CARDINAL WOLSEY,

THE LIFE OF

CARDINAL WOLSEY

By MAN

HTON

Bish<

K

A. L. BURT

THE LIFE OF

CARDINAL WOLSEY

By MANDELL CREIGHTON

Bishop of London, M.A. Oxford and Cambridge, D.C.L. wof Durham, LL.D. of Glasgow and Harvard

WITH EXPLANATORY NOTES

BY HENKY KETCHAM

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS

A. L. BURT COMPANY, * J* ^ # j* & j» PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK

Copyright, 1908, BY A. L. BUET COMPANY.

u

978388

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER PACK _

I. The State of Europe, 1494-1512 1 ^

II. The French Alliance, 1512-1515 30

III. The Universal Peace, 1515-1518. . . . , 61

IV. The Field of the Cloth of Gold, 1518-1520 88

V. The Conference of Calais, 1520-1521 110

VI. The Imperial Alliance, 1521-1523 130

VII. Renewal of Peace, 1523-1527 164

VIII. Wolsey's Domestic Policy 196 Vx^

IK. The King's Divorce, 1527-1529 235 \X"

X. The Fall of Wolsey, 1529-1530 281 *

XI. The Work of Wolsey 317 ^

LIFE OP THOMAS WOLSEY.

CHAPTER I.

THE STATE OF EUROPE.

1494-1512.

ALL men are to be judged by what they do, and the way in which they do it. In the case of great statesman there is a third consideration which chal- lenges our judgment — what they choose to do. This consideration only presents itself in the case of great statesmen, and even then is not always recog- nized. For the average statesman does from day to day the business which has to be done, takes affairs as he finds them, and makes the best of them. Many who deliberately selected the questions with which they dealt have yet shrunk from the responsi- bility of their choice, and have preferred to repre- sent their actions as inevitable. Few can claim the credit of choosing the sphere of their activity, of framing a connected policy with clear and definite

1

2 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

ends, and of applying their ideas to every department of national organization. In short, statesmen are gen- erally opportunists, or choose to represent themselves as such ; and this has been especially the case with English statesmen — amongst whom "Wolsey stands out as a notable exception. For Wolsey claims rec- ognition on grounds which apply to himself alone. His name is not associated with any great achieve- ment, he worked out no great measure of reform, nor did he contribute any great political idea which was fruitful in after days. He was, above all things, a practical man, though he pursued a line of policy which few understood, and which he did not stop to make intelligible. No very definite results came of it immediately, and the results which came of it afterwards were not such as Wolsey had designed. Yet, if we consider his actual achievements, we are bound to admit that he was probably the greatest political genius whom England has ever produced ; for at a great crisis of European history he impressed England with a sense of her own importance, and se- cured for her a leading position in European affairs, which since his days has seemed her natural right.

Thus Wolsey is to be estimated by what he chose to do rather than by what he did. He was greater than his achievements. Yet Wolsey 's greatness did

THE STATE OF EUROPE. 3

not rise beyond the conditions of his own age, and he left no legacy of great thought or high endeavor. The age in which he lived was not one of lofty as- pirations or noble aims ; but it was one of large de- signs and restless energy. No designs were cast in so large a mould as were those of Wolsey ; no states- man showed such skill as he did in weaving patiently the web of diplomatic intrigue. His resources were small, and he husbanded them with care. He had a master who only dimly understood his objects, and whose personal whims and caprices had always to be conciliated. He was ill supplied with agents. His schemes often failed in detail ; but he was al- ways ready to gather together the broken threads and resume his work without repining. In a time of universal restlessness and excitement Wolsey was the most plodding, the most laborious, and the most versatile of those who labored at statecraft.

The field of action which Wolsey deliberately chose was that of foreign policy, and his weapons were diplomacy. The Englishmen of his time were like the Englishmen of to-day, and had little sym- pathy with his objects. Those who reaped the benefits of his policy gave him no thanks for it, nor did they recognize what they owed to him. Those who exulted in the course taken by the English E-ef-

4 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

ormation regarded Wolsey as its bitterest foe, and never stopped to think that Wolsey trained the hands and brains which directed it ; that Wolsey inspired England with the proud feeling of independence which nerved her to brave the public opinion of Europe ; that Wolsey impressed Europe with such a sense of England's greatness that she was allowed to go her own way, menaced but unassailed. The spirit which animated the England of the sixteenth cen- tury was due in no small degree to the splendor of Wolsey 's successes, and to the way in which he stamped upon men's imagination a belief in Eng- land's greatness. If it is the characteristic of a patriot to believe that nothing is beyond the power of his country to achieve, then Wolsey was the most devoted patriot whom England ever produced. When Wolsey came to power, England was an upstart trying to claim for herself a decent position in the august society of European states. It was Wolsey 's cleverness that set her in a place far above that which she had any right to expect. For this purpose Wolsey schemed and intrigued ; when one plan failed he was always ready with another. It mattered little what was the immediate object which he had in hand ; it mattered much that in pursuing it he should so act as to increase the credit of Eng-

THE STATE OF EUROPE. 5

land, and create a belief in England's power. Diplomacy can reckon few abler practitioners than was Wolsey.

There is little that is directly ennobling in the contemplation of such a career. It may be doubted if the career of any practical statesman can be a really ennobling study if we have all its activity re- corded in detail. At the best it tells us of much which seems disingenuous if not dishonest — much in which nobility of aim or the complexity of affairs has to be urged in extenuation of shifty words and ambiguous actions.

The age in which Wolsey lived was immoral in the sense in which all periods are immoral, when the old landmarks are disappearing and there is no certainty about the future. Morality in individuals and in states alike requires an orderly life, a percep- tion of limits, a pursuit of definite ends. When order is shattered, when limits are removed, when all things seem possible, then political morality dis- appears. In such a condition was Europe at the beginning of the sixteenth century. The old ideas, on which the medieval conception of Christendom depended, were passing away. No one any longer regarded Christendom as one great commonwealth, presided over by Pope and Emperor, who were the

6 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

guardians of international law and arbiters of inter- national relations. The Empire had long ceased to exercise any control, because it was destitute of strength. The Papacy, after vainly endeavoring to unite Europe round the old cry of a crusade against the Turk, had discovered that there was no Eu- ropean power on which it could rely for support. The old ideas were gone, the old tribunals were powerless, the old bonds of European union were dissolved.

The first result of this decay in the mediaeval state- system of Europe was the emergence of vague plans of a universal monarchy. The Empire and the Pa- pacy had harmonized with the feudal conception of a regulative supremacy over vassals who were free to act within the limits of their obligations to their superior lord. When the old superiors were no longer recognized, the idea of a supremacy still re- mained ; but there was no other basis possible for that supremacy than a basis of universal sovereignty It was long before any state was sufficiently power- ful to venture on such a claim; but the end of the fifteenth century saw France and Spain united into powerful kingdoms. In France, the policy of Louis XI. succeeded in reducing the great feudatories, and established the power of the monarchy as the bond

THE STATE OF EUROPE. 7

of union between provinces which were conscious of like interests. In Spain, the marriage of Ferdinand and Isabella united a warlike people who swept away the remains of the Moorish kingdom. Ger- many, though nominally it recognized one ruler, had sacrificed its national kingship to the futile claims of the Empire. The emperor had great pre- tensions, but was himself powerless, and the Ger- man princes steadily refused to lend him help to give reality to his high-sounding claims. Unconsciously to themselves, the rulers of France and Spain were preparing to attempt the extension of their power over the rest of Europe.

France under Charles VIII. * was the first to give expression to this new idea of European politics. The Italian expedition of Charles VIII. marked the end of the Middle Ages, because it put forth a scheme of national aggrandizement which was for- eign to mediaeval conceptions. The scheme sounded

* Charles VIII., King of France, was born in 1470 and died in 1498. He ascended the throne in 1483. In 1491 he married Anne, Duchess of Brittany, who was affianced to Maximilian of Austria, to whom she had actually been married by proxy. In revenge for this insult, Maximilian declared war against Charles and effected an alliance for this purpose with Henry VII. of England. Charles managed to settle this matter by negotiation and then gave his whole attention to the con- quest of Naples. In his personal character he is " represented as having been amiable and gracious in the highest degree,"

8 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

fantastic, and was still cast in the mould of mediae- val aspirations. The kingdom of Naples had long been in dispute between the houses of Arragon and Anjou. As heir to the Angevin line, Charles YIIL proposed to satisfy national pride by the conquest of Naples. Then he appealed to the old sentiment of Christendom by proclaiming his design of advancing against Constantinople, expelling the Turk from Europe, and realizing the ideal of mediaeval Chris- tianity by planting once more the standard of the Cross upon the Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem.

The first part of his plan succeeded with a rapidi- ty and ease that bewildered the rest of Europe. The French conquest of Naples awakened men to the danger which threatened them. France, as ruler of Naples, could overrun the rest of Italy, and as mas- ter of the Pope could use the authority of the head of Christendom to give legitimacy to further schemes of aggression. A sense of common danger drew the other powers of Europe together ; and a league of Spain, the Empire, the Pope, Milan, and Yenice forced Charles YIII. to retire from Naples (1495), where the French conquests were rapidly lost. A threat of his return next year led to an emphatic re- newal of the League and an assertion of the basis on which it rested — " the mutual preservation of

THE STATE OF EUROPE. $

states, so that the more powerful might not oppress the less powerful, and that each should keep what rightly belongs to him."

This League marks a new departure in European affairs. There was no mention of the old ideas on which Europe was supposed to rest. There was no recognition of papal or imperial supremacy ; no principle of European organization was laid down. The existing state of things was to be maintained, and the contracting powers were to decide amongst themselves what rights and claims they thought fit to recognize. Such a plan might be useful to check French preponderance at the moment, but it was fatal to the free development of Europe. The states that were then powerful might grow in power ; those that were not yet strong were sure to be pre- vented from growing stronger. Dynastic interests were set up as against national interests. European affairs were to be settled by combinations of power- ful states.

The results of this system were rapidly seen. France, of course, was checked for the time; but France, in its turn, could enter the League and be- come a factor in European combinations. The problem now for statesmen was how to use this con- cert of Europe for their own interests. Dynastic

10 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

considerations were the most obvious means of gain- ing powerful alliances. Koyal marriages became matters of the greatest importance, because a lucky union of royal houses might secure a lasting pre- ponderance. The Emperor Maximilian married his son Philip * to a daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella. Death removed the nearer heirs to the Spanish rulers, and the son of Philip was heir to Austria, the Netherlands, and the Spanish kingdoms. The notion of a maintenance of European equilibrium faded away before such a prospect.

This prospect, however, was only in the future. For the present there was an opportunity for end- less scheming. The European League for the pres- ervation of the existing state of things resisted any expansion on the part of smaller states, but encour- aged compacts for aggression amongst the more powerful. France, Spain, and Germany had each

* Philip (1478-1506), King of Castile, surnamed " Philip the Handsome," was the son of Maximilian I. and Mary of Bur- gundy. From his mother he inherited seventeen provinces in the Netherlands. His marriage to Joanna, who was imbecile or insane, a daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella, occurred in 1496. In early life Philip's title was Archduke of Austria ; but on the death of Isabella, in the year 1504, he succeeded, through his wife's disability, to the royal power of Castile. He was the father of Charles V., emperor of Germany (who was also Don Carlos I. of Spain) , and of Ferdinand I. also emperor of Germany.

THE STATE OF EUROPE. H

of them a national existence, while Italy consisted of a number of small states. If Italy was to sur- vive it was necessary that she should follow the example of her powerful neighbors, and consolidate herself as they had done. The only state which was at that time likely to unite Italy was Venice ; and Venice, in consequence, became the object of universal jealousy. The concert of Europe was ap- plied to the Venetian question, and discovered a solution of the simplest sort. Instead of allowing Venice to unite Italy, it was judged better to divide Venice. A secret agreement was made between Spain, France, the Emperor Maximilian, and the Pope that they would attack Venice simultaneously, deprive her of her possessions, and divide them amongst themselves. There was no lack of claims and titles to the possessions which were thus to be acquired. The powers of Europe, being judges in their own cause, could easily state their respective pleas and pronounce each other justified. The League of Cambrai,* which was published at the end of 1508, was the first great production of the new system of administering public law in Eu- rope.

* For the League of Cambria, see below, page 13, note on Julius II.

12 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

Anything more iniquitous could scarcely be con- ceived. Venice deserved well at the hands of Europe. She had developed a great system of com- merce with the East ; she was the chief bulwark against the advance of the Turkish power ; she was the one refuge of Italian independence. Those very reasons marked her out for pillage by the powers who, claiming to act in the interests of Europe, interpreted these interests according to their own selfishness. Each power hoped to appro- priate some of the profits of Venetian commerce ; each power wished for a slice of the domains of Italy. What the Turk did was a matter of little consequence ; he was not the object of immediate dread.

This League of Cambrai witnessed the assimila- tion by the new system of the relics of the old. Im- perial and papal claims were set in the foreground. Venice was excommunicated by the Pope, because she had the audacity to refuse to give up to him at once his share of the booty. The iniquities of the European concert were flimsily concealed by the rags of the old system of the public law of Europe, which only meant that the Pope and the Emperor were foremost in joining in the general scramble. France was first in the field against Venice, and consequent-

THE STATE OF EUROPE. 13

ly France was the chief gainer. Pope Julius II.,* having won from Venice all that he could claim, looked with alarm on the increase of the French power in Italy. As soon as he had satisfied himself, and had reduced Venice to abject submission, his one desire was to rid himself of his troublesome

* Julius II. (1443-1513), who previous to his election to the papal chair was known as Giuliano della Rovere, is known to lovers of art chiefly for his sumptuous luxury and his liberal patronage of the great artists of his time, including Michelangelo and Raphael. It was he who, in the last year of his life, laid the corner stone of St. Peter's, in Rome. He was nephew of Pope Sixtus IV. , and through his high con- nections, as well as owing to his own talents, he rose rapidly to ecclesiastical honors. At the age of twenty-eight he was bishop of Carpentras, archbishop of Avignon, a cardinal, and he held also eight bishoprics of less prominence. He owed his election to the Papacy, in 1503, to the influence of Caesar Borgia. He was haughty, of a warlike spirit, and his ambi- tion was unbounded ; though the purpose of this ambition was rather the glory of the Church than his own personal aggrandizement. His great aim was to drive the foreigners out of Italy and to free the Papacy from the control of secular powers. He drove Caesar Borgia out of the Romagna, and endeavored unsuccessfully to drive the Venetians out of various parts of his dominions. In 1508 he formed the league of Cambrai, between Louis XII., Maximilian, and Ferdinand of Aragon. against the Venetian republic. Two years later, when the French influence became dominant, he united with the Venetians against them. He gained but little by any of his alliances, as the expulsion of one power was only followed by the domination of another power. He formed the Holy League (one of several alliances of that name) between the English, Spaniards, Swiss, and Venetians, in 1511, and in 1512 he succeeded in driving the French out of Italy.

14- LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

allies. The papal authority in itself could no longer influence European politics ; but it could give a sanc- tion to new combinations which interested motives might bring about. With cynical frankness the Papacy, powerless in its own resources, used its privileged position to further its temporal objects. "We cannot wonder that Louis XII. of France tried to create a schism, and promoted the holding of a general council. We are scarcely surprised that the fantastic brain of the Emperor Maximilian formed a scheme of becoming the Pope's coadjutor, and finally annexing the papal to the imperial dignity. On every side the old landmarks of Europe were disap- pearing, and the future was seen to belong to the strong hand and the adventurous wit.

During the reign of Henry VII. England had stood aloof from these complicated intrigues. In- deed England could not hope to make her voice heard in the affairs of Europe. The weak govern- ment of Henry VI.,* and the struggles between the

* Henry VI. (1421-1471), only son of Henry V. of England and Catherine of France, was a contemporary of Joan of Arc, and the first part of his career was signalized by the loss of the English power in France. In 1445 he married Margaret of Anjou. In 1451, having lost all his possessions in France, he returned to England. While he was remark- ably gentle and inoffensive, he was weak to the point of im- becility. His reign was at the time of the disastrous civil

THE STATE OF EUROPE. 15

Yorkist and Lancastrian factions, had reduced her to political exhaustion. * While France and Spain had grown into strong kingdoms, England had dwindled

strife known as the Wai's of the Roses, and his life was one long succession of disasters. He was defeated, imprisoned, several times liberated and recaptured, and finally died, or was murdered, in prison. His wife, Queen Margaret, fled to Scotland after the battle of Northampton, in 1460, and from that country she for several years kept up the war against the English with a vigor that gave her husband's enemies no little trouble. For a good interpretation of Henry's traits and of the leading events of his reign, the reader is referred to Shakspeare's drama, " Henry VI.," in three parts.

* The Wars of the Roses were the scourge of England for thirty years. "These ducal ups and downs gradually separated the whole nation into the two parties of York and Lancaster, and led to those terrible civil wars long known as the Wars of the Red and White Roses, because the Red Rose was the badge of the House of Lancaster, and the White Rose was the badge of the House of York

"Some of the best men, seeing the danger of these con- stant changes, tried even then to prevent the Red and White Rose Wars. They brought about a great council in London between the two parties. The White Roses assembled in Blackfriars, and the Red Roses in Whitefriars ; and some good priests communicated between them, and made the proceedings known at even to the King and the judges. They ended in a peaceful agreement that there should be no more quarreling ; and there was a great royal possession to St. Paul's, in which the Queen walked arm-in-arm with her old enemy, the Duke of York, to show the people how comfort- able they all were. This state of peace lasted half a year, when a dispute between the Earl of Warwick (one of the Duke's powerful friends) and some of the King's servants at Court, led to an attack upon that Earl — who was a White Eose — and to a sudden breaking out of all the old animosities.

16 LIFE OP THOMAS WOLSEY.

into a third-rate power. Henry YII. * had enough to do in securing his own throne against pretenders, and in reducing the remnants of the feudal nobility to obedience. He so far worked in accordance with the prevailing spirit that he steadily increased the royal power. He fell in with the temper of the

So, here were greater ups and downs than ever. There were even greater ups and downs than these, soon after." Dickens, Child's History of England, Chapter xxii.

The cause of these wars was that both parties claimed the right of succession to the throne by reason of their descent from Edward III., who died in 1377, leaving the crown to his grandson, Richard II. The wars lasted from 1455 to 1485, and were exceedingly bloody. During their progress the nobility of England was very nearly wiped out. These wars were brought to an end by the victory of Henry VII., at Bos- worth in 1485. See note on Henry VII.

* Henry VII. (1456-1509), founder of the line of Tudors and father of Henry VIII., was a son of Edmond Tudor, Earl of Richmond, and Margaret Beaufort, of the line of John of Gaunt, head of the house of Lancaster. He was leader of the Lancastrian forces against the iniquitous Richard III., and by the defeat and death of Richard at the battle of Bosworth, in 1485, he became king. (See Shakspeare's Richard III.) He was in the main a prudent and vigorous king, but his rapa- cious and grasping disposition was a bar to his popularity even in his own party. His daughter Margaret wedded James IV. of Scotland, and this act was the first step in the union of the two countries. His son Arthur married Katha- rine of Aragon, who was afterwards wife of Henry VIII, Arthur's younger brother. The entire period of the reign of Henry VII. v as characterized by momentous changes : two of the most noteworthy events were the discovery of America and the invention of printing.

THE STATE OF EUROPE. 17

time, and formed matrimonial alliances which might bear political fruits. He gave his daughter in mar- riage to the King of Scotland, in the hopes of there- by bringing the Scottish Crown into closer relation with England. He sought for a connexion with Spain by marrying his eldest son Arthur to Katha- rine,* a daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella, and on Arthur's untimely death Katharine became the wife of his next son Henry. Further, Henry VII. gave his general approval to the League of 1496 ; he

* Katharine of Aragon (1486-1536) was married to Arthur, eldest son of Henry VII., and heir apparent to the throne of England, in 1501, both parties being at the time fifteen years of age. Arthur died the next year, and a year later, in 1503, she was affianced to Prince Henry, afterward Henry VIII., who was six years younger than herself, and the marriage was solemnized soon after he ascended the throne in 1509. The proceedings for the divorce which was finally secured, were begun in 1527. Katharine died in 1536.

Ludovico Falier, a Venetian ambassador who resided in London from 1528 to 1531, describes Queen Katharine in the following words: — " My lady the queen is low of stature, in- clining to corpulency, a handsome woman, of great repute, upright, and full of goodishness and devotion. She speaks Spanish, Flemish, French, and English. She is beloved by these islanders far more than any queen they have had. She is forty-five years old, thirty of which have passed since the death of her first husband. By the present king she has had two sons and a daughter. One of these sons died at the age of six months. The second lived scarcely long enough to be baptized. There remains only the daughter, sixteen years old, a beautiful, kind, and most accomplished princess, not at all inferior to her mother." 2

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joined it, but would promise no armed aid nor money. In short, he did enough to claim for England a place in the new system of the European common- wealth, though he himself declined to take any active part in the activity that was consequently de- veloped. He was old before his years, and was un- equal to any additional labor. He had saved his reputation by his cautious and skilful policy at home. The statesmen of Europe respected him for what he had done already, but they did not expect him to do anything more. He had secured his dynasty, reduced his lands to order, favored its commerce, and secured for it peace. He had lived frugally and had saved money, which was not the fortune of the more adventurous princes. England was looked upon with an eye of condescending favor by the great powers of Europe. Her population was small, about three millions and a half ; her military forces had not been trained in the new methods of European war- fare ; her navy was not kept up on a war footing. She could not rank higher than a third-rate power. So England stood when Henry VII. died, and was succeeded by his son Henry VIII. , a youth of nineteen. We may indulge ourselves, if we choose, in speculations on the probable effects if Henry VIII. had been content to pursue his father's policy.

THE STATE OF EUROPE. 19

The picture of England, peaceful and contented while the rest of Europe is engaged in wasteful and wicked war, is attractive as an ideal in English politics. England in the sixteenth century might have stood aloof from European affairs, and might have prospered in her own fashion. But one thing is certain, that she would never have become the England of to-day ; the JSTew World, and the pos- sessions of the British Empire, would have been divided between France and Spain; the course of civilization would have been widely different. For good or for evil the fortunes of England were given a decided direction by Henry VIII. 's advance into the sphere of European politics. England took up a position from which she could not afterwards retire.

It is scarcely worth while to inquire if Henry VIII. could by prudence and caution have continued to keep clear of the complications of European pol- itics, and make England strong by husbanding its resources and developing its commerce. Such a course of action was not deemed possible by any one. All classes alike believed that national pros- perity followed upon the assertion of national power. The commercial interests of England would have had little chance of being respected unless they

20 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

were connected with political interests as well. If Henry VIII. had lived frugally like his father, and avoided adventurous schemes for which he needed the money of his people, the English monarchy would have become a despotism, and the royal will would have been supreme in all internal affairs. England was not exposed to this danger. Henry VIII., when he ascended the throne at the age of nineteen, was fully imbued by the spirit of his time. The story goes that when Leo X. was elected Pope he turned to his brother and said with a smile, < < Let us enjoy the Papacy, since God has given it to us." Henry VIII. was resolved to enjoy his kingship to the full ; he wished to show Europe that he was every inch a king, and equal to the best.

Henry VIII. in his early days had been educated with a view to high ecclesiastical preferment, and was a youth of many accomplishments of mind and body. His tall stalwart frame, his fair round face and profusion of light hair, his skill in athletic exer- cises, made the Venetian envoy pronounce him to be the handsomest and most capable king in Christen- dom.* He inherited the geniality, the physical

* Ludovico Falier, as quoted by Lingard, describes Henry VIII. in the following words :

" His features are, I will not say beautiful ; they are an- gelic. His look is commanding, but gentle. Contrary to the

THE STATE OF EUROPE. 21

strength, the resoluteness of the Yorkist house, and combined them with the self-restraint and caution

English fashion, he wears his beard. Who can look at him, when he is in action, without astonishment, so surpassing is the beauty of his person, so winning the ease and graceful- ness of his manner. He sits well on horseback ; he is com- pletely master of his steed ; he tilts, and bears his lance nobly; he draws the sword and the bow admirably, and plays at tennis with extraordinary skill. He applied to the belles- lettres from his childhood, afterwards to the study of phi- losophy and theology, so that he has acquired the name of a learned and accomplished prince. Besides the Latin and his mother tongue, he learned the Spanish, French, and Italian languages. He is affable, gracious, very polite and courteous ; and liberal in his presents, especially to men of learning. Yet with all his knowledge and acuteness, he allowed himself to fall into amorous pursuits so far that, thinking only of his pleasures, he left the government of his kingdom to his most trusty ministers, till the time when he began to persecute the cardinal of York [Cardinal WolseyJ. From that moment he has been quite enamored with his own management, and is become quite another man. He was generous, is now covet- ous ; and, as formerly no one took leave of him without a satis- factory present, now every one goes away in discontent. He appears to be devout. He generally hears two low masses ; and the high mass also on festivals. He is exceedingly charitable to orphans and widows, to young maidens, and persons wounded or maimed, to the amount of about 10,000 ducats [$32,800.] a year. He is beloved by all. He is determined on effecting a divorce. His object is to have a legitimate male issue ; and as he has no hope of having such by my lady Katherine. he will assuredly marry his favorite, a daughter of the earl of Wiltshire. There cannot be a doubt that such a marriage will take place ; after which it is possible that his majesty may be troubled with insurrections on the part of those who favor the queen ; for she is so much beloved and revered by the people that they begin already to show their discontent."

22 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

of the Lancastrians. ~No king began his reign with greater popularity, and the belief in the soundness of his head and heart filled all men with hopes of a long period of just and prosperous government. But many hoped for more than this. The reign of Henry VII. had been successful, but inglorious. The strong character and the generous impulses of the new ruler were not likely to be satisfied with the cautious intrigues and petty calculations of his father. England looked forward to a glorious and distinguished future. It believed in its king, and clave to its belief in spite of many disappointments. Not all the harsh doings of Henry VIII. exhausted the popularity with which he began his reign, and in the midst of his despotism he never lost his hold upon the people.

So Henry VIII. carried out the plan which his father had formed for him. He married Katharine, his brother's widow, and so confirmed the alliance with Ferdinand of Spain.* He renewed the marri-

* This marriage between Henry VIII. and Katharine of Aragon led to momentous consequences a generation later. After Henry put away Katharine, he married Anne Boleyn to whom was born Elizabeth. The Spanish nation could never forgive the insult shown in the divorce of Queen Kath- arine, and it was out of the question for Philip II. of Spain to acknowledge the legitimacy of Elizabeth or to make an alliance with her ; and to his dying day he never gave up th§

THE STATE OF EUROPE. 23

age treaty between his sister Mary and Charles, Prince of Castile, heir of the Netherlands, and eld- est grandson of Ferdinand and Maximilian alike. Charles was only a boy of nine, aud had great pros- pects of a large heritage. England was likely, if this arrangement were carried out, to be a useful but humble ally to the projects of the houses of Hapsburg and Spain, useful because of its position, which commanded the Channel, and could secure communications between the Netherlands and Spain, humble because it had little military reputation or capacity for diplomacy.

The alliance,* however, between Ferdinand and

hope of invading that country. It is true that England came out of the conflict with great glory, but it was at the cost of millions of money and many thousands of brave men.

* The alliance here referred to is the League of Cambrai. But beyond this, the two emperors were allied by the mar- riage between Philip the Handsome, son of Maximilian, and the Infanta of Spain. This marriage, however, was not only an alliance, it was a cause of jealousy ; for it raised questions concerning the succession of both empires, that caused no little anxiety to the two emperors.

Maximilian I. (1459-1519), emperor of Germany, was one of the most powerful of European monarchs. His first wife was Mary of Burgundy, who left him two children : Philip and Margaret. After the death of Mary of Burgundy, Mar- garet was betrothed to the Dauphin of France, who was afterward Charles VIII., but the latter refused to keep his marriage engagement. This led to a war, and though matters were arranged by negotiation — Charles consenting to pay a

24: LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

Maximilian was by no means close. Ferdinand by his marriage with Isabella had united the kingdoms of Castile and Arragon ; but after Isabella's death he had no claim to the Crown of Castile, which passed to his daughter Juana. Already Juana's husband, the Archduke Philip, had claimed the regency of Castile, and Ferdinand was only saved by Philip's death from the peril of seeing much of

dowry — the relations between the two kings never became friendly. Maximilian greatly enlarged the German army and introduced effective discipline. He was a liberal patron of learning. He was succeeded by his grandson, Charles V., who was also grandson of Ferdinand, and who was known also as Don Carlos I., of Spain.

Ferdinand (1452-1516). surnamed the Catholic, was king of Castile and Aragon. His wife Isabella was the patron of Columbus in his discovery of America. The fame of these two monarchs is sullied by the establishment, or the enlarge- ment, of the Inquisition. On the other hand, they were mu- nificent patrons of learning, and universities were founded throughout the kingdom for the education of the Spanish. The conquest of Grenada, and the opening of the newly dis- covered America, with the conquest of Mexico, Peru, etc., gave Spain a glorious empire. It was a warlike age, and Ferdinand, perpetually engaged in one or more of his numer- ous wars, had little chance to enjoy the triumphs of Peace. " As a sovereign, he was brave, affable, indefatigable in busi- ness, temperate in his habits, and strongly attached to the Catholic religion ; but he was bigoted, cruel, selfish in the extreme, and ungenerous to those to whom he was greatly indebted. For shrewdness and policy he excelled every other monarch of his age." He, like Maximilian, was succeeded by his grandson, Charles V. of Germany, who was also Don Carlos I. of Spain.

THE STATE OF EUROPE. 25

his work undone. The claim to Castile had now passed to the young Charles, and Ferdinand was afraid lest Maximilian should at any time revive it in behalf of his grandson. He was unwilling to help in any way to increase Maximilian's power, and rejoiced that in the results of the League of Cambrai little profit fell to Maximilian's share. The Pope gained all that he wished ; Ferdinand acquired without a blow the Venetian possessions in the Neapolitan kingdom ; the French arms were trium- phant in North Italy ; but Yenice continued to offer a stubborn resistance to Maximilian. In vain Maxi- milian implored Ferdinand's help. He was un- moved till the successes of the French awakened in his mind serious alarm. The authors of the League of Cambrai began to be afraid of the catastrophe which they had caused. They did not wish to see the French supreme in Italy, but their combination had gone far to ensure the French supremacy.

Pope Julius II. felt himself most directly threatened by the growth of the French power. He resolved to break up the League of Cambrai, and so undo his own work, He tried to gain support from the Swiss and from England. He released Yenice from her excommunication, and showed himself steadfastly opposed to France. He did his utmost

26 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

to induce Ferdinand and Maximilian to renounce the League. Ferdinand was cautious, and only gave his secret countenance to the Pope's designs. Maxi- milian, anxious to make good his claims against Venice, wavered between an alliance with France and a rupture. Louis XII. of France was embar- rassed by the hostility of the Pope, whom he tried to terrify into submission. His troops advanced against Bologna, where Julius II. was residing. The Pope fled, but the French forces did not pur- sue him. Louis was not prepared to treat the Pope as merely a temporal sovereign, andKome was spared a siege. But Louis was so ill- judging as to attack the Pope on his spiritual side. He raised the old cry of a General Council for the reform of the Church, and drew to his side a few disaffected car- dinals, who summoned a Council to assemble at Pisa.

This half-hearted procedure was fatal to all hopes of French supremacy. Had Louis XII. promptly dealt with Julius II. by force of arms he would have rendered the Pope powerless to interfere with his political plans, and no one would have inter- posed to help the Pope in his capacity of an Italian prince. But when the French king showed that he was afraid of the papal dignity in temporal matters,

THE STATE OF EUROPE. 27

while he was ready to attack it in spiritual matters he entered upon a course of action which was dan- gerous to Europe. Ferdinand was waiting for a good pretext to free himself from further share in the policy of the League of Cambrai, and Louis provided him with the pretext which he sought. Shocked at the danger of a neAV schism, Ferdinand, in October 1511, entered into a League with the Pope and Venice, a League which took the high- sounding title of the Holy League,* since it was formed for the protection of the Papacy.

Of this Holy League Henry VIII. became a member in December, and so stepped boldly into the politics of Europe. He was at first a submis- sive son of King Ferdinand, whose daughter, Queen Katharine, acted as Spanish ambassador at the Eng- lish Court. Henry wished to make common cause

* The phrase " Holy League " is not uncommon in history, and the one here mentioned is one of half a dozen of the same name. The real occasion of this was the success of the League of Cambrai, formed in 1508, or rather, certain results that followed that success. By the latter alliance, the Pope, Julius II., had brought the French into his dominions to drive out the Venetians ; but when that object was accomplished, his holiness found the presence of the French quite as dis- agreeable to him as that of the Venetians had been, and so it was necessary to form this new alliance, the Holy League, to drive out the French. This plan of using one nation to drive out another, proved to be very nearly an endless chain.

28 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

with his father-in-law, and trusted implicitly to him for assurances of goodwill. He made a sepa rate accord with Ferdinand that a combined army should invade Guienne. If the French were de- feated Ferdinand would be able to conquer Na- varre, and England would seize Guienne. The gain to England would be great, as Guienne would be a secure refuge for English commerce, and its possession would make the English king an impor- tant personage in Europe, for he would stand be- tween Spain and France.

The scheme was not fantastic or impossible, pro- vided that Ferdinand was in earnest. Henry be- lieved in his good faith, but he still had the confi- dence of youth. Ferdinand trusted no one, and if others were like himself he was wise in his distrust. Every year he grew more suspicious and fonder of crooked ways. He took no man's counsel; he made fair professions on every side; his only ob- ject was to secure himself at the least cost. His confiding son-in-law was soon to discover that Fer- dinand only meant to use English gold as a means for furthering his own designs against France ; he did not intend that England should have any share in the advantage.

Unconscious of the selfishness of his ally, Henry

THE STATE OF EUROPE. 29

VIII . prepared for war in the winter of 1512. In these preparations the capacity of Thomas Wolsey first made itself felt, and the course of the war that followed placed Wolsey foremost in the confidence of the English king.

CHAPTER II.

THE FKENCH ALLIANCE, 1512-1515.

THOMAS WOLSEY was born at Ipswich,* probably in March 1471. He was the son of Robert Wolsey and Joan his wife. Contemporary slander, wishing to make his fortunes more remarkable or his pre- sumption more intolerable, represented his father as a man of mean estate, a butcher by trade. How- ever, Robert Wolsey 's will shows that he was a man of good position, probably a grazier and wool merchant, with relatives who were also well-to-do. Thomas seems to have been the eldest of his family, and his father's desire was that he should enter the priesthood. He showed quickness in study; so much so that he went to Oxford at the early age of

* Ipswich, the birthplace of Cardinal Wolsey, is sixty-six miles northeast of London. It is a very old town , and was twice burnt by the Danes : once in the year 991, and again in 1000. William the Conqueror (1025-1087) strengthened it by the building of a castle which has long since gone to ruins. It is, in a small way, an educational centre, having a number of schools ; the grammar school was restored by Wolsey. The present population is about 50,000.

30

THE FRENCH ALLIANCE. 31

eleven, and became Bachelor of Arts when he was fifteen. His studies do not seem to have led him in the direction of the new learning;* he was well versed in the theology of the schools, and is said to have been a devoted adherent to the system of St. Thomas Aquinas, f But it was not by the life of a

* The New Learning was the name given in England to that intellectual awakening of Europe that was led by the Renaissance in Italy. The pre-eminent leader of the intel- lectual, as distinguished from the artistic, phase of this move- ment, was the famous scholar Erasmus (1465?-1536). The leaders in England were Sir Thomas More, Colet, and War- ham, besides Erasmus himself. The latter, though not an Englishman, was welcomed in that country, and he spent, in all, five or six years in forwarding the movement in connec- tion with the universities. More's celebrated book, Utopia (meaning Nowhere) , is an excellent exposition of the spirit of the New Learning. See also below, p. 156, note.

f Thomas Aquinas (1225?-1274), called " the Angelic Doc- tor " because of the purity of his life, was born near Naples, studied under Albertus Magnus, and taught and preached in Paris and Rome. His talents brought him many offers of ecclesiastical promotion, all of which he modestly and humbly refused. One well-known anecdote illustrates the wit and spirit of the man. He was once in the presence of Pope In- nocent IV., before whom a large sum of money was spread out. " You see," said the Pope, " the Church is no longer in that age in which she said, * Silver and gold have I none.' " " True, holy father," quickly responded the doctor ; " neither can she any longer say to the lame, Rise up and walk." Hallam says: "The greatest of the schoolmen were the Do- minican Thomas Aquinas, and the Franciscan Duns Scotus. They were founders of rival sects, which wrangled with each other for two or three centuries." His most important work was entitled Summa Theologian, or Sum of Theology.

32 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

student or the principles of a philosopher that Wol- sey rose to eminence. If he learned anything in his University career he learned a knowledge of men and of their motives.

In due course he became a Fellow of Magdalen,*

* Magdalen (pronounced Maudlin) College in the University of Oxford was founded by William Waynflete, bishop of Winchester. In 1448 he obtained a royal licence for the foundation of an academical hall at Oxford, under the patron- age of St. Mary Magdalen. Just ten years later, the founder issued a formal charter establishing the College of the blessed Mary Magdalen, commonly called Magdalen College. The foundation stone was laid in 1474, and the building is one of the most beautiful of mediaeval or modern times.

Wolsey's connection with Oxford dates from an early period of his life, for he was made Bachelor of Arts at fifteen years of age * which,' Cavendish notes, ' was a rare thing and seldom seen,' and led to his being called ' the Boy Bachelor.' In 1497 his name occurs in a list of Masters of Arts holding Fellowships at Magdalen College, and in the following year he was one of the bursars of that wealthy institution. For six months he acted as master of the school established there by William Waynflete, and he had among his pupils the three sons of the Marquess of Dorset, through whose favor he was destined to obtain his first ecclesiastical benefice. Neverthe- less John Skelton, the poet, does not scruple to deride him as an unlearned man : —

' He was but a poor master of art God wot, had little part Of the quadrivals Nor yet of tri vials Nor of philosophy.

His Latin tongue doth hobble,

THE FRENCH ALLIANCE. 33

and master of the grammar school attached to the College. Soon afterwards, in 1498, he was bursar ;

He doth but clout and cobble In Tully's faculty.'

A greater poet than Skelton has recorded the opinion of the next generation very differently : —

' This Cardinal

Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly Was fashion'd to much honor, from his cradle. He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one ; Exceeding wise, fair-spoken, and persuading : Lofty and sour to them that lov'd him not, But, to those men that sought him, sweet as summer.' (Shakspeare, Henry the Eighth, Act iv., sc. 2.)

" Wolsey was senior bursar of Magdalen College in 1499 and 1500, and in the latter year he retired to a living in Somerset- shire. While he was being rapidly promoted from benefice to benefice, he maintained friendly relations with his former col- leagues at Oxford, and in 1510 he took the degree of Bachelor of Divinity. During his brief occupation of the see of Lincoln, the resident graduates of the University began to recognize his growing power in the State, and wrote to solicit his as- sistance in defence of their privileges. A few months later, when he was Archbishop of York, they addressed him as their Maecenas, their intercessor, their patron, their spokes- man, and their special advocate at Court. A little later, they wrote again, saying that their hopes depended on him alone, and that they had resolved to raise him to the highest degree in Divinity. In a subsequent letter they spontaneously prom- ised that his name should be commemorated by their public preachers at Oxford and in London alike. When at last they found it difficult to devise any new compliments for the all- powerful Cardinal, they sought to gratify his vanity by ap- plying to him the title of Majestas, in some cases three or four times in the course of a letter."

Lyte, History of the University of Oxford. 3

34 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

and tradition has connected with him the building of the graceful tower which is one of the chief arch- itectural ornaments of Oxford. Unfortunately the tower was finished in the year in which Wolsey be- came bursar, and all that he can have done was the prosaic duty of paying the bills for its erection. He continued his work of schoolmaster till in 1500 the Marquis of Dorset, whose sons Wolsey had taught, gave him the living of Lymington in Somerset.

So Wolsey abandoned academic life for the quiet- ness of a country living, which, however, did not prove to be entirely free from troubles. For some reason which is not clear, a neighboring squire, Sir Amy as Paulet,* used his power as justice of peace to set Wolsey in the stocks, an affront which Wolsey did not forgive, but in the days of his power pun- ished by confining Sir Amyas to his London house, where he lived for some years in disgrace. If this story be true, it is certainly not to Wolsey 's dis- credit, who can have been moved by nothing but a sense of injustice in thus reviving the remembrance of his own past history. Moreover, Wolsey 's char-

* Sir Amyas Paulet (died 1538) was brought up a Lancas- trian. He was attainted after Buckingham's rebellion, but was restored in 1485. He held various offices in his own county of Somerset, and became one of the most prominent of the west country gentlemen.

THE FRENCH ALLIANCE. 35

acter certainly did not suffer at the time, as in 1501 he was made chaplain to Dean,* Archbishop of Canterbury. After Dean's death in 1503, his capa- city for business was so far established that he was employed by Sir Richard Nanfan,f Deputy-Lieu- tenant of Calais, to help him in the duties of a post which advancing years made somewhat onerous. When Nanfan, a few years afterwards, retired from public life, he recommended Wolsey to the king, and Wolsey entered the royal service as chap- lain probably in 1506.

At Court Wolsey allied himself with Eichard Fox,;): Bishop of Winchester, Lord Privy Seal, and

* Henry Deane, Archbishop of Canterbury, was the close friend and councillor of Henry VII., who gave him much employment in affairs of state. His principal success in diplomacy was the arrangement of the marriage of Margaret, King Henry's daughter, with James IV. of Scotland. He was never installed at Canterbury, probably on the ground of expense ; and it is greatly to his credit that, in that age of ecclesiastical luxury, he, the Primate of England, lived and died poor.

f Sir Richard Nanfan, or Nanphant, received many honors and emoluments under Henry VII. In 1489 he was sent on a mission to Spain and Portugal, and had an interview with Ferdinand and Isabella. Later he was deputy of Calais, where he became patron of Wolsey and made him known to the king. He died in 1507.

J Richard Fox (1466-1528) was a prominent ecclesiastic and statesman under Henry VII. , whose favor and confidence he maintained until the death of the latter. Previous to 1500 he

36 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

at first seems to have acted as one of his secre- taries.

Fox was a well-trained and careful official, who had been in Henry VII. 's employment all through his reign. Cold and cautious by nature, Henry YIL had to pick his way through many difficulties, and took no man unreservedly into his confidence. He was his own minister, and chose to be served by men of distinguished position who were content to do his bidding faithfully, and were free from per- sonal ambition. For this purpose ecclesiastics were best adapted, and Henry YIL did much to secular- ize the Church by throwing the weight of public business into the hands of men like Morton and Fox, whom he rewarded by the highest ecclesiastical offices. In such a school Wolsey was trained as a statesman. He regarded it as natural that the King should choose his ministers for their readiness to serve his purposes, and should reward them by ecclesiastical preferments. The State might gain by such a plan, but the Church undoubtedly lost ; and

held the bishopric of several sees, and at that date he was appointed to the important see of Winchester. In sympathy with the New Learning, he founded the College of Corpus Christi, Oxford, with a chair of Greek and Latin. As states- man, he was Keeper of the Seal, secretary of state, and several times ambassador to foreign courts. When Henry VIII. be- came king, Fox was succeeded by Wolsey.

THE FRENCH ALLIANCE. 37

in following the career of Wolsey there is little to remind us of the ecclesiastic, however much we may admire the statesman.

It was well for England that Wolsey was trained in the traditions of the policy of Henry VII. , which he never forgot. Henry VII. aimed, in the first place, at securing his throne and restoring quiet and order in his kingdom by developing trade and com- merce. For this purpose he strove to turn his for- eign neighbors into allies without adventuring into any military enterprises. He did not aspire to make England great, but he tried to make her secure and prosperous. "Wolsey gained so much insight into the means which he employed for that end that he never forgot their utility ; and though he tried to pass beyond the aim of Henry VII. , he preferred to extend rather than abandon the means which Henry VII. had carefully devised. Nor was Wolsey merely a spectator of Henry VII. 's diplo- macy ; he was soon employed as one of its agents. In the spring of 1508 he was sent to Scotland to keep King James IV. true to his alliance with Eng- land, and explain misunderstandings that had arisen. In the autumn of the same year he was sent to Mechlin to win over the powerful minister of Maxi- milian, the Bishop of Gurk, to a project of mar-

38 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

riage between Henry VII. and Maximilian's daugh- ter Margaret, by which Henry hoped that he would get control of the Low Countries. Here Wolsey learned his first practical lesson of diplomatic meth- ods, and uttered the complaint, which in later years he gave so much reason to others to pour forth, 1 i There is here so much inconstancy, mutability, and little regard of promises and causes, that in their appointments there is little trust or surety ; for things surely determined to be done one day are changed and altered the next. ' '

Nothing came of Wolsey 's embassy, nor can we be sure that Henry VII. was much in earnest in his marriage schemes. However, he died in April next year, and was succeeded by a son whose matrimo- nial hesitations were destined to give Wolsey more trouble than those of his father. Before his death he laid the foundation of Wolsey 's clerical fortunes by bestowing on him the rich deanery of Lincoln.

The accession of Henry VIII. made little change in the composition of the King's Council. The Lady Margaret survived her son long enough to make her influence felt in the choice of her grand- son's advisers. Archbishop Warham,* Bishop

* William Warham (1450 ?-1554) was, with Erasmus, Colet, and More, a leader of the New Learning. He was Keeper of

THE FRENCH ALLIANCE. 39

Fox, and Thomas Howard,* Earl of Surrey, were the men into whose hands public business natu- rally fell. But "Warham was somewhat stiff and crabbed, so that he did not commend himself to the young king. Fox represented the opinions of the old officials, while the Earl of Surrey was the natural leader of the old nobility, who could not help resenting the subordinate position into which they had been reduced by Henry VII. , and hoped that a new reign would give them fresh opportuni- ties. So Fox urged caution and carefulness, while

the Great Seal from 1502 to 1515. In 1504 he was raised to the archbishopric of Canterbury, the highest ecclesiastical preferment in England.

* Thomas Howard (1473 ?-1547) was eminent as a soldier and statesman. He was the third Duke of Norfolk, and son of Thomas Howard, the second Duke of Norfolk. "In 1513 he was chosen high admiral of England, and, in co- operation with his father, defeated the Scotch at the battle of Flodden. For this service he was made Earl of Surrey, while his father was made Duke of Norfolk. In 1523 he became lord high treasurer, and in 1524, at the death of his father, inherited his title. His devotion to the Church of Rome made him hostile to Anne Boleyn, though she was his own niece. After Henry VIII. had married Catherine Howard, the Duke, who was her uncle, had much influence in the royal councils, and used it for the persecution of the Protestants. In 1547 he was arrested on a charge of treason, and ordered for execution ; but before the fatal day came, the king died. Norfolk was released from prison in 1553, and died the next year. His son, the Earl of Surrey, was executed in 1547."— "Lippincott's Pronouncing Biographical Dictionary.

40 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

Surrey favored extravagance and military ambition. Fox felt that he was growing old, and the pres- sure of a continued conflict of opinion was irk- some to him. Much as the ecclesiastics of that time were secular in their lives, they were rarely entirely forgetful of their priestly office, and were genuinely anxious to rid themselves of the burden of affairs and spend their last years in quiet. So Fox chose Wolsey as the man to take his place, perhaps because he saw in him the qualities neces- sary to influence the young king. Besides him he favored Ruthal, another . experienced official, who was rewarded by the rich bishopric of Durham, but who was soon eclipsed by the superior genius of Wolsey, which he frankly admitted, and willingly accepted the post of Wolsey 's assistant and subordi- nate.

So Wolsey was made the king's almoner, and had sundry preferments bestowed on him as marks of the royal favor. He ingratiated himself with the king, and worked with Fox and Kuthal to coun- teract the influence of the Earl of Surrey. Prob- ably in 1511 he was called to the King's Council, but neither he nor Fox had it in their power to shape the king's policy as they wished, or to direct his doings. His warlike ardor was against their

THE FRENCH ALLIANCE. 41

will; but from the beginning of his reign Henry VIII. went his own way, and others had to fol- low. All they could do was to show him that they were the most capable of his servants, and when Henry VIII. had determined on war they were the men to whom he turned to carry out the necessary details. On Wolsey as the youngest the chief labor was thrown. England was unprepared for war, and every branch of the military service had to be almost created. Wolsey had at all events a sufficient opportunity for displaying his practical capacity as an organizer.

So Wolsey worked at providing for the troops who were sent to Guienne in 1512; but the expe- dition itself was a complete failure. Ferdinand played his own game of procrastination, and sent no succors. The Marquis of Dorset was an inca- pable leader. The English troops were not inured to hardships, and soon grew discontented; at last they rose in open mutiny, and clamored to be led back to England. Dorset was driven to retire without striking a blow. The first attempt of Eng- land to assert her prowess ended in disaster. The statesmen of the Continent made merry over the blundering efforts of an upstart power. " The English," they said, "are so unaccustomed to war

4:2 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

that they have no experience to guide them." Henry longed to wipe out this disgrace, and pre- pared to invade the north of France in the next year. Wolsey was not yet of sufficient importance to direct the king's policy, and had no experience of war. But he threw himself heart and soul into the task of military organization, and the adminis- trative capacity which he displayed secured his hold on the king's favor. He provided for victualling the fleet, raised the necessary number of ships, selected their captains, and even apportioned the gunners. Nothing was too trivial for his attention, even down to beer-barrels and biscuits. It is not surprising that his colleague, Bishop Fox, wrote to him, "I pray God send us with speed, and soon deliver you of your outrageous charge and labor. ' '

The fleet put to sea in March 1513, under the command of the Lord Admiral Sir Edward Howard. * The French fleet was far superior in numbers, and prepared to prevent the English from landing on

* Sir Edward Howard (1477 ?-1513) began his naval service at the age of fifteen and rose to the position of Lord High Admiral. " His death was felt as a national disaster," writes one. James IV. of Scotland wrote to the king of England : — "Surely, dearest brother, we think more loss is to you of your late admiral, who deceased to his great honor and laud, than the advantage might have been of the winning of all the French galleys and their equipage."

THE FRENCH ALLIANCE. 43

the French coast. Sir Edward Howard was burning with desire for a decisive engagement, and on 25th April attacked the French galleys as they lay in shallow water. He boarded them with his boats, and himself leapt on to the ship of the French admiral, but before his men could follow him their cable was cut away, and he was left almost alone. Seeing that there was no hope of support, he took his whis- tle from his neck and cast it into the sea ; then with his gilt target on his arm he fought till the enemy's pikes thrust him overboard and he was drowned. The English attack was driven back ; but its gal- lantry and the bravery of Sir Edward Howard pro- duced a great impression. It was clear that after all the Englishmen had not forgotten how to fight.

The efforts of the English fleet were successful in securing the peaceful landing of the army at Calais, where Henry arrived at the end of June. With him went Wolsey, commanding two hundred men, and now a necessary personage in the king's train. Such confidence was placed in him by Queen Kath- arine that she requested him to write to her fre- quently and inform her of the king's health, while in return she poured her household troubles into his sympathetic ear. No doubt Wolsey's hands were full of business of many kinds during this brief and

44 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

glorious campaign, glorious in the sense that suc- cess attended its operations, but fruitless because the things done were scarcely worth the doing. The English army took Terouenne, more owing to the feebleness of the French than to their own valor. Louis XII. was prematurely old and ailing ; things had gone against him in Italy, and there was little spirit in the French army.

The 'defeat of the French outside Terouenne was so rapid that the battle was derisively called the Battle of Spurs. Henry's desire for martial glory was satisfied by the surrender of Terouenne, and his vanity was gratified by the presence of Maximilian, who in return for a large subsidy brought a few German soldiers, and professed to serve under the English king. From Terouenne he advanced to Tournai, which surrendered at the end of Septem- ber. Maximilian was delighted at these conquests, of which he reaped all the benefits ; with Tournai in the hands of England, Flanders had a strong pro- tection against France. So Maximilian would gladly have led Henry to continue the campaign in the interests of the Flemish frontier. But Henry had no taste for spending a winter in the field ; he pleaded that his presence was needed in England, and departed, promising to return next year.

THE FRENCH ALLIANCE. 45

In truth the arms of England had won a greater victory on English ground than anything they had achieved abroad. The war against France awak- ened the old hostility of Scotland, and no sooner was Henry YIIL encamped before Terouenne than he received a Scottish herald bringing a message of defiance. u I do not believe that my brother of Scotland will break his oath, ' ' said Henry, ' i but if he does, he will live to repent it." Kepentance came rapidly on the Field of Flodden,* where the

*"Tke Earl of Surrey . . . setup the standard of St. George at Newcastle ; and with a numerous force marched on to Alnwick, which he reached on the 3d of September. According to the practice of chivalry Surrey offered battle to James, on the following Friday, in a message which he sent by a pursuivant -at-arms. The king of Scotland cour- teously accepted the challenge. To an insolent defiance from Lord Thomas Howard, that he had come to justify the death of Andrew Barton, and would neither give nor receive quarter, the king returned no answer. * The king lay upon the side of a high mountain called Flodden, on the edge of Cheviot, where was but one narrow field for any man to ascend up the said hill to him, and at the foot of the hill lay all his ordnance. On the one side of his army was a great marish, and compassed with the hills of Cheviot, so that he lay too strong to be approached of any side, except that the Eng- lish would have temerariously run on his ordnance.' James was rash ; but he kept his strong position, in spite of a taunt- ing message from Surrey to take up a ground where the battle might be fairly tried. The English commander was an experienced soldier ; and he showed his knowledge of strategy by an unexpected and masterly movement. The Till, a branch of the Tweed, lay between the two armies.

46 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. \

Scottish army was almost cut to pieces. This bril- liant victory was greatly due to the energy of Queen Katharine, who wrote to Wolsey, "My heart is

Surrey had crossed the river on the 8th of September, at a distant point from Flodden by which manoeuvre he deceived James as to his real intentions ; but on the morning of the 9th with his van and cannon, he suddenly re-crossed it at Twissel-bridge, near the junction of the Till with the Tweed, and the remainder of the army passed a ford. Surrey was now in a position in which he could cut off the communica- tion of James with his supplies from Scotland. The English were marching rapidly to secure the eminence of Branksome, when the Scots descended the heights of Flodden to seize this position, setting fire to their tents. The king, who had made no attempt to prevent the English crossing the Till, had now " his enemies before him on a plain field," as his wish is declared to have been. The battle began at four o'clock in the afternoon of the 9th of September.

" The English line stretched east and west, And southward were their faces set ;

The Scottish northward proudly prest, And manfully their foes they met."

Each of the sons of Surrey commanded a division of the right wing ; Surrey himself was in the centre ; Sir Edward Stanley headed the left wing. The Scottish earls Huntley and Home, who commanded their left wing, attacked the Howards with a vigor that might have decided the battle, had not Lord Dacre come to their aid with the reserve of horse. The Scottish right wing, which consisted chiefly of Highlanders, was unable to stand up against the archers of Lancashire. James and Surrey met in close conflict in the the centres of their armies. Never was king, in the extremity of danger, surrounded by more gallant supporters. But though he and his knights were struggling in no unequal Strife with Surrey, whose standard was nearly won, the rapid

THE FRENCH ALLIANCE. 47

very good to it, and I am horribly busy with mak- ing standards, banners, and badges. ' ' She ad- dressed the English leaders before they started for the war, bade them remember that the English courage excelled that of other nations, and that the Lord smiled on those who stood in defence of their own. With a proud heart she sent her husband the blood-stained plaid of the Scottish king, taken from his corpse. " In this," she wrote, " your Grace shall see how I keep my promise, sending you for your banner a king's coat."

The victory of Flodden Field was of great im- portance, for it delivered England from the fear of a troublesome neighbor, and showed Europe that England could not be muzzled by the need of care

triumph of Stanley over the right wing enabled him to at- tack the Scottish centre in the rear. James fell within a lance's length of Surrey. None of his division were made prisoners. They all perished with their king. As night came on Surrey drew back his men. Before the dawn the Scots had left the field. The loss of the Scottish army has been computed at ten thousand men ; that of the English at about seven thousand. ' Scarce a family of eminence but has an ancestor killed at Flodden,' says Scott. In the words of the ballad,—

'The flowers of the forest were a' wede away.' "

Knight, History of England.

The English forces engaged in this battle numbered about 32,000 ; the Scottish forces were about 30,000,

48 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

for her own borders. The Scottish power was broken for many years to come, and England was free to act as she would. Europe began to respect the power of England, though there was little reason to rate highly the wisdom of her king. Henry had won little by his campaign; he had gratified his vanity, but he had not advanced to- wards any definite end.

Henry YIII. was young and simple. He ex- pected to captivate the world by brilliant deeds, and fascinate it by unselfish exploits. He soon found that his pretended allies were only seeking their own advantage. The name of the ' c Holy League ' ' was the merest pretext. The new Pope, Leo X. , * a sup- ple time-serving intriguer, trained in the deceitful

*Pope Leo X. was Giovanni de' Medici (1475-1521), son of Lorenzo de' Medici (Lorenzo the Magnificent) of Florence. He ascended the papal chair in 1513 upon the death of Julius II. He continued the policy of his predecessor in patronizing literature and the fine arts, but his patronage was on a scale of unparalleled munificence. Raphael, Michaelangelo, and the galaxy of artists by which they were surrounded, were en- couraged to prosecute the work they had already begun under the patronage of Julius II. The university of Rome was re- stored with its one hundred salaried professors, and a Greek college was founded in the same city. His luxury and munifi- cence demanded a larger revenue than the Church provided, and to meet this demand he sold indulgences in great numbers all over Europe. This indiscriminate sale of indulgences shocked the moral consciousness of large numbers of people, and was the direct cause that led to the Reformation.

THE FRENCH ALLIANCE. 49

policy of the Medici House, was willing to patch up the quarrel between France and the Papacy. Fer- dinand of Spain wished only to keep things as they were. As he grew older he grew more suspicious, and clung to the power which he possessed. His one dread was lest Charles, the grandson of himself and Maximilian, should demand his maternal heri- tage of Castile. Ferdinand was resolved to keep the two Spanish kingdoms united under his own rule un- til his death, and considered European affairs in the first instance as they were likely to affect that issue. He was of opinion that France was no longer formi- dable to Spanish interests in Italy, while English successes on the Flemish frontier might make Charles more powerful than he wished him to be. Accord- ingly he set to work to undermine Henry's position by making an alliance with France. He was still Henry's ally and had promised him to help him to continue the Avar in the spring of 1514. None the less he entered into secret negotiations with France, and cautiously endeavored to persuade Maximilian to join him. Maximilian was still at war with Venice, and was aggrieved that he was the only member of the plundering gang who had not gained by the League of Cambrai. Ferdinand allured him from his interest in Flanders by the prospect of a renewal of the League 4

50 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

against Venice in his special behalf, and Maximilian was sanguine enough to listen to the temptation. He faintly stipulated that the consent of England should be obtained, but was satisfied with Ferdinand's as- surance that Henry would have no objection to a truce with France. Early in April 1514 a truce for a year was made between Louis XII. , Maximilian, and Ferdinand. Henry found himself tricked by his father-in-law, and abandoned by the ally whom he had largely subsidized, and had greatly benefited.

It is no wonder that Henry was greatly angered at this result, and declared that he would trust no man any more. He had taken the measure of the good faith of European rulers, and had learned the futility of great undertakings for the general welfare. In truth, the difficulty of European politics always lies in the fact that the general welfare can only be pro- moted by the furtherance of particular interests, which threaten in their turn to become dangerous. The interests of the sixteenth century were purely dynastic interests, and seem trivial and unworthy. "We are not, however, justified in inferring that dy- nastic interests, because they are concerned with small arrangements, are in their nature more selfish or more iniquitous than interests which clothe them- selves in more fair-sounding phrases. Their selfish-

THE FRENCH ALLIANCE. 51

ness is more apparent ; it does not follow that it is less profound.

However that may be, the desertion of Maximilian and Ferdinand put a stop to Henry's warlike pro- jects, and restored England to peace. Henry had had enough of fighting other people's battles. He was willing to pursue his own course by the means which others used, and trust henceforth to the blood- less battles of diplomacy. In this new field Wolsey was the English champion, and for the next sixteen years the history of England is the history of Wol- sey's achievements.

"Wolsey's services in the campaign of 1513 gave him a firm hold of the king's favor, and secured for him large rewards. As he was an ecclesiastic his salary was paid out of the revenues of the Church. "When Tournai became an English posses- sion its bishopric was conferred on Wolsey and on a vacancy in the bishopric of Lincoln in the beginning of 1514 that see was given him in addition. How the officers of the Church were in those days used as rewards for service to the State may be seen by the fact that the English representative in Rome was the Archbishop of York, Thomas Bainbridge, who lived as Cardinal in the Papal Court. More- over, an Italian, Silvestro de' Gigli, held the bish-

52 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

opric of "Worcester, though he lived habitually in Eome, and devoted his energies to the furtherance of the interests of England. In July 1514 Cardinal Bainbridge died in Koine, poisoned by one of his servants. The Bishop of Worcester was suspected of being privy to the deed for the purpose of re- moving out of the way a troublesome rival. It would seem, .however, that the murder was prompted by vengeful feelings and the desire to hide pecula- tions. The Pope investigated the charge against the Bishop of Worcester, and he was acquitted; but the story gives a poor picture of morality and secu- rity of life at Eome. On the death of Bainbridge the vacant archbishopric of York was also con- ferred on Wolsey, who was now enriched by the revenues of three sees, and was clearly marked out as the foremost man in England.

He rose to this position solely by the king's favor, as the king alone chose his own ministers and counsellors, and there existed no external pressure which could influence his decisions. The Wars of the Roses had seen the downfall of the baronial power, and Henry VII. had accustomed men to see affairs managed almost entirely by a new class of officials. The ministers and counsellors of Henry VIII. were chosen from a desire to balance the

THE FRENCH ALLIANCE. 53

old and the new system. The remnants of the baronial party were associated with officials, that they might be assimilated into the same class. The Duke of Norfolk, as the greatest nobleman in Eng- land, was powerful, and was jealous of the men with whom he found himself called upon to work. Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, was the per- sonal friend of the king, and shared in his private more than in his public life. The Earl of Surrey had done good service at Flodden Field, and was a man of practical capacity. The other ministers were most of them ecclesiastics. Warham, Arch- bishop of Canterbury, was respected rather than trusted. Fox, Bishop of Winchester, was a capa- ble and painstaking official. Kuthal,* Bishop of Durham, was destitute of real insight, and was content to follow Wolsey's lead. Wolsey won his

* Thomas Ruthall, or Rowthall, bishop of Durham, was educated at Oxford but received his degree of D.D. at Cam- bridge. He was a trusted servant of Henry VII., from whom he received a large number of ecclesiastical preferments. When Buckingham was examined by Henry VIII. , in 1521, Ruthall was present as secretary. A story is told of him, that, being asked to make up an account of the kingdom, he did so ; but accidentally he gave in to the king another account treating of his own property, which was very large. His chagrin over this blunder brought on an illness. The bishop was interested in architecture and education, and he furthered by personal effort both causes. From Dictionary of National Biography,

54 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

way by his political genius, his quickness, and his vast power of detailed work. He owed his posi- tion entirely to the king, and was responsible to him alone. The king consulted his Council only about such matters as he thought fit ; foreign affairs were managed almost entirely according to his own will and pleasure.

The English have never been famous for diplomacy, and Wolsey was ill supplied with agents for his work. The English residents at foreign Courts were not men of mark or position. John Stile at the Court of Ferdinand, and Thomas Spinelly in Flanders seem to have been merchants carrying on their own business. "With Maximilian was a more important man, Sir Eichard Wingfield,* a Suffolk knight, who was too self-satisfied and too dull-witted to under- stand Wolsey 's schemes. For special work special agents had to be sent, who went unwillingly to a thankless and laborious task. They were ill paid

* Sir Richard Wingfield (1469 ?— 1525) was a soldier, states- man, and scholar of eminence in his day. He served his country as ambassador on many occasions. In 1524 he was appointed high steward of the university of Cambridge. Sir Thomas More had received from the university the promise of this position, but at the request of the king he withdrew in favor of Wingaeld. In 1525 Wingfield was sent by Henry VIII., on an important mission to Spain, and he died in the city of Toledo July 22 of that year.

THE FRENCH ALLIANCE. 55

and ill supported ; but even here Wolsey knew how to choose the right men, and he managed to inspire them with his own zeal and tenacity of purpose. It is a striking proof of Wolsey 's genius that he knew whom he could trust, and that his trust was never misplaced.

When Henry VIII. was smarting under his rebuff from Maximilian and Ferdinand, he concerted with Wolsey how he might avenge himself, and Wolsey devised his scheme in entire secrecy. Ferdinand and Maximilian had left England in the lurch by making a truce with France. Wolsey resolved to outdo them in their own lines. They had elected to maintain the existing condition of affairs by checking England's aspirations and lending a cold support to France. Wolsey resolved to turn France into a firm ally, that so England and France united might form a new combination, before which the schemes of Ferdinand would be powerless.

Wolsey luckily had the means of approaching Louis XII. without attracting attention. Amongst the prisoners taken in the Battle of the Spurs * was

* There were two battles that are known as Battles of the Spurs. The one here referred to was the second and less im- portant one. It was fought near Guinegate in 1513, and the result was an easy victory of the English over the French. It is said to have taken its name from the precipitate flight of

56 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

the young Duke of Longueville, a favorite of the French king. He had been sent to London, to the sore disturbance of Queen Katharine, who, being a sensible woman, thought that the best thing to do with a prisoner was to confine him in the Tower. On Henry's return the Duke of Longueville was released, and amused himself at Court like any one else. Through him Wolsey opened up secret com- munications with Louis XII. , whose domestic cir- cumstances luckily gave a handle for "Wolsey's de- signs. In January, 1514, the French queen died; and although the widowed husband had reached the age of fifty -two, it was known that he was looking out for a young bride.

It has always been one of the most revolting features of dynastic politics that the private relation- ships of members of ruling families have been entirely determined by considerations of dynastic expediency. In the sixteenth century this was emi- nently the case. Alliances were family arrange- ments, and corresponded to motives of family ag- grandizement rather than to national interests. They were sealed by marriages, they were broken by divorces. So great were the responsibilities of

the French : that is, their chief weapon of defence was their spurs, or the fleetness of their horses.

THE FRENCH ALLIANCE. 57

royalty that the private life of members of royal houses was entirely sunk in their official position. They were mere counters to be moved about the board at will, and disposed of according to the needs of family politics. Such a victim of circumstances was Henry VIII. 's younger sister, the Princess Mary, a bright and intelligent girl of seventeen. She was betrothed to Charles, Prince of Castile, and it had been arranged that the marriage should take place when he reached the age of fourteen. The time was come for the fulfilment of the promise ; but Ferdinand did not wish to see his troublesome grandson more closely united to England, which had shown such ambitious inclinations. Maximilian, the guardian of Charles, wavered between his desire to please Henry and Ferdinand, and invented one ex- cuse after another for not proceeding with his grand- son's marriage.

Wolsey allowed Maximilian to go on with his shifty talk, and was only too glad to see him fall into the trap. His negotiations with France were progressing, and the outward sign of the new alli- ance was to be the marriage of Mary to Louis XII. So secretly were the arrangements made that Europe was taken by surprise when, at the end of July, it was gradually known that the alliance between

58 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

France and England was an accomplished fact. The marriage contract was soon signed, and in Oc- tober Mary went to Abbeville,* where she was met by her elderly husband.

The result of this clever diplomacy was to secure England the respect and envy of Europe. It was clear that henceforth England was a power which had to be reckoned with. Ferdinand was taught that he could no longer count on using his dutiful son-in-law as he thought most convenient to him- self. Maximilian sadly reflected that if he needed English gold in the future he must show a little more dexterity in his game of playing fast and loose with everybody. Pope Leo X. was not over- pleased at seeing England develop a policy of her

* Mary of France (1496-1533) was the daughter of Henry VII., and Elizabeth of York, and sister of Henry VIII. She consented to wed the elderly and infirm Louis XII. of France, upon the promise that if she survived him she should have her own choice the next time. The period of her married life was less than three months : her wedding oc- curred October 9, 1514, and Louis died on January 1, 1515. She afterwards married Charles Brandon, duke of Suffolk, and by this marriage she was the mother of Frances, who was the mother of the ill-fated Lady Jane Grey.

The town of Abbeville, at which the marriage of Louis XII. and Mary was celebrated, is situated near the coast of the English Channel, about half way between Boulogne and Dieppe. It was one of the gathering places of the crusades. The gorgeous church of St. Walfram was then in process of erection, having been begun in 1488 by Louis XII,

THE FRENCH ALLIANCE. 59

own, and looked coldly on Wolsey. After the death of Cardinal Bainbridge Henry wrote to the Pope and begged him to make Wolsey cardinal in his room. " Such are his merits," said the king, "that I esteem him above my dearest friends, and can do nothing of importance without him. ' ' Leo X. coldly replied that there were great difficulties in the way of creating a cardinal : the title, he re- minded the king, was much sought after, and ad- mitted its bearer to the highest rank : he must wait a more suitable time. It would seem that the Pope wished to have further guarantees of England's good-will, and hinted that Wolsey must give pledges of his good behavior.

England did not long enjoy the diplomatic vic- tory which Wolsey had won by his brilliant scheme of a French alliance. Henry still had a longing for military glory, with which Wolsey had little sym- pathy. He wished to revenge himself on his per- fidious father-in-law, and proposed to Louis XII. an attack upon Navarre, and even thought of claiming a portion of the kingdom of Castile, as rightfully belonging to Queen Katharine. Whatever projects Henry may have had came to an end on the death of Louis on the 1st of January 1515. The elderly bridegroom, it was said, tried too well to humor

60 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

the social disposition of his sprightly bride. He changed his manner of life, and kept late hours, till his health entirely gave way, and he sank under his well-meant efforts to renew the gallantry of youth.

CHAPTEE III.

THE UNIVERSAL PEACE. 1515-1518.

THE death of Louis XII. was a severe blow to Wolsey. The French alliance was not popular in England, and was bitterly opposed by the Duke of Norfolk and the party of the old nobility, who saw with dislike the growing influence of Wolsey. They now had an opportunity of reversing his policy and securing his downfall. It required all Wolsey 's sagacity to devise a means of solving the difficulties Avhich the death of Louis created. The new king of France, Francis I.,* was aged twenty-one, and

* Francis I. (1494-1547) succeeded Louis XII., who was his uncle and his father-in-law, as king of France January 1, 1515. His reign was marked by wars in Italy which, in spite of some brilliant successes, left his power on the whole weaker at the end than when be began. " Super- ficially a man of brilliant parts, Francis had in reality at bot- tom a frivolous, changeable, licentious nature. Nevertheless he greatly fostered learning and art, inviting painters and scholars to his kingdom, founding libraries, opening schools, and building several of the finest palaces in France ; but his

61

62 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

was as ambitious of distinction as was Henry. The treaty between France and England had not yet been carried out, and it would require much dexter- ity to modify its provisions. The kings of the six- teenth century were keen men of business, and never let money slip through their hands. The widowed Queen of France must, of course, return to England, but there were all sorts of questions about her dowry and the jewels which Louis had given her. Henry claimed that she should bring back with her everything to which any title could be urged : Francis I. wished to give up as little as possible. The two monarchs haggled like two hucksters, and neither of them had any care of the happiness or reputation of the young girl round whom they bickered. In the background stood Wolsey's enemies, who saw that if they could create a rupture between France and England Wolsey's influence would be at an end.

In these dangerous conditions Wolsey had to seek an ally in Charles Brandon,* Duke of Suffolk, and

persecution of the Vaudois [or Waldenses] and other Protes- tant sects has left a dark stain on his memory which all his patronage of artists and men of letters will not efface."

* Charles Brandon, the date of whose birth is not even ap- proximately known, was the bearer of the standard of Henry VII. on the field of Bosworth in 1485. He was a great favorite

THE UNIVERSAL PEAC& 63

had to trust to his private knowledge of the char- acter of Queen Mary. She had the strong will of the Tudors, and had also their craving for admira- tion. These two qualities seem to have drawn her in opposite directions. While her marriage with Prince Charles was talked of she professed the great- est admiration for him, and gazed with rapture on a very bad portrait of her intended husband. But this did not prevent her from being attracted by the personal fascinations of the Duke of Suffolk, as "Wolsey knew. When he negotiated the French alliance he had some difficulty in overcoming Mary's repugnance to an old husband ; but she viewed the proposal in a business-like way, and was not indif- ferent to the position of Queen of France. She looked forward to a speedy widowhood, and ex- tracted from Henry a promise that, if she under- took to marry for the first time to please him, she might choose her second husband to please herself. When Mary was free the hopes of the Duke of Suf- folk revived, and Wolsey knowing this, chose him

of Henry VIII. who created him Duke of Suffolk in 1514. He was employed on many diplomatic missions, and commanded the armies that invaded France in the years 1523 and 1544. He died at Guildford, England, in 1545, and although he ex- pressed in his will the desire to be buried at Tattershall, Lincolnshire, the king did him the honor of causing him to be buried at Windsor at his own charge.

64 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

as the best instrument for clearing away the diffi- culties raised by Francis L, and bringing back Mary honorably to England.

Francis, on his side, used his knowledge of the current rumor to extract from Mary her confidences about Suffolk, and with this knowledge approached Suffolk as a friend. By alternately encouraging Suffolk and terrifying Mary he turned Wolsey 's ambassador into an anxious lover. Still Wolsey trusted that Suffolk would the more bestir himself to bring Mary back, and would make such terms with Francis as would commend his suit to Henry. But Wolsey 's enemies led Henry to make exorbi- tant demands, which Francis met by redoubling his persecution of Mary. At last she asked Suffolk to marry her, which he did in secret. After this Francis was free from any further need of concilia- ting Henry, who must take back his sister on any terms, and Wolsey was left to appease Henry as best he could. In April Mary and Suffolk returned to England, and in May the luckless pair were pub- licly married. Wolsey manfully befriended Suffolk in this matter, but the calculations of his diplomacy were hopelessly upset by private feelings and the rashness of passion.

However, Mary received part of her dowry and

THE UNIVERSAL PEACE. 65

some of her jewels. Francis I. had no wish to quarrel with England, but only to make the best terms for himself. He was bent upon gathering laurels in Italy, and on 5th April renewed the alli- ance between France and England. This time, however, the treaty was little more than a truce, and many questions were left untouched ; no men- tion was made of the return of Tournai, and the question of Mary's jewels was left undecided. Francis I. counted on keeping England quiet by an alliance which he formed at the same time with Ferdinand, while he won over the Flemish counsel- lors of Prince Charles, who betrothed himself to the infant daughter of Louis XII. , Eenee, a child of four. Thus he had cleared the way for an expedition to Italy, where he longed to claim for France the Duchy of Milan, that had been won and lost by Louis XII. In July he set out contentedly, know- ing that Henry was powerless to interfere. He treated England with neglect, and gave Henry no information of his movements. England looked on with growing jealousy while Francis crossed the Alps and in September defeated the Swiss merce- naries who held Milan in the name of the lastSforza Duke. The battle of Marignano * (14th Septem-

* Marignano, now called Melegnano, is situated nine miles

5

66 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

ber) was a splendid success for Francis, who there beat back the Swiss infantry, hitherto considered invincible in Europe. The star of France had risen,

south-east of Milan, Italy. It was about noon of the 13th of September that the Swiss, issuing from Milan, came upon the French army. " The king, who was purposing to sit down to supper, left it on the spot and went straight towards the enemy who were already engaged in skirmishing, which lasted a long while before they were at the great game. The king had great numbers of lanzknechts, the which would fain have done a bold deed in crossing a ditch to go after the Swiss ; but these latter let seven or eight ranks cross and then thrust yon them back in such sort that all that had crossed got hurled into the ditch. The said lanzknechts were mighty frightened ; and, but for the aid of a troop of men-at- arms, amongst the which was the good knight Bayard who bore right down through the Swiss, there had been a sad disaster there, for it was now night, and night knows no shame. A band of Swiss came passing in front of the king, who charged them gallantly. There was heavy fighting there and much danger to the king's person, for his great buffalo [that is, the top of the vizor of his helmet, so called because it was made of the leather of buffalo hide] was pierced so as to let in daylight, by the thrust of a pike.

" It was now so late that they could not see one another ; and the Swiss were, for the evening, forced to retire on the one side arid the French on the other. They lodged as they could ; but well I trow that none did rest at ease. The king of France put as good a face on matters as the least of all his soldiers did, for he remained all night a-horseback like the rest. According to some accounts, however, he had a little sleep, lying on a gun carriage. On the morrow at day- break the Swiss were for beginning again, and they came straight towards the French artillery, from wliich they had a good peppering. Howbeit, never did men fight better, and the affair lasted three or four good hours. At last they were broken and beaten, and there were left on the field ten or

THE UNIVERSAL PEACE. 67

and Francis could look round with proud superi- ority.

The princes of Europe were alarmed beyond measure at the completeness of the French success. They had looked with equanimity at the prepara- tions of Francis, because they expected that he would be delayed, or, if he attacked the Swiss, would be defeated. But his rapid march soon con- vinced men that he was in earnest, and especially excited the fear of Pope Leo X. , whose ingenious policy of being secretly allied with everybody was disturbed by this display of unexpected vigor. The alarm of the Pope was useful to Wolsey. It awakened him to the need of making the English king his friend, and fulfilling his desire to have "Wolsey created cardinal. Wolsey had not ceased, through his agent, the Bishop of Worcester, to urge this point upon the Pope, and when Francis was well advanced on his road to Milan the plead- ings of Wolsey were irresistible. < < If the King of England forsake the Pope," wrote Wolsey to the Bishop of Worcester, < c he will be in greater dan- ger on this day two years than ever was Pope

twelve thousand of them. The remainder withdrew in pretty good order along a high-road to Milan, whither they were hotly pursued." [Histoire du bon Chevalier sans Peur et sans Reproche, ii., p. 99 ff.J

68 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

Julius." Leo X. had no wish to run the risks which the impetuous Julius II. faced with unbroken spirit. He prepared to keep himself supplied with allies to protect him against all emergencies, and on 10th September (1515) nominated Wolsey cardinal sole, a special mark of favor, as cardinals were gen- erally created in batches at intervals.

Wolsey 's creation was not popular in the Eoman Court. Cardinal Bain bridge had been overbearing in manner and hasty in temper, and the English were disliked for their outspokenness. England was regarded as a political upstart, and Wolsey was considered to be a fitting emblem of the country which he represented. Moreover, the attitude of England in ecclesiastical matters was not marked by that subservience which the Papacy wished to ex- act, and many doubted the expediency of exalting in ecclesiastical authority an English prelate of such far-reaching views as "Wolsey was known to hold. An official of the Koman Court gives the following account of the current opinion :—

" Men say that an English Cardinal ought not to be created lightly, because the English behave themselves insolently in that dignity, as was shown in the case of Cardinal Bainbridge just dead. Moreover, as Wolsey is the intimate friend of the

THE UNIVERSAL PEACE. 69

king, he will not be contented with the Cardinalate alone, but, as is the custom of these barbarians, will wish to have the office of legate over all England. If this be granted the influence of the Eoman Court will be at an end ; if it be not granted the Cardinal will be the Pope's enemy and will favor France. JBut despite all this the Pope, in whose hands alone the matter was, created him Cardinal on the seventh of September. ' '

This elevation of Wolsey was due to the strong expression of desire on the part of Henry, who fur- ther asked that legatine powers should be given to the new cardinal. This Leo refused for the present ; he had done enough to induce Henry to enter into a secret league for the protection of the Church, which meant a convenient pretext for attacking Francis if he became too powerful in Italy. When this was arranged the red hat was sent to England, and its reception gave Wolsey an opportunity of dis- playing his love for magnificent ceremonial.* On

* ''The ostentation of Wolsey, as far as we may infer from the character of his display, was the result rather of policy than of temperament. He filled the two highest offices in the country, secular and ecclesiastical. He had been raised from the ranks of the people to be chancellor and cardinal. He was surrounded by a proud nobility, with whom he was 'the butcher's cur.' He exhibited the pomp of his high stations to demand the respect which would have been with-

70 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

17th November it was placed on his head by Arch- bishop Warham in Westminster Abbey.

Ceremonial, however splendid, was but an episode

held from his talents and learning, under a cloud of the meanness of his birth. It was an age of display, when the king set the example to his court of the most extravagant splendor, which many of the nobles ruined themselves to imitate. The simplicity of private life, of which More, as chancellor, afterwards furnished so admirable a pattern, was scarcely compatible with Wolsey's great position as an ecclesiastic. He was the representative of the pomp and luxury of Leo X. ; and he had the same exalted ideas as the Pope evinced of bestowing a magnificent patronage upon learning and the arts. « Thus passed the Cardinal,' says Cavendish, ' his life from day to day, and year to year, in such great wealth, joy, and triumph, and glory, having always upon his side the king's especial favor.' But it was not that alone which upheld Wolsey. His position as the greatest of English ecclesiastics commanded the reverence that might have been denied to his civil abilities ; his just administration in his court of equity ; and the extraordinary influence over a despotic king, by which, for so long a period, he preserved him, with one or two exceptions, from any sanguinary course of jealousy or revenge, or any blood-guilty violation of the rights of the people. Wolsey's real worth was duly estimated by More, a very competent judge, who said of his administration of the powers of the great seal, — ' he behaves most beautifully.' Still, the sumptuous churchman commanded a respect which the wise chancellor might scarcely have propitiated. In his hour of misfortune the Duke of Norfolk said to him, ' I regarded your honor, for that ye were archbishop of York, and a cardinal, whose estate of honor surmounted any duke now living within this realm.' It was this reverence to his spiritual dignity which made him capricious and overbearing in his civil relations." Knight, History of England, ii. 278. " The king loaded him with new proofs of his favor. The

THE UNIVERSAL PEACE. 71

in Wolsey's diplomatic business. The news of the French victory at Marignano was so unpleasant that Henry VIII. for some time refused to believe it to be true. When at last it was impossible to doubt any longer, the necessity became urgent to put a spoke in the wheel of Francis I. England was not prepared to go to war with France without allies, and "Wolsey developed his cleverness in attaining his ends by secret means. Nothing could be done by uniting with the cautious Ferdinand ; but the flighty Maximilian was a more hopeful subject. The only troops that could be used against France were the German and Swiss mercenaries, men who made war a trade, and were trained and disciplined soldiers. The first means of injuring France was to prevent her from hiring Swiss soldiers, and the second was

revenues of two sees whose tenants were foreigners fell into his hands ; he held the bishopric of Winchester and the abbacy of St. Albans. He spent this vast wealth with princely ostentation. His pomp was almost royal. A train of prelates and nobles followed him as he moved ; his house- hold was composed of five hundred persons of noble birth, and its chief posts were occupied by knights and barons of the realm. Two of the houses he built, Hampton Court and York House, the later Whitehall, were splendid enough to serve at his fall as royal palaces. [The same might be said of his palace in Rome.] Nor was this magnificence a mere show of power. The whole direction of home and foreign affairs rested with Wolsey alone."

J. R. Green, flistory of the English People, ii. 111.

72 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

to induce Maximilian to undertake an Italian ex- pedition in his own interests. As regards the Swiss, it was merely a matter of money, for they were ready to sell themselves to the highest bidder. In like manner it was easy to subsidize Maximilian, but it was difficult to hold him to his promise and be sure that he would spend the money on the right purpose. Wolsey, however, resolved to try and use Maximilian ; he offered him the aid of a large contingent of the Swiss if he would attack Milan. Knowing the delicacy of the enterprise and the slipperiness of Maximilian, Wolsey entrusted this matter to a man whose pertinacity had been al- ready tried, — Eichard Pace,* secretary of Cardinal

i Richard Pace (1482 ?-15B6) was intimately connected with many of the political and diplomatic movements of his day. In the year 1509 he accompanied Cardinal Bainbridge to Rome, where the latter perished by assassination. In 1515 he was sent to France " on a difficult and somewhat dangerous mission. Henry had become jealous of the growing power of France. Her prestige had been greatly increased by her victory over the Swiss at the battle of Marignano. The Swiss, sore at their repulse, might possibly be induced to attack afresh the forces of Francis I. on their side of the Alps. Pace was entrusted with a limited amount of English gold and unlimited promises . . . Pace's extant letters graphically describe the incidents of his mission : the insatiable greed of the Swiss, the indiscretion of Sir Robert Wingfield, the caprices and embarrassments of Maximilian, which combined to render abortive the scheme of wresting Milan from the French. His negotiations with the Swiss led more than once

THE UNIVERSAL PEACE. 73

Bainbridge, who had stubbornly insisted on an in- vestigation of the circumstances of his master's death, and had annoyed the Eoman Court by his watchful care of his master's effects. Pace was sent to hire soldiers amongst the Swiss, and Wol-

to his imprisonment . . . His tact and untiring energy were duly appreciated at home, and on his return he was duly appointed secretary of state, besides being rewarded with benefices in the Church." In 1519 he was sent to Germany to further the interests of Henry VIII., as candi- date for the imperial throne left vacant by the death of Maximilian, but the plan met with no success. The following year he accompanied his king to the Field of the Cloth of Gold, and at the close of the displays, f eastings, sports, and merry- makings, he preached a sermon on the blessings of peace. In 1521, after the death of Pope Leo X., he was sent to Rome to further the interests of Wolsey as candidate for the vacant papal chair, but this was without substantial result. In 1523, while in Venice, he was engaged in various diplomatic schemes when his health gave way and he was recalled to England. Owing to the continuance of his feeble health he took no further prominent activity in the affairs of state. Lupton says of him that he "was an amiable and accom- plished man. His skill in three learned languages is praised by his contemporaries. He was the friend of More and of Erasmus, and Erasmus in his extant correspondence addresses Pace more frequently than any other correspondent." There is no doubt that Wolsey was jealous of his influence with the king at the time of his recall from Venice. Whether that recall was honestly due to the failure of Pace's health, or whether the condition of health was only a convenient excuse to disguise Wolsey's jealousy, cannot now be certainly known. His nature was so sensitive that it is entirely credible that his prolonged ill-health, lasting over a dozen years, may have been caused by worry over Wolsey's jealousy.

74 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

sey's ingenuity was sorely tried to supply him with money secretly and safely.

The hindrances which beset Pace in carrying out his instructions decorously were very many. Not the least troublesome was the want of intelligence displayed by Sir Kobert Wingfield, the English en- voy to Maximilian. Wingfield belonged to the old school of English officials, honest and industrious, but entirely incapable of finesse. He did not under- stand what Pace was about ; he could not compre- hend Wolsey's hints, but was a blind admirer of Maximilian, and was made his tool in his efforts to get the gold of England and do nothing in return. But Pace was deaf to the entreaties of Maximilian and to the lofty remonstrances of Wingfield. He raised 17,000 Swiss soldiers, who were to serve under their own general, and whose pay was not to pass through Maximilian's hands. Maximilian was sorely disappointed at this result, but led his troops to join the Swiss in an attack on Milan. On 24th March, 1516, the combined army was a few miles from Milan, which was poorly defended, and vic- tory seemed secure. Suddenly Maximilian began to hesitate, and then drew off his forces and retired. We can only guess at the motive of this strange proceeding ; perhaps he had never been in earnest,

THE UNIVERSAL PEACE. f5

and only meant to extract money from England. When Pace refused to pay he probably negotiated with Francis L, and obtained money from him. Anyhow his withdrawal was fatal to the expedition. The Germans at Brescia seized the money which was sent to Pace for the payment of the Swiss. The Swiss in anger mutinied, and Pace was for some days thrown into prison. Maximilian vaguely promised to return, but the Swiss troops naturally disbanded. Such was Maximilian's meanness that he threatened Pace, now deserted and broken by disappointment, that if he did not advance him money he would make peace with France. Pace, afraid to run the risk, pledged Henry VIII. to pay 60,000 florins.* All this time Wingfield was convinced that it was Pace's ill-judged parsimony that had wrought this disaster, and he continued to write in a strain of superior wisdom to Wolsey. He even, at Maximilian's bidding, forged Pace's name to re- ceipts for money. Never was diplomat in more hopeless plight than the unlucky Pace.

Wolsey saw that his plan had failed, but he put a

good face upon his failure. Maximilian enjoyed the

advantage which consummate meanness always gives

for a moment. He put down the failure to niggardli-

* In this case the florin was worth about forty cents.

76 lFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

ness in the supplies, and showed his good-will towards Henry by treating him to fantastic propos- als. If Henry would only cross to Flanders with 6000 men, Maximilian would meet him with his army, set him up as Duke of Milan, and resign the Empire in his favor. This preposterous scheme did not for a moment dazzle the good sense of the Eng- lish counsellors. Pace, in announcing it to Wolsey, pointed out that the Emperor spoke without the consent of the Electors, that Maximilian was thor- oughly untrustworthy, and that Henry in such an enterprise might imperil his hold upon the English Crown, "which," writes Pace with pardonable pride, "is this day more esteemed than the Em- peror's crown and all his empire." Henry was of the same opinion; and Maximilian failed on this plea ' ' to pluck money from the king craftily. ' ' Pace remained, and jingled English money in Maxi- milian's ear, as a means of preventing him from turning to France; but not a penny was Maxi- milian allowed to touch, to Sir Eobert Wingfield's great annoyance. Pace so far succeeded, that when, in November, 1516, Francis I. made an alli- ance with the Swiss, five of the cantons stood aloof. Pace was rewarded for his labors and sufferings by being made a secretary of state. Sir Eobert Wing-

THE UNIVERSAL PEACE. f7

field received a severe rebuke from the king, which sorely disturbed his self-complacency. But it is characteristic of Wolsey's absence of personal feel- ing that Wingfield was not recalled from his post. Wolsey saw that he had been no more foolish than most other Englishmen would have been in his place. Meanwhile a change had taken place in the affairs of Europe which turned the attention of France and England alike in a new direction. Ferdinand the Catholic died in January 1516, and the prepon- derance of France had so alarmed him that he laid aside his plan of dividing the power of the House of Austria by instituting his second grandson, Ferdinand, King of Spain. After the battle of Marignano he changed his will in favor of his eldest grandson, the Archduke Charles, who now added the Spanish kingdoms to his possession of the Netherlands. The young prince had just emancipated himself from the tutelage of Maxi- milian, but was under the influence of ministers who pursued a purely Flemish policy, and longed to give peace to the Netherlands by an alliance with France. England was connected with Flan- ders by commercial interests, and long negotiations had been conducted with the Flemish Govern- ment for a close alliance. But Charles's advisers

78 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

were won over by France, and Charles himself was attracted by the hope of a French marriage. His position was difficult, as he was poor and helpless; he could not even go to take possession of the Spanish Crowns without help from one side or the other. Had he been older and wiser he would have seen that it was safer to accept the gold of Henry VIII. , from whose future projects he had nothing to fear, rather than try and secure a pre- carious peace for the Netherlands by an alliance with France. However, Charles turned a cold ear to the English ambassadors, and his ministers secretly brought about a treaty with France, which was signed at Noyon in August, 1516.

The Treaty of Noyon was a further rebuff to Wolsey, England was passed by in silence, and a tempting bait was laid to draw Maximilian also into the French alliance, and so leave England entirely without allies. Maximilian had been for some time at war with Venice about the possession of the towns of Brescia and Verona. The treaty of No- yon provided that the Venetians should pay the Emperor 200,000 crowns* and remain in possession

* The Austrian crown, which is doubtless the one meant in this treaty, was valued at 24$ cents. The English crown was worth $1.21.

THE UNIVERSAL PEACE. 79

of the disputed territory. Maximilian used this offer to put himself up to auction ; he expressed his detestation of the peace of Noyon, but pleaded that unless Henry came to his help he would be driven by poverty to accept the proffered terms. Henry answered by a proposal that Maximilian should earn the price he fixed upon his services : let him come into the Netherlands, and work the over- throw of the unworthy ministers who gave such evil advice to their sovereign. Maximilian stipu- lated for the allowance which he was to receive for the expenses of a journey to the Netherlands, for which he began to make preparations. He raised all possible doubts and difficulties, and received all the money he could extract on any pretext from Henry VIII. ; at last he secretly signed the Treaty of Noyon in December, and drew his payments from both parties so long as he could keep his game unsuspected.

But Wolsey was not so much deceived as Maxi- milian thought, and showed no discomfiture when Maximilian's shiftiness at length came to light. If Maximilian would not be faithful it was well that his untrustworthiness should be openly shown, and Francis I. , who was watching his manoeuvres, could not feel proud of his new ally. He knew what he

80 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

had to expect from Maximilian when the 200,000 crowns were spent. The money that had been spent on Maximilian was not wasted if it gave him an encouragement to display his feebleness to the full.

So Henry maintained a dignified attitude, and showed no resentment. He received Maximilian's excuses with cold politeness, and waited for Francis I. to discover the futility of his new alliances. Maximilian was clearly of no account. Charles had gained all that he could gain from his League with France towards quieting the Netherlands; for his next step, a journey to Spain, he needed the help of England, and soon dropped his attitude of indif- ference. After thwarting England as much as he could, he was driven to beg for a loan to cover the expenses of his journey, and England showed no petty resentment for his past conduct. The loan was negotiated, Charles's ambassadors were honor- ably received, it was even proposed that he should visit Henry on his way. This honor Charles cau- tiously declined on the ground of ill health ; but all the other marks of Henry's good- will were accepted with gratitude, and in September, 1517, Charles set out on his voyage to Spain, where he found enough to employ his energies for some tune.

THE UNIVERSAL PEACE. 81

This conciliatory attitude of England was due to a perception that the time had come when simple opposition to France was no longer useful. Eng- land had so far succeeded as to prevent the French ascendency from being complete ; she had stemmed the current, had shown Francis I. the extent of her resources, and had displayed unexpected skill. Moreover, she had made it clear that neither she nor France could form a combination sufficiently powerful to enable the one to crush the other, and had given Francis I. a lesson as to the amount of fidelity he might expect from his allies. When it was clear to both sides that there was no hope for far-reaching schemes, it was natural for the two powers to draw together, and seek a reasonable re- dress for the grievances which immediately affected them.

Chief amongst these on the French side was the possession of Tournai by the English, glorious, no doubt, as a trophy of English valor, but of very doubtful advantage to England. Negotiations about its restoration were begun as early as March, 1517, and were conducted with profound secrecy. Of course Charles hoped to get Tournai into his own hands, and did not wish it to be restored to France.

It was necessary to keep him in ignorance of what 6

82 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

was going on, and not till he had sailed to Spain were there any rumors of what was passing.

Wolsey and Henry VIII. deceived the ambassa- dors of Charles and of Venice by. their repeated pro- fessions of hostility against France, and Charles's re- monstrances were answered by equivocations, so that he had no opportunity for interfering till the matter had been agreed upon as part of a close alliance be- tween England and France. The negotiations for this purpose were long and intricate, and form the masterpiece of Wolsey 's diplomatic skill. They were made more difficult by the outbreak in Eng- land of a pestilence, the sweating sickness, before which Henry fled from London and moved uneasily from place to place. Wolsey was attacked by it in June so seriously that his life was despaired of; scarcely was he recovered when he suffered from a second attack, and soon after went on a pilgrimage to Walsingham to perform a vow and enjoy change of air. But with this exception, he stuck manfully to his work in London, where, beside his manifold duties in internal administration, he directed the course of the negotiations with France.

In fact Wolsey alone was responsible for the change of policy indicated by the French alliance. He had thoroughly carried the king with him ; but

THE UNIVERSAL PEACE. 83

he was well aware that his course was likely to be exceedingly unpopular, and that on him would fall the blame of any failure. Henry did not even in- form his Council of his plans. He knew that they would all have been opposed to such a sudden change of policy, which could only be justified in their eyes by its manifest advantage in the end. Wolsey was conscious that he must not only conclude an alliance with France, but must show beyond dispute a clear gain to England from so doing.

Wolsey 's difficulties were somewhat lessened by the birth of an heir to the French Crown in February, 1518. France could now offer, as a guarantee for her close alliance with England, a proposal of marri- age between the Dauphin and Henry's only daughter Mary. Still the negotiations cautiously went on while Wolsey drove the hardest bargain that he could. They were not finished till September, when a numerous body of French nobles came on a splendid embassy to London. Never had such magnificence been seen in England before as that with which Henry VIII. received his new allies. Even the French nobles admitted that it was be- yond their power to describe. Wolsey entertained the company at a sumptuous supper in his house at Westminster, " the like of which," says theVene-

84 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

tian envoy, * < was never given by Cleopatra or Cali- gula, the whole banqueting hall being decorated with huge vases of gold and silver. ' ' After the banquet a band of mummers, wearing visors on their faces, entered and danced. There were twelve ladies and twelve gentlemen, attended by twelve torch-bearers ; all were clad alike c < in fine green satin, all over covered with cloth of gold, undertied together with laces of gold." They danced for some time and then removed their masks, and the evening passed in mirth. Such were the festivities of the English Court, which Shakespeare has produced, accurately enough, in his play of Henry VIII.

But these Court festivities were only preliminary to the public ceremonies whereby Wolsey impressed the imagination of the people. The proclamation of the treaty and the marriage of the Princess Mary by proxy were both the occasions of splendid ceremo- nies in St. Paul's Cathedral. The people were de- lighted, by pageantry and good cheer ; the opposi- tion of old-fashioned politicians was overborne in the prevailing enthusiasm ; and men spoke only of the triumph of a pacific policy which had achieved results such as warfare could not have won. Indeed, the advantages which England obtained were sub- stantial. France bought back Tournai for 600,000

THE UNIVERSAL PEACE. 85

crowns,* and entered into a close alliance with Eng- land, which cut it off from interference in the affairs of Scotland, which was included in the peace so long as it abstained from hostilities. But more im- portant than this was the fact that Wolsey insisted on the alliance between France and England being made the basis of a universal peace. The Pope, the Emperor, the King of Spain, were all invited to join, and all complied with the invitation.

None of them, however, complied with good-will, least of all Pope Leo X. , whose claim to be the of- ficial pacifier of Europe was rudely set aside by the audacious action of Wolsey. Leo hoped that the bestowal of a cardinal's hat had established a hold on Wolsey 's gratitude; but he soon found that he was mistaken, and that his cunning was no match for Wolsey 's force. No sooner had Wolsey ob- tained the cardinalate than he pressed for the fur- ther dignity of papal legate in England. Not un- naturally Leo refused to endow with such an office a minister already so powerful as to be almost inde- pendent ; but Wolsey made him pay for his refusal. Leo wanted money, and the pressure of the Turk on Southern Europe lent a color to his demand of

* If English crowns are intended here, the sum would amount to more than $675,000.

86 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

clerical taxation for the purposes of a crusade. In 1517 he sent out legates to the chief kings of Chris- tendom ; but Henry refused to admit Cardinal Cam- peggio,* saying that "it was not the rule of this

* The legatus a latere (legate from the side) is of two kinds : the first is called ordinary, and governs provinces ; the second is extraordinary, and is sent to foreign countries on extraor- dinary occasions, to all intents and purposes the same as minister plenipotentiary. ' ' Such a legate was entrusted with powers almost as full as those of the Pope himself ; his jurisdiction extended over every bishop and priest, it over- rode every privilege or exemption of abbey or cell, while his court superseded that of Rome as the final court of ecclesias- tical appeal for the realm."

" Lorenzo Campeggio (1472-1539), cardinal, and although a foreigner, bishop of Salisbury, occupied on his second mission to England the utterly unprecedented position of a judge before whom the King of England consented to sue in per- son. . . . He was sent to England as legate to incite Henry VIII. to unite with other princes in a crusade against the Turks. He was detained some time at Calais before being al- lowed to cross, Henry VIII. having insisted with the Pope that his favorite, Cardinal Wolsev, should be invested with equal legatine functions before he landed. ... In 152? he was be- sieged with Pope Clement VII. at Rome, in the castle of St. Angelo. Next year he was sent into England on his most celebrated mission, in which Wolsey was again joined with him as legate, to hear the divorce suit of Henry VIII. against Katharine of Arragon. On this occasion he suffered much, both physically and mentally. He was severely afflicted with gout, and had to be carried about in a Jitter ; and, while he was pledged to the Pope in private not to deliver judgment without referring the matter to Rome, he was pressed by Wolsey to proceed without delay. Some of his ciphered de- spatches from London at this time have been deciphered within the last few years, and show a very creditable deter- mination on his part not to be made the instrument of injus- tice, whatever might be the cost to himself. The cause, as is

THE UNIVERSAL PEACE. 87

realm to admit legates d latere. ' ' Then Wolsey in- tervened and suggested that Campeggio might come if he would exercise no exceptional powers, and if his dignity were shared by himself. Leo was forced to yield, and Campeggio' s arrival was made the oc- casion of stately ceremonies which redounded to Wolsey ' s glorification . Campeggio got little for the crusade, but served to grace the festivities of the French alliance, and afterwards to convey the Pope's adhesion to the universal peace. Wolsey had taken matters out of the Pope's hand, and Leo was driven to follow his lead with what grace he could muster. Perhaps as he sighed over his discomfiture he con- soled himself with the thought that the new peace would not last much longer than those previously made ; if he did, he was right in his opinion.

well known, was revoked to Rome, and so his mission ter- minated. On leaving the kingdom he was treated with singular discourtesy by the officers of customs, who insisted on searching his baggage ; and on his complaining to the king, it was clear that the insult was premeditated, and it was really a petty- minded indication of the royal displeasure. Five years later he was deprived of the bishopric of Salisbury by act of parliament, on the ground that he was an alien and non-resident, though the king had certainly never expected him to keep residence when he gave him the bishopric. He died at Rome in 1539." — James Gairdner, in Dictionary of National Biography. At Nuremberg, in 1524, Campeggio tried to win Luther back to the Catholic Church. At the Diet of Augsburg, in 1530, he advised Charles V. to adopt a relentless policy toward the Protestants of Germany.

CHAPTEE IY.

THE FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD. 1518-1520.

THE object of Wolsey's foreign policy had been attained by the universal peace of 1518. England had been set up as the mediator in the politics of Europe. The old claims of the empire and the papacy had passed away in the conflict of national and dynastic interests, in which papacy and empire were alike involved. England, by virtue of its insular position, was practically outside the objects of immediate ambition which distracted its Conti- nental neighbors ; but England's commercial inter- ests made her desirous of influence, and Henry VIII. was bent upon being an important personage. It was Wolsey's object to gratify the king at the least expense to the country, and so long as the king could be exalted by peaceful means, the good of England was certainly promoted at the same time. The position of England as the pacifier of Europe was one well qualified to develop a national con-

88

THE FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD. 89

sciousness of great duties to perform; and it may be doubted if a country is ever great unless it has a clear consciousness of some great mission.

Wolsey's policy had been skilful, and the results which he had obtained were glorious; but it was difficult to maintain the position which he had won. It was one thing to proclaim a peace ; it was an- other to contrive that peace should be kept. One important question was looming in the distance when Wolsey's peace was signed, — the succession to the empire on Maximilian's death. Unfortu- nately this question came rapidly forward for deci- sion, as Maximilian died suddenly on 12th January, 1519, and the politicians of Europe waited breath- lessly to see who would be chosen as his successor.

The election to the empire rested with the seven electors, the chief princes of Germany ; but if they had been minded on this occasion to exercise freely their right, it would have been difficult for them to do so. The empire had for a century been with the house of Austria, and Maximilian had schemed eagerly that it should pass to his grandson Charles. It is true that Charles was already King of Spain, Lord of the Netherlands, and King of Naples and Sicily, so that it seemed dangerous to increase still further his great dominions. But Charles urged

90 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

his claim, and his great rival, Francis I. of France, entered the lists against him. Strange as it may seem that a French king should aspire to rule over Germany, Francis I. could urge that he was almost as closely connected with Germany as was Charles, whose interests were bound up with those of Spain and the Netherlands. In the face of these two competitors, it was hard for the electors to find a candidate of a humbler sort who would venture to draw upon himself the wrath of their disappoint- ment. Moreover, the task of ruling Germany was not such as to attract a small prince. The Turks were threatening its borders, and a strong man was needed to deal with many pressing problems of its government. The electors, however, were scarcely guilty of any patriotic considerations ; they quietly put up their votes for auction between Francis and Charles, and deferred a choice as long as they could. Both competitors turned for help to their allies, the Pope and the King of England, who found themselves greatly perplexed. Leo X. did not wish to see French influence increased, as France was a dangerous neighbor in Italy ; nor did he wish to see the empire and the kingdom of Naples both held by the same man, for that was against the immemorial policy of the Papacy. So Leo in-

THE FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD. 91

trigued and prevaricated to such an extent that it is almost impossible to determine what he was aiming at. He managed, however, to throw hin- drances in Wolsey's path, though we cannot be sure that he intended to do so.

Wolsey's plan of action was clear, though it was not dignified. Pie wished to preserve England's mediating attitude and give offence to no one; consequently, he secretly promised his help both to Charles and Francis, and tried to arrange that each should be ignorant of his promises to the other. All went well till Leo, in his diplomatic divaga- tions, commissioned his legate to suggest to Henry VIII. that it might be possible, after all, to find some third candidate for the empire, and that he was ready to try and put off the election for that purpose, if Henry agreed. Henry seems to have considered this as a hint from the Pope to become a candidate himself. He remembered that Maxi- milian had offered to resign the empire in his favor, but he forgot the sufficient reasons which had led him to dismiss the proposal as fantastic and absurd. His vanity was rather tickled with the notion of rivalling Charles and Francis, and he thought that if the Pope were on his side, his chances would be as good as theirs.

92 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

We can only guess at Wolsey 's dismay when his master laid this project before him. Whatever Wolsey thought, he knew that it was useless to offer any opposition. However much he might be able to influence the king's opinions in the making, he knew that he must execute them when they were made. If Henry had made up his mind to become a candidate for the empire, a candidate he must be. All that could be done was to prevent his determination from being hopelessly disastrous. So Wolsey pointed out that great as were the ad- vantages to be obtained by gaining the empire, there were dangers in being an unsuccessful candi- date. It was necessary first to make sure of the Pope, and then to prosecute Henry's candidature by fair and honorable means. Francis was spend- ing money lavishly to win supporters to his side ; and Charles was reluctantly compelled to follow his example lest he should be outbid. It would be unwise for Henry to squander his money and simply raise the market price of the votes. Let him make it clear to the greedy Germans that they would not see the color of England's money till the English king had been really elected.

So Wolsey sent the most cautious instructions to his agent in Koine to see if the Pope would take the

THE FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD. 93

responsibility of urging Henry to become a candidate ; but Leo was too cautious, and affected not to under- stand the hint. Then in May, Pace, who was now the king's secretary, was sent to Germany to sound the electors with equal care. He was to approach the elec- tors who were on Francis's side, as though Henry were in favor of Francis, and was to act similarly to those who were in favor of Charles ; then he was to hint cautiously that it might be well to choose some one more closely connected with Germany, and if they showed any acquiescence, was to suggest that Henry was "of the German tongue," and then was to sing his praises. Probably both Pace and Wolsey knew that it was too late to do any- thing serious. Pace reported that the money of France and Spain was flowing on all sides, and was of opinion that the empire was ' c the dearest mer- chandise that ever was sold," and would prove " the worst that ever was bought to him that shall obtain it. ' ' Yet still he professed to have hopes, and even asked for money to enter the lists of cor- ruption. But this was needless, as the election at last proceeded quickly. The Pope came round to the side of Charles as being the least of two evils, and Charles was elected on 28th June.

Thus Wolsey succeeded in satisfying his master's

94 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

demands without committing England to any breach with either of her allies. Henry VIII. could scarcely be gratified at the part that he had played, but "Wolsey could convince him that he had tried his best, and that at any rate no harm had been done. Though Henry's proceedings were known to Francis and Charles, there was nothing at which they could take offence. Henry had behaved with duplicity, but that was only to be expected in those days; he had not pronounced himself strongly against either. The ill-will that had long been sim- mering between Charles V. and Francis I. had risen to the surface, and the long rivalry between the two monarchs was now declared. Each looked for allies, and the most important ally was England. Each had hopes of winning over the English king, and Wolsey wished to keep alive, without satisfy- ing, the hopes of both, and so establish still more securely the power of England as holding the bal- ance of the peace of Europe.

Wolsey 's conduct in this matter throws much light on his relations to the king, and the method by which he retained his influence and managed to carry out his own designs. He appreciated the truth that a statesman must lead while seeming to follow — a truth which applies equally to all f prms

THE FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD. 95

of government. Wolsey was responsible to no one but the king, and so had a better opportunity than has a statesman who serves a democracy to obtain permission to carry out a consecutive policy. But, on the other hand, he was more liable to be thwarted and interrupted in matters of detail by the interference of a superior. Wolsey's far-see- ing policy was endangered by the king's vanity and obstinacy ; he could not ask for time to justify his own wisdom, but was forced to obey. Yet even then he would not abandon his own position and set himself to minimize the inconvenience. It is impossible to know how often Wolsey was at other times obliged to give way to the king and adopt the second-best course; but in this case we find clear indications of the process. When he was driven from his course, he contrived that the deviation should be as unimportant as possi- ble.

Wolsey's task of maintaining peace by English mediation was beset with difficulties now that the breach between Francis I. and Charles V. was clearly made. It was necessary for England to be friendly to both, and not to be drawn by its friendliness to- wards either to offend the other. In the matter of the imperial election English influence had been,

96 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

somewhat on the side of Charles, and Francis was now the one who needed propitiation. The treaty with France had provided for a personal interview between the two kings, and Francis was anxious that it should take place at once. For this purpose he strove to win the good offices of Wolsey . He assured him that in case of a papal election he could com- mand fourteen, votes which should be given in his favor. Moreover, he conferred on him a signal mark of his confidence by nominating him his plenipo- tentiary for the arrangements about the forthcoming interview. By this all difficulties were removed, and Wolsey stood forward before the eyes of Europe as the accredited representative of the kings of Eng- land and France at the same time. It is no wonder that men marvelled at such an unheard-of position for an English subject.

But nothing that Francis had to give could turn Wolsey away from his own path. No sooner did he know that the French interview was agreed upon than he suggested to Charles that it would be well for him also to have a meeting with the English king. The proposal was eagerly accepted, and Wolsey conducted the negotiations about both inter- views side by side. Barely did two meetings cause such a flow of ink and raise so many knotty points.

THE FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD. 97

At last it was agreed that Charles should visit Henry in England in an informal way before the French interview took place. It was difficult to induce the punctilious Spaniards to give way to Wolsey's re- quirements. It was a hard thing for one who bore the high-sounding title of Emperor to agree to visit a King of England on his own terms. But Wolsey was resolute that everything should be done in such a way as to give France the least cause of complaint. When the Spanish envoys objected to his arrange- ments or proposed alterations, he brought them to their bearings by saying, < 4 Yery well ; then do not do it and begone. ' ' They were made to feel their depen- dence on himself. The interview was of their seek- ing, and must be held on terms which he proposed, or not at all. This, no doubt, was felt to be very haughty conduct on Wolsey's part; but he had set on foot the scheme of this double interview, by which Henry was to be glorified and England's mediatorial position assured. It was his business to see that his plan succeeded. So he turned a deaf ear to the offers of the Spanish ambassadors. He was not to be moved by the promise of ecclesiastical revenues in Spain. Even when the influence of Spain was prof- fered to secure his election to the Papacy, he coldly refused. 7

98 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

It has been said that Wolsey was open to bribes, and his seemingly tortuous policy has been accounted for by the supposition that he inclined to the side which promised him most. This, however, is an entire mistake. Wolsey went his own way ; but at the same time he did not disregard his personal profit. He was too great a man to be bribed ; but his greatness entailed magnificence, and magnificence is expensive. He regarded it as natural that sover- eigns who threw work upon his shoulders should make some recognition of his labors. This was the custom of the time ; and Wolsey was by no means singular in receiving gifts from foreign kings. The chief lords of Henry's Court received pensions from the King of France; and the lords of the French Court were similarly rewarded by Henry. This was merely a complimentary custom, and was open and avowed. Wolsey received a pension from Francis L, and a further sum as compensation for the bishopric of Tournai, which he resigned when Tournai was returned to France. In like manner, Charles Y. rewarded him by a Spanish bishopric ; but Wolsey declined the office of bishop, and pre- ferred to receive a fixed pension secured on the rev- enues of the see. This iniquitous arrangement was carried out with the Pope's consent ; and such like

THE FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD. 99

arrangements were by no means rare. They were the natural result of the excessive wealth of the Church, which was diverted to the royal uses by a series of fictions, more or less barefaced, but all tending to the weakening of the ecclesiastical organization. Still the fact remains that Wolsey thought no shame of receiving pensions from Francis and Charles alike ; but there was nothing secret nor extraordinary in this. Wolsey regarded it as only obvious that his statesmanship should be rewarded by those for whom it was exercised ; but the Em- peror and the King of France never hoped that by these pensions they would attach Wolsey to their side. The promise by which they tried to win him was the promise of the Papacy ; and to this "Wolsey turned a deaf ear. « < He is seven times more power- ful than the Pope," wrote the Venetian ambas- sador ; and perhaps Wolsey himself at this time was of the same opinion.

Meanwhile Francis was annoyed when he heard of these dealings with Charles, and tried to coun- teract them by pressing for an early date of his meeting with Henry VIII. It is amazing to find how large a part domestic events were made to play in these matters of high policy when occasion needed. Francis urged that he was very anxious

100 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

for his queen to be present to welcome Katharine ; but she was expecting her confinement, and if the interview did not take place soon she would be un- able to appear. Wolsey replied with equal concern for family affairs, that the Emperor was anxious to visit his aunt, whom he had never seen, and Henry could not be so churlish as to refuse a visit from his wife's relative. Katharine, on her side, was over- joyed at this renewal of intimacy with the Spanish Court, to whose interests she was strongly attached, and tried to prevent the understanding with France, by declaring that she could not possibly have her dresses ready under three months. In her dislike of the French alliance Queen Katharine expressed the popular sentiment. The people had long re- garded France as the natural enemy of England, and were slow to give up their prejudices. The nobles grew more and more discontented with Wol- sey's policy, which they did not care to understand. They only saw that their expectations of a return to power were utterly disappointed; Wolsey, backed by officials such as Pace, was all-powerful, and they were disregarded. Wolsey was working abso- lutely single-handed. It is a remarkable proof of his skill that he was able to draw the king to fol- low him unhesitatingly, at the sacrifice of his per-

THE FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD. 101

sonal popularity, and in spite of the representations of those who were immediately around him.

Moreover, Wolsey, in his capacity of representative of the Kings of England and France, had in his hands the entire management of all concerning the coming interview. He fixed the place with due regard to the honor of England, almost on English soil. The English king was not to lodge outside his own ter- ritory of Calais ; the spot appointed for the meeting was on the meadows between Guisnes and Ardres, on the borderland of the two kingdoms. "Wolsey had to decide which of the English nobles and gen- try were to attend the king, and had to assign to each his office and dignity. The king's retinue amounted to nearly 4000, and the queen's was somewhat over 1000. A very slight knowledge of human nature will serve to show how many people Wolsey must necessarily have offended. If the ranks of his enemies were large before, they must have increased enormously when his arrangements were made known.

Still Wolsey was not daunted, and however much every one, from Francis and Charles, felt aggrieved by his proceedings, all had to obey ; and everything that took place was due to Wolsey 's will alone. The interview with Charles was simple. On 26th

102 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

May, 1520, he landed at Dover, and was met by Wolsey ; next morning Henry rode to meet him and escort him to Canterbury, which was his head- quarters; on the 29th Charles rode to Sandwich, where he embarked for Flanders. What subjects the two monarchs discussed we can only dimly guess. Each promised to help the other if attacked by France, and probably Henry undertook to bring about a joint-conference of the three sovereigns to discuss their common interests. The importance of the meeting lay in its display of friendliness ; in the warning which it gave to France that she was not to count upon the exclusive possession of England's good-will.

No sooner was the Emperor gone than Henry embarked for Calais, and arrived at Guisnes on 4th June. We need not describe again the i l Field of the Cloth of Gold," to furnish which the art of the Renaissance was used to deck medieval pageantry. It is enough to say that stately palaces of wood clothed the barren stretch of flat meadows, and that every ornament which man's imagination could de- vise was employed to lend splendor to the scene. No doubt it was barbaric, wasteful, and foolish; but men in those days loved the sight of magnifi- cence, and the display was as much for the enjoy-

THE FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD. 1Q3

ment of countless spectators as for the self-glorifica- tion of those who were the main actors. In those days the solace of a poor man's life was the oc- casional enjoyment of a stately spectacle ; and after all, splendor gives more pleasure to the lookers-on than to the personages of the show.

Most splendid among the glittering throng was the figure of Wolsey, who had to support the dignity of representative of both kings, and spared no pains to do it to the full. But while the jousts went on, Wolsey was busy with diplomacy ; there were many points relating to a good understanding between France and England, which he wished to arrange, — the projected marriage of the Dauphin with Mary of England, the payment due from France to England on several heads, the relations between France and Scotland and the like. More important than these was the reconciliation of Charles with Francis, which "Wolsey pressed to the utmost of his persuasiveness, without, however, reaching any definite conclusion. Charles was hovering on the Flemish border, ready at a hint from Wolsey to join the conference; but Wolsey could find no good reasons for giving it, and when the festivities came to an end on 24th June, it might be doubted if much substantial good had resulted

104 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

from the interview. No doubt the French and English fraternized, and swore friendship over their cups ; but tournaments were not the happiest means of allaying feelings of rivalry, and the protestations of friendship were little more than lip-deep. Yet "Wolsey cannot be blamed for being over-sanguine. It was at least a worthy end that he had before him, — the removal of long-standing hostility, the settle- ment of old disputes, the union of two neighboring nations by the assertion of common aims and com- mon interests. However we may condemn the methods which "Wolsey used, at least we must admit that his end was in accordance with the most en- lightened views of modern statesmanship.

When Henry had taken leave of Francis, he waited in Calais for the coming of Charles, whose visit to England was understood to be merely pre- liminary to further negotiations. Again Henry held the important position; he went to meet Charles at Gravelines, where he stayed for a night, and then escorted Charles as his guest to Calais, where he stayed from 10th to 14th July. The re- sult of the conference was a formal treaty of alliance between the two sovereigns, which Charles proposed to confirm by betrothing himself to Henry's daugh- ter Mary. As she was a child of four years old.

THE FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD. 105

such an undertaking did not bind him to much ; but Mary was already betrothed to the Dauphin, while Charles was also already betrothed to Charlotte of France, so that the proposal aimed at a double breach of existing relationships and treaties. Henry listened to this scheme, which opened up the way for fur- ther negotiation, and the two monarchs parted with protestations of friendship. It was now the turn of Francis to hang about the place where Henry was holding conference with his rival, in hopes that he too might be invited to their discussions. He had to content himself with hearing that Henry rode a steed which he had presented to him, and that his face did not look so contented and cheerful as when he was on the meadows of Guisnes. In due time he received from Henry an account of what had passed between himself and the Emperor. Henry informed him of Charles's marriage projects, and of his proposal for an alliance against France, both of which Henry falsely said that he had rejected with holy horror.

Truly the records of diplomacy are dreary, and the results of all this display, this ingenious schem- ing, and this deceit seem ludicrously small. The upshot, however, was that Wolsey's ideas still re- mained dominant, and that the position which he

J06 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

had marked out for England was still maintained. He had been compelled to change the form of his policy, but its essence was unchanged. European affairs could no longer be directed by a universal peace under the guarantee of England ; so "Wolsey substituted for it a system of separate alliances with England, by which England exercised a mediating influence on the policy of the two monarchs, whose rivalry threatened a breach of European peace. He informed Francis of the schemes of Charles, that he might show him how much depended on English mediation. He so conducted matters that Charles and Francis should both be aware that England could make advantageous terms with either, that her interests did not tend to one side rather than the other, that both should be willing to secure her good- will, and should shrink from taking any step which would throw her on the side of his adversary. It was a result worth achieving, though the position was precarious, and required constant watchfulness to maintain.*

* " This meeting," writes Guizot, " has remained celebrated in history far more for its royal pomp and for the personal incidents which were connected with it than for its political results. It was called The Field of the Cloth of Gold; and the courtiers who attended the two sovereigns felt bound to almost rival them in sumptuousness, ' insomuch that many bore their mills, their forests, and their meadows on their

1

The meeting of Henry VIII. and Francis I. on Tfie Field of the Cloth of Gold. Page 107. Life of Thomas Wolsey.

THE FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD. 107

backs.' Henry VIII. had employed eleven hundred work- men, the most skilful of Flanders and Holland, in building a quadrangular palace of wood, 128 feet long every way ; on one side of the entrance gate was a fountain, covered with gilding and surmounted by a statue of Bacchus, round which there flowed through subterranean pipes all sorts of wines, and which bore, in letters of gold, the inscription, MAKE GOOD CHEER, WHO WILL ; and on the other side a column, supported by four lions, was surmounted by a statue of Cupid armed with bow and arrows. Opposite the palace was erected a huge figure of a savage wearing the arms of his race, with this inscription chosen by Henry VIII., HE WHOM I BACK WINS. The frontage was covered outside with canvas painted to represent freestone ; and the inside was hung with rich tapestries. Francis I., emulous of equaling his ro}ral neighbor in magnificence, had ordered to be erected close to Ardres an immense tent, upheld in the middle by a colossal pole firmly fixed in the ground and with pegs and cordage all around it. Outside, the tent in the shape of a dome, was covered with cloth of gold ; and inside, it represented a sphere with a ground of blue velvet and studded with stars like the firmament. At each angle of the large tent was a small one, equally richly decorated. But before the two sovereigns exchanged visits, in the midst of all these preparations, there arose a violent hurricane which tore up the pegs and split the cordage of the French tent, scattered them over the ground and forced Francis I. to take up his quarters in an old castle near Ardres. When the two kings' two chief councillors, Cardinal Wolsey on one side and Admiral Bonniveton the other, had regulated the formalities, on the 7th of June, 1520, Francis I. and Henry VIII. set out on their way at the same hour and the same pace for their meeting in the valley of Ardres, where a tent had been prepared for them."

The meeting of the two kings is described by Miss Pardoe in the following words : " The Due de Bourbon, as Connetable of France, bore his drawn sword in front of his sovereign, which Henry VIII. no sooner remarked than he desired the Marquis of Dorset, who carried his own sword of state, to unsheath it in like manner ; and this done, the monarch*

108 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

rode into the valley, where they at length met face to face at the head of two of the most brilliant assemblages of nobility which had ever been seen in Europe. For a brief instant, both paused as they surveyed each other with astonishment and admiration ; for they were at that period, beyond all parallel, the two most comely princes in Christendom. Fran- cis was the taller and the more slender of the two ; and was attired in a vest of cloth of silver damasked with gold, and edged with a border of embossed work in party-colored silks. Over this he wore a cloak of brocaded satin, with a scarf of gold and purple crossing over one shoulder, and buttoned to the waist, richly set with pearls and precious stones ; while his long hair escaped from a coif of damasked gold set with diamonds, and gave him a noble and graceful appearance which his splendid horsemanship, and handsome, although strongly defined, features, his bushy whiskers, and ample mustache, tended to enhance.

" Henry, on his side, wore a vest of crimson velvet slashed with white satin, and buttoned down the chest with studs composed of large and precious jewels ; and his round velvet toque or hat was surmounted by a profuse plume which floated on the wind, save where it was confined by a star of brilliants. His figure, although more bulky than that of his brother monarch, was still well proportioned ; his movements were elastic and unembarrassed ; and his face attractive from the frankness of its expression, the singular brightness of his eyes, and the luxuriance of his hair and beard, which he wore in a dense fringe beneath his chin, and which was at that period less red than golden.

" The mutual scrutiny of the two young sovereigns lasted only a moment ; in the next they were in each other's arms, each straining from the saddle to embrace his brother mon- arch. The horse of Henry swerved for an instant, impatient of the impediment, but the hand of Francis firmly grasped the rein which its rider had suffered to escape him ; and after a renewed exchange of courtesies, the attendant equerries were summoned to hold the stirrups of their royal masters as they alighted. On gaining their feet, the two kings ex- changed another embrace ; and then, arm-in-arm, they pro-

THE FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD. 109

ceeded to the pavilion of audience, followed each by his selected witnesses."

If the reader desires a further description of this gorgeous, but nearly useless, spectacle, he is referred to a remarkably picturesque passage in " Monk and Knight: an Historical Study in Fiction," by Dr. Frank W. Gunsaulus.

CHAPTER Y.

THE CONFERENCE OF CALAIS. 1520-1521.

THE most significant point in the mediatorial policy of "VVolsey was the fact that it threw the Papacy entirely into the shade. What Wolsey was doing was the traditional business of the Pope, who could not openly gainsay a policy which he was bound to profess coincided with his own. So Leo X. followed Wolsey's lead of keeping on good terms with France and the Emperor alike; but Leo had no real wish for peace. He wished to gain something in Italy for the Medici, and nothing was to be gained while France and Spain suspended hostilities. Only in time of war could he hope to carry out his own plans by 'balancing one combat- ant against the other. Charles's ambassador was not wrong in saying that Leo hated Wolsey more than any other man ; and Leo tried to upset his plans by drawing nearer to the imperial side.

110

THE CONFERENCE OF CALAIS. HI

It required very little to provoke war between Francis and Charles ; either would begin the attack if the conditions were a little more favorable, or if he could secure an ally. But Charles was weak owing to the want of unity of interest in his un- wieldy dominions. Germany was disturbed by the opinions of Luther ; * Spain was disturbed by a re-

* Martin Luther (1483-1546) was the originator and leader of the German reformation. He was born at Eisleben, the son of a miner, and was very poor. While in the university of Erfurt, he manifested absorbing interest in the solitary copy of the Bible that was in the library, chained there for safe-keeping. An experience of a dangerous illness, and the sudden death of a friend who was killed by a stroke of light- ning, touched his conscience, and he vowed to give himself to the monastic life. Accordingly in 1505 he entered the Augustinian monastery at Erfurt. He was later appointed professor of philosophy in the university of Wittenberg. In 1510 he visited Rome, and the luxury and vice which he saw abounding in that city, where he had imagined everything to be holy and apostolic, were a great shock to his feelings, and he more fully adopted the theology of Augustine, from whom the monastic order derived its name, and especially the cardinal principle of salvation by faith. In 1517 one Tetzel, a commissioner of Pope Leo X., was selling indulgences in a way that roused all of Luther's indignation ; for, in order to increase the sale of his spiritual wares, Tetzel claimed that these indulgences absolved the purchasers from all conse- quences of sin, both here and hereafter. Following the customs of the universities of the day, Luther wrote out ninety-five theses in opposition to the doctrine of indulgences, posted them upon the door of the church, offering to defend the same in public debate against all comers. This may be called the beginning of Protestantism, for it was the most conspicuous and emphatic protest of that age against the

112 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

volt of the cities against long-standing misgovern- ment. Charles was not ready for war, nor was Francis much better provided. His coffers were

doctrines and practices of the Catholic Church. The opening of this question involved Luther in violent controversies.

Luther was summoned to Rome to answer charges of heresy, but he refused to go. The Pope issued a bull con- demning Luther's teachings, but Luther, in the presence of a great crowd of professors, students, and others, ostentatiously burned the bull and with it the decretals and canons relating to the Pope's supreme authority. The breach between him and the authorities of the Church was now too wide to be re- paired. He was summoned for trial before the Diet of Worms. Though warned that it would be unsafe for him to go, he sturdily replied, " Though the devils in Worms were as thick as the tiles on the roofs, yet I would go ! " When called upon to recant, he refused to do so unless it could be shown from the Scriptures that he was in error. " Thereon I stand," he said, "and cannot do otherwise. God help me. Amen."

On his return from Worms he was captured by a band of masked men who confined him in the castle of Wartburg. This was an act of his friends, who adopted this device as a means of protecting him. He remained in that castle nearly a year, which gave him time to push forward his work of translating the Scriptures into the German tongue, and to arrange his system of theology. Luther's translation of the Bible is regarded as the fixing of the standard of German literature. In 1525, having previously withdrawn from the monastic order, he married Catharine von Bora, an ex-nun.

The influence of Luther's teachings spread rapidly over the neighboring countries of Europe, including Denmark, Sweden. Moravia, and Bohemia. But the Protestants were weak in neglecting to present a united front against the Catholic power. The German reformers did not act in unison with the followers of Zwingli in Switzerland, or the Hugue- nots of France ; while the Pope, on the other hand, was al-

THE CONFERENCE OF CALAIS. H3

empty through his lavish expenditure, and his Government was not popular. Really, though both wished for war, neither was prepared to be the ag- gressor; both wanted the vantage of seeming to fight in self-defence.

It was obvious that Charles had made a high bid for the friendship of England when he offered him- self as the husband of the Princess Mary. Wolsey had taken care that Francis was informed of this offer, which necessarily led to a long negotiation with the imperial Court. Really Charles's mar- riage projects were rather complicated ; he was be- trothed to Charlotte of France; he had made an offer for Mary of England ; but he wished to marry Isabella of Portugal for no loftier reason than the superior attractions of her dowry. His proposal for Mary of England was prompted by nothing save the

ways able to command the full powers and resources of the Church. This is the real cause of the arrest of the progress of the Reformation.

Luther died at Eisleben in the sixty-third year of his age. Since his death, the Protestants of Europe have held their own, but they have made little progress territorially. An indirect but most important result of his influence is the moral and spiritual improvement of the Catholic Church which, in the period of more than 350 years that have elapsed since his time, has never again sunk to a moral level so low as it maintained at that time. While other influences were at work, much of this beneficent result is undoubtedly due to the emphatic protest of Luther and his followers. 8

114 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

desire to have Henry as his ally against France ; if he could manage by fair promises to induce Henry to go to war his purpose would be achieved, and he could still go in quest of the Portuguese dower. So when Tunstal, the Master of the Bolls, went as English envoy to discuss the matter, Charles's Coun- cil raised all sorts of difficulties. Let the English king join a league with the Pope and the Emperor against France; then the Pope would grant his dispensation, which was necessary, owing to the relationship between Charles and Mary. Tunstal was bidden by Wolsey to refuse such conditions. England would not move until the marriage had been concluded, and would not join in any league with the Pope till his dispensation was in Henry's hand. The separate alliance of England and the Emperor must be put beyond doubt to England's satisfaction before anything else could be consid- ered. Wolsey commissioned Tunstal to adopt a lofty tone. " It would be great folly," he says, " for this young prince, not being more surely set- tled in his dominions, and so ill-provided with treas- ure and good councillors, the Pope also being so brittle and variable, to be led into war for the pleasure of his ministers." Truly Wolsey thought he had taken the measure of those with whom he

THE CONFERENCE OF CALAIS. H5

dealt, and spoke with sufficient plainness when oc- casion needed. But Charles's chancellor, Gatti- nara, a Piedmontese, who was rising into power, was as obstinate as Wolsey, and rejected the Eng- lish proposals with equal scorn. " Your master," he said to Tunstal, " would have the Emperor break with France, but would keep himself free; he behaves like a man with two horses, one of which he rides, and leads the other by the hand. ' ' It was clear that nothing could be done, and Wol- sey with some delight recalled Tunstal from his em- bassy. The closer alliance with the Emperor was at an end for the present; he had shown again that England would only forego her mediating position on her own terms.

At the same time he dealt an equal measure of rebuff to France. Before the conference at Guisnes Francis had done some work towards rebuilding the ruined walls of Ardres * on the French frontier. After the conference the work was continued till England resented it as an unfriendly act. Francis was obliged to give way, and order the building to stopped. Neither Francis nor Charles were allowed

* Ardres is a small village about ten miles south-east of Calais. Near it was the Field of the Cloth of Gold. Its pop- ulation at present is a little over 2,000.

116 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

to presume on the complacency of England, nor use their alliance with her to further their own pur- poses.

The general aspect of affairs was so dubious that it was necessary for England to be prepared for any emergency, and first of all Scotland must b secured as far as possible. Since the fall of Jaine^ IY. at Flodden Field, Scotland had been internally unquiet. Queen Margaret gave birth to a son a few months after her husband's death, and, to se- cure her position, took the unwise step of marrying the Earl of Angus. The enemies of Angus and the national party in Scotland joined together to demand that the Regency should be placed in firmer hands, and they summoned from France the Duke of Albany,* a son of the second son of James

* Queen Margaret's second marriage took place August 6, 1514, or within a year of the battle of Flodden Field where her husband, James IV., was slain. "The Scottish Lords," says Froude, ' ' could not tolerate in one of themselves the position of husband of the regent, and a second parliament immediately pronounced her deposition, and called in as her successor the late king's cousin, the Duke of Albany, who, in the event of the deaths of the two princes, stood next in blood to the crown. Albany, who had lived from his infancy on the continent, — French in his character and French in his sympathies, — brought with him a revolution inimical in every way to English interests. His conduct soon gave rise to the greatest alarm. The royal children were taken from the custody of their mother, who with her husband was obliged

THE CONFERENCE OF CALAIS.

.III., who had been born in exile, and was French in all the traditions of his education. When Albany came to Scotland as Regent, Queen Margaret and Angus were so assailed that Margaret had to flee to England for refuge, 1515, leaving her son in

to find refuge for a time in England ; and the Duke of Roth- say, the younger of the two, dying immediately after, sus- picions of foul play were naturally aroused. The prince was openly said to have been murdered ; the remaining brother, who remained between Albany and the crown, it was ex- pected would soon follow ; and a tragedy would be repeated which England as well as Scotland had too lately witnessed [i.e. the death of the princes who were murdered in the Tower by order of Richard III.] . . . The Queen sent warning [to the Scottish nobles through Surrey] that the life of the young king was in danger. In the beginning of December it was expected either that he would be poisoned or that Albany would carry him away to France. On the 27th a stormy council was held at Stirling, where Albany attempted his usual shift in difficulty, and required five months' leave of absence to go to Paris. This time the nobles refused to be left to bear the consequences of the regent's weakness. If he went again his departure should be final ; nor should he depart at all unless the French garrisons were withdrawn. The duke, * in marvelous great anger and foam,' agreed to remain ; but his cause sank daily and misfortunes thickened about him. He was without the means to support the French auxiliaries. They were obliged to shift as they could for their own security. Some escaped to their own country ; others, sent away in unseaworthy vessels, were driven among the Western Islands, engaged in piracy, and were destroyed in detail. At length, for the last time, on the 20th May, [1524] Albany turned his back upon the country with which he had connected himself only to his own and others' misery. He sailed away, and came again no more.

118 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

Albany's care. She stayed in England till the middle of 1517, when she was allowed to return to Scotland on condition that she took no part in public affairs. About the same time Albany returned to France, somewhat weary of his Scottish charge. By his alliance with Francis Henry contrived that Albany should not return to Scotland ; but he could not contrive to give his sister Margaret the political wisdom which was needed to draw England and Scotland nearer together. Margaret quarrelled with her husband Angus, and only added another element of discord to those which previously ex- isted. The safest way for England to keep Scot- land helpless was to encourage forays on the Border. The Warden of the Western Marches, Lord Dacre of Na worth, was admirably adapted to work with Wolsey for this purpose. Without breaking the formal peace which existed between the two nations, he developed a savage and syste- matic warfare, waged in the shape of Border raids, which was purposely meant to devastate the Scot- tish frontier, so as to prevent a serious invasion from the Scottish side. Still Henry VIII. was most desirous to keep Scotland separate from France ; but the truce with Scotland expired in November, 1520. Wolsey would gladly have turned the truce into a

THE CONFERENCE OF CALAIS. 119

perpetual peace; but Scotland still clung to its French alliance, and all that Wolsey could achieve was a prolongation of the truce till 1522. He did so, however, with the air of one who would have preferred war ; and Francis I. was induced to urge the Scots to sue for peace, and accept as a favor what England was only too glad to grant.

At the same time an event occurred in England which showed in an unmistakable way the deter- mination of Henry to go his own way and allow no man to question it. In April, 1520, the Duke of Buckingham, one of the wealthiest of the English nobles, was imprisoned on an accusation of high treason. In May he was brought to trial before his peers, was found guilty, and was executed. The charges against him were trivial if true; the wit- nesses were members of his household who bore him a grudge. But the king heard their testimony in his Council, and committed the duke to the Tower. None of the nobles of England dared differ from their imperious master. If the king thought fit that Buckingham should die, they would not run the risk of putting any obstacle in the way of the royal will. Trials for treason under Henry VIII. were mere formal acts of registration of a decision already formed.

120 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

The Duke of Buckingham, no doubt, was a weak and foolish man, and may have done and said many foolish things. He was in some sense justi- fied in regarding himself as the nearest heir to the English throne if Henry left no children to succeed him. Henry had been married for many years, and as yet there was no surviving child save the Prin- cess Mary. It was unwise to talk about the suc- cession to the Crown after Henry's death ; it was criminal to disturb the minds of Englishmen who had only so lately won the blessings of internal peace. If the Duke of Buckingham had really done so, he would not be undeserving of punish- ment ; but the evidence against him was slight, and its source was suspicious. No doubt Buckingham was incautious, and made himself a mouthpiece of the discontent felt by the nobles at the French alli- ance and their own exclusion from affairs. No doubt he denounced Wolsey, who sent him a mes- sage that he might say what he liked against him- self, but warned him to beware what he said against the king. It does not seem that Wolsey took any active part in the proceedings against the Duke, but he did not do anything to save him. The matter was the king's matter, and as such it was regarded by all. The nobles, who probably

THE CONFERENCE OF CALAIS. 121

agreed with Buckingham's opinions, were unani- mous in pronouncing his guilt; and the Duke of Norfolk, with tears streaming down his cheeks, con- demned him to his doom. The mass of the people were indifferent to his fate, and were willing that the king should be sole judge of the precautions necessary for his safety, with which the internal peace and outward glory of England was entirely identified. Charles and Francis stood aghast at Henry's strong measures, and were surprised that he could do things in such a high-handed manner with impunity. If Henry intended to let the states- men of Europe know that he was not to be diverted from his course by fear of causing disorders at home he thoroughly succeeded. The death of Bucking- ham was a warning that those who crossed the king's path and hoped to thwart his plans by petu- lant opposition were playing a game which would only end in their own ruin.*

* " In 1515, when Giustiniani, the Venetian ambassador was at court, the Dukes of Buckingham, of Suffolk, and of Norfolk, were also mentioned to him as having each of them hopes of the crown. Buckingham, meddling prema- turely in the dangerous game, lost his life for it." — FROUDE.

"In the spring of 1521, the world was startled by the arrest, trial, and execution (11 May) of the Duke of Buckingham for treason. As the crime imputed to him, even in the indict- ment, was mainly that he listened to prophecies of the king's

122 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

Free from any fear of opposition at home, Wol- sey could now give his attention to his difficult task abroad. Charles V. had been crowned at Aachen, and talked of an expedition to Rome to receive the imperial crown. Francis I. was preparing for a campaign to assert the French claims on Milan. Meanwhile he wished to hamper Charles without openly breaking the peace. He stirred up a band of discontented barons to attack Luxembourg, and aided the claimant to the crown of Navarre to enter his inheritance. War seemed now inevitable ; but Wolsey remained true to his principles, and urged upon both kings that they should submit their dif- ferences to the mediation of England. Charles was busied with the revolt of the Spanish towns, and was not unwilling to gain time. After a show of reluctance he submitted to the English proposals ; but Francis, rejoicing in the prospect of success in Luxembourg and Navarre, refused on the ground that Charles was not in earnest. Still Francis was afraid of incurring England's hostility, and quailed before Wolsey's threat that if France refused medi- ation, England would be driven to side with the

death and his own succession to the crown, his fate proved the king's excessive jealousy and power. From that day the mobility were completely cowed." — GAIRDNEK.

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Emperor. In June, 1521, he reluctantly assented to a conference to be held at Calais, over which Wol- sey should preside, and decide between the pleas urged by representatives of the two hostile mon- archs.

If "Wolsey triumphed at having reached his goal, his triumph was of short duration. He might dis- play himself as a mediator seeking to establish peace, but he knew that peace was well-nigh im- possible. While the negotiations were in progress for the conference which was to resolve differences, events were tending to make war inevitable. When Wolsey began to broach his project, Francis was desirous of war and Charles was anxious to defer it ; but Charles met with some success in obtaining promises of help from Germany in the Diet of Worms,* and when that was over, he heard welcome

* " On the 6th of January, 1521, Charles assembled his first diet at Worms, where he presided in person ... In order to direct the affairs of the empire during the absence of Charles, a council of regency was established ... At the same time an aid of 20,000 foot and 4,000 horse was granted, to accompany the emperor in his expedition to Rome ; but the diet endeavored to prevent him from interfering, as Maximilian had done, in the affairs of Italy, by stipulating that these troops were only to be employed as an escort, and not for the purpose of aggression." — COXE.

The most important fact about this diet was the appearance before it cf Martin Luther, who was summoned to answer charges of heresy. See above, p. Ill, note,

124 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

news which reached him gradually from all sides. The revolt of the Spanish towns was dying away ; the aggressors in Luxembourg had been repulsed ; the troops of Spain had won signal successes in Navarre. His embarrassments were certainly dis- appearing on all sides. More than this, Pope Leo X. , after long wavering, made up his mind to take a definite course. No doubt he was sorely vexed to find that the position which he hankered after was occupied by England ; and if he were to step back into the politics of Europe, he could not defer a de- cision much longer. He had wavered between an alliance with France and Venice on the one side, or with the Emperor on the other. The movement of Luther in Germany had been one of the questions for settlement in the Diet of Worms, and Luther had been silenced for a time. Leo awoke in some degree to the gravity of the situation, and saw the advantage of making common cause with Charles, whose help in Germany was needful. Accordingly he made a secret treaty with the Emperor for mu- tual defence, and was anxious to draw England to the same side. The religious question was begin- ning to be of importance, and Francis I. was regarded as a favorer of heretics, whereas Henry YIII. was strictly orthodox, was busy in suppress-

THE CONFERENCE OF CALAIS. 125

ing Lutheran opinions at home, and was preparing his book which should confute Luther forever.*

Another circumstance also greatly affected the at- titude of Charles, the death of his minister Chtevres, who had been his tutor in his youth, and continued to exercise great influence over his actions. Charles was cold, reserved, and ill-adapted to make friends. It was natural that one whom he had trusted from his boyhood should sway his policy at the first. Chievres was a Burgundian, whose life had been spent in saving Burgundy from French aggression, and the continuance of this watchful care was his chief object till the last. His first thought was for Burgundy, and to protect that he wished for peace with France and opposed an adventurous policy. On his death in May, 1521, Charles V. entered on a new course of action. He felt himself for the first

* Luther had published a book entitled The Babylonian Captivity. In reply to this Henry VIII. published, in 1521, his Defence of the Sacraments, which was translated into the German and " filled the whole Christian world with joy and admiration." In recognition of this work, the Pope reward- ed the English king with the title of Fidei Defensor, Defender of the Faith. The initial letters F.D. are stamped on all the coins of Great Britain to this day, though the sovereigns are no longer defenders of the faith in the sense intended by Leo X. It may be added that Luther published a rejoinder in which he called his opponent a fool and described him as the Pharaoh of England.

126 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

time his own master, and took his responsibilities upon himself. He seems to have admitted to him- self that the advice of Chi6vres had not always been wise, and he never allowed another minister to gain the influence Chi6vres had possessed. He contented himself with officials who might each represent some part of his dominions, and whose advice he used in turns, but none of whom could claim to direct his policy as a whole.

Chief of these officials was a Savoyard, Mercu- rino della Gattinara, whose diplomatic skill was now of great service to the Emperor. Gattinara was a man devoted to his master's interests, and equal to Wolsey in resoluteness and pertinacity. Hitherto Wolsey had had the strongest will amongst the statesmen of Europe, and had reaped all the advan- tages of his strength. In Gattinara he met with an opponent who was in many ways his match. It is true that Gattinara had not Wolsey's genius, and was not capable of Wolsey 's far-reaching schemes ; but he had a keen eye to the interests of the mo- ment, and could neither be baffled by finesse nor overborne by menaces. His was the hand that first checked Wolsey 's victorious career.

So it was that through a combination of causes the prospects of peace suddenly darkened just as

THE CONFERENCE OF CALAIS. 127

"Wolsey was preparing to stand forward as the mediator of Europe. Doubtless he hoped, when first he put forward the project of a conference, that it might be the means of restoring his original design of 1518, a European peace under the guaran- tee of England. Since that had broken down he had been striving to maintain England's influence by separate alliances ; he hoped in the conference to use this position in the interests of peace. But first of all the alliance with the Emperor must be made closer, and the Emperor showed signs of de- manding that this closer alliance should be pur- chased by a breach with France. If war was in- evitable, England had most to gain by an alliance with Charles, to whom its friendship could offer substantial advantages, as England, in case of war, could secure to Charles the means of communicat- ing between the Netherlands and Spain, which would be cut off if France were hostile and the Channel were barred by English ships. Moreover the prospect of a marriage between Charles and the Princess Mary was naturally gratifying to Henry ; while English industry would suffer from any breach of trading relations with the Netherlands, and the notion of war with France was still popular with the English.

128 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

So Wolsey started for Calais at the beginning of August with the intention of strengthening Eng- land's alliance with the Emperor, that thereby Eng- land's influence might be more powerful. Charles on the other hand was resolved on war ; he did not wish for peace by England's mediation, but he wished to draw England definitely into the league between himself and the Pope against France. Wolsey knew that much depended on his own cleverness, and nerved himself for the greatest cau- tion, as Francis was beginning to be suspicious of the preparations of Charles, and the attitude of affairs was not promising for a pacific mediation.

This became obvious at the first interview of Wolsey with the imperial envoys, foremost amongst whom was Gattinara. They were commissioned to treat about the marriage of Charles with the Princess Mary, and about a secret undertaking for war against France ; but their instructions contained nothing tending to peace. The French envoys were more pacific, as war was not popular in France.

On 7th August the conference was opened under Wolsey's presidency; but Gattinara did nothing save dwell upon the grievances of his master against France ; he maintained that France had been the ag- gressor in breaking the existing treaty ; he had no

THE CONFERENCE OF CALAIS. 129

powers to negotiate peace or even a truce, but de- manded England's help, which had been promised to the party first aggrieved. The French retorted in the same strain, but it was clear that they were not averse to peace, and were willing to trust to Wolsey's mediation. Wolsey saw that he could make little out of Gattinara. He intended to visit the Emperor, who had come to Bruges for the purpose, as soon as he had settled with the impe- rial envoys the preliminaries of an alliance ; now he saw that the only hope of continuing the conference lay in winning from Charles better terms than the stubborn Gattinara would concede. So he begged the French envoys to remain in Calais while he vis- ited the Emperor and arranged with him personally for a truce. As the French were desirous of peace, they consented.

On 16th August Wolsey entered Bruges in royal state, with a retinue of 1000 horsemen. Charles came to the city gate to meet him and receive him almost as an equal. Wolsey did not dismount from his horse, but received Charles's embrace seated. He was given rooms in Charles's palace, and the next day at church Charles sat by Wolsey 's side and shared the same kneeling stool with him. Their private conferences dealt solely with the accord be- 9

130 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

tween England and the Emperor. Wolsey saw that it was useless to urge directly the cause of peace, and trusted to use for this purpose the advantages which his alliance would give. He succeeded, however, in considerably modifying the terms which had been first proposed. He diminished the amount of dowry which Mary was to receive on her mar- riage, and put off her voyage to the Emperor till she should reach the age of twelve, instead of seven, which was first demanded. Similarly he put off the period when England should declare war against France till the spring of 1523, though he agreed that if war was being waged between Francis and Charles in November, England should send some help to Charles. Thus he still preserved England's freedom of action, and deferred a rupture with France. Every one thought that many things might happen in the next few months, and that England was pledged to little. Further, Wolsey guarded the pecuniary interests of Henry by insisting that if France ceased to pay its instalments for the purchase of Tournai, the Emperor should make good the loss. He also stipulated that the treaty should be kept a profound secret, so that the proceed- ings of the conference should still go on.

Wolsey was impressed by Charles, and gave a

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true description of his character to Henry: " For his age he is very wise and understanding his affairs, right cold and temperate in speech, with assured manner, couching his words right well and to good purpose when he doth speak. ' J We do not know what was Charles's private opinion of Wolsey. He can scarcely have relished Wolsey's lofty manner, for Wolsey bore himself with all the dignity of a representative of his king. Thus, the King of Den- mark, Charles's brother-in-law, was in Bruges, and sought an interview with Wolsey, who answered that it was unbecoming for him to receive in his chamber any king to whom he was not commissioned ; if the King of Denmark wished to speak with him, let him meet him, as though by accident, in the garden of the palace.

When the provisions of the treaty had been drafted, Wolsey set out for Calais on 26th August, and was honorably escorted out of Bruges by the Emperor himself. On his return the business of the conference began, and was dragged on through three weary months. The imperial envoys natu- rally saw nothing to be gained by the conference except keeping open the quarrel with France till November, when Henry was bound to send help to the Emperor if peace were not made. Wolsey re-

132 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

mained true to his two principles : care for English interests, and a desire for peace. He secured pro- tection for the fishery of the Channel in case of war, and he cautiously strove to lead up both parties to see their advantage in making a truce if they could not agree upon a peace. It was inevitable that these endeavors should bring on "Wolsey the suspi- cions of both. The French guessed something of the secret treaty from the warlike appearance which England began to assume, and cried out that they were being deceived. The imperial envoys could not understand how one who had just signed a treaty with their master, could throw obstacles in their way and pursue a mediating policy of his own. Keally both sides were only engaged in gaining time, and their attention was more fixed upon events in the field than on any serious project of agreement.

When in the middle of September the French arms won some successes, Gattinara showed himself inclined to negotiate for a truce. The conference, which hitherto had been merely illusory, suddenly became real, and Wolsey 's wisdom in bargaining that England should not declare war against France till the spring of 1523 became apparent. He could urge on Gattinara that it would be wise to agree to

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a truce till that period was reached ; then all would be straightforward. So Wolsey adjourned the public sittings of the conference, and negotiated privately with the two parties. The French saw in a year's truce only a means of allowing the Em- peror to prepare for war, and demanded a sub- stantial truce for ten years. Wolsey used all his skill to bring about an agreement, and induced Gattinara to accept a truce for eighteen months, and the French to reduce their demands to four years. But Charles raised a new difficulty, and claimed that all conquests made in the war should be given up. The only conquest was Fontarabia, on the border of Navarre, which was still occupied by the French. Francis not unnaturally declined to part with it solely to obtain a brief truce, as Charles had no equivalent to restore. Wolsey used every argument to induce the Emperor to withdraw his claim ; but he was obstinate, and the conference came to an end. It is true that Wolsey tried to keep up appearances by concluding a truce for a month, that the Emperor might go to Spain and consult his subjects about the surrender of Fontarabia.

So Wolsey departed from Calais on 25th Novem- ber, disappointed and worn out. As he wrote him-

134: LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

self, c < I have been so sore tempested in mind by the untowardness of the chancellors and orators on every side, putting so many difficulties and obstacles to condescend to any reasonable conditions of truce and abstinence of war, that night nor day I could have no quietness nor rest." There is no doubt that Wolsey wrote what he felt. He had labored hard for peace, and had failed. If he hoped that the labors of the conference might still be continued by his diplomacy in England, that hope was de- stroyed before he reached London. On 1st Decem- ber the imperial troops captured Tournai, which they had been for some time besieging, and news came from Italy that Milan also had fallen before the forces of the Emperor and the Pope. Charles had seemed to Wolsey unreasonable in his obstinacy. He had refused a truce which he had every motive of prudence for welcoming ; and now events proved that he was justified. Not only had Francis been foiled in his attempts to embarrass his rival, but suc- cess had followed the first steps which Charles had taken to retaliate. The time for diplomacy was past, and the quarrel must be decided by the sword.

So "Wolsey saw his great designs overthrown. He was a peace minister because he knew that Eng-

THE CONFERENCE OF CALAIS. 135

land had nothing to gain from war. He had striven to keep the peace of Europe by means of England's mediation, and his efforts had been so far successful as to give England the first place in the councils of Europe. But Wolsey hoped more from diplomacy than diplomacy could do. Advice and influence can do something to check the outbreak of war when war is not very seriously designed ; but in proportion as great interests are concerned, at- tempts at mediation are useless unless they are backed by force. England was not prepared for war, and had no troops by whom she could pretend to enforce her counsels. When the two rival powers began to be in earnest, they admitted England's mediation only as a means of involving her in their quarrel. Wolsey was only the first of a long series of English ministers who have met with the same disappoint- ment from the same reason. England in Wolsey's days had the same sort of interest in the affairs of the Continent as she has had ever since. Wolsey first taught her to develop that interest by pacific counsels, and so long as that has been possible, Eng- land has been powerful. But when a crisis comes England has ever been slow to recognize its inevi- tableness ; and her habit of hoping against hope for peace has placed her in an undignified attitude for

136 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

a time, has drawn upon her reproaches for duplicity, and has involved her in war against her will.

This was now the net result of Wolsey's endeavors, a result which he clearly perceived. His efforts of mediation at Calais had been entirely his own, and he could confide to no one his regret and his disap- pointment. Henry was resolved on war when Wol- sey first set forth, and if Wolsey had succeeded in making a truce, the credit would have been entirely his own. He allowed Henry to think that the con- ference at Calais was merely a pretext to gain time for military preparations ; if a truce had been made he would have put it down to the force of circumstan- ces ; as his efforts for a truce had failed, he could take credit that he had done all in his power to establish the king's reputation throughout Christendom, and had fixed the blame on those who would not follow his advice. It is a mark of Wolsey's conspicuous skill that he never forgot his actual position, and never was so entirely absorbed in his own plans as not to leave himself a ready means for retreat. His schemes had failed ; but he could still take credit for having furthered other ends which were contrary to his own. Henry was well contented with the results of Wol- sey's mission, and showed his satisfaction in the cus- tomary way of increasing Wolsey's revenues at the

THE CONFERENCE OF CALAIS. 137

expense of the Church. The death was announced of the Abbot of St. Albans, and the king, in answer to Wolsey's request, ordered the monks to take Wplsey for their abbot, saying, ' < My lord cardinal has sustained many charges in this his voyage, and hath expended £10,000." So kings were served, and so they recompensed their servants.

CHAPTEE VL

THE IMPERIAL ALLIANCE. 1521-1523.

THE failure of Wolsey's plans was due to the diplomacy of Gattinara and to the obstinacy of Charles Y. , who showed at the end of the negotia- tions at Calais an unexpected readiness to appreciate his obligations towards his dominions as a whole, by refusing to abandon Fontarabia lest thereby he should irritate his Spanish subjects. It was this capacity for large consideration that gave Charles Y. his power in the future ; his motives were hard to discover, but they always rested on a view of his entire obligations, and were dictated by reasons known only to himself. Even Wolsey did not un- derstand the Emperor's motives, which seemed to him entirely foolish. He allowed himself to take up a haughty position, which deeply offended Charles, who exclaimed angrily, ' c This cardinal will do everything his own way, and treats me as

138

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though I were a prisoner." Charles treasured up his resentment, of which Wolsey was entirely un- conscious, and was determined not to allow so mas- terful a spirit to become more powerful.

He soon had an opportunity of acting on this determination, as the unexpected death of Pope Leo X. on 1st December naturally awakened hopes in Wolsey 's breast. It was impossible that the fore- most statesman in Europe should not have had the legitimate aspiration of reaching the highest office to which he could attain. But though Wolsey was ready when the opportunity came to press his own claims with vigor, it cannot be said with fairness that his previous policy had been in anyway di- rected to that end, or that he had swerved in the least from his own path to further his chances for the papal office. Indeed he had no reason for so doing, as Leo was only forty-six j^ears old when he died, and his death was entirely unforeseen. More- over, we know that when the Spanish envoys offered Wolsey the Emperor's help towards the Papacy in 1520, Wolsey refused the offer; since then Charles at Bruges had repeated the offer with- out being asked. Now that a vacancy had arisen, it was natural for Wolsey to attach some weight to this promise, and Henry expressed himself warmly

140 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

in favor of Wolsey's election, and urged his im- perial ally to work by all means for that end. He sent to Rome his favorite secretary Pace to further it by pressing representations to the cardinals.

It does not seem that Wolsey was very sanguine in his expectations of being elected. Leo X. had died at a moment of great importance for Charles Y. ; in fact his death had been brought about by the imprudence which he showed in manifesting his delight at the success of the imperial arms against Milan, and his prospect of the overthrow of France. It was necessary for Charles that a Pope should be elected who would hold to Leo's policy, and would continue the alliance with England. The man who held in his hand the threads of Leo X.'s numerous intrigues was his cousin, Cardinal Giulio de' Medici, and Wolsey admitted the advantages to be gained by his election. Wolsey at once declared that he submitted his candidature to the decision of Henry VIII. and the Emperor ; if they thought that he was the best person to promote their interests he would not shrink from the labor; but he agreed that if his candidature were not likely to be accept- able to the cardinals, the two rnonarchs should unite in favor of Cardinal Medici. Charles's ambassador wrote him that it would be well to act carefully, as

THE IMPERIAL ALLIANCE.

Wolsey was watching to see how much faith he could put in the Emperor's protestations of good- will.

So Charles was prepared, and acted with ambigu- ous caution. He put off communicating with Henry as long as he could ; he regretted that he was in the Netherlands instead of Germany, whence he could have made his influence felt in Rome ; he secretly ordered his ambassador in Eome to press for the election of Cardinal Medici, but gave him no definite instructions about any one else ; finally he wrote a warm letter in favor of Wolsey, which he either never sent at all, or sent too late to be of any use, but which served as an enclosure to satisfy Henry YIIL Wolsey was not deceived by this, and knew how papal elections might be influenced. He told the Spanish ambassador that, if his master were in earnest, he should order his troops to ad- vance against Rome, and should command the cardi- nals to elect his nominee; he offered to provide 100,000 * ducats to cover the expenses of such ac- tion. When it came to the point Wolsey was a very practical politician, and was under no illusions about the fair pretences of free choice which sur- rounded a papal election. He treated it as a matter * $228,000.

142 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

to be settled by pressure from outside, according to the will of the strongest. There is something re- voltingly cynical in this proposal. No doubt many men thought like Wolsey, but no one else would have had the boldness to speak out. Wolsey 's out- spokenness was of no avail at the time, but it bore fruits afterwards. He taught Henry VIII. to con- ceive the possibility of a short way of dealing with refractory popes. He confirmed his willing pupil in the belief that all things may be achieved by the resolute will of one who rises above prejudice and faces the world as it is. When he fell he must have recognized that it was himself who trained the arm which smote him.

In spite of "Wolsey's advice Charles did not allow Spanish influence to be unduly felt in the proceed- ings of the conclave. Karely had the cardinals been more undecided, and when they went into the conclave on 27th December, it was said that every one of them was a candidate for the Papacy. The first point was to exclude Cardinal Medici, and it could be plausibly urged that it was dangerous to elect two successive popes from the same family. Medici's opponents succeeded in making his election impossible, but could not agree upon a candidate of their own ; while Medici tried to bring about the

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election of some one who would be favorable to the Emperor. At last in weariness the cardinals turned their thoughts to some one who was not present. Wolsey was proposed, and received seven votes; but Medici was waiting his time, and put forward Cardinal Adrian of Utrecht, who had been Charles's tutor, and was then governing Spain in his master's name. Both parties agreed on him,* chiefly be-

* " No man could be more earnest than was Adrian VI. in his desire to ameliorate the grievous condition into which Christendom had fallen at his accession . . . But to reform the world is not so light a task ; the good intentions of an in- dividual, however high his station, can do but little towards such a consummation. . . . The Pope could make no step to- wards reform without seeing himself assailed by a thousand difficulties. . . . Adrian was in Rome a stranger by birth, nation, and the habits of his life, to the element in which he was called on to act ; this he could not master because it was not familiar to him he did not comprehend the concealed im- pulses of its existence. He had been welcomed joyfully, for the people told each other that he had some five thousand vacant benefices to bestow, and all were willing to hope for a share. But never did a Pope show himself more reserved in this particular. Adrian would insist on knowing to whom it was that he gave appointments and intrusted with offices. He proceeded with scrupulous conscientiousness, and disap- pointed innumerable expectations. By the first decree of his pontificate he abolished the reversionary rights formerly an- nexed to ecclesiastical dignities ; even those which had already been conceded, he revoked. The publication of this edict in Rome could not fail to bring a crowd of enemies against him. Up to his time a certain freedom of speech and of writing had been suffered to prevail in the Roman court : this he would no longer tolerate. The exhausted state of the

144 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

cause he was personally unknown to any of the cardinals, had given no offence, was well advanced in years, and was reckoned to be of a quiet dis- position, so that every one had hopes of guiding his counsels. It was clear that the imperialists were strongest in the conclave, and of all the im- perialist candidates Adrian was the least offensive to the French. One thing is quite clear, that Charles V. had not the least intention of helping "Wolsey.

Wolsey probably knew this well enough, and was not disappointed. He bore the Emperor no ill-will for his lukewarmness ; indeed he had no ground for expecting anything else. Wolsey 's aim was not the same as that of Charles, and Charles had had sufficient opportunity to discover the difference between them. Probably Wolsey saw that the alli-

papal exchequer, and the numerous demands OD it, obliged him to impose new taxes. This was considered intolerable on the part of one who expended so sparingly. Whatever he did was unpopular and disapproved. He felt this deeply, and it reacted on his character ... It becomes obvious that not to Adrian personally, must it be solely attributed, if his times were so unproductive of results. The papacy was en- compassed by a host of conflicting claimants — urgent and overwhelming difficulties that would have furnished infinite occupation, even to a man more familiar with the medium of action, better versed in men, and more fertile in expedients, than Adrian VI."— VON RANKE.

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ance between England and the Emperor would not be of long duration, as there was no real identity of interests. Henry VIII. was dazzled for a mo- ment with the prospect of asserting the English claims on France ; he was glad to find himself at one with his queen, who was overjoyed at the pros- pect of a family alliance with her own beloved land of Spain. The English nobles rejoiced at an opportunity to display their prowess, and hoped in time of war to recover the influence and position of which they had been deprived by an upstart priest. The sentiment of hostility to France was still strong amongst the English people, and the allurements of a spirited foreign policy were many. But as a mat- ter of fact England was ill prepared for war ; and though the people might throw up their caps at first, they would not long consent to pay for a war which brought them no profits. And the profits were not likely to be great, for Charles had no wish to see England's importance increased. He desired only English help to achieve his own purposes, and was no more trustworthy as an ally than had been his grandfather Ferdinand.

However, war had been agreed upon, and all that Wolsey could do was to try and put off its dec- laration until he had secured sufficient assurance 10

146 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

that English money was not to be spent to no pur- pose. Charles Y., who was in sore straits for money, asked for a loan from England, to which Wolsey answered that England could not declare war till the loan was repaid. He insisted that no declaration of war should be made till the Emperor had fulfilled his promise to pay a visit to England, a promise which Charles's want of money rendered him unable for some time to keep.

But however much Wolsey might try to put off the declaration of war, it was inevitable. Francis could not be expected, for all Wolsey 's fine promises, to continue his payments for Tournai to so doubtful an ally as Henry, nor could he resist from crippling England as far as he could. The Duke of Albany went back to Scotland; and in the beginning of May Francis ordered the seizure of goods lying at Bordeaux for shipment to England. This led to re- taliation on the part of England, and war was de- clared against France on 28th May, 1522.

This coincided with the visit of Charles Y. to London, where he was magnificently entertained for a month, while the treaty of alliance was being finally brought into shape by Wolsey and Gattinara. Wolsey contented himself with providing that the alliance did not go further than had been agreed at

THE IMPERIAL ALLIANCE.

Bruges, and that England1 s interests were secured by an undertaking from Charles that he would pay the loss which Henry VIII. sustained by the with- drawal of the French instalments for TournaL When the treaty was signed it was Wolsey who, as papal legate, submitted both princes to ecclesiastical censures in case of a breach of its provisions. More- over, Charles granted Wolsey a pension of 9000 crowns * in compensation for his loss from Tournai, and renewed his empty promise of raising him to the Papacy.

It was one thing to declare war and another to carry it on with good effect. England, in spite of all the delays which Wolsey had contrived to inter- pose, was still unprepared. It was late in the autumn before forces could be put in the field, and the troops of Charles V. were too few for a joint undertaking of any importance. The allies content- ed themselves with invading Picardy, where they committed useless atrocities, burning houses, devasta- ting the country, and working all the mischief that they could. They did not advance into the center of France, and no army met them in the field ; in the middle of October they retired ingloriously. It is hard to discover the purpose of such an expedi- * $108,900.

148 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

tion. The damage done was not enough to weaken France materially, and such a display of barbarity was ill suited to win the French people to favor Henry YIII.'s claim to be their rightful lord. If Francis I. had been unpopular before, he was now raised to the position of a national leader whose hel- was necessary for the protection of his subjects.

The futile result of this expedition caused mutual recriminations between the new allies. The imper- ialists complained that the English had come too late ; the English answered that they had not been properly supported. There were no signs of mutual confidence; and the two ministers, Wolsey and Gattinara, were avowed enemies, and did not con- ceal their hostility. The alliance with the Emperor did not show signs of prospering from the begin- ning.

The proceedings of the Earl of Surrey and the direction of the campaign were not Wolsey's con- cern. He was employed nearer home, in keeping a watchful eye on Scotland, which threatened to be a hindrance to Henry YIII.'s great undertakings abroad. The return of the Duke of Albany in De- cember, 1521, was a direct threat of war. Albany was nominally regent, but had found his office troublesome, and had preferred to spend the last

THE IMPERIAL ALLIANCE. 149

five years in the gaieties of the French Court rather than among the rugged nobles of Scotland. They were years when France was at peace with England and had little interest in Scottish affairs ; so Queen Margaret might quarrel with her husband at leisure, while the Scottish lords distributed themselves be- tween the two parties as suited them best. But when war between France and England was ap- proaching, the Duke of Albany was sent back by Francis I. to his post as agent for France in Scot- tish affairs. Queen Margaret welcomed him with joy, hoping that he would further her plan of gain- ing a divorce from the Earl of Angus. Before this union of forces the English party in Scotland was powerless. It was in vain that Henry VIII. tried by menaces to influence either his sister or the Scot- tish lords. As soon as the English forces sailed for France Albany prepared to invade England.

It was lucky for Henry VIII. that he was well served on the Borders by Lord Dacre of Na worth, who managed to- show the Scots the measure of Albany's incapacity. Dacre began negotiations with Albany, to save time; and when, in Sep- tember, the Scottish forces passed the Border, Albany was willing to make a truce. As a matter of fact, England was totally unprepared to repel an

150 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

»

invasion, and Albany might have dictated his own terms. But Dacre, in Carlisle, which he could not defend, maintained his courage, and showed no signs of fear. He managed to blind Albany to the real state of affairs, and kept him from approaching to the crumbling walls of Carlisle. He advanced to the Debatable Land to meet him, and " with a high voice" demanded the reason of his coming; and the parley thus begun ended in the conclusion of a month's truce. Wolsey was overjoyed at this re- sult, but yet found it necessary to intercede with the king for Dacre' s pardon, as he had no authority to make terms with the enemy; and Dacre w^as not only forgiven, but thanked. This futile end to an expedition for which 80,000 soldiers had been raised ruined Albany's influence, and he again retired to France at the end of October.

"Wolsey at once saw the risk which England had run. A successful invasion on the part of the Scots would have been a severe blow to England's mili- tary reputation ; and Wolsey determined to be se- cure on the Scottish side for the future. The Earl of Surrey, on his return from his expedition in France, was put in charge of the defences of the Border, and everything was done to humor Queen ^Margaret, and convince her that she had more to

THE IMPERIAL ALLIANCE. 151

gain from the favor of her brother than from the help of the Duke of Albany. Moreover, Wolsey, already convinced of the uselessness of the war against France, was still ready to gain from it all that he could, and strove to use the threat of danger from Scotland as a means of withdrawing from war and gaining a signal triumph. Francis I., unable to defend himself, tried to separate his enemies, and turned to Charles V. with offers of a truce. When this was refused, he repeated his proposals to England, and Wolsey saw his opportunity. He represented to Charles that so long as England was menaced by Scotland she could send little effective help abroad ; if Scotland were crushed she would be free again. He suggested that the Emperor had little to win by military enterprises undertaken with such slight preparation as the last campaign ; would he not make truce for a year, not comprehending the realm of Scotland ?

The suggestion was almost too palpable. Gatti- nara answered that Henry wished to use his forces for his private advantage, and neglected the com- mon interest of the alliance. Again bitter com- plaints were made of Wolsey 's lukewarmness. Again the two allies jealously watched each other lest either should gain an advantage by making a

152 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

separate alliance with France. And while they were thus engaged the common enemy of Christen- dom was advancing, and Rhodes fell before the Turkish arms. It was in vain that Adrian VI. lamented and wept ; in vain he implored for suc- cors. Fair promises alone were given him. Europe was too much intent on the duel between Francis and Charles to think seriously of anything else. The entreaties of the Pope were only regarded by all parties as a good means of enabling them to throw a decent veil over any measure which their own interests might prompt. They might declare that it was taken for the sake of the holy war ; they might claim that they had acted from a desire to fulfil the Pope's behest.

So things stood in the beginning of 1523, when an unexpected event revived the military spirit of Henry VIII., and brought the two half-hearted allies once more closely together, by the prospect which it afforded of striking a deadly blow at France. The chief of the nobles of France, the sole survivor of the great feudatories, the Constable of Bourbon, was most unwisely affronted by Francis I. , at a time when he needed to rally all his sub- jects round him. Not only was Bourbon affronted, but also a lawsuit was instituted against him, which

THE IMPERIAL ALLIANCE. 153

threatened to deprive him of the greater part of his possessions. Bourbon, who could bring into the field 6000 men, did not find his patriotism strong enough to endure this wrong. He opened up se- cret negotiations with Charles, who disclosed the matter to Henry. Henry's ambition was at once fired. He saw Francis I. , hopelessly weakened by a defection of the chief nobles, incapable of with- standing an attack upon the interior of his land, so that the English troops might conquer the old prov- inces which England still claimed, and victory might place upon his head the crown of France.

Wolsey was not misled by this fantastic prospect, but as a campaign was imminent, took all the pre- cautions he could that it should be as little costly as possible to England, and that Charles should bear his full share of the expense. He demanded, more- over, that Bourbon should acknowledge Henry VIII. as the rightful King of France — a demand which was by no means acceptable to Charles. He sent an envoy of his own to confer with Bourbon, but his envoy was delayed on the way, so that the agreement was framed in the imperial interests alone, and the demands of Henry were little heeded. The agreement was that Bourbon should receive the hand of one of the Emperor's sisters, and should

154 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

receive a subsidy of 200,000 crowns* to be paid equally by Henry and Charles ; the question of the recognition of Henry as rightful King of France was to be left to the decision of the Emperor.

The plan of the campaign was quickly settled. Charles, with 20,000 men, was to advance into Guienne; Henry, with 15,000 English, supported by 6000 Ketherlanders, was to advance through Picardy ; 10,000 Germans were to advance through Burgundy; and Bourbon was to head a body of dissatisfied nobles of France. It was an excellent plan on paper ; and, indeed, the position of France seemed hopeless enough. Francis I. had squan- dered his people's money, and was exceedingly un- popular; Wolsey's diplomacy had helped to win over the Swiss to the imperial alliance ; and the in- defatigable secretary Pace had been sent to Venice to detach the republic from its connection with France. It was believed that "Wolsey was jealous of Pace's influence with Henry VIII., and con- trived to keep him employed on embassies which removed him from the Court. At all events, he certainly kept him busily employed till his health gave way under the excessive pressure. To lend greater weight to Pace's arguments, Wolsey de- *$ 242,000.

THE IMPERIAL ALLIANCE. 155

scended to an act of overbearing insolence. Some Venetian galleys trading with Flanders put in at Plymouth during a storm ; they were laid under an embargo, and were detained on many flimsy pretexts. It was in vain that the Venetian ambassador re- monstrated ; Wolsey always had a plausible answer. Probably he wished to show Venice that its trading interests required the friendship of England. At all events the galleys were not released till Venice was on the point of joining the imperial alliance. Even then "Wolsey had the meanness to carry off a couple of guns from each vessel, and Venice had to make a present of them to the English king with as much grace as the circumstances allowed. This little incident certainly shows Wolsey 's conduct at its worst, and confirms the impression of contem- poraries, that he had to some degree the insolence of an upstart, and sometimes overrode the weak in a way to leave behind a bitter feeling of resent- ment.

However, Venice joined the Emperor, and Pope Adrian VI., who had pursued hitherto a policy of pacification, was at last overborne by the pressure of England and the Emperor, so that he entered into a defensive league against France. Thus France was entirely isolated. Distrusted at home

156 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

and unbefriended abroad, she seemed to be a prey to her enemies; and Henry's hopes rose so high that he gleefully looked forward to being recognized as " governor of France," and that "they should by this means make a way for him as King Bich- ard did for his father." Wiser men shook their heads at the king's infatuation. " I pray God," wrote More to Wolsey, " if it be good for his Grace and for this realm that then it may prove so ; and else in the stead thereof I pray God send his grace an honorable and profitable peace."*

* Sir Thomas More (1480?— 1535) was one of the most illustrious Englishmen of his times, eminent as a man of letters, a statesman, and a wit. In the university of Oxford, where he was educated, he was one of the first Englishmen to study the Greek language, and he had also the good for- tune to form there a lasting friendship with Erasmus. After leaving Oxford he studied law, but at this time he was " seized with a violent access of devotional rapture," and, resolving to become a monk, he spent several years as a lay brother in a convent in London. While in the convent he pursued vigorously the study of the classics, the French language, and, for recreation, music. In the practice of the law he rose rapidly to distinction. His first notable act of political leadership was in parliament when he led the opposi- tion against the demand of Henry VII. for an extravagant subsidy upon the occasion of the marriage of the king's daughter. The monarch, enraged at being " thwarted by a beardless boy," sought vengeance ; and this he found in maliciousl}r prosecuting More's father, imprisoning him in the tower, and fining him heavily. More was about to seek safety in flight in foreign parts, when the death of his royal enemy removed his anxiety.

THE IMPERIAL ALLIANCE. 157

The spirit that breathes through this prayer is not a martial spirit, and no doubt More's feelings rep- resented those of Wolsey, who, though carried

Upon the accession of Henry VIII., More's talents were brought into the royal service. He commanded the highest confidence both of the king and of Cardinal Wolsey. He was frequently sent on embassies, and was appointed to various high offices in rapid succession. About the year 1516 he wrote his most famous work, Utopia, meaning " Nowhere" modeled somewhat after Plato's Republic. In this he de- scribes an imaginary island in the sea, where the ideal laws are a model for England.

Upon the fall of Wolsey, More was appointed lord chan- cellor. Though he was hostile to the teachings of Luther, and even wrote a treatise attacking the great reformer, his administration of the government was just and he was in- dulgent towards the Protestants. Erasmus declared that no Protestant was put to death for "these pestilent dogmas" while More was lord chancellor. Certain it is that he was not responsible for such persecution as then prevailed.

In the year 1532, Sir Thomas resigned the great seal be- cause he could not conscientiously sanction Henry's divorce from Katharine. Henry was loath to give him up, and sent him a special invitation to attend the coronation of Anne Boleyn, and with it the gift of £20 to purchase clothes for the occasion. More, refusing to attend the ceremony, was marked out for the royal vengeance. He refused to accept the act of supremacy, which parliament passed in 1534, making Henry the head of the church. Nor would he con- sent to the act of succession which excluded the daughter of Katharine from the throne in favor of the issue of Anne Boleyn. This was with him a matter of conscience. He was arrested upon the charge of constructive high treason and imprisoned in the tower for more than a year. At his trial he would have been acquitted had it not been for the perjury of orie Rich, solicitor general, who quitted the bar and offered himself as witness for the crown, and swore that

158 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

away by the king's military zeal, had little hopes of any great success, and such hopes as he had were rapidly destroyed. The campaign did not begin till the end of September; the contingent from the Netherlands was late in appearing and was ill sup- plied with food. Till the last moment Wolsey urged, as the first object of the campaign, the siege of Boulogne, which, if successful, would have given England a second stronghold on the French coast ; but Wolsey was overruled, and an expedition into the interior of France was preferred. It was a rep- etition of the raid made in the last year, and was equally futile. The army advanced to Montdidier,

in private conversation he had heard Sir Thomas say that parliament could not make the king supreme head of the church. He was thereupon condemned to be beheaded. His wit could not be suppressed even at the grewsome act of his execution. "The scaffold," says Froude, "had been awk- wardly erected, and shook as he placed his foot upon the ladder. ' See me safe up,' he said to Kingston ; ' for my coming down I can shift for myself.' . . . The fatal blow was about to fall when he signed for a moment's delay, while he moved aside his beard. ' Pity that should be cut,' he mur- mured; 'that has not committed treason.' With which strange words, — the strangest perhaps ever uttered at such a time, — the lips most famous through Europe for eloquence and wisdom closed for ever."

Of More's History of Richard III., written about 1513, Hallam says: "It appears to me the first example of good English language, pure and perspicuous, well chosen, with- Out vulgarisms or pedantry."

THE IMPERIAL ALLIANCE. 159

and expected tidings of its confederate ; but nothing was to be heard of Bourbon ; his lanzknechts began to devastate France and then disbanded. The army of Charles Y. contented itself with taking Fontarabia, and did not co-operate with the Eng- lish forces. After the capture of Montdidier the troops, who were attacked by sickness, and had difficulty in finding provisions, withdrew to the coast ; and the Duke of Suffolk brought back his costly army without having obtained anything of service to England. This expedition, which was to do so much, was a total failure — there was positively nothing to be shown in return for all the money spent.

Again the wisdom of Wolsey's policy was fully justified. He was right in thinking that England had neither troops nor generals who were sufficient for an expedition on the Continent, where there was nothing tangible to be gained. So long as England was a neutral and mediating power she could pursue her own interests ; but her threats were more efficacious than her performances. She could not conquer unaided, and her allies had no intention of allowing her to win more than empty glory. Even this had been denied in the last campaigns. England had incurred debts which her people could

160 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

ill afford to pay, and had only lowered her reputa- tion by a display of military incompetence. More- over, her expedition against France involved her in the usual difficulties on the side of Scotland. Again there was a devastating war along the Border; again the Duke of Albany was sent from France and raised an army for the invasion of England. But this time Wolsey had taken his precautions, and the Earl of Surrey was ready to march against him. When in November Albany crossed the Tweed and besieged the Castle of Wark, Surrey took the field, and again Albany showed his incapacity as a leader. He retired before Surrey's advance, and wished to retire to France, but was prevented by the Scottish lords. Again the Border raids went on with their merciless slaughter and plunder, amidst which was developed the sternness and severity which still mark the character of the northern folk.

Still, though the Scots might be defeated in the field, their defeat and suffering only served to strengthen the spirit of national independence. The subjugation of Scotland to England was hindered, not helped, by the alliance with the Emperor, which only drew Scotland nearer to France, and kept alive the old feeling of hostility. It was hard to see what England had to gain from the imperial alliance.

THE IMPERIAL ALLIANCE. 161

and events soon proved that Charles Y. pursued his own interests without much thought of the wishes of Henry YIIL

On 14th September died Pope Adrian YL, a weary and disappointed man. Again there was a prospect of Wolsey's election to the papacy; again it might be seen how much Charles Y. would do for his English ally. Wolsey had little hope of his good offices, and was his own negotiator in the mat- ter. He was not sanguine about his prospects of success, as he knew that Cardinal Medici was pow- erful in Rome ; and the disasters of the pontificate of Adrian YI. led the cardinals to wish for a return to the old policy of Leo X. , of which Medici held the threads. So two letters were sent to the Eng- lish representatives in Rome, one in behalf of Wol- sey, the other in behalf of Medici. If things were going for Medici, Wolsey was not to be pressed ; only in case of a disagreement was Wolsey to be put forward, and then no effort was to be spared ; money was to be of no object, as Henry would make good any promises made on his behalf to se- cure Wolsey's election.

The conclave was protracted; it sat from 1st October to 17th November, and there was ample opportunity for Charles to have made his influence

162 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

felt in Wolsey 's behalf. He professed to Henry that he was doing so. He wrote a letter recom- mending Wolsey to his envoy in Home, and then gave orders that the courier who carried the letter should be detained on the way. Really his influ- ence was being used for Medici, and though a strong party in the conclave opposed Medici's election, it does not appear that Wolsey was ever put forward as a competitor. The cardinals would hear nothing of a foreigner, and the stubbornness of Medici's party was at length rewarded by his election. There is no trace that Wolsey was keenly disap- pointed at this result. In announcing it to Henry Y III. , he wrote, < < For my part, as I take God to record, I am more joyous thereof than if it had for- tuned upon my person, knowing his excellent quali- ties most meet for the same, and how great and sure a friend your Grace and the Emperor be like to have of him, and I so good a father."

Few popes came to their office amid greater ex- pectations, and few more entirely disappointed them than did Guilio de' Medici. Clement VII., whose election Charles, Henry, and Wolsey united in greeting with joy, suffered in a brief space entire humiliation at the hands of Charles, caused the downfall of Wolsey, and drove Henry to sever the

THE IMPERIAL ALLIANCE. 163

bond between the English Church and the Holy See. It is impossible not to think how different would have been the course of events if "Wolsey had presided over the destinies of the Church.

CHAPTEE VII.

RENEWAL OF PEACE.

1523-1527.

THE events of the year 1523 had practically made an end of the imperial alliance. Henry VIII. was not in a position to go to war again, and his confidence in Charles V.'s good intentions towards him was dispelled. Charles and Francis had had enough of war, and both of them secretly desired peace, but neither would make the first move towards it. Wol- sey watched their movements keenly, and strove that English interests should not be entirely sacrificed in the pacification which seemed imminent. He strove to induce Charles to allow proposals of peace to proceed from England, which should arbitrate on the differences between him and Francis. He urged that in any negotiations which Charles himself under- took he was bound to consider how Henry could be recompensed for his losses. Moreover, he secretly opened up negotiations of his own with the French

164

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Court, and used the imperial alliance as a means to heighten England's value to France.

The more Wolsey watched events the more he be- came convinced that the best thing was to make a separate peace with France, yet in such a way as to avoid an open breach with the Emperor. There were other reasons besides the failure of military ex- peditions, and the distrust in any good result from their continuance, which impelled "Wolsey to a paci- fic policy. He knew only too well that war was impossible, and that the country could not bear the continued drain on its resources. If Henry VII. had developed the royal power by a parsimony which enabled him to be free from parliamentary control, Henry VIII. had dazzled his people by the splen- dor of royalty, and had displayed his magnificence to such an extent that Englishmen were beginning to doubt if they could afford much longer to be so important, or rather if England's importance in Continental affairs were worth all the money that it cost. Of late years the weight of taxation had be- come oppressive, and the expenses of the last cam- paign were difficult to meet.

There was no difference between the national rev- enue and the royal revenue in Wolsey's days. The king took all the money he could get, and spent it

166 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

as he thought good ; if he went to war he expected his people to pay for it. In an ordinary way the king was well provided for by his feudal dues and the proceeds of customs, tonnage and poundage,* and the tax on wool, wool-fells, and leather. When extraordinary expenses were incurred Parliament was summoned, and granted taxes to the king. Their vote was reckoned on an old assessment of tenths and fifteenths of the value of chattels pos- sessed by the baronage and the commons ; and when Parliament made this grant the clergy in their con- vocation granted a tenth of clerical incomes. The value of a tenth and fifteenth was £30,000; of a clerical tenth £10,000; so that the usual grant in case of any emergency amounted to £40,000 from

* "Tonnage and poundage were customs duties anciently imposed upon exports and imports, the former being a duty upon all wines imported in addition to prisage and butlerage, the latter a duty imposed ad valorem at the rate of twelve pence in the pound on all merchandise imported or exported. The duties were levied at first by agreement with merchants (poundage in 1302, tonnage in 1347), then granted by parlia- ment in 1373, at first for a limited period only. They were considered to be imposed for defence of the realm. From the reign of Henry VI. until that of James I. they were usually granted for life. They were not granted to Charles I. ... After the Restoration they were granted to Charles II. and his two successors for life. By acts of Anfie and George I. the duties were made perpetual, and mortgaged for the public debt. In 1787 they were finally abolished, and other modes of obtaining revenue were substituted."

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the whole realm. For his expedition of 1513 Henry obtained a vote of two tenths and fifteenths, besides a subsidy of a graduated income and property tax which was estimated to produce £160,000, and this had to be supplemented by a further grant of tenths and fifteenths in 1515.

It was in 1515 that Wolsey became Chancellor, and with that office assumed the entire responsibil- ity for all affairs of state. He managed to intro- duce some order into the finances, and during the years of pacific diplomacy things went tolerably well. But the French expeditions were costly, and in April, 1523, Parliament had to be summoned to pay the king's debts. The war against France was popular, and men were willing to contribute.

So on 15th April Henry VIII. opened Parlia- ment, and Tunstal,* Bishop of London, delivered the usual oration in praise of the king and grief over

* Cuthbert Tunstall, or Tonstall, (1475?— 1559) was an En- glish prelate, man of letters, and statesman. A Catholic in that age of intolerance and persecution, he was conspicuous for his humanity and allowed no burning of heretics during his administration. He became bishop of London in 1522, lord privy seal in 1523, and bishop of Durham in 1530. Under Edward VI. he was degraded from office and imprisoned in the tower, but under Bloody Mary he was restored to his bishopric. He refused to take the oath of supremacy after Elizabeth ascended the throne, and was again deprived of his see. He wrote on theological and scientific subjects.

168 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

the evils of the time. The Commons departed, and elected as their Speaker Sir Thomas More, who had already abandoned the quiet paths of literature for the stormy sea of politics. The king's assent was given in the usual manner to his appointment, and the session was adjourned. The Commons doubt- less began to take financial matters under their con- sideration, but it was thought desirable that they should have a definite statement of the national needs. On 29th April Wolsey went to the House, and after urging the importance of the interests at stake in the war, proposed a subsidy of £800,000, to be raised according to an old method, by a tax of four shillings in the pound on all goods and lands. Next day there was much debate on this proposal ; it was urged that the sudden withdrawal of so large an amount of ready money would seriously affect the currency, and was indeed almost impossible. A committee was appointed to represent to Wolsey that this was the sense of the House, and beg him to induce the king to moderate his demands. Wol- sey answered that he would rather have his tongue pulled out with red-hot pincers than carry such a message to the king.

The Commons in a melancholy mood renewed their debate till Wolsey entered the House and de-

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sired to reason with those who opposed his de- mands. On this Sir Thomas More, as Speaker, de- fended the privilege of the House by saying, " That it was the order of that House to hear and not to reason save among themselves. ' ' Whereupon Wol- sey was obliged to content himself with answering such objections as had come to his ear. He argued, it would seem with vigor, that the country was much richer than they thought, and he told them some unpleasant truths, which came with ill grace from himself, about the prevalence of luxury. After his departure the debate continued till the House agreed to grant two shillings in the pound on all incomes of £20 a year and upwards ; one shill- ing on all between £20 and £2 ; and fourpence on all incomes under £2 ; this payment to be extended over two years. This was increased by a county member, who said, " Let us gentlemen of £50 a year and upwards give the king of our lands a shill- ing in the pound, to be paid in two years." The borough members stood aloof, and allowed the land- holders to tax themselves an extra shilling in the pound if they chose to do so. This was voted on 21st May, and Parliament was prorogued till 10th June. Meanwhile popular feeling was greatly moved by rumors of an unprecedented tax, and

170 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

what was really done was grossly exaggerated on all sides. As the members left the House an angry crowd greeted them with jeers. ""We hear say that you will grant four shillings in the pound. Do so, and go home, we advise you." Eeally the members had done the best they could, and worse things were in store for them. For when the ses- sion was resumed the knights of the shire showed some resentment that they had been allowed to outdo the burgesses in liberality. They proposed that as they had agreed to pay a shilling in the pound on land assessed over £50 in the third year, so a like payment should be made in the fourth year on all goods over the value of £50. There was a stormy debate on this motion; but Sir Thomas More at length made peace, and it was passed. Thus Wolsey on the whole, had contrived to obtain something resembling his original pro- posal, but the payments were spread over a period of four years. After this Wolsey, at the proro- gation of Parliament, could afford to thank the Com- mons on the king's behalf, and assure them that " his Grace would in such wise employ their loving contribution as should be for the defence of his realm and of his subjects, and the persecution and pressing of his enemy."

RENEWAL OF PEACE.

Yet, however Wolsey might rejoice in his suc- cess, he knew that he had received a serious warn- ing, which he was bound to lay to heart. He had been faithful to the king, and had done his 'best to carry out his views. The war with France was none of his advising, and he had no hopes of any advantage from it ; yet he was willing to take all the blame of measures which inwardly he disap- proved. He stood forward and assumed the un- popularity of taxation, whose necessity he deplored. Henry spent the nation's money at his pleasure, and Wolsey undertook the ungrateful task of squeezing supplies from a reluctant Parliament, while the king sat a benevolent spectator in the background. Henry took all the glory, and left Wolsey to do all the unpleasant work. Wolsey stood between the national temper and the king ; he felt that he could not stand under the odium of accomplishing many more such reconciliations. England had reached the limit of its aspirations after national glory. For the future Wolsey must maintain the king's honor without appealing to the national pocket.

There was no prospect of obtaining further sup- plies from Parliament, and the best way to pay the expenses of a futile war was by making a lucrative peace. Wolsey tried to induce Francis I. to renew

LIFE OP THOMAS WOLSEY.

his financial agreement with Henry VIII. which the war had broken off ; and to bring pressure to bear upon him for this purpose, was willing to con- tinue with Charles V. negotiations for a fresh under- taking.

So in June the unwearied Pace was sent to Bour- bon's * camp to promise England's help on terms which Wolsey knew were sure to be refused. Eng- land would again join in a campaign against France in the north, provided Bourbon,, by an invasion of Provence, succeeded in raising a rebellion against Francis I. , and would take an oath of allegiance to the English king as lord of France. Bourbon sorely needed money, and did all he could to win over Pace. He secretly took an oath of fidelity, not of

* Charles, duke of Bourbon (1490-1527), commonly called Constable Bourbon, was the ablest general of his day in France. To his skill was due the victory of the French over the Swiss, who were considered invincible up to that time, at the battle of Marignano (see above, p. 38, note). He later quar- relled with his king, Francis I., on account of the machinations of Louise of Savoy. He then entered the service of Charles V. , raised an army of Germans, and won the battle of Pa via in 1525. As Charles, possibly jealous of Bourbon's growing power, refused to pay the German troops, the general re- solved to recoup them in his own way, by the spoils of vic- tory. He led them through a hostile country to the city of Rome, which they captured by assault. He was the first to mount the wall, and was among the first slain. After his death, the excesses of the soldiers were without restrain and terrible. See below, p. 2Q2.

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allegiance ; and Pace was impressed with admiration of his genius and believed in his chances of success. Wolsey was coldly cautious towards Pace's enthu- siasm, and the result was a breach between them. Pace openly blamed Wolsey, as Wingfield had done before, and pressed for money and an armed de- monstration. Wolsey soberly rebuked his lack of judgment by setting before him a well-considered survey of the political chances. His caution proved to be justified, as Bourbon's invasion of Provence was a failure. Wolsey gained all that he needed by his pretence of helping Bourbon ; he induced the French Court to undertake negotiations seriously by means of secret envoys who were sent to London.

Still Wolsey did not hide from himself the diffi- culties in the way of an alliance with France which would satisfy Henry VIII. or bring substantial ad- vantage to the country. However, on one point he managed to obtain an immediate advantage. He always kept his eye on Scotland, and now used the first signs of returning friendliness on the part of France to further his scheme of restoring English influence in that country. In June the Duke of Albany was recalled to France, and Wolsey set to work to win back Queen Margaret to her brother's cause. He seems to have despaired of blandish-

LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

ments, and contrived a way to have a more power- ful weapon. Margaret's husband, the Earl of An- gus, had been-sent by Albany to France, where he was carefully guarded. On the first signs of re- newed friendliness between England and France a hint from Wolsey procured him an opportunity of escaping to England. With Angus at his disposal "Wolsey urged Margaret to be reconciled to her hus- band, and terrified her by the prospect of restoring him to Scotland in case she refused reconciliation. By playing cleverly on her personal feelings, "Wol- sey led her by degrees to accept his own plan for freeing Scotland from Albany and French interfer- ence. He urged that the young king was now old enough to rule for himself, and promised Margaret help to secure her supremacy in his council. At the same time he won over the Scottish lords by the prospect of a marriage between James and Mary of England [commonly known in history as " Bloody Mary], who was still Henry VIII. 's heir. In Au- gust James V. was set up as king, and the Scot- tish Parliament approved of the English marriage. Again Wolsey won a signal triumph, and accom- plished by diplomacy what the sword had been un- able to achieve.

We need not follow the complicated diplomacy

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of the year 1524, which was transferred to Italy, whither Francis I. had pursued Bourbon and was engaged in the siege of Pavia. It is enough to say that Wolsey pursued a cautious course : if Francis won the day in Italy he was ready to treat with him liberally : if the imperial arms prevailed, then he could sell England's alliance more dearly. But this cautious attitude was displeasing to Charles, whose ambassador in London, de Praet, complained without ceasing of the growing coldness of Henry and Wolsey. Wolsey kept a sharp watch on De Praet, and resented his keen-sightedness ; finally, in February 1525, De Praet 's despatches were inter- cepted, and he was called before the Council, when Wolsey charged him with untruth. De Praet an- swered by complaining that his privileges as an am- bassador had been violated. He was ordered to confine himself to his own house till the king had written to the Emperor about his conduct.

This was indeed an unheard-of treatment for the ambassador of an ally, and we can scarcely attribute it merely to personal spite on the part of so skilled a statesman as Wolsey. Perhaps it was a deliberate plan to cause a personal breach between Henry and the Emperor. No doubt Henry's own feelings were towards Charles rather than Francis, and it

176 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

seems probable that Wolsey wished to show his master that Charles was only trying to make use of his friendship for his own purposes. The des- patches of Charles's envoy were opened and their contents made known to Henry for some time be- fore Wolsey took any open action. He acted when he saw his master sufficiently irritated, and he prob- ably suggested that the best way to give Charles a lesson was by an attack upon his ambassador. This proposal agreed with the high-handed manner of action which Henry loved to adopt. It gave him a chance of asserting his own conception of his dignity, and he challenged Charles to say if he identified himself with his ambassador's sentiments.

Under any circumstances it was an audacious step, and as things turned out it was an unfortunate one. Within a few days the news reached England that Francis had been attacked at Pavia by the imperial forces, had been entirely routed, and was a prisoner in the hands of Charles. Though Wolsey was pre- pared for some success of the imperial arms, he was taken aback at the decisiveness of the stroke. His time for widening the breach between Charles and Henry had not been well chosen.

However, Charles saw that he could not pursue his victory without money, and to obtain money he

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must adopt an appearance of moderation. So he professed in Italy willingness to forget the past, and he avoided a quarrel with England. He treated the insult to his ambassador as the result of a per- sonal misunderstanding. Henry complained of De Praet's unfriendly bearing; Charles assured him that no offence was intended. Both parties saved their dignity ; De Praet was recalled, and another ambassador was sent in his stead. Wolsey saw that he had been precipitate, and hastened to withdraw his false step ; Henry lent him his countenance, but can scarcely have relished doing so. Wolsey knew that his difficulties were increased. The victory of Charles again drew Henry to his side and revived his projects of conquest at the expense of France, now left helpless by its king's captivity. As the defection of Bourbon had formerly awakened Henry's hopes, so now did the captivity of Francis. Again Wolsey 's pacific plans were shattered ; again he was driven to undertake the preparations for a war of which his judgment disapproved.

Indeed Wolsey knew that war was absolutely im- possible for want of money ; but it was useless to say so to the king. He was bound to try and raise supplies by some means or other, and his experience

of the last Parliament had shown him that there 12

178 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

was no more to be obtained from that source. In his extremity Wolsey undertook the responsibility of reviving a feudal obligation which had long been forgotten. He announced that the king purposed to pass the sea in person, and demanded that the goodwill of his subjects should provide for his proper equipment. But the goodwill of the people was not allowed the privilege of spontaneous gener- osity. Commissioners were appointed in every shire to assess men's property, and require a sixth part of it for the king's needs. Wolsey himself addressed the citizens of London. "When they gave a feeble assent to his request for advice, " whether they thought it convenient that the king should pass the sea with an army or not," he proceeded, " Then he must go like a prince, which cannot be without your aid." He unfolded his proposals for a grant of 3s. 4d. in the pound on £50 and up- wards, 2s. 8d. on £20 and upwards, and Is. in the pound on £1 and upwards. Some one pleaded that the times were bad. < i Sirs, ' ' said Wolsey, * ' speak not to break what is concluded, for some shall not pay even a tenth; and it were better that a few should suffer indigence than the king at this time should lack. Beware, therefore, and resist not, nor ruffle not in this case ; otherwise it may fortune to

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cost some their heads." This was indeed a high- handed way of dealing with a public meeting, which was only summoned to hear the full measure of the coming calamity. We cannot wonder that " all people cursed the cardinal and his adherents as sub- verters of the laws and liberty of England. '? Nor was Wolsey ignorant of the unpopularity which he incurred; but there was no escape possible. He rested only on the king's favor, and he knew that the king's personal affection for him had grown colder. He was no longer the king's friend and tutor, inspiring him with his own lofty ideas and slowly revealing his far-reaching schemes. Late years had seen "Wolsey immersed in the business of the State, while the king pursued his own pleasures, surrounded by companions who did their utmost to undermine Wolsey 's influence. They advocated war, while he longed for peace ; they encouraged the royal extravagance, while he worked for economy; they favored the imperial alliance and humored Henry's dreams of the conquest of France, while Wolsey saw that England's strength lay in a powerful neutrality. The king's plans had deviated from the lines which Wolsey had designed, and the king's arbitrary temper had grown more impatient of restraint. Wolsey had imperceptibly slipped

180 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

from the position of a friend to that of a servant, and he was dimly conscious that his continuance in the royal service depended on his continued usefulness. Whatever the king required he was bound to provide. So Wolsey strained every nerve to fill the royal coffers by the device of an " Amicable Loan," which raised a storm of popular indignation. Men said with truth that they had not yet paid the sub- sidy voted by Parliament, and already they were exposed to a new exaction. Coin had never been plentiful in England, and at that time it was ex- ceptionally scarce. The commissioners in the different shires all reported the exceeding difficulty which they met with in the discharge of their un- pleasant duty. It soon became clear to Wolsey that his demand had overshot the limits of prudence, and that money could not be raised on the basis of the parliamentary assessment without the risk of a rebellion. Accordingly Wolsey withdrew from his original proposal. He sent for the mayor and corporation of London and told them, in the fic- titious language in which constitutional procedure is always veiled, " I kneeled down to his Grace, showing him both your good minds towards him and also the charge you continually sustain, the which, at my desire and petition, was content to

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call in and abrogate the same commission." The attempt to raise money on the basis of each man's ratable value was abandoned, and the more usual method of a benevolence was substituted in its stead.

This, however, was not much more acceptable. Again Wolsey summoned the mayor and corpora- tion ; but they had now grown bolder, and pleaded that benevolences had been abolished by the statute of Richard III. Wolsey angrily answered that Rich- ard was a usurper and a murderer of his nephews ; how could his acts be good ? " An it please your Grace," was the answer, " although he did evil, yet in his time were many good acts made not by him only, but by the consent of the body of the whole realm, which is Parliament." There was nothing more to be said, and Wolsey had to con- tent himself with leaving every man to contribute privily what he would. It did not seem that this spontaneous liberality went far to replenish the royal exchequer.

What happened in London was repeated in dif- ferent forms in various parts of England. In Nor- wich there was a tumult, which it needed the pres- ence of the Duke of Norfolk to appease. He asked the confused assembly who was their captain, and bade that he should speak. Then out spake one

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John Greene, a man of fifty years. " My Lord, since you ask who is our captain, forsooth, his name is Poverty ; for he and his cousin Necessity have brought us to this doing. For all these per- sons and many more live not of ourselves, but we live by the substantial occupiers of this country ; and yet they give us so little wages for our work- manship that scarcely we be able to live ; and thus in penury we pass the time, we, our wives and chil- dren : and if they, by whom we live, be brought in that case that they of their little cannot help us to earn our living, then must we perish and die mis- erably. I speak this, my lord : the clothmakers have put away all their people, and a far greater number, from work. The husbandmen have put away their servants and given up household ; they say the king asketh so much that they be not able to do as they have done before this time, and then of necessity must we die wretchedly."

John Greene's speech expressed only too truly the condition of affairs in a period of social change. The old nobility had declined, and the old form of life founded on feudalism was slowly passing away. Trade was becoming more important than agricul- ture ; the growth of wool was more profitable than the growth of corn. It is true that England as a

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whole was growing richer, and that the standard of comfort was rising ; but there was a great displace- ment of labor, and consequent discontent. The towns had thriven at the expense of the country ; and in late years the war with France had hindered trade with the Netherlands. The custom duties had diminished, the drain of bullion for war ex- penses had crippled English commerce. There had been a succession of bad seasons, and every one had begun to diminish his establishment and look more carefully after his expenditure.

All this was well known to the Duke of Norfolk, and was laid before the king. The commissions were recalled, pardons were granted to the rioters, and the loan was allowed to drop. But Wolsey had to bear all the odium of the unsuccessful attempt, while the king gained all the popularity of abandoning it. Yet Henry VIII. resented the failure, and was angry with Wolsey for exposing him to a rebuff. In spite of his efforts Wolsey was ceasing to be so useful as he had been before, and Henry began to criticise his minister. Brave and resolute as Wolsey was, his labors and disappointments began to tell upon him. Since the failure of the Conference of Calais he had been working not at the development of a policy which he approved, but at the uncongenial task of

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diminishing the dangers of a policy which he disap- proved. The effects of this constant anxiety told upon his health and spirits, and still more upon his temper. He might be as able and as firm as ever, but he no longer had the same confidence in him- self.

It was perhaps this feeling which led Wolsey to show the king the extremity of his desire to serve him by undertaking the desperate endeavor to wring more money from an exhausted people. Wolsey had done his utmost to satisfy the king ; he had ac- cepted without a murmur the burden of popular ha- tred which the attempt was sure to bring. There is a pathos in his words, reported by an unfriendly hand, addressed to the council; " Because every man layeth the burden from him, I am content to take it on me, and to endure the fume and noise of the people, for my goodwill towards the king, and comfort of you, my lords and other the king's coun- cillors ; but the eternal Grod knoweth all. " Nor was it enough that he submitted to the storm ; he wished to give the king a further proof of his devotion. Though others might withhold their substance, yet he would not. He offered the king his house at Hampton Court, which he had built as his favorite retreat, and had adorned to suit his taste. It was

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indeed a royal gift, and Henry had no scruple in ac- cepting it. But the offer seems to show an uneasy desire to draw closer a bond which had been gradu- ally loosened, and renew an intimacy which was per- ceptibly diminishing.

However, in one way Wolsey had a right to feel satisfaction even in his ill-success. If money was not to be had, war was impossible, and "Wolsey might now pursue his own policy and work for peace. He had to face the actual facts that England was allied to Charles, who had won a signal victory over Francis, and had in his hands a mighty hostage in the person of the King of France. His first ob- ject was to discover Charles V.'s intentions, and pre- vent him from using his advantage solely for his own profit. Bishop Tunstal and Sir Richard "Wing- field were sent to Charles with orders to put on a bold face, and find whether Charles thought of de- throning Francis or releasing him for a ransom. In the first case, they were to offer military aid from England; in the second, they were to claim for England a large share in the concessions to be wrung out of Francis. The English demands were so ex- orbitant that though they may have satisfied the fantastic aspirations of Henry, "Wolsey must have known them to be impossible. Under cover of a

186 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

friendly proposal to Charles he was really preparing the way for a breach.

Charles on his side was engaged in playing a similar game. In spite of his success at Pavia he was really helpless. He had no money, and the captivity of the French king awakened so much alarm in Europe that he felt compelled to use his advantage moderately. As a first measure he needed money, and saw no chance of obtaining it save by marrying Isabella of Portugal, who would bring him a dowry of 1,000,000 golden crowns.* For this purpose he must free himself from the engagement of the treaty of Windsor, by which he was betrothed to Mary of England. So he acted as Wolsey was acting. He professed a great desire to carry out his engagement as a means of getting rid of it, and sent ambas- sadors to ask that Mary and her dowry should be given up to him, with a further loan of 200,000 ducats, f

The two embassies had crossed on the way, and Henry received Charles's communication as an an- swer to his demands. In this way it served Wolsey's purpose admirably, for it showed clearly enough that the interests of Henry and Charles were not

* The golden crown of Portugal is valued at $10.78. f The ducat is valued at $2.28.

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the same. Charles was bent upon pursuing his own advantage, and was still willing to use Henry as a useful ally; but Henry saw nothing to be gained from the alliance, and the time had come when some tangible gain was to be secured from all his expenditure. Hitherto he had been personally on Charles's side, but in his conferences with the im- perial envoys in the month of June he made it clear that his patience was exhausted. Henceforth he accepted Wolsey's views of peace with France. If Charles was striving to make what he could out of the captivity of the French king, then England might as well join in the scramble. ' The misfortune of France was England's opportunity. If Charles was not willing to share his gains with Henry, then Henry must pick up what he could for himself. It was an unwelcome conclusion for Charles, who hoped to bring the pressure of irresistible necessity to bear on his captive. If England also joined in the bid- ding its competition would run down his price.

Moreover, this resolution of Henry made a great change in his domestic relations. Queen Katharine was devoted to her nephew's interests, and had ex- ercised considerable influence over her husband. They talked together about politics, and Henry liked to move amidst acquiescent admiration. All

188 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

that was now at an end, as Katharine could not change her sympathies, and had not the tact to dis- guise her disapprobation. From this time forward Henry did not treat her with the affection and fam- iliarity which had been his wont, and when he made up his mind he did not scruple to emphasize his decision by his acts. He had not been a faith- ful husband, but hitherto his infidelity had not been a cause of domestic discord. He had an illegitimate son, Henry Fitzroy, by Elizabeth Blunt, one of the Queen's ladies-in-waiting; and on 15th June he created this boy of six years old Duke of Richmond. This he did with a display of pomp and ceremony which must have been very offensive to the Queen ; nor was the offence diminished when, a month after- wards, the boy was created Lord High Admiral of England. Such an act was, to say the least, a taunt to Katharine that she had borne no son ; it was a public proclamation of the king's disappointment and discontent with his matrimonial lot. The luck- less Katharine could make no complaint, and was forced to submit to the king's will; but we cannot doubt that she put down to Wolsey what was not his due, and that Wolsey had to bear the hatred of her friends for the king's change of policy, and all that flowed from it.

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However, Wolsey's course was now clearly to dissolve the imperial alliance without causing a breach. For this purpose he used Charles's desire for his Portuguese marriage. He offered to release Charles from his engagement to Mary on condition that the treaty was annulled, that he paid his debts to Henry, and concluded a peace with France to England's satisfaction. Charles refused to take any step so decided, and the negotiations proceeded. But Wolsey's attention was not so much directed to Charles as to France, where Louise, the king's mother, was desperately striving to procure her son's release. In their dealings with France there was a keen rivalry between England and the Emperor, which should succeed in making terms soonest. In this competition Wolsey had one advantage; he had already learned the stubbornness of the national spirit of France, and its willingness to submit to anything rather than territorial loss. So, while Charles haggled for provinces, Wolsey demanded money. He told the French envoys that in order to make peace, without having won laurels to justify it, Henry could not take less than 2,000,000 crowns,* and he would hear of no abatement. There was much discussion of all the * $2,420,000.

190 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

old claims of England for compensation from France, but Wolsey knew the necessity of the mo- ment, and carried all his points.

"When the terms were agreed upon there was an- other discussion about the security to be given. Francis was a prisoner in Spain, and though his mother was regent, a doubt might be thrown upon her capacity to ratify such an important treaty. Wolsey would admit no doubts in the matter. He knew that peace with France would not be popular, but he was determined that his master should see its advantage in the substantial form of ready money with good security for its payment. Besides ratification by the regent he demanded the personal security of several French nobles, of towns and local estates. At length he was satisfied. The treaty was signed on 30th August, and was published on 6th September. Henry was to receive 2,000,000 crowns in annual instalments of 50,000; the treaty included Scotland as an ally of France, and it was stipulated that the Duke of Albany was not to return. Scotland, left unprotected, was bound to follow France, and in January, 1526, peace was signed with Scotland to the satisfaction of both countries.

Wolsey could congratulate himself on the result

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of his work. Again he had won for England a strong position, by setting her in the forefront of the opposition to the overweening power of the empire. Again had England's action done much to restore the equilibrium of Europe. This had been achieved solely by Wolsey's diplomacy. Charles Y. had received a blow which he could neither parry nor resent. The French treaty with England deprived Charles of the means of exercis- ing irresistible pressure upon Francis, and en- couraged the Italian States to form an alliance against the Emperor. Francis, weary of his long captivity, signed the treaty of Madrid, and obtained his freedom in February, 1526. But he previously protested against it as extorted by violence, and re- fused to surrender an inch of French territory not- withstanding his promises. Charles gained little by his victory at Pavia. His hands were again full, as the Turks invaded Hungary, and Francis joined the Italian League against him. He still had every motive to keep on good terms with England, and Wolsey had no desire to precipitate a breach.

So Wolsey's policy for the future was one of cau- tion and reserve. The king withdrew more and more from public affairs, and spent his time in hunt- ing. His relations with Katharine became day by

192 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

day more irksome, and he tried to forget his domes- tic life by leading a life of pleasure. Wolsey strove to hold the balance between Charles and Francis without unduly inclining to either side. Both wished to be on good terms with England, for neither was free from anxiety. The sons of Francis were hostages in Spain, and Charles was hampered by the opposition of the Italian League. Of this League Henry VIII. was a member, but he declined to give it any active support. The Italians, as usual, were divided, and Clement VII. was not the man to direct their distracted councils successfully. In September, 1526, a small force of Spaniards, aided by a party amongst the Roman barons, sur- prised Eome, sacked the papal palace, and filled Clement with terror. Charles V. disavowed any share in this attack, and excused himself before Henry's remonstrances. But as Clement did not entirely amend his ways, the experiment was re- peated on a larger scale. In May, 1527, the imperial troops under the Duke of Bourbon and the German general George Frundsberg captured and plundered Kome, and took the Pope Clement VII. prisoner. *

* " The Germans stood in battalions. But when they saw the Spaniards broken up and plundering, the desire was aroused in them also ; and now a spirit of emulation appeared, as to which nation could outdo the other in cruelty. The

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This unwonted deed filled Europe with horror. It seemed as if the Emperor had joined the enemies of the Church.

Spaniards, it is asserted by impartial Italians, carried the day. There had been no siege, no bombardment, no flight of any great extent ; but as if the earth had opened, and had dis- gorged a legion of devils, so suddenly . came these hosts. Everything was in a moment abandoned to them. We must endeavor to conceive what kind of men these German soldiers were. They formed an intermediate class between the prime and the refuse of the people. Gathered together by the hope of booty, indifferent to what end was assigned them, rendered wild by hunger and tardy pay, left without a master after the death of their commander [Bourbon was slain upon the walls of the city] , they found themselves unrestrained in the most luxurious city of the world — a city abounding with gold and riches, and at the same time decried for centuries in Ger- many, as the infernal nest of popes, who lived there as incarnate devils, in the midst of their Babylonian doings. The opinion that the pope of Rome, and Clement VII. in particular, was the devil, prevailed not only in Germany, but in Italy and in Rome the people called him so. . . . Prisoners of war were at that time regarded as slaves ; they were carried away as personal property, or a ransom was extorted. . . . This system was carried to a great pitch in Rome. The possessors of palaces were obliged to purchase their ransom, the Spanish cardinals as well as the Italian — no difference was made. Thus at least escape was possible. . . . And as the people were treated, so were the things. Upon the inlaid marble floor of the Vatican, where the Prince of Orange took up his abode — the command of the army devolving upon him after Bourbon's death — the soldiers lighted their fire. The splendid stained glass windows, executed by William of Marseilles, were broken for the sake of the lead. Raphael's tapestries were pronounced excellent booty ; in the paintings on the walls the eyes were put out ; and valuable documents were given as straw to the horses which stood in the Sistine

194: LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

During this period Wolsey had been cautiously drawing nearer to France. At first he only con- templated strengthening the ties which bound the two countries together; but in the beginning of 1527 he was willing to form a close alliance with France, which must lead to a breach with the Em- peror. French commissioners came to London, and a proposal was made that Francis should marry Mary, then a child of ten, though he was betrothed to the Emperor's sister Eleanor. Wolsey's demands were high: a perpetual peace between the two countries, a perpetual pension of 50,000 crowns to the English king, a tribute of salt, and the sur- render of Boulogne and Ardres. In the course of the discussion the son of Francis, the Duke of Or- leans, was substituted for the father as Mary's hus- band ; on all other points Wolsey had his will, and never did he show himself a more consummate master of diplomacy. The treaty was signed on

Chapel. The statues in the streets were thrown down ; the images of the Mother of God in the churches were broken to pieces. For six months the city thus remained in the power of the soldiery, who had lost all discipline. Pestilence and famine appeared. Rome had more than 90,000 inhabitants under Leo X. ; when Clement VII. returned a year after the conquest, scarcely a third of that number then existed — poor, famished people who had remained behind, because they knew not whither to turn." — HERMAN GRIMM.

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30th April. The debts of Charles were transferred to Francis, and "Wolsey could show that he had made a substantial gain.

Doubtless Wolsey intended that this peace with France should form the basis of a universal peace, which he never ceased to pursue. The success of Charles V. in Italy, and subsequent events at home, rapidly dispelled his hopes. Already the self will of Henry VIII. had driven him to consent to meas- ures which were against his judgment; the same self will, turned to domestic and personal affairs, was already threatening to involve Wolsey in a matter whose far-reaching effects no man could foresee.

CHAPTER YIII. WOLSEY'S DOMESTIC POLICY.

have been following the laborious career of "Wolsey in his direction of foreign affairs. He held in his hands the threads of complicated negotiations, by which he was endeavoring to assure England's power on the Continent, not by means of war but by skilful diplomacy. In doing this he had to guard the commercial relations of England with the Netherlands, and had also to bow before the selfwill of the king, who insisted on pursuing fan- tastic designs of personal aggrandizement. Still he steered a careful course amid many difficulties, though when he looked back upon his labors of thirteen years he must have owned to serious dis- appointment. Perhaps he sometimes asked him- self the question, if foreign policy was worthy of the best attention of an English minister, if he had not erred in adventuring on such large schemes abroad. There was much to do at home; many useful measures of reform awaited only a conve-

196

WOLSEY'S DOMESTIC POLICY. 197

nient season. He had hoped, when first he began his course, to have seen England long before this time peaceful and powerful, the arbiter of Euro- pean affairs, a pattern to other kingdoms, dealing honestly and sagaciously with the pressing needs of the time. He had labored incessantly for that end, but it was as far off as ever. The year 1527 saw England exhausted by useless wars, and Europe plunged in irreconcilable strife. "Wolsey's dream of a united Europe, cautiously moved by England's moderating counsels, had vanished before forces which he could not control.

Meanwhile domestic reforms had been thrust into the background. Wolsey was keenly alive to their importance, and had a distinct policy which he wished to carry out. He had carefully gathered into his hands the power which would enable him to act, but he could not find the time for definite action. Something he contrived to do, so as to prepare the way for more ; but his schemes were never revealed in their entirety, though he trained the men who afterwards carried them out though in a crude and brutal shape.

England was passing through a period of social change which necessitated a re-adjustment of old institutions. The decay of feudalism in the Wars

198 LIFE OP THOMAS WOLSEY.

of the Eoses had been little noticed, but its results had been profound. In the sphere of government the check exercised by the barons on the Crown was destroyed. Henry VII. carefully depressed the baronage and spared the pockets of the people, who were willing to have the conduct of affairs in the hands of the king so long as he kept order and guarded the commercial interests, which were more and more absorbing national energies. The nation wished for a strong government to put down an- archy and maintain order ; but the nation was not willing to bear the cost of a strong government on constitutional principles. Henry VII. soon found that he might do what he liked provided he did not ask for money ; he might raise supplies by uncon- stitutional exactions on individuals provided he did not embarrass the bulk of the middle classes, who were busied with trade. The nobles, the rich land- owners, the wealthy merchants, were left to the king's mercies; so long as the pockets of the com- mons were spared they troubled themselves no further.

Henry VII. recognized this condition of national feeling, and pursued a policy of levelling class privileges and cautiously heeding the popular inter- ests ; by these means he established the royal power

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on a strong basis, and carried on his government through capable officials, who took their instruc- tions from himself. Some of the old nobles held office, but they were gradually reduced to the same level as the other officials with whom they con- sorted. The power of the old nobility passed silently away.

With this political change a social change cor- responded. The barons of former years were great in proportion to the number of their retainers and the strength of their castles. Now retainers were put down by the Star Chamber; and the feudal lord was turned into the country gentleman. Land changed hands rapidly; opulent merchants pos- sessed themselves of estates. The face of the country began to wear a new look, for the new landlords did not desire a numerous tenantry but a large income. The great trade of England was wool, which was exported to Flanders. Tillage lands were thrown into pasture; small holders found it more difficult to live on their holdings; complaints were heard that the country was being depopulated. England was slowly passing through "A an economic change which involved a displacement \ of population, and consequent misery on the labor- classes. No doubt there was a great increase

200 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

in national prosperity ; but prosperity was not uni- versally diffused at once, and men were keenly con- scious of present difficulties. Beneath the surface of society there was a widespread feeling of discon- tent.

Moreover, among thinking men a new spirit was beginning to prevail. In Italy this new spirit was manifest by quickened curiosity about the world and life, and found its expression in a study of classical antiquity. Curiosity soon led to criticism ; and before the new criticism the old ideas on which the intellectual life of the Middle Ages was built were slowly passing away. Ehetoric took the place of logic, and the study of the classics superseded the study of theology. This movement of thought slowly found its way to England, where it began to influence the higher minds.

Thus England was going through a crisis politi- cally, socially, and intellectually, when Wolsey undertook the management of affairs. This crisis was not acute, and did not call for immediate measures of direction; but Wolsey was aware of its existence, and had his own plans for the future. We must regret that he put foreign policy in the first place, and reserved his constructive measures for domestic affairs. The time seemed ripe for

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great achievements abroad, and Wolsey was hope- ful of success. He may be pardoned for his lofty aspirations, for if he had succeeded England would have led the way in a deliberate settlement of many questions which concerned the wellbeing of the whole of Christendom. But success eluded Wol- sey 's grasp, and he fell from power before he had time to trace decidedly the lines on which England might settle her problems for herself; and when the solution came it was strangely entangled in the personal questions which led to Wolsey 's fall from power. Yet even here we may doubt if the meas- ures of the English Reformation would have been possible if "Wolsey 's mind had not inspired the king and the nation with a heightened consciousness of England's power and dignity. Wolsey 's diplomacy at least tore away all illusions about Pope and Em- peror, and the opinion of Europe, and taught Henry YIII. the measure of his own strength.

It was impossible that Wolsey 's powerful hand should not leave its impression upon everything which it touched. If Henry YIII. inherited a strong monarchy, Wolsey made the basis of mon- archical power still stronger. It was natural that he should do so, as he owed his own position entire- ly to the royal favor. But never had any king so

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devoted a servant as had Henry VIII. , in Wolsey ; and this devotion was not entirely due to motives of selfish calculation or to personal attraction. "Wol- sey saw in the royal power the only possible means of holding England together and guiding it through the dangers of impending change. In his eyes the king and the king alone could collect and give ex- pression to the national will. England itself was unconscious of its capacities, and was heedless about the future. The nobles, so far as they had any policy, were only desirous to win back their old position. The Church was no longer the inspirer of popular aspirations or the bulwark of popular freedom. Its riches were regarded with a jeal- ous eye by the middle classes, who were busied with trade ; the defects of its organization had been deplored by its most spiritually-minded sons for a century ; its practices, if not its tenets, awakened the ridicule of men of intelligence ; its revenues sup- plied the king with officials more than they supplied the country with faithful pastors ; its leaders were content to look to the .king for patronage and pro- tection. The traders of the towns and the new landlords of the country appreciated the growth of their fortunes in a period of internal quiet, and dreaded anything that might bring back discord.

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The laboring classes felt that redress of their griev- ances was more possible from a far-off king than from landlords who, in their eyes, were bent upon extor- tion. Every class looked to the king, and was con- fident in his good intentions. We cannot wonder that "Wolsey saw in the royal power the only pos- sible instrument strong enough to work reforms, and set himself with goodwill to make that instrument efficacious.

So Wolsey was in no sense a constitutional min- ister, nor did he pay much heed to constitutional forms. Parliament was only summoned once dur- ing the time that he was in office, and then he tried to browbeat Parliament and set aside its prerogatives. In his view the only function of Parliament was to grant money for the king's needs. The king should say how much he needed, and Parliament ought only to advise how this sum might most conveniently be raised. "We have seen that Wolsey failed in his at- tempt to convert Parliament into a submissive in- strument of royal despotism. He under- estimated the strength of constitutional forms and the influence of precedent. Parliament was willing to do its ut- most to meet the wishes of the king, but it would not submit to Wolsey 's high-handed dictation. The habits of diplomacy had impaired Wolsey 's sagacity

204 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

in other fields ; he had been so busy in managing emperors and kings that he had forgotten how to deal with his fellow-countrymen. He was unwise in his attempt to force the king's will upon Parlia- ment as an unchangeable law of its action. Henry YIIL looked on and learned from Wolsey's failure, and when he took the management of Parliament into his own hands he showed himself a consummate master of that craft. His skill in this direction has scarcely been sufficiently estimated, and his success has been put down to the servility of Parliament. But Parliament was by no means servile under "Wolsey's overbearing treatment. If it was sub- servient to Henry the reason is to be found in his skilful tactics. He conciliated different interests at different times ; he mixed the redress of acknowl- edged grievances with the assertion of far-reaching claims ; he decked out selfish motives in fair-sound- ing language ; he led men on step by step till they were insensibly pledged to measures more drastic than they approved; he kept the threads of his policy in his own hands till the only escape from utter confusion was an implicit confidence in his wis- dom ; he made it almost impossible for those who were dissatisfied to find a point on which they could establish a principle for resistance. He was so skilful

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that Parliament at last gave him even the power over the purse, and Henry, without raising a mur- mur, imposed taxes which Wolsey would not have dared to suggest. It is impossible not to feel that Henry, perhaps taught in some degree by Crom- well,* understood the temper of the English people far better than Wolsey ever did. He established the royal power on a broader and securer basis than Wolsey could have erected. Where Wolsey would have made the Crown independent of Parliament, Henry VIII. reduced Parliament to be a willing instrument of the royal will. Wolsey would have subverted the constitution, or at least would have reduced it to a lifeless form ; Henry VIII. so worked the constitutional machinery that it became an addi- tional source of power to his monarchy.

* Thomas Cromwell (1490 ?-1540) w^.s in early life a friend of Wolsey. He became an adherent of the reformation and was a friend of Cranmer. Entering the service of Henry VIII. he rose rapidly to prominence. In 1535 he was ap- pointed secretary of state and keeper of the seal. In 1536 the king's supremacy over the church was delegated to him with the title of Vicar-General. He was created earl of Essex about 1540. His agency in the marriage of Henry VIII. to Anne of Cleves entangled him in fatal toils. He was executed for alleged treason and heresy. His character is differently estimated by different historians, some praising him highly, and others regarding him as only a selfish and rapacious courtier. Hume says that he was " worthy of a better master and a better fate," which will hardly be denied.

206 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

But though Wolsey was not successful in his method of making the royal power supreme over Parliament, he took the blame of failure upon himself, and saved the king's popularity. "Wolsey 's devotion to his master was complete, and cannot be assigned purely to selfish motives. Wolsey felt that his opinions, his policy, his aspirations had been formed through his intercourse with the king ; and he was only strong when he and his master were thoroughly at one. At first the two men had been in complete agreement, and it cost Wolsey many a pang when he found that Henry did not entirely agree with his conclusions. After the imperial alli- ance was made Wolsey lost much of his brilliancy, his dash, and his force. This was not the result of age, or fatigue, or hopelessness so much as of the feeling that he and the king were no longer in ac- cord. Like many other strong men, Wolsey was sensitive. He did not care for popularity, but he felt the need of being understood and trusted. He gave the king his affection, and he craved for a re- turn. There was no one else who could understand him or appreciate his aims, and when he felt that he was valued for his usefulness rather than trusted for what he was in himself, the spring of his life's energy was gone.

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Still Wolsey labored in all things to exalt the royal power, for in it he saw the only hope of the future, and England endorsed his opinion. But Wolsey was too great a man to descend to servility, and Henry always treated him with respect. In fact Wolsey always behaved with a strong sense of his .personal dignity, and carried stickling for decorum to the verge of punctiliousness. Doubtless he had a decided taste for splendor and magnificence, but it is scarcely fair to put this down to the arrogance of an upstart, as was done by his English contem- poraries. Wolsey believed in the influence of out- ward display on the popular mind, and did his utmost to throw over the king a veil of unapproach- able grandeur and unimpeachable rectitude. He took upon himself the burden of the king's respon- sibilities, and stood forward to shield him against the danger of losing the confidence of his people. As the king's representative he assumed a royal state; he wished men to see that they were governed from above, and he strove to accustom them to the pomp of power. In his missions abroad, and in his interviews with foreign ambas- sadors, he was still more punctilious than in the matters of domestic government. If the king was always to be regarded as the king, Wolsey, as the

208 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

mouthpiece of the royal will, never abated his claims to honor only less than royal ; but he acted not so much from self-assertion as from policy. At home and abroad equally the greatness of the royal power was to be unmistakably set forth, and osten- tation was an element in the game of brag to which a spirited foreign policy inevitably degenerates. It was for the king's sake that Wolsey magnified him- self; he never assumed an independent position, but all his triumphs were loyally laid at the king's feet. In this point, again, Wolsey overshot the mark, and did not understand the English people, who were not impressed in the manner which he intended. When Henry took the government more directly into his own hands he managed better for himself, for he knew how to identify the royal will with the aspirations of the people, and clothed his despotism with the appearance of paternal solici- tude. He made the people think that he lived for them, and that their interests were his, whereas Wolsey endeavored to convince the people that the king alone could guard their interests, and that their only course was to put entire confidence in him. Henry saw that men were easier to cajole than to convince ; he worked for no system of royal authority, but contented himself with establishing

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his own will. In spite of the disadvantage of a royal education, Henry was a more thorough Eng- lishman than Wolsey, though Wolsey sprang from the people.

It was Wolsey's teaching, however, that pre- pared Henry for his task. The king who could use a minister like Wolsey and then throw him away when he was no longer useful, felt that there was no limitation to his self-sufficiency.

"Wolsey, indeed, was a minister in a sense which had never been seen in England before, for he held in his hand the chief power alike in Church and State. Not only was he chancellor, but also Arch- bishop of York, and endowed beside with special legatine powers. These powers were not coveted merely for purposes of show : Wolsey intended to use them, when opportunity offered, as a means of bringing the Church under the royal power as completely as he wished to subject the State. He had little respect for the ecclesiastical organization as such ; he saw its obvious weaknesses, and wished to provide a remedy. If he was a candidate for the Papacy it was from no desire to pursue an ec- clesiastical policy of his own, but to make the papal power subservient to England's interests. He was sufficiently clear-sighted to perceive that national 1.4

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aspirations could not much longer be repressed by the high-sounding claims of the Papacy; he saw that the system of the Church must be adapted to the conditions of the time, and he wished to avert a revolution by a quiet process of steady and reason- able reform. He was perhaps honest in saying that he was not greatly anxious for the Papacy ; for he knew that England gave him ample scope for his energies, and he hoped that the example of Eng- land would spread throughout Europe. So at the beginning of his career he pressed for legatine powers, which were grudgingly granted by Leo X. , first for one year, and afterwards for five ; till the gratitude of Clement VII. conferred them for life. Clothed with this authority, and working in con- cert with the king, Wolsey was supreme over the English Church, and perhaps dreamed of a fu- ture in which the Koman Pontiff would practically resign his claims over the northern churches to an English delegate, who might become his equal or superior in actual power.

However this might be, he certainly contemplated the reform of the English Church by means of a judicious mixture of royal and ecclesiastical author- ity. Everything was propitious for such an under- taking, as the position of the Church was felt to be

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in many ways anomalous and antiquated. The ris- ing middle class had many grievances to complain of from the ecclesiastical courts; the new landlords I looked with contempt on the management of mo- nastic estates ; the new learning mocked at the ignor- ance of the clergy, and scoffed at the superstitions of a simpler past which had survived unduly into an age when criticism was coming into fashion. The power of the Church had been great in days when the State was rude and the clergy were the natural leaders of men. Now the State was powerful and enjoyed men's confidence ; they looked to the king to satisfy their material aspirations, and the Church had not been very successful in keeping their spirit- ual aspirations alive. It was not that men were opposed to the Church, but they judged its privi- \ leges to be excessive, its disciplinary courts to be vexatious, its officials to be too numerous, and its wealth to be devoted to purposes which had ceased to be of the first importance. There was a general desire to see a re-adjustment of many matters in which the Church was concerned ; and before this popular sentiment churchmen found it difficult to assert their old pretensions, and preferred to rest contentedly under the protection of the Crown. A trivial incident shows the general condition of

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affairs with sufficient clearness. One of the claims which on the whole the clergy had maintained was the right of trial before ecclesiastical courts; and the greater leniency of ecclesiastical sentences had been a useful modification of the severity of the criminal law, so that benefit of clergy had been per- mitted to receive large extension of interpretation. Further, the sanctity of holy places had been per- mitted to give rights of sanctuary to criminals flee- ing from justice or revenge. Both of these expedi- ents hail been useful in a rude state of society, and had done much to uphold a higher standard of hu- manity. But it was clear that they were only tem- porary expedients which were needless and even harmful as society grew more settled and justice was regularly administered. Henry VII. had felt the need of diminishing the rights of sanctuary, which gave a dangerous immunity to the numerous rebels against whom he had to contend, and he ob- tained a bull for that purpose from Pope Innocent VIII. The example which he set was speedily fol- lowed, and an Act was passed by the Parliament of 1511, doing away with sanctuary and benefit of clergy in the case of those who were accused of murder.

It does not seem that the Act met with any de-

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cided opposition at the time that it was passed; but there were still sticklers for clerical immunities, who regarded it as a dangerous innovation, and during the session of Parliament in 1515 the Abbot of Winchcombe * preached a sermon in which he denounced it as an impious measure. Henry VIII. adopted a course which afterwards stood him in good stead in dealing with the Church; he sub- mitted the question to a commission of divines and temporal peers. In the course of the discussion Standish,t the Warden of the Friars Minors, put

* The Abbot of Winchcombe, Gloucestershire, was Richard Kedermyster. He was educated at Oxford. In 1487 was elected lord abbot of the monasteryof Winchcombe, of which he was a member, and during his administration the institu- tion nourished like a little university, it was said. About- 1500, he resided for a year in Rome, after which he became a person of influence in the court of Henry VIII. When par- liament, in 1513, enacted that all robbers and murderers should be denied the benefit of the clergy, except such as were within the holy orders of a bishop, priest or deacon, the abbot, in a vigorous sermon, declared that the act was contrary to the law of God and the liberties of the holy church. Kedermyster died about 1531.

f Henry Standish, the date of whose birth is unknown, studied at both Oxford and Cambridge and was later appointed warden of the Franciscan house, Greyfriars, London. He obtained the favor of Henry VIII. and frequently preached before the court. In the controversy over the benefit of clergy he opposed Kedermyster who championed the side of the clergy, and for his opposition he narrowly escaped the vengeance of the brethren. It was only the king's interven-

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the point clearly and sensibly by saying, " The Act was not against the liberty of the Church, for it was passed for the weal of the whole realm." The clerical party were not prepared to face so direct an issue, and answered that it was contrary to the decretals. ' ' So, ' ' replied Standish, i ' is the non-residence of bishops; yet that is common enough." Baffled in their appeal to law the bishops fell back upon Scripture, and quoted the text, < ' Touch not mine anointed. ' ' Again Standish turned against them the new critical spirit, which destroyed the old arguments founded on isolated texts. David, he said, used these words of all God's people as opposed to the heathen ; as England was a Christian country the text covered the laity as well as the clergy. It was doubtless galling to the clerical party to be so remorselessly defeated by one of their own number, and their indignation was increased when the temporal lords on the commis-

tion that saved him. Except in this one point, Standish sided with the Church in opposition to Colet and Erasmus, and in the persecution of heretics. He was appointed bishop of St. Asaph in 1518. At the beginning of the proceedings of the divorce of the king from Katharine, Standish was council for the queen, but he afterwards took a part in the ceremonies of the coronation of Anne Boleyn. On June 1, 1535. being then a very old man, he formally renounced allegiance to the Cath- olic Church, and he died on July 9, of the same year.

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sion decided against the Abbot of Winchcombe and ordered him to apologize.

The bishops vented their anger on Standish, and summoned him to answer for his conduct before Convocation, whereon he appealed to the king. Again Henry appointed a commission, this time ex- clusively of laymen, to decide between Standish and his accusers. They reported that Convocation, by its proceeding against one who was acting as a royal commissioner, had incurred the penalties of praemunire, and they added that the king could, if he chose, hold a parliament without the lords spirit- ual, who had no place therein save by virtue of their temporal possessions. Probably this was in- tended as a significant hint to the spirituality that they had better not interfere unduly with parlia- mentary proceedings. Moreover, at the same time a case had occurred which stirred popular feeling against the ecclesiastical courts. A London mer- chant had been arrested by the chancellor of the Bishop of London on a charge of heresy, and a few days after his arrest was found hanging dead in his cell. Doubtless the unhappy man had com- mitted suicide, but there was a suspicion that his arrest was due to a private grudge on the part of the chancellor, who was accused of having made

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away with him privily. Popular feeling waxed high, and the lords who gave their decision so roundly against Convocation knew that they were sure of popular support.

Henry was not sorry of an opportunity of teach- ing the clergy their dependence upon himself, and he summoned the bishops before him that he might read them a lesson. Wolsey's action on this occa- sion is noticeable. He seems to have been the only one who saw the gravity of the situation, and he strove to effect a dignified compromise. Before the king could speak Wolsey knelt before him and in- terceded for the clergy. He said that they had designed nothing against the king's prerogative, but thought it their duty to uphold the rights of the Church; he prayed that the matter might be re- ferred to the decision of the Pope. Henry answered that he was satisfied with the arguments of Stand- ish. Fox, Bishop of Winchester, turned angrily on Standish, and Archbishop War ham plucked up his courage so far as to say feebly, " Many holy men have resisted the law of England on this point and have suffered martyrdom. ' ' But Henry knew that he had not to deal with a second Becket, and that the days of Becket had gone by forever. He would have nothing to say to papal intervention or to

WOLSEY'S DOMESTIC POLICY.

clerical privilege ; the time had come for the asser- tion of royal authority, and Henry could use his opportunity as skilfully as the most skilful priest. " We," said he, " are by God's grace king of Eng- land, and have no superior but God ; we will main- tain the rights of the Crown like our predecessors ; your decrees you break and interpret at your pleas- ure : but we will not consent to your interpretation any more than our predecessors have done. ' ' The immemorial rights of the English Crown were vaguer and more formidable than the rights of the Church, and the bishops retired in silence. Henry did not forget the service rendered him by Standish, who was made Bishop of St. Asaph in 1518.

In this incident we have a forecast of the subse- quent course of events — the threat of praemunire, the assertion of the royal supremacy, the submission of the clergy. Nothing was wanting save a suffi- cient motive to work a revolution in the ancient re- lations between Church and State. Wolsey alone seems to have seen how precarious was the existing position of the Church. He knew that the Church was wrong, and that it would have to give way, but he wished to clothe its submission with a sem- blance of dignity, and to use the papal power, not as a means of guarding the rights of the Church,

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but as a means of casting an air of ecclesiastical propriety over their abandonment. Doubtless he proposed to use his legatine power for that purpose if the need arose ; but he was loyal to the Church as an institution, and did not wish it to fall unre- servedly to the tender mercies of the king. He saw that this was only to be avoided by a judicious pliancy on the Church's part, which could gain a breathing-space for carrying out gradual reforms.

The fact that Wolsey was a statesman rather than an ecclesiastic gave him a clear view of the direction which a conservative reformation should pursue. He saw that the Church was too wealthy and too powerful for the work which it was actually doing. The wealth and power of the Church were a herit- age from a former age, in which the care for the higher interests of society fell entirely into the hands of the Church because the State was rude and barbarous, and had no machinery save for the dis- charge of rudimentary duties. Bishops were the only officials who could curb the lawlessness of feu- dal lords; the clergy were the only refuge from local tyranny ; monks were the only landlords who cleared the forests, drained the marshes, and taught the pursuits of peace ; monastery schools educated the sons of peasants, and the universities gave young

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men of ability a career. All the humanitarian duties of society were discharged by the Church, and the Church had grown in wealth and importance because of its readiness to discharge them. But as the State grew stronger, and as the power of Par- liament increased, it was natural that duties which had once been delegated should be assumed by the community at large. It was equally natural that institutions which had once been useful should out- last their usefulness and be regarded with a jealous eye. By the end of the reign of Edward I. (1307) England had been provided with as many monastic institutions as it needed, and the character of mon- asticism began to decline. Benefactions for social purposes from that time forward were mainly de- voted to colleges, hospitals, and schools. The fact that so many great churchmen were royal ministers shows how the energy of the Church was placed at the disposal of the State and was by it absorbed. The Church possessed revenues, and a staff of officials / which were too large for the time, in which it was not the only worker in the field of social welfare. It possessed rights and privileges which were neces- sary for its protection in days of anarchy and law- lessness, but which were invidious in days of more ! settled government. Moreover, the tenure of so

220 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

much land by ecclesiastical corporations like monas- teries, was viewed with jealousy in a time when commercial competition was becoming a dominant motive in a society which had ceased to be mainly warlike.

From this point of view Wolsey was prepared for gradual changes in the position of the Church ; but he did not wish those changes to be revolutionary, nor did he wish them to be made by the power of the State. He knew the real weakness of the Church and the practical omnipotence of the king ; but he hoped to unite the interests of the Crown and of the Church by his own personal influence and by his position as the trusted minister of king and Pope alike.

He did not, however, deceive himself about the practical difficulties in the way of a conservative re- form, which should remove the causes of popular discontent, and leave the Church an integral part of the State organization. He knew that the ecclesias- tical system, even in its manifest abuses, was close- ly interwoven with English society, and he knew the strength of clerical conservatism. He knew also the dangers which beset the Church if it came across the royal will and pleasure. If any reform were to be carried out it must be by raising the stan- dard of clerical intelligence. Already many things

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which had accorded with the simpler minds of an earlier age had become objects of mockery to edu- cated laymen. The raillery of Erasmus at the relics of St. Thomas of Canterbury and the Virgin's milk preserved at "Walsingham * expressed the difference which had arisen between the old practices of relig- ion and the belief of thoughtful men. It would be well to divert some of the revenues of the Church from the maintenance of idle and ignorant monks to the education of a body of learned clergy.

This diversion of monastic property had long been projected and attempted. "William of Wykeham f

* Matthew xxiii : 27 reads as follows : " Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites ! for ye are like unto whited sepulchres, which indeed appear beautiful outward, but are within full of dead men's bones and of all uncleanness." The comment of Erasmus was : " What would Jerome say could he see the Virgin's milk exhibited for money, with as much honor paid to it as to the consecrated body of Christ ; the mi- raculous oil ; the portions of the true Cross, enough if they were collected to freight a large ship ? Here we have the hood of St. Francis, there Our Lady's petticoat, or St. Anne's comb, or St. Thomas of Canterbury's shoes ; not presented as innocent aids to religion, but as the subtance of religion itself — and all through the avarice of priests and the hypocrisy of monks playing on the credulity of the people. Even bishops play their parts in these fantastic shows, and approve and dwell on them in their rescripts." It is not in the least sur- prising that Ignatius Loyola, the founder of the Jesuits, should say that " he read a little and could not go on ; it checked his devotional emotions."

f William of Wykeham (1324-1404) rose from obscure be-

222 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

endowed his New College at Oxford with lands which he purchased from monasteries. Henry YI. endowed Eton and King's College with revenues which came from the suppression of alien priories. In 1497 John Alcock, Bishop of Ely, obtained leave to suppress the decrepit nunnery of St. Rhadegund in Cambridge and use its site for the foundation of Jesus College. Wolsey only carried farther and made more definite the example which had pre- viously been set when in 1524 he obtained from Pope Clement YII. permission to convert into a college the monastery of St. Frideswyde in Oxford. Soon after he obtained a bull allowing him to sup- press monasteries with fewer than seven inmates, and devote their revenues to educational purposes. Nor was Wolsey the only man who was of opin- ion that the days of monasticism were numbered.

ginnings to such influence that " everything was done by him and nothing without him." In 1364 he was appointed by Edward III. keeper of the privy seal arid secretary to the King. In 1367 he was made Bishop of Winchester and Chan- cellor of England. In 1380 he begun New College, Oxford, and in 1387 AVin Chester school. In 1394, being then about seventy years of age, he began the reconstruction of the cathedral of Winchester, a splendid piece of work, and per- sonally supervised until 1402. Wycliffe spoke of him as "a builder of castles," but he founded his colleges " first for the glory of God and the promotion of divine service, and second- arily for scholarships." He has been called the father of the public school system of England. See also above, p. 19, note,

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In 1515 Bishop Fox of Winchester contemplated the foundation of a college at Oxford in connection with the monastery of St. Swithin at Winchester. He was dissuaded from making his college depend- ent on a monastery by his brother bishop, Oldham of Exeter, who said, " Shall we build houses and provide livelihoods for a company of bussing monks, whose end and fall we ourselves may live to see? No, no: it is meet to provide for the increase of learning, and for such as by learning shall do good to Church and commonwealth." Oldham' s advice prevailed, and the statutes of Fox's college of Brasenose were marked by the influence of the new learning as distinct from the old theology.

Still Wolsey's bull for the wholesale dissolution of small monasteries was the beginning of a pro- cess which did not cease till all were swept away. It introduced a principle of measuring the utility of old institutions and judging their right to exist by their power of rendering service to the community. Religious houses whose shrunken revenues could not support more than seven monks, according to the rising standard of monastic comfort, were scarcely likely to maintain serious discipline or pursue any lofty end. But it was the very reasonableness of this method of judgment which rendered it exceed-

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ingly dangerous. Tried by this standard, who could hope to escape ? Fuller scarcely exagger- ates when he says that this measure of Wolsey 's "made all the forest of religious foundations in England to shake, justly fearing that the king would fell the oaks when the cardinal had begun to cut the underwood. ' ' It would perhaps have re- quired too much wisdom for the monks to see that submission to the cardinal's pruning-knife was the only means of averting the clang of the royal axe.

The method which Wolsey pursued was after- wards borrowed by Henry VIII. Commissioners were sent out to inquire into the condition of small monasteries, and after an unfavorable report their dissolution was required, and their members were removed to a larger house. The work was one which needed care and dexterity as well as a good knowledge of business. Wolsey was lucky in his agents, chief amongst whom was Thomas Crom- well, an attorney whose cleverness "Wolsey quickly perceived. In fact most of the men who so cleverly managed the dissolution of the monasteries for Henry had learned the knack under "Wolsey, who was fated to train up instruments for purposes which he would have abhorred.

The immediate objects to which Wolsey devoted

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the money which he obtained by the dissolution of these useless monasteries were a college in his old university of Oxford and another in his native town of Ipswich. The two were doubtless intended to be in connection with one another, after the model of William of Wykeham's foundations at Winchester and Oxford, and those of Henry VI. at Eton and Cambridge. This scheme was never carried out in its integrity, for on Wolsey's fall his works were not completed, and were involved in his forfeiture. Few things gave him more grief than the threatened check of this memorial of his greatness, and owing to his earnest entreaties his college at Oxford was spared and was refounded. Its name, however, was changed from Cardinal College to Christ Church,*

* Henry VIII., in 1530, announced his intention of dissolv- ing Cardinal College and seizing its property to his own use. 4 ' Thus," says Dr. Brewer, " one of the noblest foundations for education, so much needed for the eastern counties, was brought to desolation by the avarice of the King and the greed of his favorites." Cardinal College was totally sup- pressed, and when, nearly two years later, another institution was set up in its stead, under the title of " King Henry the Eighth's College," provision was made for no more than a dean and twelve canons, not necessarily connected with the university, and a few clerks and choristers. This purely ec- clesiastical body was in its turn suppressed in 1545, to make way for the grander foundation which still flourishes under the name of Christ Church. Thus, after many vicissitudes, the venerable minister of St. Frideswyde, one of the few re maining memorials of pre-academic Oxford, now serves as 15

226 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

and it was not entirely identified with Wolsey's glory. The college at Ipswich fell into abeyance.

Wolsey's design for Cardinal College was on a magnificent scale. He devised a large court sur- rounded by a cloister, with a spacious dining-hall on one side. The hall was the first building which he took in hand, and this fact is significant of his idea of academic life. He conceived a college as an organic society of men living in common, and by their intercourse generating and expressing a power- ful body of opinion. Contemporaries mocked and said, " A fine piece of business; this cardinal pro- jected a college and has built a tavern. ' ' They did not understand that Wolsey was not merely adding to the number of Oxford colleges, but was creating a society which should dominate the University, and be the center of a new intellectual movement. For this purpose Wolsey devised a foundation which should be at once ecclesiastical and civil, and should set forward his own conception of the relations be- tween the Church and the intellectual and social life of the nation. His foundation consisted of a dean, sixty canons, six professors, forty petty canons,

the chapel of the largest college in the university and as the Cathedral church of the diocese. — See History of the Univer- sity of Oxford, by H. C. MAXWELL LYTE.

WOLSEY'S DOMESTIC POLICY. 227

twelve chaplains, twelve clerks, and sixteen choris- ters ; and he proposed to fill it with men of his own choice, who would find there a fitting sphere for their energies.

Wolsey was a man well adapted to hold the bal- ance between the old and the new learning. He had been trained in the theology of the schools, and was a student of St. Thomas Aquinas ; but he had learned by the training of life to understand the new ideas; he grasped their importance, and he foresaw their triumph. He was a friend of the band of English scholars who brought to Oxford the study of Greek, and he sympathized with the in- tellectual aspirations of Grocyn,* Colet, More, and Erasmus. Perhaps he rather sympathized than un- derstood ; but his influence was cast on their side when the opposition to the new learning broke out in the University and the Trojans waged a des- perate and at first a successful war against the

* William Grocyn (1442?-1519) was a warm friend of Erasmus. About 1489 he went to Rome and studied the Greek language. Returning to England lie was appointed to the professorship of Greek in Oxford University, and was the first professor of that language in England. Sir Thomas More was one of his early pupils. Erasmus describes him as an incomparable man, and an accurate scholar, skilled in various branches of learn- ing. He published nothing and his fame rests entirely oil his lectures delivered in Oxford and London.

228 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

Greeks. The more ignorant among the clerical teachers objected to any widening of the old studies, and resented the substitution of biblical or patristic theology for the study of the schoolmen. They dreaded the effects of the critical method, and were not reassured when Grocyn, in a sermon at St. Paul's Cathedral, declared that the writings at- tributed to Dionysius the Areopagite * were spurious. A wave of obscurantism swept over Oxford, and, as Tyndale puts it, "the barking curs, Dun's dis- ciples, the children of darkness, raged in every pulpit against Greek, Latin, and Hebrew."

Wolsey used the king's authority to rebuke the assailants of learning ; but the new teachers with- drew from Oxford, and Wolsey saw that if the

* Dionysius the Areopagite was a convert of the apostle Paul (see Acts xvii : 34) and was reputed to be the first bishop of Athens. The writings attributed to him emanated from an Alexandrian in the sixth century. The writings are the expression of the Neo-Platonism and Christian nrysticism of the time. They gradually made their way in Europe, and in the middle ages exercised an incalculable influence in the Church. It the ninth century, John Scotus Erigena (Duns Scotus) translated these works into Latin and in this tongue they were more accessible. " The Florentine Platonists of the fifteenth century studied them with ardor, as did the English humanists, Colet and Grocyn. Their influence is plainly traceable in Dante's Divine Comedy. The authenti- city of these writings is still maintained here and there, in spite of the overwhelming evidence to the contrary."

WOLSEY'S DOMESTIC POLICY. 229

4

new learning was to make way it must have a se- cure footing. Accordingly he set himself to get the universities into his power, and in 1517 pro- posed to found university lectureships in Oxford. Hitherto the teaching given in the universities had been voluntary; teachers arose and maintained themselves by a process of natural selection. Ex- cellent as such a system may seem, it did not lead to progress, and already the Lady Margaret, Coun- tess of Eichmond, Henry VII. 's mother, had adopted the advice of Bishop Fisher, and founded divinity professorships in the two universities. Wolsey wished to extend this system and organize an entire staff of teachers for university purposes. "We do not know how far he showed his intention, but such was his influence that Oxford submitted its statutes to him for revision. . "Wolsey 's hands were too full of other work for him' to undertake at once so delicate a matter ; but he meant undoubtedly to reorganize the system of university education, and for this purpose prevailed on Cambridge also to entrust its statutes to his hands. Again he had prepared the way for a great undertaking, and had dexterously used his position to remove all obsta- cles, and prepare a field for the work of reconstruc- tion. Again he was prevented from carrying out

230 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

his designs, and his educational reform was never actually made. "We can only trace his intentions in the fact that he brought to Oxford a learned Spaniard, Juan Luis Vives,* to lecture on rhetoric, and we may infer that he intended to provide both universities with a staff of teachers chosen from the first scholars of Europe.

Another matter gives another indication of Wol- sey's desire to remove the grievances felt against the Church. If the monasteries were survivals of a time when the Church discharged the humanitarian duties of society, the ecclesiastical courts were in a like manner survivals of a time when the civil courts were not yet able to deal with many points which concerned the relations between man and man, or which regulated individual conduct. Thus marriage was a religious ceremony, and all ques- tions which arose from the marriage contract were decided in the ecclesiastical courts. Similarly

* Juan Luis Vives (1492-1540) studied at the university of Lou vain and became professor of Latin in that institution. He went to England as tutor of princess Mary. When Henry was suing for divorce from Katharine, the suit was opposed by Vives who, for this offence was imprisoned. On his release he settled at Bruges, in Belgium, where he became the in- timate friend of Erasmus and Budseus. "The three have been called a triumvirate in the republic of letters, equally eminent for talents and learning."

WOLSEY'S DOMESTIC POLICY. 231

wills were recognized by the Church, as resting on the moral basis of mutual confidence, long before the State was prepared to acknowledge their valid- ity. Besides these cases which arose from contract, the Church exercised a disciplinary supervision over its members for the good of their souls, and to avoid scandals in a Christian community. On all these points the principles of the Church had leavened the conceptions of the State, and the civil jurisdic- tion had in many matters overtaken the ecclesias- tical. But the clerical courts stood stubbornly upon their claim to greater antiquity, and the activity of ecclesiastical lawyers found plenty of work to do. Disciplinary jurisdiction was unduly extended by a class of trained officials, and was resented by the growing independence of the rising middle class. No doubt the ecclesiastical courts needed reform, but the difficulties in the way of reforming legal procedure are always great. Wolsey faced the problem in a way which is most characteristic of his statesmanship. He strove to bring the question to maturity for solution by getting the control of the ecclesiastical courts into his own hands. For this purpose he used his exceptional position as Papal Legate, and instituted a legatine court which should supersede the ordinary jurisdiction, Natur-

232 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

ally enough this brought him into collision with Archbishop Warham, and his fall prevented him from developing his policy. His attempt only left the ecclesiastical courts in worse confusion, and added to the strength of the opposition, which soon robbed them of most of their powers. It added also to Wolsey's unpopularity, and gave a shadow of justice to the unworthy means which were used for his destruction.

In fact, wherever we look, we see that in domes- tic affairs "Wolsey had a clear conception of the ob- jects to be immediately pursued by a conservative reformer. But a conservative reformer raises as much hostility as does a revolutionist, for the mass of men are not sufficiently foreseeing or sufficiently disinterested willingly to abandon profitable abuses. They feel less animosity against the open enemy who aims avowedly at their destruction, than against the seeming friends, who would deprive them of what they consider to be their rights. The clergy submitted more readily to the abolition of their privileges by the king than they would have submitted to a reform at the hands of Wolsey. They could understand the one; they could not understand the other. This was natural, for Wolsey had no lofty principles to set before them ; he had

WOLSEY'S DOMESTIC POLICY.

only the wisdom of a keensighted statesman, who read the signs of the times. Indeed he did not waste his time in trying to persuade others to see with his eyes. He could not have ventured to speak out and say that the Church must choose between the tender mercies of the royal power and submission to the discretion of one who, standing between the king and the Pope, was prepared to throw a semblance of ecclesiastical recognition over reforms which were inevitable. It is clear that Wolsey was working for the one possible com- promise, and he hoped to effect it by his own dexterity. Secure of the royal favor, secure through his political importance of the papal acquiescence in the use which he made of his legatine power, standing forward as the chief ecclesiastic in Eng- land, he aimed at accomplishing such reforms as would have brought into harmony the relations be- tween Church and State. He did not hope to do this by persuasion, but by power, and had taken steps to lay his hand cautiously on different parts of the ecclesiastical organization. With this idea before him we may safely acquit Wolsey of any undue ambition for the papal office; he doubted whether his influence would be increased or not by its possession.

234 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

In everything that Wolsey did he played for the highest stakes, and risked all upon the hope of ulti- mate success. He trusted to justify himself in the long-run, and was heedless of the opposition which he called forth. Resting solely upon the royal favor, he did not try to conciliate, nor did he pause to explain. Men could not understand his ends, but they profoundly disliked his means. The sup- pression of small monasteries, which might be use- less but served to provide for younger sons or dependants of country families, was very unpopular, as coming from a cardinal who enjoyed the revenues of many ecclesiastical offices whose duties he did not discharge. The setting up of a legatine court was hateful to the national sentiment of English- men, who saw in it only another engine of ecclesi- astical oppression. The pomp and magnificence wherewith Wolsey asserted a greatness which he mainly valued as a means of doing his country ser- vice, was resented as the vulgar arrogance of an upstart. "Wolsey's ideas were too great to pay any heed to the prejudices of Englishmen which, after all, have determined the success of all English min- isters, and which no English statesman has ever been powerful enough to disregard.

CHAPTEE IX.

1527-1529.

IF Wolsey hoped that the peace with France, which he had so successfully concluded in the begin- ning of 1527, would enable him to reassert Eng- land's influence on the Continent, and would give him an opportunity for the work of domestic re- form, he was sorely disappointed. A new matter arose, not entirely unexpected, but which widened into unexpected issues, and consumed Wolsey's energies till it led to his fall. The project of the king's divorce was suddenly mooted; and this per- sonal matter, before it was ripe for settlement, gradually drew into its sphere all the questions con- cerning England's foreign and domestic policy which Wolsey's statesmanship had been trying to solve by wise and well-considered means. Wolsey had been gathering into his hands the threads of a complicated policy, each one of which required dex- terous handling, in accordance with a great design.

He found himself suddenly called upon to act pre- 235

236 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

cipitately for the accomplishment of a small matter, which brought all the difficulties of his position prominently forward, and gave him no time for that skilful diplomacy in which he excelled. Moreover, when the project was started neither Henry nor Wolsey could have foreseen the complications which would arise ; still less could Wolsey have known the obstinacy which the faintest opposition to the royal will would develop in the king, or the extent to which he could persuade himself that the satisfac- tion of the royal pleasure was the sole purpose of the existence of the power of the State. At first Henry had sympathized with Wolsey 's far-reaching schemes. Latterly he had at all events been willing to allow Wolsey to have his own way on the whole. The time came when he showed himself a hard task- master, and demanded that Wolsey should at all costs satisfy his personal desires in a matter which he persuaded himself was all-important to the nation at large.

Yiewed according to the general notions of the time, there was nothing very surprising in the fact that Henry VIII. should wish for a divorce. Royal marriages were made and unmade from mo- tives of expediency ; it was only a question of ob- taining a decent plea. The sons of Katharine had

THE KING'S DIVORCE.

died in infancy, and Mary was the only heir of the English throne; it was a matter of importance to the future of England that the succession to the throne should be clearly established. If Henry had remained attached to his wife this consideration would not have been put forward ; but Henry was never famed for constancy. He was in the prime of life, while Katharine was over forty.* He had developed in character, not for the better, while she remained true to the narrow traditions of her early training. She was an excellent housewife, con- scientious, decorous, and capable; but she was devoted to the political interests of Spain, and admired her nephew Charles. While the imperial alliance was warmly pursued by Henry she was happy; when Henry's zeal for Charles began to fade she felt offended, and was not judicious in the display of her political bias. Henry was more and more annoyed by his wife's discontent, and the breach between them rapidly widened. "When Henry broke with Charles and allied himself with France he seems to have felt that his domestic peace was at an end, and he was not the man to shrink from the effort to re-establish it upon another basis. Perhaps none of these considerations would have * Henry was about six years younger than Katharine.

238 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

moved Henry to take prompt action if his desires had not been kindled by a new object of his affec- tion. He had not been a faithful husband, and Katharine seems to- have been indulgent to his in- fidelities. In the course of 1526 he was captivated by the charms of Anne Boleyn, as he had formerly been captivated by her sister Mary. But Anne had learned that the king was fickle, and she resolved that she would not be so easily won as to be lightly abandoned. She skilfully managed to make herself agreeable to the king till his passion for her became so violent that he was prepared to accept her terms and make her his lawful wife.

Wolsey was not in favor of this plan ; but he was not opposed to getting rid of the political influence of Katharine, and he believed that the king's fancy for Anne Boleyn would rapidly pass away. What- ever his own personal opinion might be, he did not venture to gainsay the king in a matter on which he was resolved, and he lent himself to be an instru- ment in a matter which involved him in measures which became more and more discreditable. The first idea of the king was to declare his marriage with Katharine unlawful, on the ground that she had previously been his brother's wife; but he was cognizant of that when he married her

THE KING'S DIVORCE. 239

and had applied for a papal dispensation to remedy that source of invalidity. Doubtless some plea might be discovered to enable the Pope to set aside the dispensation granted by his predecessor. But whatever technical grounds might be used to justify the Pope's decision in the king's favor, the Pope could not be expected to act in such a manner as to offend the Powers of Europe and shock the moral sense of Englishmen. Wolsey did not hide from himself that there were three hindrances in the way of legalizing the king's divorce. The opinion of England was not in its favor ; Charles Y. was likely to resent the affront which it would put upon his aunt, and the Pope could not afford to alienate one who was becoming all-powerful in Italy that he might win the distant friendship of the English king ; Francis I. had just made a treaty with Henry YIII. , by which the hand of Mary had been prom- ised to his son, and he was not likely to wish to see Mary declared to be illegitimate. These were serious elements of opposition, which it would re^ quire considerable skill to overcome.

The first measure which suggested itself to Henry and Wolsey was to put the king's plea into shape, and endorse it with the authority of the English Church. For this purpose a suit was secretly insti-

LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

tuted against the king in Wolsey 's legatine court. Henry was solemnly informed that a complaint had been made to Wolsey, as censor of public morals, that he had cohabited for eighteen years with his brother's wife. Henry consented that Archbishop Warham should be joined with Wolsey as assessor, and named a proctor who should plead his cause. Three sessions of this court were held with the pro- foundest secrecy in May ; but in spite of all the at- tempts at secrecy the imperial ambassador discovered what was going on. The object of this procedure seems to have been to produce a sentence from the legate's court in England which should be con- firmed by the Pope without right of appeal. If the Pope had been a free agent he might conceivably have adopted this course ; but the news soon reached England that Kome had been sacked by Bourbon, and that the Pope was trembling before Charles Y. In this turn of affairs it was useless to proceed farther on the supposition that he would unhesitat- ingly comply with the wishes of Henry and Wolsey. A court sitting in secret would have no influence on English opinion, and Wolsey proposed that its sit- tings should be suspended, and the opinions of the English bishops be taken as a means of educating public opinion.

THE KING'S DIVORCE.

But Katharine had been informed of the king's intentions concerning her, and showed a purpose of defending her rights. It would be very awkward if she were the first to make the matter public, and were to appeal to the Pope or her kinsman Charles. The question would then become a political ques- tion, and Henry was not prepared with allies. So on 22d June the king broached his difficulties to Katharine. He told her of his scruples, and of his intentions of submitting them to the decision of can- onists and theologians ; meanwhile they had better live apart. Katharine burst into tears, and the king vaguely tried to assure her that all was being done for the best, and begged her to keep the matter secret. His only object was to prevent her from taking any open steps till he had assured himself of the countenance of the French king to his plans. For this purpose Wolsey was sent on an embassy, ostensibly to settle some questions raised by the French treaty, really to concert with Francis I. a scheme for bringing to bear upon the Pope a pres- sure which should be strong enough to counteract the influence of Charles Y.

So, on 3d July, Wolsey left London on his last diplomatic mission. Men who saw Wolsey set out

with more than his accustomed state, escorted by 16

242 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

nine hundred horsemen, thought, doubtless, that the cardinal1 s greatness was as high as ever; but those who watched more closely saw him in the splendid ceremonial of the Church of Canterbury " weep very tenderly ," for his mind was ill at ease. He must have felt that he was going to use his tal- ents for a bad end, and that all patriotism and no- bility had vanished from his aim. On his way to Dover he had a conference with Archbishop War- ham, whom he instructed about the conduct to be observed towards the queen. Then at Kochester he sounded Bishop Fisher,* the most holy and up- right of the English bishops, who had already been asked by Katherine to give her counsel, though she had not ventured to tell him what was the subject

* John Fisher (1459?-1535) was educated at Cambridge, where he subsequently held several important offices. In 1503 he was appointed, by the Countess of Richmond, pro- fessor of divinity in the two universities (see above, p. 145). From this time he rose rapidly to distinction. Though he was courteous and deferential to Wolsey, yet, " being a man of strict life," he " hated Wolsey for his vices." He was in sympathy with the spirit of the new learning and with the then modern biblical criticism, and he lent his influence to promote the scholarly work of Erasmus. His native con- servatism, which increased as he grew older, made him hostile to the teachings of Luther, against whom he preached and wrote. He incurred the hatred of Henry VIII. in opposing the doctrine of supremacy, refusing to recognize the validity of the decree of divorce of Katharine, and in standing out against the Act of Supremacy passed in 1534. He was then

THE KING'S DIVORCE. 243

on which she wished for his advice. So Wolsey told his own story; that the king's conscience was disquiet, and that he. wished to have his scruples set at rest by the opinions of learned men. He repre- sented that Katharine by her hastiness was throw- ing difficulties in the way of the king's considerate procedure, and threatened to publish the matter, and so create an open scandal. Fisher believed Wolsey's tale, and was beguiled into a belief of the king's good intentions, which the queen could not understand. About the validity of Henry's mar- riage Wolsey could not get from Fisher an opinion contrary to the authority of a papal dispensation ; but he contrived to alienate Fisher from sympathy with Katharine, and so left the queen without a friend while he proceeded to machinate against her in France.

We have from one of "Wolsey's attendants, George Cavendish, his gentleman -usher, a full account of Wolsey's journey in France, On one point he gives us valuable insight into Wolsey's character where

subjected to relentless persecution which ended in his death, which was plainly a case of judicial murder. He was be- headed June 22d, 1535, just two weeks before the execution of More, and his head was exposed to view on London Bridge. More said of him that " in this realm no one man in wisdom, learning, and long approved vertue together, mete to be matched and compared with him."

244 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

Wolsey has been much misrepresented. He tells us how at Calais he summoned his attendants and ad- dressed them about their behavior. He explained that the services which he required from them were not personal but official, and his words were those of a statesman who understood, but did not over- estimate, the value of external things. ' ' Ye shall understand," he said, u that the king's majesty, upon certain weighty considerations, hath for the more advancement of his royal dignity assigned me in this journey to be his lieutenant-general, and what reverence belongeth to the same I will tell you. That for my part I must, by virtue of my commission of lieutenantship, assume and take upon me, in all honors and degrees, to have all such ser- vice and reverence as to his highness 's presence is meet and due, and nothing thereof to be neglected or omitted by me that to his royal estate is appur- tenant. And for my part, ye shall see me that I will not omit one jot thereof." Then he added some wise advice about the courtesies to be observed in their intercourse with the French.

When matters of etiquette had thus been arranged, "Wolsey rode out of Calais on 22d July, and pursued his journey to Abbeville, where he awaited the ar- rival of Francis I. at Amiens. On 4th August he

THE KING'S DIVORCE. 245

entered Amiens, and was received with royal honors. His interviews which Francis and the queen-mother were most satisfactory on matters of general policy: the English alliance was firmly accepted, and all questions between the two Crowns were in a fair way towards settlement. Wolsey waited till the political alliance was firmly established before he broached the personal matter of the divorce. Meanwhile he meditated on the schemes which might be pursued by the allied kings to satisfy Henry's desires. He proposed that they should join in de- manding from Charles Y. that he should restore the Pope's independence, in the hope that the Pope when freed from constraint would be willing to show his gratitude by complying with Henry's de- mands. If they failed in procuring the Pope's re- lease, they should declare the papal power to be in abeyance, and summon the cardinals to meet at Avignon, where, under Wolsey's presidency, they should transact such business as the Pope in his cap- tivity was unable to discharge.

Either of these methods was technically decorous ; but they did not much commend themselves to Henry YIII. , whose passion for Anne Boleyn daily in- creased, and who was impatient of any procedure that involved delay. So Henry listened coldly to

24:6 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

Wolsey's proposals for a "sure, honorable, and safe" termination of the "king's matter," as the divorce was now called : he wished for a " good and brief conclusion, ' ' and gave ear to the advice of Anne Boleyn and her friends. It was easy for them to point out that Wolsey was an old-fashioned statesman, full of prejudice where the Church was concerned. They urged that the king could do bet- ter for himself, and could deal more expeditiously with the Pope than could a churchman who was bound to adopt a humble attitude towards his eccle- siastical superior. So Henry determined to take the matter into his own hands, and send his secretary Knight to negotiate with the Pope without Wolsey 's intervention.

"Wolsey, meanwhile, in ignorance of the King's intentions, but distressed at the difficulties which he foresaw, followed the French Court to Compiegne, where he divided his time between diplomatic con- flicts, festivities, and the despatch of business. One morning, Cavendish tells us, " He rose early about four of the clock, sitting down to write letters into England unto the king, commanding one of his chap- lains to prepare him to mass, insomuch that the said chaplain stood revested until four of the clock at afternoon ; all which season my lord never rose once

THE KING'S DIVORCE.

even to eat any meat, but continually wrote his let- ters, with his own hands, having all that time his nightcap and kerchief on his head. And about the hour of four of the clock, at afternoon, he made an end of writing, and commanded one Christopher Gunner, the king's servant, to prepare him without delay to ride empost into England with his letters, whom he despatched away or ever he drank. And that done he went to mass, and said his other divine service with his chaplain, as he was accustomed to do ; and then went straight into a garden ; and after he had walked the space of an hour or more, and said his evensong, he went to dinner and supper all at once ; and making a small repast, he went to his bed, to take his rest for the night."

While Wolsey was thus laboring in this thorny matter, he received a visit from Knight on his way to Rome. Knight's instructions were to demand from the Pope a dispensation for Henry to marry again before the divorce from Katharine had been pronounced ; failing this, to marry immediately after

»

his marriage with Katharine was declared invalid. Further, he was to ask the Pope to issue a bull delegating his spiritual authority to Cardinal Wolsey during his captivity. No doubt this was an expedi- tious way to cut existing difficulties ; but it was too

248 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

expeditious to suit the traditions of the Papal Court, Its obvious clumsiness showed that it was not the work of Wolsey's hand ; and it was unwise for the king to inform the Pope that he was trying to act without Wolsey's knowledge.

Though "Wolsey was left in ignorance of the nature of Knight's instructions, he could not but suspect that the king was acting without his full knowledge. He finished his work at Compiegne and returned to England at the end of September. He at once repaired to the Court at Richmond, and sent to tell the king of his arrival. Hitherto the king had always retired to a private room when he received the cardinal alone. Now Anne Boleyn was with the king in the great hall, and scarcely had Wolsey's message been delivered than she broke in, " Where else should the cardinal come than here where the king is? r The king confirmed her command, and Wolsey found himself ushered into the hall, where Henry sat amusing himself with Anne and his favorites. Serious talk was out of the question. Wolsey was no longer first in the' king's confidence. He went away feeling that Anne Boleyn was his political rival, whom he could only overcome by serving better than she could serve herself. Henceforth he had two masters in-

THE KING'S DIVORCE. 249

stead of one, and he did not deceive himself that the continuance of his power depended solely on his usefulness in the matter of the divorce.

As Wolsey showed himself compliant, Anne Boleyn treated him graciously while she waited to hear the result of Knight's mission to Rome. It was not easy for him to enter the city, which was in possession of the Spaniards, and when he entered it he could not hold any personal communication with Clement VII. , who was shut up in the Castle of St. Angelo. On 9th December Clement escaped to Orvieto, where Knight soon joined him, and showed his incapacity for the work which had been confided to him by revealing to the papal officials the whole details of the matter, which he ought to have kept secret. Clement saw at once the value of Henry's conscientious scruples, and learned that he was moved solely by a desire to marry Anne Boleyn, a connection which could not be excused by any paramount reasons of political expediency. However anxious the Pope might be to oblige the English king, there were limits to his complacency, and Knight had not the wits to cast a fair appear- ance over a disgraceful matter. Yet Clement did not wish to offend Henry by refusing his request at once. The demand for a dispensation empower-

250 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

ing the king to marry at once had already been dropped at Wolsey 's instance. Knight carried with him a form of dispensation allowing Henry to marry as soon as his marriage with Katharine was dis- solved. This form was amended by one of the car- dinals, and was signed by the Pope. Knight started back to England, convinced that he had done his business excellently, and was bearing to the king the permission which he desired.

When the documents were placed in Wolsey 's hands he saw at once that they were worthless. What Henry wanted was permission for Wolsey to decide the question in the Pope's behalf, and permission for himself to act at once as soon as Wolsey 's de- cision was pronounced. The documents which he received did not bar Katharine's right of appeal ; consequently Wolsey 's decision would be of no effect, and the king could not lawfully marry again pending the appeal. In fact, the Pope reserved the entire decision of the matter in his own hand.

It was a small matter for Wolsey to triumph over a man like Knight ; but Knight's failure showed Henry and Anne Boleyn that they must put their confidence in Wolsey after all. So in February, 1528, Wolsey had to begin again from the begin- ning, and had to undo the mischief which Knight's

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bungling had made. He chose as his agents his secre- tary, Stephen Gardiner,* and Edward Foxe, one of the king's chaplains. They were instructed to ask that the Pope would join with Wolsey some special legate, and give them power to pronounce a final judgment. For this purpose they were to plead Henry's cause with all earnestness, and say that the king was moved only by the scruples of his con- science ; at the same time they were to praise the virtues of Anne Boleyn, and say that the king was

* Stephen Gardiner (1483 ?-1555) whose talents made him always prominent, and whose career extended through the reigns of Henry VIII., and Edward VI., and into that of Bloody Mary, experienced many reverses of fortune. Under Henry he was in high favor, and under Edward he was thrown into the tower where he was confined for five years. He was an extreme Catholic and an enemy of Cranmer, whom he tried unsuccessfully to convict of heresy, and he took a leading part in the proceedings that led to the burning of Bradford and Rogers. He held to the validity of the marriage of Henry VIII. to Katharine, and consequently to the illegitimacy of Elizabeth. "His whole treatment of Elizabeth remains one of the most sinister features of his later career," writes Mullinger. Froude says that "there was something in Gardiner's character which was not wholly execrable. For thirty years he worked unweariedly in the service of the public ; his judgment as a member of the council was generally excellent. . . . He was vindictive, ruthless, treacherous; but his courage was indomitable." His ecclesiastical office was Bishop of Winchester, to whose magnificent building he added a beautiful chantry. He died at an advanced age of the gout, and was buried in Winchester Cathedral.

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solely moved by considerations of his duty to his country in his desire to marry her. Further, they were to insist on the dishonor which would be done to the Holy See if the Pope, through fear of Charles V., were to refuse to do justice. If the king could not obtain justice from the Pope he would be com- pelled to seek it elsewhere, and live outside the laws of Holy Church; and however reluctant, he would be driven to this for the quiet of his con- science.

Truly these pleas were sorely contradictory. Henry was ready to acknowledge to the fullest ex- tent the papal power of granting dispensations, and was ready to submit to the justice of the Pope as the highest justice upon earth. But this was solely on condition that the Pope gave decision according to his wishes. He regarded the Papacy as an ex- cellent institution so long as it was on his own side. If it refused to see the justice of his pleas, then he fell back as strenuously as did Luther on the neces- sity of satisf\ang his own conscience, and to do so he was ready, if need were, to break with the Church. Truly the movement in Germany had affected public opinion more than was supposed when Wolsey could hold such language to the Pope. He did not know what a terrible reality that curious

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conscience of Henry would become. His words were a truer prophecy than he dreamed.

However, this line of argument was stubbornly pursued by Gardiner even in the Pope's presence. Clement at Orvieto was not surrounded by the pomp and splendor customary to his office. The English envoys found him in a little room, seated on a wooden bench which was covered with uan old coverlet not worth twenty pence." But he did not see his way to a restoration of his dignity by an un- hesitating compliance with the demands of the Eng- lish king ; on the other hand, the mere fact that his fortunes had sunk so low demanded greater circum- spection. He was not likely to escape from depend- ence on Charles Y. by making himself the tool of Francis I. and Henry VIII. ; such a proceeding would only lead to the entire destruction of the papal authority. Its restoration must be achieved by holding the balance between the opposing Powers of Europe, and Henry VIII. 's desire for a divorce gave the Pope an opportunity of showing that he was still a personage of some importance. Dynastic questions still depended on his decree, and he could use Henry's application as a means of showing Charles that he had something to fear from the Papacy, and that it was his policy to make the

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Papacy friendly to himself. So Clement resolved to adopt a congenial course of temporizing, in the hope that he might see his advantage in some turn of affairs. No doubt he thought that Henry's matter would soon settle itself ; either his passion for Anne Boleyn would pass away, or he would make her his mistress. The stubbornness of Henry, his strange hold upon formal morality while pur- suing an immoral course of conduct, his imperious self-will, which grew by opposition — these were incalculable elements which might have upset the plans of wiser men than Clement VII.

So the Pope acted the part of the good simple man who wishes to do what is right. He lamented his own ignorance, and proposed to consult those who were more learned in canon law than himself. When Gardiner said that England asked nothing but justice, and if it were refused would be driven to think that God had taken away from the Holy See the key of knowledge, and would begin to adopt the opinion of those who thought that pontif- ical laws, which were not clear to the Pope him- self, might well be committed to the flames, Cle- ment sighed, and suggested a compromise. Then he added, with a smile, that though canonists said " the Pope has all laws in the cabinet of his breast,"

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yet God had not given him the key to open that cabinet ; he could only consult his cardinals.

Gardiner's outspoken remonstrances were useless against one who pleaded an amiable incompetence. Against the churnings of Henry's conscience Clement set up the churnings of his own conscience, and no one could gainsay the Pope's right to a conscience as much as the English king. After pursuing this course during the month of March the Pope at length with sighs and tears devised a compromise, in which he feared that he had outstepped the bounds of discretion. He accepted one of the docu- ments which the English envoys had brought, the permission for the king to marry whom he would as soon as his marriage with Katharine had been dis- solved. He altered the terms of the other docu- ment, which provided for the appointment of a com- mission with plenary powers to pronounce on the validity of the king's marriage; he granted the commission, but did not give it plenary power ; at the same time he chose as the commissioner who was to sit with Wolsey Cardinal Campeggio, who was the protector of England in the Papal Court, and who was rewarded for his services by holding the bishopric of Hereford. In this way he showed every mark of goodwill to Henry short of acquies-

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cing entirely in the procedure which he proposed ; but he kept the final decision of the matter in his own hands.

Gardiner was not wholly pleased with this result of his skill and firmness : after all his efforts to ob- tain a definite solution the Pope had managed to es- cape from giving any binding promise. Still, Foxe put a good face on Gardiner's exploits when he re- turned to England in the end of April. Henry and Anne Boleyn were delighted, and Wolsey, though he was more dissatisfied than Gardiner, thought it best to be hopeful. He tried to bind the Pope more firmly, and instructed Gardiner to press that the law relating to Henry's case should be laid down in a papal decretal, so that the legates should only have to determine the question of fact ; this decretal he promised to keep entirely secret; besides this, he urged that there should be no delay in sending Cam- peggio.

During these months of expectancy Wolsey conde- scended to ingratiate himself with Anne Boleyn, who had become a political personage of the first importance. Anne was sure of "Wolsey 's devotion to her interests so long as they were also the king's, and could not dispense with Wolsey 's skill. So she was kindly, and wrote friendly letters to Wolsey,

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and asked for little gifts of tunny-fish and shrimps. The English Court again resembled an amiable family party, whose members were all of one mind. In the course of the summer they were all thrown into terror by an outbreak of the " Sweating Sick- ness, ' ' which devastated the country. Anne Boleyn was attacked, though not severely; and Henry showed that his devotion to her did not proceed to the length of risking his own precious life for her sake. He fled to Waltham, and Anne was left with her father ; Henry protested by letter his unalter- able affection, but kept out of harm's way till all risk of infection was past. At the same time he showed great solicitude for Wolsey 's health, as did also Anne Boleyn. It seemed as though Wolsey were never more useful or more highly esteemed.

Yet, strangely enough, this outbreak of the plague drew upon Wolsey the most significant lesson which he had yet received of his own real position and of Henry's resoluteness to brook no check upon his royal will. Amongst others who perished in the sickness was the Abbess of Wilton, and Anne Boleyn wished that the vacant office should be given to one of the nuns of the abbey, Eleanor Garey, sister of William Carey, who had married Anne's sister Mary. Wolsey was informed of the wishes of Anne 17

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and of the king on this point ; but on examination found that Eleanor's life and character were not such as to fit her for the office. He therefore pro- posed to confer it on the prioress, Isabella Jordan. It would seem, however, that Eleanor's friends were determined to efface in some degree the scandal which their unwise haste had occasioned, and they retaliated by spreading reports injurious to the char- acter of the prioress. Wolsey did not believe these reports ; but Anne Boleyn and the king agreed that if their nominee was to be set aside, the cardinal's nominee should be set aside likewise, and Wolsey was informed of the king's decision. Perhaps "Wol- sey failed to understand the secret motives which were at work ; perhaps he had so far committed himself before receiving the king's message that he could not well go back ; perhaps he conscientiously did what he thought right. Anyhow, he appointed Isabella Jordan, and sent her appointment to the king for confirmation ; further, he gave as his ex- cuse that he had not understood the king's will in the matter.

To his extreme surprise and mortification the king took the opportunity thus afforded of reading him a lecture on his presumption, and reminding him that he was expected to render implicit obedience.

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Matters were no longer arranged between Henry and Wolsey alone ; Anne Boleyn was a third party, and the king's pride was engaged in showing her that his word was law. When Henry took his pen in hand he assumed the mantle of royal dignity, and he. now gave Wolsey a sample of the royal way of putting things which was so effectual in his later dealings with his Parliament. He began by assur- ing Wolsey that the great love he bore him led him to apply the maxim, < ' Whom I love I chasten ; ' : he spoke therefore not in displeasure but for Wol- sey's good. He could not but be displeased that Wolsey had acted contrary' to his orders ; he was the more displeased that Wolsey had pleaded igno- rance as an excuse for his disobedience. He over- whelmed him with quotations from his letters on the subject, and went on, u Ah, my lord, it is a double offence both to do ill and color it too ; but with men that have wit it cannot be accepted so. Wherefore, good my lord, use no more that way with me, for there is no man living that more hateth it. ' ' He then went on to tell Wolsey that there were many rumors current about the means which he was employing to raise money from religious houses for the foundation of his new colleges ; he told him this because " I dare be bolder with you than many that

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mumble it abroad. ' ' He showed that he had not forgotten the refusal of the monasteries to help in the Amicable Grant: why should they now give money to Wolsey unless they had some interested motive in doing so? He advised Wolsey to look closely into the matter, and ended, "I pray you, my lord, think not that it is upon any displeasure that I write this unto you. For surely it is for my discharge afore God, being in the room that I am in ; and secondly, for the great zeal I bear unto you, not undeserved on your behalf. Wherefore, I pray you, take it so ; and I assure you, your fault ac- knowledged, there shall remain in me no spark of displeasure ; trusting hereafter you shall recompense that with a thing much more acceptable to me."

This letter came upon Wolsey as a sudden revela- tion of his true position. It showed him the reality of all the vague doubts and fears which he had for some time been striving to put from him. He was crushed into abjectness, which he did not even strive to conceal from others. He took the immediate matters of complaint seriously to heart, and wished to annul the appointment of Isabella Jordan, which the king ruled to be unnecessary ; on that point he was satisfied with having asserted a principle. But he advised Wolsey to receive no more gifts for his

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colleges from religious houses, and Wolsey promised not to do so. " Thereby I trust, nor by any other thing hereafter unlawfully taken, your poor cardi- nal's conscience shall not be spotted, encumbered, or entangled; purposing, with God's help and your gracious favor, so to order the rest of my poor life that it shall appear to your Highness that I love and dread God and also your Majesty. ' ' This was a lamentable prostration of the moral authority of the chief churchman in England before the king, and showed Wolsey 's weakness. He knew that he had not demeaned himself as befitted his priestly office ; and though he may have felt that no man in Eng- land had less right than the king to reprove his con- duct on moral grounds, still he could not plead that he was above reproach. In the particular matter of which he was accused — extorting money from the religious houses in return for immunities granted in virtue of his legatine power — there is no evidence that Wolsey was guilty. But he could not say that he had a conscience void of offence ; he had acted throughout his career as a statesman and a man of the world. If the king chose to hold him up to moral reprobation he had no valid defence to offer. He had disregarded the criticisms of others that he might serve the king more faithfully; but if the

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king took upon himself the office of critic he had nothing to urge. It was because Henry had taken the measure of churchmen such as Wolsey that he ventured in later times to hold such lofty language in addressing the clergy. Henry was always su- perior to the weakness of imagining that his own conduct needed any defence, or his own motives any justification.

Wolsey, though forgiven with royal graciousness, was profoundly depressed, and could not recover his sense of security. The future was to him big with menaces, and perhaps he looked most sadly upon his designs which yet remained unrealized. He saw that his activity must henceforth work in a smaller sphere, and that he must make haste to finish what he had on hand. The ugly business of the divorce looked to him still uglier. Either he would fail in his efforts to move the Pope, in which case he lost his hold upon the king at once, or, if he suc- ceeded, he saw that the reign of Anne Boleyn meant the end of his own uncontested influence. The king's letter was at least significant of that : he would never have raised a question about so trivial a matter if he had not wished to justify his abso- lute power in the eyes of one who was to him all- important.

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So Wolsey faced the future ; he put his aspira- tions on a lower level, and wished only to garner certainly some of the fruits of his life-long labor. He told the French ambassador, De Bellay, " that if God permitted him to see the hatred of these two nations (France and England) extinguished, and firm amity established, as he hopes it will shortly be, with a reform of the laws and customs of the country, such as he would effect if peace were made, and the succession of the kingdom assured, especially if this marriage took place, and an heir male were born of it, he would at once retire, and serve God for the rest of his life ; and that, with- out any doubt, on the first honorable occasion he could find, he would give up politics." Doubtless Wolsey was genuine in these utterances, and felt that he was resigning much when he reduced his de- signs within the limits which he here set forth. But limited as they were, they still contained an entire scheme for the reconstruction of English poli- tics. Wolsey 's plans remained complete, however much he might be willing to reduce them ; he was incapable of being a mere attendant upon chance.

For the present he was awaiting with growing anxiety the coming of Cardinal Campeggio, which was delayed, according to the Pope's policy of pro-

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crastination. First the cardinal had to contend against the difficulties created by the disorderly state of Italy ; then he was delayed by an attack of the gout, which made his movements slow ; and he did not reach London till 8th October. When he came he was not prepared to act at once, nor did he treat Wolsey as an equal but rather as a subordinate in the work of the commission. In fact, Campeggio behaved as judge, and Wolsey as the king's advocate. Campeggio' s instructions were first to try and persuade the king to lay aside his purpose of a divorce. He soon saw that this was useless, and Wolsey plainly warned him with pro- phetic instinct. "Most reverend lord, beware lest, in like manner as the greater part of Germany, owing to the harshness and severity of a certain cardinal, has become estranged from the Apostolic See and the faith, it should be said that another cardinal has given the same occasion to England, with the same result."

Failing to shake the king's determination, the next course which Campeggio was ordered to pur- sue was to persuade the queen to comply with the king's wishes. Katherine was still treated with outward respect, but was cut off from all friends and advisers, and subjected to a secret and galling

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persecution. Still she maintained a resolute spirit, and withstood the pleadings of Wolsey and Cam- peggio, who urged her to give way and withdraw to a monastery, for the quieting of the king's con- science. Katherine replied that there was nothing of which his conscience need be afraid, and that she intended < i to live and die in the estate of matri- mony to which God had called her." The obsti- nacy of Katherine was as invincible as the obstinacy of Henry ; and Katharine had right on her side.

Nothing remained save for the legates to proceed to the trial of the case ; and in the trial Campeg- gio's instructions bade him procrastinate to the ut- most in hopes the king might give way before the long delay. Wolsey had foreseen this possibility when he demanded that Campeggio should bring with him a decretal defining the law as applicable to the case. This decretal Ca.mpeggio was in- structed to show the king, but keep in his own hands, so that it was useless for Wolsey's purpose. His first object was to get hold of this decretal, and he wrote urgently to the Pope asking that it should be delivered into the king's hands, and shown to the Privy Council. " Without the Pope's compli- ance, "he sadly wrote, c t I cannot bear up against this storm." But Clement VII. felt that he was

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more dependent on Charles V. than on Henry VIII. , and declared that he had granted the decretal merely to be shown to the king and then burned ; he had never consented that it be shown to the king's counsellors. When he was further pressed he tossed his arms and said, with great agitation, " I do con- sider the ruin that hangs over me ; I repent what I have done. If heresies arise, is it my fault? My conscience acquits me. None of you have any rea- son to complain. I have performed my promise, and the king and the cardinal have never asked anything in my power which I have not granted with the utmost readiness; but I will do no vio- lence to my conscience. Let them, if they like, send the legate back again, on the pretext that he will not proceed in the cause, and then do as they please, provided they do not make me responsible for injustice. ' '

Here the Pope touched upon a noticeable feature of the case. Henry was bound upon a course which was neither legally nor morally right, though na- tional interests might to some degree be pleaded in its behalf. He was, however, resolved to be legally and morally justified in his own eyes and in the eyes of others. He would not content himself with setting aside the law, and leaving it to others to

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prove him in the wrong. The Papal Court was slow to justify him; it would have been slower to condemn him. Most men would have been satis- fied with this knowledge, and would have acted upon it. But Henry was not only minded to do what he wished, but was resolved that what he wished should be declared absolutely right. He was determined that there should be no doubt about the legitimacy of his children by Anne Boleyn; and some recognition is due to him for not allow- ing his desires to overcome his patriotism and leave to England the deplorable legacy of a disputed suc- cession. As a man, Henry did not strive to subject his desires to the law of right ; as a king, he was bent upon justifying his own caprice so that it should not do hurt to his royal office, or offend his duty to his kingdom. Henry sinned, but he was bent on sinning royally, and believed that so he could extenuate his sin.

Not only was Campeggio ordered not to part with the decretal, but he was bidden to destroy it. Meanwhile a new feature of the case emerged. It became known that, besides the bull of dispen- sation granted to Henry VII. , an ampler brief had been issued in confirmation of it to Ferdinand of Spain, of which the original was contained in the

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Spanish archives. Henry YIII. insisted on its pro- duction, in the hopes of destroying it or casting doubts on its authenticity, and new negotiations were begun about this brief, which had the effect of wasting time and deferring the trial of the case. Further, on Clement YII.'s return to Rome in May he was attacked by illness, and his death was reported. Nothing could be done by the legates till they were assured of his recovery.

Meanwhile Henry was growing more and more impatient, and made it clear to Wolsey that if the proceedings did not lead to his divorce all the blame would be laid at Wolsey's door. Anne Boleyn also began to suspect "Wolsey's good intentions towards herself, and thought that he was responsible for these repeated delays. Wolsey could no longer doubt that his all was staked on the issue of the trial, which at length began at Blackfriars on 18th June, 1529. Katharine appeared, and protested against the jurisdiction of the court. For the pur- pose of deciding this point it was necessary that both parties should appear in person ; and on 21st June Henry and Katharine both were present. The king demanded instant judgment for the eas- ing of his conscience ; Katharine first knelt before the king and asked for pity, then she appealed to

I

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Home, where only the cause could be decided with- out partiality or suspicion. The legates overruled her appeal, and on her non-appearance declared her contumacious.

The summoning of the king and queen was merely a formal incident in the procedure of the court, but it strangely impressed itself upon men's minds. The king, whom they regarded as the fountain of law, was called to plead before one of his own sub- jects and a foreign priest. Apart from any thought of the question at issue, or its rights and wrongs, Englishmen marvelled at this indignity, and felt that ecclesiastical law was some foreign thing which they could not fathom. No doubt the impression then wrought upon their minds accounts in some measure for the acceptance of the royal supremacy, as being at least more intelligible than the actual working of the outworn theory of the supremacy of the Pope.

Moreover, the suppliant attitude of Katharine awakened a strong feeling of compassion, which on 28th June found expression from the upright Bishop of Eochester, John Fisher, who appeared to plead Katharine's cause, and declared himself ready to follow the example of John the Baptist and lay down his life, if need be, to maintain the sanctity

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of matrimony. Others followed his example, and the signs of some dislike to the king's proceedings amongst Englishmen encouraged Campeggio to fall back upon his policy of procrastination, which the impetuous zeal of Wolsey was striving to over- come.

Henry grew more and more angry at the signs of opposition to his will which met him on every side, and Wolsey had to bear the brunt of the royal wrath. Cavendish tells how one day Wolsey left the king's presence and took his barge. The Bishop of Carlisle, who was with him, remarked that the day was hot. uYea," quoth my lord cardinal, u if ye had been as well chafed as I have been within this hour ye would say it was very hot. ' ' He went home " to his naked bed," where in two hours' time he was found by Lord Wiltshire, who brought a message from the king, bidding him and Oampeggio "repair unto the queen at Bridewell, into her chamber, to persuade her by their wisdoms, advising her to surrender the whole matter unto the king's hands by her own will and consent, which should be much better to her honor than to stand to the trial of law and be condemned, which would seem much to her slander and defamation. ' ' Wol- sey vainly complained of the folly of the lords of

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the Council in putting such fancies into the king's head : he was bound to rise and obey. Sadly he sought Campeggio, and with a sense of deep humil- iation the two judges set out to make another at- tempt to browbeat an accused who had already re- fused to submit to their judicial authority.

On 23d July it was expected that the court would give its decision. The king was present in a gal- lery, and after the reading of the pleas his counsel demanded judgment. Campeggio rose and declared that as the vacation of the Roman courts began at the end of July and lasted till October, he must fol- low that custom, and adjourn the sittings of the court for two months. On this the Duke of Suffolk slapped the table and exclaimed, " It was never merry in England whilst we had cardinals among us. ' ' Wolsey was not the man to brook an insult, especially from one whom he had greatly benefited. " Sir," he said, u of all men within this realm ye have least cause to dispraise or be offended at car- dinals : for if I, a simple cardinal, had not been, you should have had at this present no head upon your shoulders, wherein you should have a tongue to make any such report of us, who intend you no man- ner of displeasure. ' '

But though Wolsey could still wear a bold face

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when attacked, he knew that the future was hope- less. His enemies were daily gaining ground. His place, as the king's trusted counsellor, was taken by Stephen Gardiner, whom he had trained, and who was now the king's secretary and Anne's Boleyn's chief agent. The old nobles, headed by the Duke of Norfolk, had made common cause with the relations of Anne Boleyn, and saw their oppor- tunity of avenging themselves for all the slights which Wolsey had put upon them. Henry was un- willing to abandon all hopes of his divorce through the legatine court, and spared Wolsey for a time ; but Wolsey knew that the ground was slipping from under him. The Pope resolved to revoke the cause to Home, and recall the powers granted to the leg- ates; it required all Wolsey 's efforts to prevent the issue of a citation to Henry to appear before the Roman court.

Moreover, Wolsey had the additional pang of seeing all the fruits of his diplomatic activity aban- doned before the absorbing interest of this miser- able matter of the king's domestic life. If there was one object which was dear to Wolsey 's heart, it was to secure England's power in Europe by a close alliance with France. For this purpose he had made great sacrifices, and he thought that he

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had some claim on Francis I.'s gratitude. Yet Francis was negotiating for peace with Charles Y. , and a conference was being held at Cambrai between his mother Louise and Charles's aunt Margaret. Wolsey sorely longed to be present at that confer- ence and protect the interests of England; but Henry VIII. had no interest in such matters, and only regarded Wolsey's wish as a sign that he was lukewarm in his efforts for the divorce. Moreover, Francis I. defamed him to the English envoy, the Duke of Suffolk, and did his best to foster the king's suspicion of Wolsey's zeal in "the great matter. ' ' He knew that to deprive Henry of his acute adviser was the readiest means of hiding his own proceedings. The conference at Cambrai was an abandonment of the methods of diplomacy and a return to the old usages of the days of chivalry. Two women took counsel together about family affairs, and their object was to remove domestic difficulties. Really Francis I. was weary of a profitless warfare, and agreed to abandon Italy to Charles V. Henry VIII. was appeased by a trans- ference of the debt of Charles V. to the shoulders of Francis I. , and this promise of more money seems to have satisfied the English king. Early in August

the peace was signed, and Henry was included in 18

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its provisions. If a testimony were needed that entirely English diplomacy depended upon Wolsey, it would be found in Henry's short-sightedness at this time. He did not try to influence the proceed- ings at Cambrai, but allowed himself to be hood- winked by Francis I., even in the point about which he was most interested. The peace of Cambrai left Charles Y. supreme in Italy, and restored in name the authority of the Pope, which the two sovereigns declared themselves resolved to maintain. Its practical result was to make the Pope more anxious to please Charles, who was now most closely con- nected with his political interests, and to free him from the dread of an alliance between Henry and Francis, which might have brought pressure to bear upon his action in the divorce. Clement had now no special motive for trying to conciliate the Eng- lish king, and it was clear to all Europe that Wolsey no longer guided England's policy.

It was not only that Wolsey had failed in the matter of the divorce, but his failure had brought to light the true nature of the policy which he was pursuing, and had shown that it was not adapted to the turn which affairs were taking under the influ- ence of the king's personal desires. Wolsey had planned a conservative reform, to be carried out

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gradually. England, respected on the Continent, and holding the balance between France and the Empire, was gradually to assert its power and in- dependence by setting up a strong monarchy which should overawe the Papacy, and without any for- mal breach with past traditions, should remodel its ecclesiastical institutions, and put its relations to the Papacy on a new footing. Henry VIII. had so far entered into the spirit of this plan as to regard the existing state of things as of little moment, and his wishes led him to try and anticipate the future. This was the most disastrous thing that could have befallen "Wolsey : it is the danger which besets all attempts at conservative reform. It is hard to train men in the ideas of future change, and expect them to submit patiently to present fetters. Henry brusquely demanded too much from the Pope, and the Pope in his alarm offered too little. Wolsey tried to mediate, but he was too closely allied with Henry for the Pope to trust him, and when his object was clearly seen in a small matter he was deprived of the means by which he hoped to win. His method was framed for large operations on a large field ; it was not suited for the petty task which was sud- denly imposed upon him. Yet if it failed there it was sure to be condemned altogether, and the future

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would belong to the more revolutionary forces which he had been trying to hold in check.

So in proportion as Wolsey failed about the divorce, the threads of his different but converging schemes fell from his hands. What was the profit to Henry of Wolsey 's intricate foreign policy if it did not allow him to get a divorce when he pleased ? Why should he deal tenderly with the papal au- thority when it threw such obstacles in his way? Why should he spare the Church when its bishops protested against him? Why should he permit the slow transformation of the monasteries when with a little trouble their spoil would fall into his hands? Why should he trust to Wolsey, who had already failed him in his need, when he had men like Gar- diner, with clear heads about matters of details, to serve him at his need ? Above all, why should Wolsey 's fine-drawn plans stand between him and his people's affections, and lead him to do what Englishmen neither understood nor approved ? These were the questions with which Henry was plied. Wolsey had been only too successful and too consistent. If his policy was abandoned in aught, it must be abandoned in all. When Henry let fall Wolsey 's foreign policy, and made no effort to in- fluence the peace of Cambrai, there was no further

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need of Wolsey in England's councils, and his rule was practically at an end.

Still Wolsey was permitted to retain his offices. Campeggio had not yet departed ; something might still be done. The king had for some time avoided seeing Wolsey, and was engaged in wandering from place to place in the company of Anne Boleyn. At last, in the middle of September, Campeggio pre- pared to return to Rome, and accompanied by Wol- sey went to take leave of the king, who was then at Grafton in Northamptonshire. There they arrived on 19th September, and Campeggio was shown to his room, but Wolsey was informed that there was no room provided for him. He was relieved from his astonishment by a groom of the stole, who said, "I assure you, sir, here is very little room in this house, scantly sufficient for the king. However, I beseech your grace to accept mine for a season. ' ' When Wolsey and Campeggio were ushered into the king's presence they found the lords of the Council eagerly watching the king's behavior. If they ex- pected any signs of the royal displeasure they were disappointed, as Henry received Wolsey most graciously, and drew him aside into a window, where he talked with him privately.

The king dined privately with Anne Boleyn, and

278 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

Wolsey dined with the lords of the Council. In course of conversation he hinted at his own inten- tions for the future by saying, " It were well done if the king would send his chaplains and bishops to their cures and benefices. ' ' The Duke of Norfolk eagerly assented, and Wolsey went on to say that he would gladly go to his bishopric of Winchester. Then Norfolk showed his fears by saying, i ' Nay, to your see of York, whence comes both your great- est honor and charge." Already Wolsey 's foes were scheming to remove him as far as possible from the royal presence.

Every one was eagerly watching and listening for the smallest indications of the royal pleasure ; and Cavendish was told that Anne Boleyn at dinner with the king showed her dissatisfaction at Wolsey 's kindly reception. She denounced the cardinal in no measured terms, but without any immediate re- sult, as after dinner the king called Wolsey into his private room and talked with him for some time ; "the which blanked his enemies very sore, and made them to stir the coals, being in doubt what this matter would grow into, having now none other refuge to trust to but Mistress Anne, in whom was all their whole and firm trust and affiance. ' ' Wol- sey rode off to "Master Empson's house, called,

THE KING:S DIVORCE. 379

Euston, three miles from Grafton," where he spent the night, and received a visit from Gardiner, who was thought to come as a spy ; but Wolsey talked to him about indifferent subjects, and showed that his sense of personal dignity was still strong.

Next morning he rode early to the Court, and saw the king for a short time; but Anne Boleyn had prepared a picnic at Hatwell Park, and carried off Henry with her, that Wolsey might not have much opportunity for private talk. The king bade a hurried farewell to "Wolsey and Campeggio, and then rode away with Anne, while the legates re- turned to London. Campeggio did not reach Dover till 8th October, and before he was allowed to embark his luggage was ransacked by the king's officials.

This extraordinary violation of the privileges of an ambassador was characteristic of the unscrupulous meanness to which Henry was now ready to descend. He hoped to find amongst Campeggio' s papers the Pope's decretal about the law of the divorce. If he had found it Wolsey might still have been useful. He might have been compelled to continue the pro- ceedings of the legatine court, and give judgment in Henry's favor, sheltering himself under the terms of the commission, and applying the interpretation of

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the decretal. In this way the first measures wrung out of the Pope when he wished to be conciliating might have been used in a high-handed fashion against the conclusions of his settled policy. But Campeggio had already been instructed by the Pope to burn the decretal. Nothing was found as the result of the search, which only revealed the cardi- nal' s poverty. He had come to England ill provided, and had gained nothing from the royal bounty.

This unworthy device seems to have been of Henry's own devising ; and as soon as he heard of its failure Wolsey's doom was sealed. The king had treated him graciously, to the dismay even of Anne Boleyn, a few days before; now he aban- doned him to his enemies, who had their weapons of attack in readiness. On 9th October the king's attorney sued for a writ ofprcemunire against Wol- sey, on the ground that his acts done as legate were contrary to the statute. After this Wolsey's ruin was a foregone conclusion.

CHAPTEK X.

THE FALL OF WOLSEY.

1529-1530.

WHEN the storm broke over his head Wolsey had no hope of escape. His position as an English min- ister was due entirely to the king's favor, and when that favor was withdrawn he was entirely helpless. Outside the king there was no motive power in Eng- lish politics at this period. There was no party in the State strong enough to bring any influence to bear upon him : he was likely to be moved by noth- ing save the dread of a popular rising, and there was no chance of a popular rising in Wolsey 's favor. On the other hand, Wolsey had been contented to take upon his own shoulders the responsibility of all that was most unpopular in the king's proceedings. The demands created by the king's extravagance were put down to his extortionate nature ; the debts incurred by a policy which he disapproved were sup- posed to be the results of his influence ; even the

281

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divorce was attributed to his ill-will against the Emperor and his love for France. The current of popular opinion ran strong against Wolsey. He had made few friends and many enemies. His ene- mies were powerful, his friends were powerless. No one in England could lend him any help.

It is true that the charge brought against him was most iniquitous. He had obtained his legatine authority through the king's urgent request; he had used it solely at the king's orders, and in the king's behalf. But he knew that such a plea would not be regarded, as the king's courts would simply reg- ister the king's will. There was no other course than entire submission, and before the king Wolsey had no thought of personal dignity. He wrote to Henry as a lowly suppliant, "For surely, most gracious king, the remembrance of my folly, with the sharp sword of your Highness' s displeasure, hath so penetrated my heart that I cannot but lament- ably cry, It is enough; now stay, most merciful king, your hand. ' ' Such loyalty, such entire sub- mission, is to our minds inconceivable, and only shows how the possession of absolute power debases not only those who are invested with it but those who are brought in contact with them. Wolsey might indeed lament his " folly" in putting any

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trust in princes ; he had served his master only too well, and met with the basest ingratitude for all the sacrifices of his own wishes and his own principles.

Still he hoped by his submission to save some- thing. If sentence were pronounced against him, under the charge of prcemunire, his goods would be forfeited, and his acts invalidated. If he threw himself upon the king's mercy he might at least save his two colleges, and might be permitted to serve his country on a smaller scale. What was coming he could not foresee. There would be open war between Henry and the Papacy, waged with new weapons and fraught with danger to the Eng- lish Church. u It is the intention of these lords," wrote the French ambassador, u when "Wolsey is dead or destroyed, to get rid of the Church and spoil the goods of both. I suppose they mean to do grand things." The days of revolution were at iand, and Wolsey might still have some power to clieck its excesses.

His submission led to no immediate results. On 16th October the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk de- manded the surrender of the great seal, and ordered "Wolsey to depart to his house at Esher. Wolsey would humble himself before the king, but not be- fore others, and calmly asked them for their au-

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thority. They answered that they had the king's commission by word of mouth. " The great seal of England, ' ' said Wolsey, c ' was delivered me by the king's own person, to enjoy during my life, with the ministration of the office and high room of chancellorship of England ; for my surety whereof I have the king's letters-patent to show." High words were used by the dukes, but in the end they departed, and reappeared next day with letters from the king. On reading them Wolsey delivered up the seal, and expressed himself content to withdraw to Esher.

Before departing he made an inventory of all his plate and tapestries, that it might be ready for the king to take possession. He further signed an in- denture acknowledging that on the authority of bulls obtained from Rome, which he published in England contrary to the statute, he had unlaw- fully vexed the prelates of the realm and other of the king's subjects, thereby incurring the penalties of prcBinunire, by which also he deserved to suffer perpetual imprisonment at the king's pleasure, and to forfeit all his lands, offices, and goods. He be- sought the king, in part recompense of his offences, to take into his hands all his temporal possessions. Then he entered his barge in the presence of a

THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 285

crowd, which was sorely disappointed not to see him take the way to the Tower.

When Wolsey arrived at Putney he was greeted by a messenger from the king, who brought him as a token a ring, with a message " that the king bade him be of good cheer, for he should not lack. Al- though the king hath dealt with you unkindly, he saith that it is for no displeasure that he beareth you, but only to satisfy the minds of some which he knoweth be not your friends. Also ye know right well that he is able to recompense you with twice as much as your goods amounteth unto: and all this he bade me that I should show you. There- fore, sir, take patience ; and for my part, I trust to see you in better estate than ever ye were. ' ' When Wolsey heard this he dismounted from his mule and knelt in the mud in sign of thankfulness. He gave a present to the messenger, and grieved that he had no worthy gift to send to the king. Presently he bethought himself of a jester belonging to his house- hold. "If ye would at my request present the king with this poor fool, I trust his Highness would accept him well, for surely for a nobleman's pleas- ure he is worth a thousand pounds. " It is a re- lief to find in this dismal story some signs of hu- man feeling. "The poor fool took on so, and

286 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

fired so in such a rage when he saw that he must needs depart from my lord, ' ' that six tall yeomen had to be sent as an escort to convey him. safely to the Court.

It is needless to seek for a motive for Henry's conduct in sending this delusive message ; probably he did it through an amiable desire to make himself generally agreeable. No man likes to feel that he is acting villainously ; perhaps Henry's conscience felt all the pleasure of having performed a virtu- ous action when he heard of Wolsey's gratitude for such a small mercy. Henry VIII. was nothing if he was not conscientious ; but he made large drafts on his conscience, and paid them back in small coin. Probably we have here the record of such a payment.

Certainly Henry did nothing to give his good- will towards Wolsey any practical expression; he did not even send him any money to provide his household with the necessaries of life. For a month they remained " without beds, sheets, tablecloths, cups, and dishes to eat their meat or lie in," and ultimately had to borrow them. What most dis- tressed Wolsey, who had been accustomed to munifi- cence, was that he had not even money to pay the wages of his household before he dismissed them

THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 287

sadly from his service. In his straits one of his officials came to his aid, and showed his tact and management in affairs of business. Thomas Crom- well, the son of a London citizen, spent an adven- turous youth in business on the Continent, and set- tled in London as a small attorney and a money- lender. Wolsey had found out his ability, and em- ployed him to manage the dissolution of the monas- teries, and transact the business connected with the foundation of his colleges. No doubt this gave him opportunities of spreading his own business, and making himself useful friends. In anticipation of the future he contrived to get himself elected as member of the Parliament for which Henry VIII. issued writs upon the suspension of the legatine court.

Cromwell accompanied Wolsey to Esher, and was much moved by the thought of the loss which his patron's fall was likely to inflict upon himself. On 1st November Cavendish found him leaning in the window " with a primer in his hand, saying our Lady mattins. He prayed not more earnestly than the tears distilled from his eyes." He la- mented that he was in disdain with most men for his master's sake, and surely without just cause; but he was resolved that afternoon to ride to London,

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and so to the Court, ' ' where I will either make or mar, or I come again." After dinner he talked with Wolsey about his household, and then showed his power of gaining popularity at the expense of others. "Have you not," he exclaimed, "a number of chaplains, to whom ye have departed very liberally with spiritual promotions ? and yet have your poor servants taken much more pains for you in one day than all your idle chaplains have done in a year. Therefore if they will not freely and frankly consider your liberality, and depart with you of the same goods gotten in your service, now in your great indigence and necessity, it is pity that they live." Wolsey agreed; he sum- moned his household, and addressed them in a dig- nified speech; he gave them a month's holiday, that they might seek some more profitable service. Then Cromwell said that they lacked money, and himself tendered five pounds towards their pay- ment, adding, "Now let us see what you chap- lains will do. " The example was contagious, and contributions poured in. The household was paid, and departed full of thankfulness to Cromwell. Then, after a private conversation with Wolsey, Cromwell rode off to London to ( c make or mar. ' ' Parliament met on 3d November, and Wolsey 's

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enemies hoped that its first business would be Wolsey 's impeachment. For this, however, Henry YIII. was not prepared, though he did not openly forbid it. He was not sure of the capacity of his new advisers, and perhaps felt that he might have further need of Wolsejr's services. Anyhow it was better to keep his opponents in constant fear of his return to power. They were bound together rather by opposition to Wolsey than by any agreement amongst themselves ; and Henry was not very san- guine about their administrative success. The Duke of JSTorfolk, the uncle of Anne Boleyn, was president of the Council, and Suffolk was vice- president. The chancellorship was given to Sir Thomas More, who was well fitted by his literary reputation and high character to calm the fears of moderate men, and show Europe that the English king had no lack of eminent servants. The chan- cellorship of the duchy of Lancashire was given to the treasurer of the household, Sir William Fitz- william, a capable official. Gardiner preferred an ecclesiastical post, and succeeded to the bishopric of Winchester, which Wolsey was bidden to resign. It still remained to be seen if Norfolk, Suffolk, and More could fill the place of Wolsey.

Parliament was opened by the king; and 19

290 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

chancellor, according to custom, made a speech. In the course of it More showed that a man of letters does not necessarily retain his literary taste in poli- tics, and that high character does not save a states- man from the temptation to catch a passing cheer by unworthy taunts at his defeated adversary. He spoke of the king as shepherd of his people, and went on, i l As you see that amongst a great flock of sheep some be rotten and faulty, which the good Shepherd sendeth from the good sheep, so the great wether which is of late fallen, as you all know, so craftily, so scabbedly, yea, and so un- truly juggled with the king, that all men must needs guess and think that he thought in him- self that he had no wit to perceive his crafty doing, or else that he presumed that the king would not see nor know his fraudulent juggling and attempts. But he was deceived; for his Grace's sight was so quick and penetrating that he saw him, yea, and saw through him, both within and without, so that all things to him were open ; and according to his deserts he hath had a gentle correction. ' '

This speech of More served as introductory to a Bill which was brought into the Upper House for disabling "Wolsey from being restored to his former dignities and place in the king's Council. It was

THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 39!

founded upon a series of articles which had been drawn up by his enemies long before, and were a tissue of frivolous or groundless charges. The bill passed the Lords, but on its introduction into the Commons was opposed by Cromwell, who knew that the king did not wish it to be passed. It an- swered its purpose of casting a stigma on "Wolsey, and justifying Henry's conduct towards him ; but Henry did not intend to deprive himself of the power of employing Wolsey again if he should prove useful. So Cromwell served the king while he served Wolsey, and served himself at the same time by a display of zeal for his fallen master which raised him in men's esteem, " so that at length, for his honest behavior in his master's cause, he grew into such estimation in every man's opinion, that he was esteemed to be the most faithfullest servant to his master of all others, wherein he was of all men greatly commended. ' ' Moreover, he managed to make friends by the sure tie of self-interest. He advised Wolsey to buy off the hostility of important men by granting them pensions out of the revenues of his see : as he chose the recipients of the money and negotiated the grants he gained more gratitude than Wolsey gained profit out of the transaction. Wolsey believed that his prospects depended on

292 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

Cromwell's zeal, and the great cardinal became sub- missive to the direction of one whom he had raised. He abode at Esher in a state of feverish anxiety, sometimes receiving a present and a gracious mes- sage from the king, often irritated by Cromwell, who deluded him by a cheap display of zeal, griev- ing most of all at the uncertainty of the fortunes of his great colleges, which he still wished to leave as a memorial to posterity of the schemes which he intended.

Parliament was prorogued in the middle of De- cember, and the Bill against Wolsey was allowed to drop. The king and Anne Boleyn were delighted with the cardinal's house at York Place, of which they took possession, and Wolsey was still left in uncertainty about his future. Anxiety preyed upon his health, and at Christmas he fell ill. The news of his illness seems to have brought some remorse to Henry, who sent his own physician, and eagerly asked for tidings, saying, " I would not lose him for twenty thousand pounds. ' ' Doctor Buttes answered, " Then must your Grace send him some comfort- able message as shortly as is possible." The king gave Buttes a favorite ring from his own finger, saying, < ' Tell him that I am not offended with him in my heart nothing at all, and that shall he per-

THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 293

ceive, and God send him life very shortly." He asked Anne Boleyn to send also a " token with comfortable words," and Anne at his command obeyed, overcoming her reluctance by the thought that the cardinal was on his deathbed.

Doctor Buttes's prescription was a good one, and with revived hopes Wolsey speedily recovered. On 2d February, 1530, the king sent him some furniture for his house and chapel. On 12th February he received a full pardon for his offences, and on 14th February was restored to the archbishopric of York and its possessions excepting York Place, which the king retained for himself. He entreated to be al- lowed to keep also the bishopric of Winchester and the Abbey of St. Alban's; but Gardiner had his eye on "Winchester, and the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk were anxious that Wolsey should not hold a post which might bring him into the neighborhood of the king. He was compelled to resign both these offices, and recognized in this the power of his foes.

The damp air of Esher was hurtful to his health, and he received permission to change his residence to Richmond Lodge. There he stayed until the state of the roads allowed him to take his journey northwards, which the Duke of Norfolk pressed him to do in forcible language. " Show him," he said

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to Cromwell, " that if he go not away shortly, I will, rather than he should tarry still, tear him with my teeth." When Wolsey heard this he said, * i Marry, Thomas, then it is time to be going, if my lord of Norfolk take it so. Therefore I pray you go to the king and say that I would with all my heart go to my benefice at York but for want of money." Wolsey 's immediate necessities were grudgingly supplied by the lords of the Council, and in the beginning of Passion Week he began his journey to York. He was received with courtesy by the gentry on the way. The manor-house at Southwell, where he resolved to live, required some repairs, and he could not occupy it till 5th June.

In his house at Southwell Wolsey received the neighboring gentry, and jj made himself popular amongst them. He lived simply, and applied him- self to the discharge of the duties of his office with great success. A pamphlet published in 1536 says of him : " Who was less beloved in the north than my lord cardinal before he was amongst them? Who better beloved after he had been there a while? He gave bishops a right good example how they might win men's hearts. There were few holy days but he would ride five or six miles from his house, now to this parish church, now to that, and there

THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 295

cause one or other of his doctors to make a sermon unto the people. He sat amongst them and said mass before all the parish ; he saw why churches were made ; he began to restore them to their right and proper use ; he brought his dinner with him, and bade divers of the parish to it. He inquired whether there were any debate or grudge between any of them. If there were, after dinner he sent for the parties to the church and made them all one. ' ' It is an attractive picture of episcopal activity which is here set before us. We wish that "Wolsey had been great enough to realize the pleasure of these simple duties so thoroughly as to wean himself from the allurements of political ambition. But Wolsey in his retirement was something like Machiavelli in exile : he found some satisfaction for his activity in the doings of peasants, but he went home and han- kered for the great life of politics which was denied him. He meditated still how he could overthrow his enemies and return to the more complex prob- lems in which he had been trained.

At the end of the summer Wolsey removed from Southwell to another manor-house at Scrooby, where he continued the same mode of life. All this time his actions were jealously watched by his ene- mies, who suspected him of trying to gain popu-

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larity and raise up a party in his favor. They did their best to keep him in perpetual annoyance by threats of legal proceedings touching the possessions of the see of York. The king paid no heed to him save to exact all the money he could from his for- feiture. Amongst other things which the king claimed was the payment of Wolsey's pension from the French king; and his care for Wolsey's health at Christmas may have been due to the fact that he thought that Wolsey's life had a pecuniary value to himself. He presently dissolved "Wolsey's college at Ipswich, and seized all its lands and possessions. It was a bitter blow to Wolsey to see his plans thus overthrown. He had hoped to found an institution which should promote education where it was sore- ly needed in the eastern counties. It was the be- ginning of a project which would have led to the foundation of local universities, which it has been reserved to our own day to revive. If Wolsey had remained in power monastic revenues would have been increasingly diverted to educational purposes, and England would have been provided with col- leges which would have grown with local needs. The dissolution of the college at Ipswich checked this process at the beginning, and negatived any scheme for the slow transformation of the monas-

THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 997

tenes into institutions which were in accordance with national needs.

Cardinal College at Oxford met with better for- tune. Wolsey pleaded hard for its preservation, and the authorities of the college made a stand in its behalf. The king was not yet prepared to seize the lands of the dissolved monastery of St. Frides- wyde, or of the old Canterbury Hall, which had been absorbed, and it could be shown that he would lose as much as he would gain by attempting an ac- curate division of the property of the college. He agreed to ' ' have an honorable college there, but not so great and of such magnificence as my lord cardinal intended to have, for it is not thought meet for the common weal of our realm. ' ' The site of the college and a portion of its revenues were saved from the commissioners who were realizing Wolsey's forfeiture ; but the name of Christ Church obliter- ated that of Cardinal College, and Henry VIII. en- deavored as far as he could to associate the founda- tion with himself and dissociate it from Wolsey.

This persistent disregard of the ideas which Wol- sey had striven to put forward weighed heavily on his spirits. "I am put from my sleep and meat," he wrote, " for such advertisements as I have had of the dissolution of my colleges." It was not only

298 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

the sense of personal disappointment which afflicted him ; it was the hopeless feeling that all his policy was being reversed. Wolsey was in his way a churchman, and hoped as a statesman to bring the Church into accordance with the national needs. He saw that only in this way could the existing re- sources of the Church be saved from the hand of the spoiler. The king's desire to seize upon the reve- nues of his colleges showed him that Henry had cast away the principles which Wolsey had striven to enforce, that he had broken through the limits which Wolsey had endeavored to set, and that when once he had tasted his prey his appetite was likely to be insatiable. This taught Wolsey that his own fu- ture was hopeless. On the lower level to which the king had sunk he was not likely to need the car- dinal's aid. Wolsey's great schemes for the future were to make way for a policy mainly dictated by present greed. Henry VIII. had discovered how great his power was, and intended to use it for the satisfaction of his own desires.

So Wolsey turned himself more attentively to the duties of his episcopal office, hoping thereby to make some amends for past neglect, and fill up with use- ful work the remainder of his days. His poverty bad prevented him from taking possession of his

THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 999

cathedral, as he had no money to defray the ex- penses of his installation. By the end of September he had managed to scrape together £1500, and set out from Scrooby to York. On his way he was busied with confirmations. At St. Oswald's Abbey he confirmed children from eight in the morning till noon ; after dinner he returned to the church at one, and continued his confirmation till four, when he was constrained for weariness to sit down in a chair. Next morning before his departure he confirmed a hundred children more ; and as he rode on his way he found at Ferrybridge two hundred children wait- ing for confirmation at a stone cross standing upon the green. It was late in the evening before he reached Cawood Castle, seven miles from York. There he was visited by the Dean of York, and made arrangements for his installation.

This ceremony, however, was not to take place. "Wolsey's enemies were implacable, especially the Duke of Norfolk, who was alarmed at the renewal of Wolsey's popularity in the north, and at the signs of vigor which he showed. His actions were jealously watched and eagerly criticised to find some opportunity for a charge against him, which was at last found in Wolsey's communications with foreign envoys. It would seem that Wolsey could not recon-

300 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

cile himself to political inactivity, and trusted that the influence of Francis I., for whom he had done so much, would be used in his favor. But Francis treated Wolsey with the proverbial ingratitude of politicians. Wolsey had been a friend of France, but his friendship had been costly, and Francis I. found that the new ministers were equally friendly to France, and did not demand so much in return. In truth, Henry, though he had abandoned Wolsey for his failure in the matter of the divorce, had not been better served by his new advisers, who had no other course to follow than that which Wolsey had marked out — to use the close alliance with France as a means of bringing pressure to bear upon the Pope. So Norfolk was obsequious to Francis, who preferred to deal with a man of Norfolk's calibre rather than acknowledge a master in Wolsey.

Of this Wolsey was ignorant ; and he no longer showed his old dexterity in promoting his own in- terests. He made the mistake of trusting to the old methods of diplomacy when his position was no longer that of a minister, and when he had been re- moved from actual touch of current affairs. He opened up communications with the French envoy by means of a Venetian physician, Agostino, who was a member of his household. He even com-

THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 301

municated with the imperial envoy as well. How- ever harmless these communications might be, they were certainly indiscreet, and were capable of being represented to the king as dangerous. Norfolk gained some information, either from the French envoy or from Agostino, and laid before the king charges against Wolsey, i i that he had written to Eome to be reinstated in his possessions, and to France for its favor; and was returning to his ancient pomp, and corrupting the people." There was not much in these charges ; but Norfolk was afraid of "Wolsey in the background, and quailed before the king's bursts of petulance, in which he said that the cardinal knew more about the business of the State than any of his new advisers. Henry was quite satisfied with the proceeds of spoiling Wolsey, and was glad to keep him in reserve ; but the suggestion that Wolsey was intriguing with foreign Courts sorely angered him, and he gave orders that Wolsey be brought to trial to answer for his conduct. So Sir Walter Walshe was sent with a warrant to the Earl of Northumberland, and arrived as Wolsey was busied at Cawood with the prelimi- naries of his installation. On 4th November, when Wolsey had retired from dinner and was sitting in his own room over his dessert, the Earl of North-

302 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

umberland appeared, and demanded the keys of the castle from the porter. He entered the hall, and posted his servants to guard all the doors. Wol- sey, in ignorance of what was in store for him, met Northumberland and offered him hospitality, ex- pressing his delight at the unexpected visit. When they were alone the Earl, i c trembling, said, with a very faint and soft voice, unto my lord, laying his hand upon his arm, c My lord, I arrest you of high treason.' : For a time Wolsey stood speechless with astonishment, then he asked to see the war- rant, which Northumberland had not brought with him. As he was speaking Sir Walter Walshe opened the door and thrust into the room the physician Agostino, whom he had made prisoner. Wolsey asked him about the warrant, and when he recog- nized him as one of the gentlemen of the king's privy chamber, he submitted to the royal com- mands without asking further for the production of the warrant. Then he delivered up his keys to Northumberland.

Agostino was at once sent to London tied under a horse's belly — a mode of conveyance which was doubtless calculated to refresh his memory. When he arrived in London he was taken to the Duke of Norfolk's house, and showed himself ready to bear

THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 303

witness against Wolsey. " Since they have had the cardinal's physician in their hands," writes the imperial envoy, < < they have found what they sought. Since he has been here he has lived in the Duke of Norfolk's house like a prince, and is sing- ing the tune they wished. ' '

There was not the same need of haste in bringing Wolsey to London, for even with Agostino's help Norfolk was doubtful if the evidence against Wol- sey would be sufficient to ensure his condemnation to death ; and he did not wish to give Wolsey the opportunity of a trial when he might still be for- midable. His imprisonment in the Tower at the royal pleasure would only bring him nearer to the king, who might at any moment make use of him as he threatened. Really, Norfolk was somewhat embarrassed at the success of his scheme; and Wol- sey, in a conversation with Cavendish, showed a flash of his old greatness. " If I may come to my answer," he said, "I fear no man alive; for he liveth not upon the earth that shall look upon this face and shall be able to accuse me of any untruth ; and that know my enemies full well, which will be an occasion that I shall not have indifferent justice, but they will rather seek some other sinister way to destroy me."

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It was this thought that unnerved "Wolsey, worn out as he was by disappointment, humiliated by his helplessness, and harassed by a sense of relentless persecution. Still he retained his dignity and kind- liness, and when on the evening of 7th November he was told to prepare for his journey, he insisted upon bidding farewell to his household. The Earl of Northumberland wished to prevent this, and only gave way through fear of a tumult if he persisted in his refusal. The servants knelt weeping before Wol- sey, who " gave them comfortable words and worthy praises for their diligent faithfulness and honest truth towards him, assuring them that what chance soever should happen unto him, that he was a true man and just to his sovereign lord. " Then shaking each of them by the hand he departed.

Outside the gate the country folk had assembled to the number of three thousand, who cried, < ' God save your grace. The foul evil take all them that hath thus taken you from us ; we pray God that a very vengeance may light upon them." Thus they ran crying after him through the town of Cawood, they loved him so well. After this moving fare- well Wolsey rode through the gathering darkness to Pomfret, where he was lodged in the abbey. Thence he proceeded through Doncaster to Sheffield

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Park, where he was kindly received by the Earl of Shrewsbury, whose guest he was for eighteen days. Once a clay the earl visited him and tried to com- fort him, but Wolsey refused all human comfort and applied himself diligently to prayer. While he was at Sheffield Park his health, which never had been good, began to give way, and he suffered from dys- entery, which was aggravated by an unskilful apothecary.

As he was thus ailing there arrived Sir William Kingston, Constable of the Tower, with a guard of twenty -four soldiers ; he had received a commission from the king to bring Wolsey as a prisoner to the Tower. It would seem from this that Agostino's confessions had been skilfully raised to fan the royal wrath, and Henry gave this sign that he was prepared to treat his former minister as a traitor. The Earl of Shrewsbury did his best to treat the coming of Kingston as a trivial incident, and sent Cavendish to break the news gently to his master. Cavendish gave the message as he was bidden. " Forsooth my lord of Shrewsbury, perceiving by your often communication that ye were always de- sirous to come before the king's Majesty, and now as your assured friend, hath travailed so with his

letters unto the king, that the king hath sent for 20

306 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

you by Master Kingston and twenty-four of the guard to conduct you to his Highness." Wolsey was not deceived. " Master Kingston," he re- peated, and smote his thigh. When Cavendish made a further attempt to cheer him he cut him short by saying, c ; I perceive more than you can im- agine or can knoAV. Experience hath taught me. ' ' "When Kingston was introduced and knelt before him, Wolsey said, ' < I pray you stand up, and leave your kneeling unto a very wretch replete with mis- ery, not worthy to be esteemed, but for a vile ob- ject utterly cast away, without desert ; and there- fore, good Master Kingston, stand up, or I will my- self kneel down by you. ' ' After some talk Wolsey thanked Kingston for his kind words. " Assure yourself that if I were as able and as lusty as I have been but of late, I would not fail to ride with you in post. But all these comfortable words which ye have spoken be but for a purpose to bring me to a fool's paradise; I know what is provided for me." With a -mind thus agitated the sufferings of the body increased. When Wolsey took his journey next day all regarded him as a dying man. The soldiers of the guard, ( c as soon as they espied their old master in such a lamentable estate, lamented him with weeping eyes. Whom my lord took by the

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hands, and divers times by the way as he rode he would talk with them, sometime with one and some- time with another. ' ' That night he reached Hard- wick Hall, in Notts, a house of the Earl of Shrews- bury, and the next day rode to Nottingham. On the way from thence to Leicester he was so feeble that he could scarcely sit upon his mule. It was dark on Saturday night when he reached Leicester Abbey, where the abbot greeted him by torchlight. * ' Father Abbot, ' ' he said, ' ' I am come hither to leave my bones among you." Kingston had to carry him upstairs to his bed, which he never quitted again.

All Sunday his malady increased, and on Monday morning Cavendish, as he watched his face, thought him drawing fast to his end. ' i He perceiving my shadow upon the wall by his bedside asked who was there. 'Sir, I am here,' quoth I. 'What is it of the clock?' said he. 'Forsooth, sir,' said I, ' it is past eight of the clock in the morning. ' — ' Eight of the clock, eight of the clock,' said he, re- hearsing divers times. ' Nay, nay, it cannot be eight of the clock ; for by eight of the clock ye shall lose your master, for my tune draweth near that I must depart out of this world. '

But the dying man was not to depart without a

308 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

reminder of the pitiless character of the master whom he had served so well. When Wolsey left Cawood the Earl of Northumberland remained be- hind to examine his papers ; amongst them he found a record that Wolsey had in his possession £1500, but he reported to the king that he could not find the money. Such was Henry's keenness as his own minister of finance that he could not await Wolsey 's arrival in London, but wrote off instantly to King- ston, bidding him examine Wolsey how he came by the money, and discover where it was. In obedi- ence to the royal command Kingston reluctantly visited the dying man, who told him that he had borrowed the money of divers friends and depen- dants whom he did not wish to see defrauded ; the money was in the keeping of an honest man, and he asked for a little time before disclosing where it was.

In the night he often swooned, but rallied in the morning and asked for food. Some chicken broth was brought him, but he remembered that it was a fast-day, being St. Andrew's Eve. " What though it be," said his confessor, "ye be excused by rea- son of your sickness." — " Yea," said he, "what though ? I will eat no more. ' ' After this he made his confession, and about seven in the morning

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Kingston entered to ask further about the money. But seeing how ill Wolsey was, Kingston tried to comfort him. " "Well, well," said Wolsey, "I see the matter against me how it is framed, but if I had served God so diligently as I have done the king, he would not have given me over in my gray hairs. Howbeit, this is the just reward that I must receive for my worldly diligence and pains that I had to do him service, only to satisfy his vain pleas- ure, not regarding my godly duty. Wherefore, I pray you, with all my heart, to have me most hum- bly commended unto his royal Majesty, beseeching him in my behalf to call to his most gracious re- membrance all matters proceeding between him and me from the beginning of the world unto this day, and the progress of the same, and most chiefly in the weighty matter now depending (i.e. the divorce) ; then shall his conscience declare whether I have oifended him or no. He is sure a prince of a royal courage, and hath a princely heart ; and rather than he will either miss or want any part of his will or appetite he will put the loss of one-half of his realm in danger. For I assure you I have often kneeled before him in his privy chamber on my knees the space of an hour or two, to persuade him from his will and appetite ; but I could never bring to pass

310 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

to dissuade him therefrom. Therefore, Master Kingston, if it chance hereafter you to be one of his Privy Council, as for your wisdom and other qual- ities ye are meet to be, I warn you to be well ad- vised and assured what matter ye put in his head, for ye shall never put it out again. ' ' He went on to bid him warn the king against the spread of the pernicious sect of Lutherans as harmful to the royal authority and destructive of the order of the realm. Then as his tongue failed him he gasped out, " Master Kingston, farewell. I can no more, but wish all things to have good success. My time draweth on fast. I may not tarry with you. And forget not, I pray you, what I have said and charged you withal, for when I am dead ye shall perad venture remember my words much better." His breath failed him and his eyes grew fixed. The abbot came to administer supreme unction, and as the clock struck eight Wolsey passed away. " And calling to our remembrance his words the day be- fore, how he said that at eight of the clock we should lose our master, one of us looked upon an- other supposing that he prophesied of his depart- ure. ' '

Kingston sent a message to tell the king of Wol- sey's death, and hastened the preparations for his

THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 3H

funeral. His body was placed in a coffin of boards, vested in his archiepiscopal robes, with his mitre, cross, and ring. It lay in state till five in the after- noon, when it was carried into the church and was placed in the Lady Chapel, where it was watched all night. At four in the morning mass was sung, and by six the grave had closed over the remains of "Wolsey.

It would be consoling to think that a pang of genuine sorrow was felt by Henry VIII. when he heard of the death of Wolsey ; but unfortunately there is no ground for thinking so, and all that is on record shows us that Henry's chief care still was to get hold of the £1500, which was all that re- mained of "Wolsey 's fortune. Cavendish was taken by Kingston to Hampton Court, where he was sum- moned to the king, who was engaged in archery in the park. As Cavendish stood against a tree sadly musing Henry suddenly came behind him and slapped him on the back, saying, " I will make an end of my game, and then I will talk with you." Soon he finished his game and went into the garden, but kept Cavendish waiting for some time outside. The interview lasted more than an hour, ." during which time he examined me of divers matters con- cerning my lord, wishing that liever than twenty

312 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

thousand pounds that he had lived. Then he asked me for the fifteen hundred pounds which Master Kingston moved to my lord before his death." Cavendish told him what he knew about it, and said that it was deposited with a certain priest. "Well, then," said the king, " let me alone, and keep this gear secret between yourself and me, and let no man be privy thereof ; for if I hear more of it, then I know by whom it is come to knowledge. Three may keep counsel if two be away ; and if I thought that my cap knew my counsel I would cast it into the fire and burn it." Henry spoke freely, and these words disclose the secret of his strength. Every politician has a method of his own by which he hides his real character and assumes a personality which is best fitted for his designs. Henry VIII. beneath an air of frankness and geniality concealed a jealous and watchful temperament, full of crafty designs for immediate gain, resolute, avaricious, and profoundly self-seeking.

As we have been so much indebted to Cavendish for an account of Wolsey's private life, especially in his last days, it is worth while to follow Caven- dish's fortunes. The king promised to take him into his own service, and to pay him his wages for the last year, amounting to £10. He bade him ask

THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 313

it of the Duke of Norfolk. As he left the king he met Kingston coming from the Council, whither Cavendish also was summoned. Kingston implored him to take heed what he said. The Council would examine him about Wolsey's last words; uand if you tell them the truth you shall undo yourself. ' ' He had denied that he heard anything, and warned Cavendish to do the same. So Cavendish answered the Duke of Norfolk that he was so busied in waiting on Wolsey that he paid little heed to what he said. < ' He spoke many idle words, as men in such extremities do, the which I cannot now remember." He referred them to Kingston's more accurate memory. It is a dismal picture of Court life which is here presented to us. On every side was intrigue, suspicion, and deceit. Wolsey's last words were consigned to oblivion; for the frankness that was begotten of a retrospect in one who had nothing more to hope or fear was danger- ous in a place whence truth was banished.

"When the Council was over Norfolk talked with Cavendish about his future. Cavendish had seen enough of public life, and had no heart to face its dangers. The figure of Wolsey rose before his eyes, and he preferred to carry away into solitude his memories of the vanity of man's ambition. His

314 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

only request was for a cart and a horse to carry away his own goods, which had been brought with Wolsey's to the Tower. The king was gracious, and allowed him to choose six cart-horses and a cart from Wolsey's stable. He gave him five marks for his expenses, paid him £10 for arrears of wages, and added £20 as a reward. " I received all these things accordingly, and then I returned into my country. ' '

It says much for Wolsey that he chose as his per- sonal attendant a man of the sweet, sensitive, retir- ing type of George Cavendish, though it was not till after his fall from power that he learned the value of such a friend. No less significant of the times is the profound impression which Wolsey's fate ex- cited on the mind of Cavendish, who in the retire- ment of his own county of Suffolk lived with in- creasing sadness through the changes which befell England and destroyed many of the memories which were dearest to his heart. No one then cared to hear about Wolsey, nor was it safe to recall the thought of the great Cardinal of England to the minds of men who were busied in undoing his work. Not till the days of Mary did Cavendish gather to- gether his notes and sketch the fortunes of one whose figure loomed forth from a distant past, mel-

THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 315

lowed by the mists of time, and hallowed by the pious resignation which was the only comfort that reflection could give to the helpless recluse. The calm of a poetic sadness is expressed in the pages of Cavendish's Memoir. Wolsey has become to him a type of the vanity of human endeavor, and points the moral of the superiority of a quiet life with God over the manifold activities of an aspiring ambition. But Cavendish did not live to see the time when such a sermon, preached on such a text, was likely to appeal to many hearers. His work remained in manuscript, of which copies circulated amongst a few. One such copy, it is clear, must have reached the hands of Shakespeare, who, with his usual quick- ness of perception, condensed as much as his public could understand into his portrait of Wolsey in the play of Henry VIII. "When the Memoir was first printed in 1641 it was garbled for party purposes. The figure of Wolsey was long left to the portrai- ture of prejudice, and he was regarded only as the type of the arrogant ecclesiastic whom it was the great work of the Kef ormation to have rendered im- possible in the future. "Wolsey, the most patriotic of Englishmen, was branded as the minion of the Pope, and the upholder of a foreign despotism. When Fiddes, in 1724, attempted, on the strength

316 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

of documents, to restore Wolsey to his due position amongst England's worthies, he was accused of Popery. Not till the mass of documents relating to the reign of Henry YIII. was published did it be- come possible for Dr. Brewer * to show the signifi- cance of the schemes of the great cardinal, and to estimate his merits and his faults.

* John Sherren Brewer (1810-1879) was educated at Ox- ford, where he was famous for the wide range of his reading. After various employments, which included tutoring, a chaplaincy, and work in the British Museum, he was in 1839 appointed lecturer in classical literature at King's College, London, and in 1855 he succeeded his friend F. D. Maurice as professor of the English language and literature and lecturer in modern history, in the same institution. In 1865 he was commissioned to prepare a calendar of the state papers of Henry VIII., a work of great labor and for which he had peculiar fitness. In this work he continued till the day of his death. To him therefore England is largely indebted for general and accurate information upon the events of that period.

CHAPTEK XI.

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" Ko statesman of such eminence ever died less lamented," is Dr. Brewer's remark on Wolsey's death. Indeed, the king had forgotten his old ser- vant; his enemies rejoiced to be rid of a possible rival; the men whom he had trained in politics were busy in seeking their own advancement, which was not to be promoted by tears for a fallen minis- ter ; the people had never loved him, and were in- different about one who was no longer powerful. In a time of universal uncertainty every one was speculating on the future, and saw that the future was not to be determined by Wolsey or by Wolsey 's ideas. ]STot without reason has the story of Wolsey's fall passed into a parable of the heartlessness of the world.

For Wolsey lived for the world as few men have ever done ; not for the larger world of intellectual thought or spiritual aspiration, but for the actual,

immediate world of affairs. He limited himself to

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318 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

its problems, but within its limits he took a wider and juster view of the problems of his time than any English statesman has ever done. For politics in the largest sense, comprising all the relations of the nation at home and abroad, Wolsey had a capac- ity which amounted to genius, and it is doubtful if this can be said of any other Englishman. There have been many capable administrators, many ex- cellent organizers, many who bravely faced the diffi- culties of their time, many who advocated particu- lar reforms and achieved definite results. But "Wol- sey aimed at doing all these things together and more. Taking England as he found her, he aimed at developing all her latent possibilities, and leading Europe to follow in her train. In this project there was nothing chimerical or fantastic, for Wolsey 's mind was eminently practical. Starting from the existing condition of affairs, he made England for a time the center of European politics, and gave her an influence far higher than she could claim on ma- terial grounds. Moreover, his far-reaching schemes abroad did not interfere with strict attention to the details of England's interests. His foreign policy was to promote English trade, facilitate the union of Scotland, keep peace at small expense, prepare the way for internal re-organization, and secure the right

THE WORK OF WOLSEY. 319

of dealing judiciously with ecclesiastical reform. Wolsey's plans all hung together. However ab- sorbed he might be in a particular point it was only part of a great design, and he used each advantage which he gained as a means of strengthening Eng- land's position for some future undertaking. He had a clear view of the future as a whole ; he knew not only what he wished to make of England but of Europe as well. He never worked at a question from one motive only ; what failed for one purpose was made useful for another ; his resources were not bounded by the immediate result.

Politics to him was not a pursuit, it was a pas- sion. He loved it as an artist loves his art, for he found in it a complete satisfaction for his nature. All that was best, and all that was worst, in Wolsey sprang from this exceptional attitude towards state- craft, which he practised with enthusiasm, not in the spirit of cold calculation. The world is accus- tomed to statesmen who clothe the results of calcu- lation in the language of enthusiasm; Wolsey's language was practical and direct, his passionate as- pirations were restrained within his own bosom.

Thus there is a largeness and distinction about Wolsey's aims, a far-reaching patriotism, and an admirable lucidity. He was indeed a political artist,

320 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

who worked with a free hand and a certain touch. He was absorbed in his art as a painter over his picture, and he did not shrink as the full size of his canvas was gradually unrolled. He set himself to dominate Europe, and was fearless and self-con- tained. He gave himself entirely to his work, and in his eyes the nobility of his end justified any means. But he was sensitive, as all artists are, and could not work under cramped conditions. When he was restricted to the small matter of the divorce his hand lost its cunning. He was, though he knew it not, fitted to serve England, but not fitted to serve the English king. He had the aims of a national statesman, not of a royal servant.

Wolsey's misfortune was that his lot was cast on days when the career of a statesman was not distinct from that of a royal servant. He owed his introduction to politics solely to royal favor, and neither had nor could obtain any other warrant for his position. For good or evil England was identi- fied with her king, and it was long before it could be otherwise. Certainly Wolsey had no wish that it should be otherwise, and his subservience to the royal will seems to us to be unworthy of his great- ness. But Wolsey associated his political life with the king's goodwill, and Henry was to him a sym-

THE WORK OF WOLSEY. 321

bol of all that was best and most intelligent in Eng- land. His deviations from his own policy in obedi- ence to the king were not more degrading or more inevitable than are the calculations of the modern statesman about the exact limits of the field of prac- tical politics. A statesman has not only to form projects, he has to secure a force behind him which will enable him to give them effect. Each age recognizes this fact, and acts accordingly. There is nothing more intrinsically base in Wolsey's sub- servience to the royal will than in the efforts of modern statesmen to bid against one another for an opportunity of carrying out what they think to be the will of the people. ~No politician has a complete command of his field of action; his high-mindedness and purity must be tested by the degree of compromise which consciously or uncon- sciously he makes between his love of power and his knowledge or his conscience. The utmost that can be demanded of him is that he should not, to keep his place, deliberately act contrary to what he believes to be wise or knows to be right.

In his general conduct of politics Wolsey was true to his principles, and though occasionally thwarted, he still pursued the same ends. The matter of the divorce was sprung upon him, and it would have

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322 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

been well for Wolsey's fame if he had retired rather than involve himself in the unworthy proceedings to which it led. But the temptation to all men to think themselves necessery in the sphere which they have made their own is a subtle one ; and those who begin by hoping that they may minimize inevitable mischief, end by being dragged into the mire. To a statesman this temptation is great in proportion to the largeness of his ultimate aim. He resents that his schemes should be ruined by a temporary de- rangement of the perspective of affairs ; he believes that his practised hand can easily solve a trumpery difficulty; the excellence of his intentions in the long-run justifies an occasional sacrifice on the shrine of present necessity. If he does some things amiss, after all he is not responsible for them ; they are disagreeable incidents in his tenure of office.

So Wolsey regarded the divorce ; and he is not greatly to be blamed for agreeing to promote it. He saw great national advantages in a divorce ; he knew that it would be well for England if Henry VIII. left male issue ; he did not like the political influence of Katharine ; he saw that Henry was not likely to be happy in her society. It would have been difficult for him to find in the proposal itself a sufficient reason for withdrawing from politics even

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if he could have done so with safety. Not even Wolsey could foresee the king's obstinacy and tenac- ity of purpose, the depth of meanness to which he would sink, and to which he would drag all around him. Wolsey found himself powerless to resist, and the growing consciousness of moral turpitude practised to no purpose degraded him in his own eyes and robbed him of his strength. When once the divorce question was started Wolsey was pushed on to his ruin by a power of imperious wickedness which debased others without losing its own self- respect. The dictates of public opinion are, after all, not so very different from the commands of an absolute king. Both may destroy their victims, and go on their own way with heads erect.

So when we speak of the fall of Wolsey we mean more than his irrevocable loss of power. He had lost his inner strength, and no longer kept his hold upon affairs. He knew that he was sullied and un- nerved; that he had sunk from the position of a leader to that of one who tremblingly follows and devises shifty plans that he may still exercise the semblance of his old authority. He knew that in his negotiations about the divorce he staked every- thing that he had gained, and that the result, what- ever it was, would be disastrous to his great designs.

LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

If he had succeeded he would have degraded the Papacy; and when Henry had once learned how easy it was for him to get his own way, he would have used his knowledge to the full, and Wolsey would have been powerless to direct him. When "Wolsey became the instrument of the king's self- will, he hoped that a few disappointments would wear out his obstinacy ; when he saw Henry's grow- ing resoluteness and complete self-will he knew that for himself the future was hopeless. Still he had not the magnanimity to resign himself to his disap- pointment. He clung to power when power had ceased to be useful for his plans. He clung to power, because the habits of office had become to him a second nature. He vainly strove to find satisfaction in the discharge of his episcopal duties ; he vainly tried to content himself with the simple affairs of simple men. He had given himself en- tirely to the material world, and had estranged him- self from the spiritual world, which was to him thin and unsubstantial to the last. He could not refrain from casting longing glances behind him, and his last days are pitiable. The words of the dying man are often quoted as showing the misery of those who trust in princes' favor. But they are not merely an echo of a far-off state of things which has passed by

THE WORK OF WOLSEY. 325

forever. "To serve one's country" may have a loftier and more noble sound than "to serve one's king, ' - but the meaning is not necessarily different. The thought in Wolsey's heart was this — " If I had served the spiritual interests of my country as I have striven to serve its material interests my conscience would be more at rest." For Wolsey was a true patriot, and had noble aims. Much as he might deaden his conscience, he did not extinguish it ; and his last judgment of himself expressed the sad con- viction that neither his patriotism nor the nobility of his aims had saved him from actions which he could not justify, and which his conscience loudly condemned.

We have called Wolsey a political artist: and this, which makes his career attractive, is the secret of his unpopularity. Wolsey's designs did not arise from the pressure of absolute necessity, and their meaning was not apparent to his contempo- raries. Englishmen thought then, as they think now, that England should disregard foreign affairs and develop her own resources ; or if foreign affairs are undertaken they demand the success of English arms, and claim to be repaid in current coin or pal- pable advantages. Wolsey believed that the es- tablishment of England's power on the Continent

326 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

was necessary for the increase of English trade, and was a preliminary for the wise solution of those questions which were most urgent in domestic poli- tics. He was the last English statesman of the old school, which regarded England not as a separate nation, but as an integral part of Western Christen- dom. He did not look upon questions as being solely English questions : he did not aim merely at reforming English monasteries or asserting a new position for the English Church. But he thought that England was ripe for practically carrying out reforms which had long been talked of, and remedy- ing abuses which had long been lamented ; and he hoped that England in these respects would serve as a model to the rest of Europe. Only if England was in full accord with European sentiment, was powerful, and was respected, could this be done. Wolsey did not prefer foreign politics on their own account, but he found them to be the necessary pre- liminary for any lasting work on the lines which he contemplated. As regards Church matters he was strictly practical. He had no belief in reform- ing councils, or pragmatic sanctions, or Gallican liberties ; he cared little for England's weapon of prcGmunire. He did not look upon the Pope as a powerful adversary who was to be held at arm's

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length ; he regarded him as a man to be managed and converted into a useful ally. Wolsey was en- tirely Erastian. Power was to him the important thing in human affairs, and all power was the same ; he believed much more in the divine right of Henry VIII. than in the divine right of Clement VII. merely because Henry's power seemed to him prac- tically to be greater. However poetical Wolsey 's main ideas might be, he had no illusions about the actual facts of politics.

The Englishmen of his own day did not appre- ciate Wolsey's aims, and supposed that his foreign policy was for the gratification of his own vanity, or was the result of a desire to gain the Papacy. No one ^understood him in his own time. He bore the burden of everything that was done, and all the causes of popular discontent were laid at his door. If the loyalty of Wolsey seems strange to our eyes, still more inexplicable is the loyalty of the English people, who could believe in Henry's good intentions, and could suppose that he was entirely ruled by Wolsey contrary to his own inclinations. Wolsey was universally hated ; by the nobles as an upstart, by the people as a tyrant, by Churchmen as a dangerous reformer, by the Lutherans as a rank Papist, While he was in power he kept in restraint

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various elements of disorder ; but he shared the fate of those who rule without identifying themselves with any party. When his power came to an end no minister could assume his place or pick up the threads which fell from his hands. It was left to Henry VIII., who had learned more from Wolsey than anyone else, to direct England's fortunes on a lower level of endeavor. We may admire his clear head and his strong hand ; we may even prefer the results of his solution to those which Wolsey would have wrought; but we must confess that personal motives held the chief place in his mind, and that considerations of the common weal came only in the second place. For Henry VIII. abandoned Wolsey 's idea of a European settlement of ecclesi- astical questions, and gradually undertook a national settlement on lines drawn solely with reference to his own desires and his own interest. In this simpler matter it was possible for him to enjoy some measure of success, and this was chiefly due to the preparation which Wolsey had made. For the work of a statesmen is never entirely thrown away ; if his own plans fail, he leaves the way open for others who may use his means for widely different ends.

Wolsey was the creator of the forces which

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worked the great change in England in the sixteenth century. He obtained for England a position in the esteem of Europe which he had meant to use for the direction of Europe generally. Henry used that position for the assertion of England's right to settle its own affairs for itself; and the position proved strong enough to ward off foreign interfer- ence, and to carry England safely through the first period of a dangerous crisis. It was because Wol- sey had laid a sure foundation that England emerged from her separatist policy, isolated, it is true, but not excluded from European influence. Again, Wolsey exalted the royal power, because he be- lieved that it alone could rise above the separate in- terests of classes, and could give a large expression to the national weal. Henry profited by Wolsey 's labors to pursue exclusively his own interests, yet he learned enough to interweave them dexterously with some national interests in such a way that they could not practically be disentangled, and that he had suf- ficient adherents to put down opposition when it arose. Even the preliminary steps which Wolsey had taken were carefully followed. His scheme for the gradual conversion of monasteries into more useful institutions was revived, and men believed that it would be imitated : the very agents that he

330 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY.

had trained for the work of turning monasteries into educational establishments were employed in sweep- ing the monastic revenues into the royal coffers. So it was with all other things. Henry learned Wol- sey's methods, and popularized Wolsey's phrases. He clothed his own self-seeking with the dignity of Wolsey's designs; the hands were the hands of Henry, but the voice was an echo of the voice of "Wolsey.

The new England that was created in the sixteenth century was strangely unlike that which Wolsey had dreamed of , yet none the less it was animated by his spirit. His ideal of England, influential in Europe through the mediatorial policy which her insular position allowed her to claim, prosperous at home through the influence which she obtained by her far-sighted wisdom and disinterestedness — this is Wolsey's permanent contribution to the history of English politics.*

* The estimate of the character and work of Wolsey, as given in this chapter, is judicious. Nevertheless it may interest the reader to com pare certain other comments, which are accordingly added here.

Lingard says: "The best eulogy on his character is to be found in the contrast in the conduct of Henry before and after the cardinal's fall. As long as Wolsey continued in favor, the royal passions were confined within certain bounds ; the moment his influence was extinguished, they burst

THE WORK OF WOLSEY. 331

through every restraint and by their caprice and violence alarmed his subjects and astonished the other nations of Europe."

J. R. Green, on the other hand, after quoting Wolsey's words ("And, Master Knyghton, had I but served God as diligently as I have served the king, He would not have given me over in my grey hairs. But this is my due re- ward for my pains and study, not regarding my service to God, but only my duty to my prince.") Adds: "No words could paint with so terrible a truthfulness the spirit of the new despotism which Wolsey had done more than any of those who went before him to build up. All sense of loyalty to England, to its freedom, to its institutions, had utterly passed away. The one duty which a statesman owed was a duty to his "prince," a prince whose personal will and appetite was overriding the highest interests of the State, trampling under foot the wisest councils, and crushing with the blind ingratitude of Fate the servants who opposed him. But even Wolsey, while he recoiled from the monstrous form which had revealed itself, could hardly have dreamed of the work of destruction which the royal courage, and yet more the royal appetite of his masters was to accomplish in the years to come."

To the present writer it seems as if Wolsey narrowly missed being one of the greatest men in all the history of England ; but that, having missed that high possibility ; his influence was on the whole pernicious to a degree.

The evil that men do lives after them, The good is oft interred with their bones.

So was it with Wolsey.

THE END.

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Creighton, Mandell, Bp, of London

The life of Cardinal Wolsey

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