war." Henry VIII. convoked his Parliament and demanded subsidies. The English had not lost their taste for invasions of France, however little glorious the last might have been: money still abounded in the coffers of the old king, notwithstanding the expenditure of three years of pleasure and merry-makings. A fine army was soon on foot, and prepared to embark from Calais, when King Ferdinand suggested the idea of first attacking Guienne: he at the same time sent his fleet, which was intended to conduct the English troops to the foot of the Pyrenees; his son-in-law accepted his proposal, and ten thousand men embarked under the orders of the Marquis of Dorset, accompanied by a multitude of volunteers belonging to the noblest families of England.
The mouth of the river Bidassoa had been reached, and Dorset desired to set foot in France, but he was awaiting the artillery which King Ferdinand had promised him; the latter was occupied in assembling considerable forces in Biscay, and as the English thought of marching to the siege of Bayonne, they learnt that it would be dangerous to leave behind them the little independent kingdom of Navarre. Ferdinand, supported by the two armies, commenced his negotiations. John d'Albret willingly consented to preserve neutrality; but the King of Spain demanded the free passage of his troops, the custody of the more important fortresses, and, as a hostage, the Prince of Viana, heir to the throne of Navarre. Upon, the refusal of the poor little sovereign, the Spanish army advanced into his territory, seized upon several towns, and the Duke of Albe, who was in command, proposed to the Marquis of Dorset to effect a junction with him in order to besiege Pampeluna. The English began to open their eyes; they refused to make war elsewhere than in France, and claimed the artillery and horses promised. "When we shall have finished," was the answer, "you shall have all that you desire." Pampeluna was taken, and Navarre joined to Spain; but the English general renewed his demands; and an offer was made to march with him against Béarn, where John d'Albret had taken refuge, instead of attacking Bayonne or Bordeaux. This was too much; Dorset refused to advance; the King of Spain despatched an ambassador to his son-in-law; but when the credulous monarch had given the order to follow the movements of the Spaniards, the English troops had retired and had loudly announced their resolution of returning to their country. This was of little importance to the Spaniards; their object was accomplished. The presence of the English army upon the Bidassoa had prevented Louis XII. from sending assistance to the King of Navarre; vessels were provided for the revolted English, who returned to England towards Christmas, 1512, half naked, emaciated by the poor living which King Ferdinand had allotted them, but too numerous and too much exasperated for punishment to be inflicted upon them. This first experience, however, was not destined to suffice to open the eyes of Henry VIII. regarding the policy of his father-in-law.
The check suffered by Dorset had not discouraged the young king, and he resolved to lead his armies himself into France. Louis XII. had been driven out of Italy, his frontiers were menaced by the Holy League; he was very anxious to raise up difficulties for the King of England within his own dominions; he addressed himself to Scotland, still the faithful ally of France. King James had causes for complaint against his brother-in-law; his best commanders, Andrew and John Barton, having suffered losses at sea, the king had given them, to enable them to indemnify themselves, letters of marque, of which they made use to capture English merchant ships; Sir Edward Howard, son of Lord Surrey, fell upon them as upon pirates and defeated them; Andrew Barton received a wound, of which he died. The King of Scotland claimed reparations in this respect; he also demanded the jewels bequeathed by Henry VII. to his daughter Margaret, which her brother had kept. Some attempts at negotiations on the part of Henry VIII. had little result; the young king, before setting sail for France, took the precaution of causing the fortifications of the frontier towns of Scotland to be repaired, and entrusted Lord Surrey with the duty of watching King James with a good army, while his master should proceed to the Continent to attack King Louis.
The war had already begun under fatal auspices; Sir Edward Howard with a large fleet, had appeared in the month of March, 1513, at the entry to the road of Brest, of which he had made himself master. Reckoning upon his success, he had begged the king to come himself to reap the glory of it; upon the refusal of Henry, Howard had attacked the squadron and the town of Brest; he had been repulsed, and had lost his life in an attempt at boarding, throwing into the sea his chain and gold whistle, in order that those trophies might not fall into the hands of the enemies. Another son of Lord Surrey, Lord Thomas Howard, had taken command of the fleet, and repulsed the French, when King Henry landed at Calais on the 30th of June, 1513, to the roar of the artillery of the town, and of the salutes of the vessels, true emblems of the noise and splendour so dear to the young monarch.
King Ferdinand, who had drawn his son-in-law into the league against France, had recently concluded with that country a private peace, recognizing the annexation of Navarre to Spain; but the self-love of Henry VIII. did not allow him to retreat; he had formed an alliance with the Emperor Maximilian, who promised to join him at Calais. The red rose, the favourite emblem of King Henry VIII., was about to efface by its splendour the lily of France, and while Lord Herbert was laying siege to Thérouenne, the warlike court was diverting itself at Calais with endless jousts and festivals, the organization of which were often entrusted to the almoner of the king, Wolsey, who grew every day in his master's favour.
The son of a rich butcher of Ipswich, Thomas Wolsey had been brought up with care; honoured when very young with all the degrees of the University of Oxford, he had been recommended to his master by Bishop Fox, the favourite diplomatist of Henry VII., and the king had several times employed him in delicate missions. Upon the death of the old monarch, Bishop Fox, who saw his favour on the decline, had taken care to place Wolsey near the king, and soon the chaplain had distanced all his rivals in the good graces of his master. Better educated than the young king, but too shrewd to allow this to be seen, skilful in the bodily exercises and amusements of his time, Wolsey partook of all the tastes and flattered all the passions of his master, before the period when he was destined to relieve him of the embarrassments and fatigues of the government.
Whilst the dancing and feasting were proceeding at Calais, a French army, commanded by the Duke of Longueville and the famous Chevalier Bayard, was advancing to the assistance of Thérouenne, Henry immediately hastened thither; but the French had instructions to avoid a pitched battle, and they retired, after having placed provisions and reinforcements in the towns, a service which the Count of Angoulême (subsequently Francis I.) continued to render to the besieged, in spite of the badly organized and badly commanded English forces.
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Landing Henry VIII. at Calais.
They had been for six weeks before a poor little town, when the Emperor Maximilian joined his brother in arms, the great King of England, with the flower of the knights of Christendom. In his satisfaction at seeing under his orders, in the capacity of a volunteer, the Emperor of the West, Henry VIII. forgot that he had transmitted to him a hundred thousand golden crowns for raising troops, and that Maximilian had brought only a feeble escort. The reception of the emperor was magnificent; all the great English noblemen were clad in cloth of gold and silver, which suffered from the pelting rain that greeted the interview of the two monarchs. On the same day the Scottish herald-at-arms came to the camp of King Henry VIII., to transmit to him the declaration of war of his sovereign. "I have entrusted the Earl of Surrey to cope with your master," abruptly replied the King of England. Before the return of his messenger, King James had risked and lost his game.
The French had, meanwhile, decided to advance upon Thérouenne: the English troops crossed the river to give battle to them; the Emperor Maximilian, with the red rose of Lancaster upon his helmet, directed the operations; the struggle began briskly, but the French cavalry, after charging valiantly, took alarm, and turned back. They caused disorder in the battle corps; the panic became complete: the English pursued the fugitives to the cry of "St. George;" the efforts of the chiefs could not rally the soldiers, and nearly all were made prisoners. "It is a battle of spurs," the captives themselves said, when the king gaily congratulated them upon the ardour which the fugitives had contrived to inspire in their horses, and that name has remained to the engagement. But King Henry delayed before Thérouenne, instead of profiting by his advantages and by the arrival in France of a Swiss army to which he had furnished money. The town capitulated at the end of August, and was razed to the ground upon the advice, and to the advantage, of Maximilian. Just as he had formerly done the work of King Ferdinand, so Henry VIII. was now doing that of the Emperor; instead of advancing into France, he laid siege to Tournay, a French town though in Flanders, that was regarded as prejudicial to the commerce of that country. Maximilian had taken care to promise the bishopric thereof to Wolsey; it was taken without any great resistance on the 22nd of September, but the Swiss had concluded an advantageous treaty with the King of France, and had withdrawn to their mountains. The King of England gave a great tournament, and amused himself for several days at Tournay. He returned to England on the 22nd of October, after having spent large sums of money, without glory or profit; but the star of Wolsey had risen, and Henry VIII. had had the pleasure of dictating to the Emperor.
In the meantime, the Earl of Surrey had justified the confidence of his master; King James crossed the frontier on the 22nd of August with a more considerable army than was usual in Scotland. He had captured several castles, when Surrey met him in the environs of Flodden, an advanced defence of the Cheviot Hills, in an advantageous situation, protected by the course of the Till, one of the tributaries of the Tweed. The English immediately saw the strength of the position, and endeavoured by insulting messages to tempt King James to advance; but the Scots took no heed, and it was found necessary to make the attack. James had neglected to defend the bridge and the ford, but he descended from the mountain and advanced towards the enemy, in good order, "marching like the Germans, without speaking and without making any noise." The old chiefs of the army had advised against giving battle, but James did not listen to them. "If you are afraid of the English, you can return to your home," he said insolently to the old Earl of Angus. The old man burst into tears. "My age renders my body useless in the combat, and my counsels are despised," he cried; "but I leave my two sons and the vassals of the Douglases upon the field of battle; God grant that the prediction of the old Angus may prove false!"
It was four o'clock on the 9th of September, 1513; the guns of the two armies began to thunder; the English artillery was superior and better served than that of the Scots; the latter were the more eager to come to a hand-to-hand struggle. The Earl of Huntley and Lord Home, who commanded the left wing, attacked the English under the orders of Sir Edmund Howard; they fought furiously, and the troops of Sir Edmund, coming in great part from Cheshire, were exasperated, it is said, at finding themselves commanded by a Howard instead of a Stanley, the hereditary chief of their county. They wavered, and the Scottish corps for a long time resisted the cavalry reserve which Lord Dacre brought up. The inhabitants of the frontiers, under the orders of Lord Home, had dispersed to plunder, and refused to renew the attack. "We have fought the advanced guard," they said, "and we have made them retreat; let all do as much as we have." King James was performing wonders in the centre; he had attacked the Earl of Surrey with the flower of his chivalry, and the two generals were about to meet amidst the slaughter, when confusion set in among the highlanders, who had precipitated themselves in a disorderly manner upon the left wing of the English. Half naked and maddened with rage, the mountaineers struck before them without listening to the voice of their chiefs, as though the whole victory depended "upon the heavy blows which they gave." Being soon repulsed in this irregular attack, they were slaughtered one after the other, and the whole effort of the combat was directed towards the centre, where King James continued to fight. In an instant he was crushed; the circle contracted around him; English and Scotch appeared that day to have adopted the ferocious maxim of Sir Thomas Howard, "No quarter." The Scots thronged around their sovereign, defending him with desperate valour; he fell, however, almost at the feet of Surrey; but the struggle continued around his body. He was buried under a heap of dead, who had fallen in his defence. When night at length arrested the slaughter, Surrey was not yet well assured of victory; on the morrow he was compelled to engage in several little skirmishes with detached corps; but the bulk of the Scots withdrew during the night towards the frontier, and the English did not attempt to pursue them. The battle of Flodden had struck a fatal blow to Scotland; her nobility was decimated, many families had lost all their sons; but, on the other hand, the struggle had exhausted their adversaries, and Surrey intrenched himself in Berwick, and shortly afterwards disbanded the greater part of his army. He sent to Queen Catherine the corpse of King James, found upon the field of battle; she herself wrote to King Henry VIII. to announce the victory. "My Henry," she said, "that which God does is well done. Your Grace can see that I can keep my promises, for I send you for your banner the close coat of a king. I could have wished to send you the king himself, but the heart of our English people would not have permitted it." Upon his return, the king rewarded Surrey for his services, by restoring to him the title of Duke of Norfolk, lost by his father, who had fallen on the field of Bosworth. Queen Margaret of Scotland had written to her brother, imploring him to be mindful of the ties of blood, and to spare her orphan son; she was nominated regent, and peace was concluded; the Council of the King of England had for a long time been aware that it was difficult to completely subdue the Scots, and that war with that country, as poor as it was resolute, was rarely profitable to her neighbours, even after victory.
Louis XII. succeeded by his negotiations in breaking off the league formed against him. The court of Rome had received him into favour, and Maximilian became his ally by the promise of the hand of Renee of France, second daughter of the king (subsequently Duchess of Ferrara), for the prince Charles, son of Philip the Fair and Joan the Mad, destined to become better known as the Emperor Charles the Fifth. The young prince had not yet attained marriageable age, but he had been betrothed from tender infancy to the Princess Mary of England, sister of Henry VIII.; the latter soon heard of the treachery which was preparing, but at the same time, and in order to appease his fury, Louis XII., who had recently lost his wife, Anne of Brittany, formerly widow of Charles VIII., proposed to marry the Princess Mary. She was sixteen years of age, and was passionately in love with Charles Brandon, viscount De Lisle, one of the handsomest noblemen, and one of the most skilful in all military exercises at the English court, who was equally devoted to her. King Louis had formerly been an accomplished chevalier; but he was fifty-three years of age, and was afflicted with the gout. When the marriage was celebrated, in spite of the sentiments of the princess, he attended in his litter the tournament at which Charles Brandon, now become Duke of Suffolk, distinguished himself by the most brilliant valour. The nuptial ceremony had taken place upon the 2nd of September, 1513; the king was delighted with his young wife, who, however, reproached him with having sent back to England all her ladies and her English household. The Duke of Suffolk had also returned to London, when, on the 1st of January, 1514, Louis XII. died in Paris, exhausted by the fatigue of his long wars, and the cares which his affairs had caused him; exhausted also, it was said, by the efforts which he had recently made to appear at the rejoicings, in order to please his young bride. His subjects mourned him; they had given him the noble surname of the "Father of his people," a fact due above all to the wise administration of Cardinal d'Amboise. Two months after his death, his widow secretly married the Duke of Suffolk, who had come on behalf of the king, her brother, at the head of the embassy which was to bring her back to England. Marriages of this kind had been frequent formerly, but the royal dignity became every year more haughty, and none was more infatuated therewith than Henry VIII.; he flew into a passion against his sister, whom he would not see on her return. Soon the supplications of Mary and the good offices of Wolsey brought about interviews. Suffolk had formerly been a favourite of the king, who received him into favour. The duke and duchess reappeared at the court; Mary was more beautiful than ever, for she was now happy.
All the authority as well as all the influence in the kingdom now belonged to Cardinal Wolsey; from a plain almoner of the king he had become, in a few years, first Dean of York, then Bishop of Lincoln, at length Archbishop of York; in the year 1515, he was made Chancellor of England, cardinal, and legate of the Pope. All business passed through his hands; all favours depended upon him. An able and assiduous courtier, he contrived to flatter the tastes as well as the passions of his master; he amused him with endless pleasures; he flattered his self-love; he found money to suffice for his expenses, and the king, in return, allowed him to govern the kingdom. At home, the direction which Wolsey had contrived to give to affairs, was not without advantages; he strengthened the royal power upon the ruins of the aristocracy, encouraged commerce, secured the safety of the highways, and caused justice to be administered. Abroad, his personal avidity and the ambition which impelled him towards the throne of St. Peter, imprinted upon his policy a perfidious and venal character, which impelled his country to fatal courses. During more than ten years the history of Wolsey was the history of England; his qualities and vices equally influenced the whole of the nation, of whose destinies he was the real arbiter, since the absolute monarch who then governed the country saw only through the eyes, and heard only through the ears of his minister.
In ascending the throne of France, Francis I. had hastened to confirm the alliance with England which Louis XII. had concluded by his marriage; he was desirous of assuring peace in that quarter, in order to put into execution his projects against Italy, a fatal undertaking, which seemed to afflict with madness the French monarchs one after another, and to lead them to their ruin. Francis I. had covered himself with glory at the battle of Marignan, on the 14th of September, 1515; and Ludovic Sforza had been compelled to give up to him the duchy of Milan. Jealously of so much success began to seize upon King Henry; he complained of the perfidy of the French, who had secretly sent to Scotland the Duke of Albany, the son of him whom King James III. had formerly banished. The French party immediately proposed to entrust to him the regency, at the exclusion of the queen Margaret, who had exasperated her people by marrying, less than nine months after the death of her husband, the young Earl of Angus, bold and handsome, but as ambitious as he was rash and unskilful; Albany had been born in France; he had been brought up there; his regency was necessarily unfavorable to English interests. These reasons, coupled with the councils of Wolsey, who wished to please the court of Rome, from which he had recently received a cardinal's hat, persuaded Henry to conclude a fresh alliance with Maximilian, in order to drive Francis I. from Italy. An insane ambition contributed to urge the King of England into this path. The emperor, feigning to be weary of the supreme power, spoke of ceding the imperial purple to the prince who should show himself deserving of it. The vanity of Henry VIII., was aroused; he despatched two ambassadors to Germany to see how matters stood; but his negotiators were too intelligent and honest to leave him long in error. "The imperial crown is not at the disposal of the emperor," wrote Doctor Tunstall, "but certainly of the electoral princes, and the first condition is that the person elected should be a native of Germany, or at least a subject of the empire, which your Grace is not, because never, since the origin of the Christian faith, have the Kings of England been subjects; thus, I fear, that this proposal, so specious in appearance, has been made only with a view to obtain money of your Grace."
Henry VIII. was convinced, and, according to his custom, he was impelled to the other side by the reaction of his first feelings. Not being able to obtain the empire of Maximilian, he renounced his alliance. Francis I. contrived to gain over Wolsey by rich presents; he recrossed the Alps, entrusting the Constable de Bourbon to govern the duchy of Milan; a treaty of alliance, offensive and defensive, between France and England was concluded on the 4th of October, 1518, promising to the little dauphin the hand of the Princess Mary, the daughter of Henry VIII., then eighteen months of age. Francis I. was to repurchase Tournay for the sum of six hundred thousand crowns. Wolsey had not forgotten himself in determining these conditions; he had stipulated for a pension of twelve thousand livres, destined to indemnify him for the loss of his bishopric. "The king intends shortly to confer some further gratification upon your Grace," wrote one of the English negotiators to the all-powerful cardinal. "I was asked what would please you most; I said that I knew nothing of that matter, but that some handsome plate or rich jewels appeared to me to be the most suitable."
The jealousy of King Henry towards Francis I. appeared to have given place to a violent admiration; he proposed a personal interview, between Calais and Boulogne, which was to take place in the month of July, 1519. All the preliminaries prescribed by etiquette were already determined on. Henry and Wolsey could set themselves to work to invent the splendours of costumes and arranging festivities, which were to dazzle the court of France, when, in the month of January, 1519, the Emperor Maximilian died suddenly, and the great affair of the succession to the empire absorbed all minds.
For a moment Henry VIII. himself entered the lists, but without much hope or perseverance; the two rivals for the empire were still—as they had been all their lifetime—the King of France, Francis L, and the Archduke Charles, grandson of Maximilian by his son Philip the Fair. Born at Ghent, descending from the House of Austria, hereditary sovereign of the Low Countries, Charles had all the natural claims to the suffrages of the electors, which were wanting in his competitor. His military renown was already brilliant, and prodigal as King Francis might be of the rich presents for which the German princes were eager, the master of the Low Countries, Spain, the Kingdom of Naples, and the West Indies was the richer of the two. In this game, as in all others, Francis I. was to be beaten by Charles V. The King of England had at first hesitated between the two competitors, but he decided in favour of the Archduke, when the latter was definitively elected on the 28th of June. The King of France bore his check with the proud gaiety natural to his race and his country. 'In ambition as in love there should be no rancour,' he said to the Spanish ambassador; but the expenses had been enormous, and the defeat was serious. The two countries were to pay dearly for the rivalry which was thus established between their sovereigns.
Henry VIII. hastened to congratulate the new emperor by the pen of Wolsey, while the cardinal took care to explain the conduct of his master at the court of France. It was important to him, for the moment, to maintain good relations with Francis I. as well as with Charles V. The King of France claimed the performance of the promise of Henry VIII., and the latter was too well pleased to display his magnificence to decline a proposal which had, moreover, come from him in the first place. The interview was fixed for the summer of 1520, and the ambassadors of the emperor in vain made efforts to destroy the project.
The court of England was already at Canterbury, where the king was completing his splendid preparations, when he suddenly learnt that the emperor had arrived in the Channel, and desired to pay him a visit. Wolsey was less surprised than his master; he had secretly entered into negotiations with Charles, who had assured to his "very good friend the cardinal," a pension of seven thousand ducats secured by two Spanish bishoprics. Wolsey was sent by the king to meet the illustrious visitor, who, simply attired in black and scantily attended, landed amidst the magnificent preparations for the Field of the Cloth of Gold. The emperor stopped at Dover, where the King of England came shortly to meet him with great demonstrations of friendship and gratitude. They chatted together until a late hour of the night, and repaired on the morrow in state to Canterbury, the king leaving the right-hand side to the emperor throughout, and the Earl of Derby carrying before him the sword of justice. The cardinal, with all the clergy, came forward to meet the two sovereigns, who prostrated themselves together before the shrine of St. Thomas a Becket, which King Henry VIII. was shortly to profane and despoil of all its treasures. The emperor then presented his respects to his aunt, Queen Catharine, and appeared struck with admiration for the beauty of the Duchess of Suffolk, that Princess Mary to whom he had been betrothed in his childhood, and who had subsequently been rejected for reasons of state. The time for regrets had gone by, and the Emperor Charles V. had not come to England to occupy himself with the beauty of a woman. He securely attached Wolsey to his interest by promising him his important support in his great affair—the election to the pontifical throne. Presents were not forgotten, and when Charles set sail again after a short visit, he had counteracted the fatal effects which the interview of the two sovereigns of France and England might have had upon his policy. No one was more fully aware than Charles V. of the value of splendour and magnificence, under certain circumstances, but none knew better how to dispense with these aids in order to go directly and simply to his end, while reckoning upon his personal influence to preserve and maintain the imperial dignity.
On the 4th of June, 1520, King Henry VIII., the queen, the cardinal, and all the court, embarked for France; the spot fixed upon for the interview was situated between Guines and Ardres; it was there that was to be established the "Field of the Cloth of Gold," which has remained famous in the history of extravagant splendour. Wolsey had been entrusted by France as well as England, with the superintendence of all the festivities; but it was in vain that Francis I. selected the cardinal for his master of the ceremonies; Charles V. had promised to make him Pope.
A palace built of timber and magnificently decorated by Flemish workmen awaited the King of England; a fountain throwing forth streams of white and red wine played constantly at the front, with this invitation to all passers-by, "make good cheer, all who please." Everywhere stood erect grim gigantic figures armed with bows and arrows, and exhibiting the device which Henry had chosen to recall the advances of the Emperor and Francis I.: "Cui adhœreo trœstat." (He whom I support prevails). Precious tapestries, magnificent hangings, gold and silver plate, ornamented the interior of this temporary palace, more substantial than the magnificent pavilion erected by Francis I. The cloth of gold which formed the vault of this pavilion, the blue velvet, studded with stars, on the walls, the silken cords, mixed with Cyprian gold, were unable to resist the gusts of wind which soon arose and beat down into the mud all these splendours; and the King of France was compelled to take refuge in an old castle very near the town of Aries. The two sovereigns had scarcely been installed in their residences, when Cardinal Wolsey, accompanied by a magnificent retinue, repaired to the abode of the King of France, while a deputation of French noblemen performed the same ceremony towards Henry VIII. The visit of Wolsey was, however, not a mere court formality; the marriage treaty was confirmed between him and Francis I.; in the event of the projected union being accomplished, the King of France undertook to pay a pension of a hundred thousand crowns to Henry and his successors, so eager was he to secure the neutrality of England in the war which he foresaw. The arbitration of the affairs of Scotland was consigned to the cardinal himself, in conjunction with Louisa of Savoy, the mother of Francis I. Henry had wished to have the Scots delivered up to him without reserve, but the chivalrous spirit of the King did not permit him to abandon, even on paper, the faithful allies who had paid so cruelly for the useful diversion made in the north of England, when Louis XII. had been simultaneously attacked by the English and the Swiss.
King Henry held aloof as long as it was a question of business; when the rejoicings and ceremonies were begun, he filled the scene, almost alone. The two kings met and embraced on horseback, according to the ceremony decided upon in order to avoid delicate questions of etiquette; the most affectionate protestations were exchanged. The noblemen of the two courts mixed together amicably, the jousts were about to commence; everywhere around the lists the emblems of France and England were conjoined; for six days the combatants fought with lances, for two with swords, for two in the melee, at the barriers. Henry VIII. and Francis I. fought side by side, like two brothers in arms, facing all comers. The two kings finally essayed wrestling matches, much in vogue in England; but King Henry, more trained, was less nimble than his adversary; he was overthrown; he demanded his revenge, but the assistants interposed there had been enough combats. Banquets, balls, masquerades and theatrical representations now claimed their turn.
So many mutual diversions did not suffice to efface the old distrust born of the long wars and political rivalries; King Francis desiring one morning to commence the day with eclat, repaired alone to the quarters of the English before King Henry had risen, and touching him gaily upon the shoulder: "So you are my prisoner, my brother," he said. Henry VIII. sprang from his couch, touched by this proof of confidence, and Francis, continuing the jest, acted as valet to him, assisted him to perform his toilet, and ended by exchanging presents with him. On leaving the camp, the King, of France met one of his friends the Sire de Fleuranges. "I am glad to see you again in safety, sire," said the latter; "but let me tell you, my master, that you have acted foolishly; and may the evil consequences fall upon those who advised you." "Nobody advised anything," said the king, "all came from my head and could not come from elsewhere." Henry VIII. returned the visit familarly on the marrow. But the moment for separation had arrived; the affairs of the two kingdoms claimed the attention of the two sovereigns, and the rejoicings were beginning to exhaust their purses. For years the lands of more than one nobleman were still recovering from the loans contracted to make a good appearance at the Field of the Cloth of Gold; it was said that the greater number of the French carried all their property upon their backs.
The Emperor Charles V. had forbidden his subjects to respond to the invitation addressed to all the knights in Christendom, and it was to Gravelines that King Henry VIII. went to see him; Charles reconducted him as far as Calais; but the French ambassadors were unable to learn anything of the result of their conference. Before separating Charles promised to accept his dear uncle of England as arbitrator in all the differences which might arise between the King of France and himself, a promise easy to keep for one who held arms in his hand and took care to submit to arbitration only questions of little importance. The king returned to London, "in good health, but with a light purse." says the chroniclers.