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THE 
 
 REIGN OF HENRY VIII 
 
 l'R(»l ms ACCESSION TO THE DEA TH OF WOl.SEV 
 
 REVIEWED AND ILLUSTRATED FROM 
 ORIGINAL DOCUMENTS 
 
 13V THE I.ATE 
 
 J. S. BREWER, M.A. 
 
 PROFESSOR OK ENGLISH LITERATURE AND HISTORY IN KlNO’S COLLEGE, LONDON, 
 PREACHER AT THE ROLLS AND HONORARY FKLLOW OF 
 queen's college, OXFORD. 
 
 EDITED 
 
 BY JAMES GAIRDNER 
 
 OF THE PUBI.IC RECORD OFFICE. 
 
 SPECIAL COPY 
 EXTRA ILLUSTRATED. 
 
 IN FOUR VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET. 
 
 1884. 
 

 
PREFACE. 
 
 The work here laid before tlie public in a collected form con- 
 sists of four different treatises, which were originally published 
 as prefaces to the four volumes of “ Letters and Papers of the 
 Keign of Henry VIII.,” edited by Professor Brewer for the 
 Master of the Polls. Like the other “ Calendars ” of the Polls 
 Series, that work is addressed to a comparatively limited 
 public, and the ordinary reader cannot be expected to give 
 much attention to the ponderous volumes in which it is con- 
 tained. Yet there is but one opinion among those who have 
 read these prefaces, not only of their high value to the 
 historical student, but also of their very great interest as 
 literary compositions ; and these considerations made it 
 desirable to bring them together in a form more convenient 
 than that in which they originally appeared. Application was 
 accordingly made to the Lords of the Treasury, who, on 
 careful consideration of the case, consented to their being 
 republished separately, on condition that it should be here 
 stated that the Prefaces have no official character or 
 authority, and that their republication is permitted at the 
 urgent request of the friends of Professor Brewer, on account 
 of their literary interest.” 
 
 It was said by some, when these Calendars first appeared, 
 that Professor Brewer had set himself to write a history of 
 the reign of Henry VHI. Lie himself did not entertain such 
 an exalted opinion of his performance ; and in one place he 
 distinctly says, “ It is not my business to write history, but to 
 show the bearings of these new materials upon history.”^ 
 
 * Preface to voL ii. p. clxxxix. 
 
IV 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 The editor has therefore refrained from calling the work what 
 it is clear the author himself would not have called it. The 
 following pages do not, in point of fact, contain a detailed 
 systematic narrative of all that was done in the times of which 
 they treat ; but they certainly do contain a review of the 
 reign of Henry VIII. down to the death of Wolsey, as clear 
 sighted as it is comprehensive, drawn from the latest sources 
 of information, carefully collected and arranged by the author 
 himself. 
 
 And herein consists the special value of this work. For 
 it was not the production of any dull antiquary, laboriously 
 collecting documents and unable afterwards to see the true 
 significance of his own discoveries. The writer, if he was not 
 a historian, certainly possessed in a very high degree the 
 qualifications needful for writing history. His knowledge of 
 the period of which he wrote was unsurpassed. Yet it 
 was not the exclusive knowledge of a specialist who knows 
 nothing beyond his subject. His familiarity with the sources 
 of English history in all other periods, his mature scholar- 
 ship, and his intimate acquaintance with the whole range of 
 English literature, which he had spent his best years in 
 teaching young men to study, prevented anything like a 
 narrow or one-sided estimate, either of the men or of the 
 movements which he made it his business to describe. 
 Qualifications such as these, it may be said without diffidence, 
 are by no means common, even among the more pretentious 
 writers of our annals. But there are others more uncommon 
 still which may be said to give Mr. Brewer — as among 
 historical writers — a place entirely by himself. For it is 
 haidly to be expected, in ordinary cases, that those more 
 general requisites — special study and broad general scholar- 
 ship, extensive reading, and at the same time careful and 
 accuiate judgment — so necessary to the writing of history, 
 should be combined with the palseographic experience and 
 plodding industry which deciphers the written evidences on 
 vhieh all sound history is based. Few indeed have been the 
 histoiians who have really examined with their own eyes and 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 V 
 
 handled with their own hands the musty documents on which 
 they built their inferences ; fewer still who could pass critical 
 judgments on the handwritings, so as to identify the authors 
 of anonymous letters, note the significance of endorsements, 
 and discriminate between an original manuscript and a copy 
 of later date. But in matters such as these Mr. Brewer was 
 ^ more expert than those with whom it might be supposed to be 
 a business. He brought together manuscripts which before lay 
 in hopeless confusion ; ascertained their dates, their author- 
 ship, and their significance by the light of internal evidence ; 
 perused and reperused and compared with others hosts of 
 difficult and obscure documents, until they had yielded up 
 their secrets ; and finally gathered up the results of his 
 researches in clear, systematic order, illuminating the whole 
 subject for the general reader as well as for the student by the 
 clearest and most lucid exposition. 
 
 The work which he was called upon to do in the Public 
 Eecord Office was to catalogue and chronologize a number of 
 miscellaneous documents of the reign of Henry VIII., which 
 it was believed would throw much light upon the history of 
 the Eeformation. A primary examination of these materials 
 convinced him that their importance had not been over- 
 magnified, but that no satisfactory Calendar of them could be 
 drawn up unless the wffiole collection from which they 
 originally came were examined and catalogued along with 
 them. For at that time the Public Eecords were dispersed in 
 five different repositories, and there was the State Paper- 
 Office besides, now amalgamated with the Eecord Department. 
 Portions of these miscellaneous papers had been transferred 
 from one office to another, and those most easily dated and 
 classified had been taken away to complete the early series of 
 State Papers. Moreover, it was impossible to stop at these 
 repositories, for the very same process of collecting and 
 separating out of the public archives a quantity of their more 
 interesting contents had been begun two centuries before by 
 Sir Eobert Cotton, and the result is that the same correspond- 
 ence is still found divided, part being in the Public Eecord 
 I. b 
 
VI 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 Office, and part in the British Museum. Even parts of the 
 same letter, as Mr. Brewer remarks in some introductory 
 observations, were not unusually found in different libraries , 
 addresses were detached from the letters to which they 
 belonged, and enclosures inserted in wrong envelopes. 
 
 To add to the confusion,” Mr. Brewer continues, special 
 modes of arrangement were adopted in different offices ; and 
 not unfrequently the system pursued under one officer was 
 modified or reversed by his successor. The original bundles 
 appear to have been broken up, under the keepership of 
 Arthur Agarde, when the Treasury of the Exchequer was 
 rifled of its most precious contents, to augment the collections 
 of Sir Eobert Cotton. Their order was further disturbed by 
 Mr. John Cayley, who arranged many of the letters in an 
 alphabetical order of names. Some preferred a topographical, 
 others a diplomatic, arrangement. But as none of these 
 projects were completed, and never could be so long as 
 portions of the same series remained in different depositories, 
 these successive attempts at arrangement ended, as might be 
 expected, in utter confusion.” 
 
 The way in which Mr. Brewer dealt with the problem may 
 as well he recorded in his own words also : — 
 
 “ A return to the primitive arrangement of the papers, 
 however desirable, was altogether impossible, for no memo- 
 randa had been kept of these changes. To have catalogued 
 the papers as they stood w'as scarcely more possible. No- 
 thing remained except to bring the different series together, 
 and patiently proceed de novo to arrange the whole in uni- 
 form chronological order. The task was extremely difficult 
 and fatiguing. The labour was increased by the dispersion 
 of the papers, the variety of experiments to which they had 
 been subjected at different intervals, and the total obliteration 
 of all traces of their original sequence. The letters are 
 seldom dated ; their dates had to be determined by internal 
 evidence. Many turn exclusively upon personal topics, or 
 refer to events little known. Long and tedious researches 
 had to be made for obscure names, and events not less 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Vll 
 
 obscure ; often without any successful result, often where the 
 success bore no proportion to the time and labour spent upon 
 it. Tedious and unsatisfactory as the task proved to be, it 
 was necessary, in some instances, to replace the books and 
 bundles, as nearly as could be guessed, in their ancient order, 
 and insert once more dated among the undated documents, 
 
 ‘ incedens per ignes 
 Suppositos cineri dolose.’ 
 
 “ But even where the events were more noticeable, as in the 
 political relations of England with the Continent during the 
 first half of the 16th century, letters of credence or compli- 
 ment, drafts of instructions, many without date or signature, 
 not in the handwriting of the author, but of his scribe, were 
 far from being easily arranged. Events frequently repeat 
 themselves with extraordinary likeness in the various political 
 combinations of those times. It is not easy, for instance, to 
 assign to their proper years undated memoranda relating to 
 the intricate wars and policy of Italy. The diplomatic cor- 
 respondence between England and France in 1518 or 1519, 
 and again in 1525 and 1526, or that of Flanders in 1516 
 and 1517, as compared with 1522 and 1523, is deceptive 
 enough. To determine the due sequence of papers referring 
 to the designs of France upon Toiirnay and the English pale, 
 to follow without confusion the crooked lines of Scotch 
 politics under the Duke of Albany, to keep every minute and 
 instruction, every rough draft and memorandum for each 
 ambassador, in its proper month and year, where no help is 
 lent by signature, date or handwriting, is more laborious than 
 they know who have never tried it. Nothing seems more 
 easy or obvious after the true order has been discovered ; 
 nothing is more perplexing before. 
 
 “ The first step was to number all the documents in the 
 several bundles, boxes, and portfolios as they were produced 
 to me ; then to deal into boxes marked with the regnal and 
 dominical year all papers of which the dates were certain, 
 setting aside for the present the less certain and obvious. 
 The residue thus set aside had to be examined again and 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 viii 
 
 again, subjected to various processes, and reduced to the 
 smallest compass compatible with accuracy of arrangement. 
 
 “ After repeated examination the undigested mass, con- 
 sisting of fragments, anonymous letters, or papers which 
 defied all chronological arrangement, had to be indexed for 
 convenience of reference, in the expectation that during the 
 formation of the Calendar fresh evidence might turn up, 
 doubts be cleared, or the missing portions and fragments or 
 defective letters be discovered. 
 
 “ To the difficulty arising from a general absence of dates 
 in papers of this early period must be added the uncertainty 
 in the different modes of calculation adopted by different 
 nations. Some states followed the Eoman, some the old 
 style. Some commenced the year on Christmas Day, some 
 at the variable feast of Easter. In some instances the same 
 writer followed no rule, but wavered between both styles, like 
 the Emperor Maximilian ; some adopted the style of the place 
 where they chanced to be staying, or of the correspondent to 
 whom their letters were addressed. This uncertainty in the 
 chronology of the times involved the necessity of numerous 
 researches among the Privy Seals, Patent Eolls, and other 
 muniments at the Eecord Office. It was indispensable, to 
 arrive at some certain data for determining the shifting dates 
 of uncertain papers. At last, by one method or another, and 
 finally by comparing the entire series of despatches of this or 
 that ambassador, wherever such a comparison could be made, 
 the date of each separate document was determined with 
 tolerable exactness. Step by step the whole series emerged 
 from confusion.” 
 
 This result, however, was only achieved by a most com- 
 prehensive mode of dealing with the contents not only of 
 the Eecord 6ffice, but also of the British Museum, and all 
 other public libraries so far as they related to the reign of 
 Heniy VIII. The necessity for a thorough examination of 
 the Cottonian Manuscripts was obvious from the fact already 
 stated, that the state papers contained in that collection 
 formed at one time a part of the Public Eecords ; and the 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 IX 
 
 difficulties of chronologizing the papers imperatively required 
 that no other manuscripts should be neglected which might 
 possibly throw a gleam of light on the political history of 
 the period. Hence the Harleian, Lansdowne, and other 
 collections in the British Museum, the manuscripts in the 
 Archiepiscopal Library at Lambeth, the treasures in the 
 various college libraries at Oxford and Cambridge, so far as 
 they contained original evidences hearing on the reign of 
 Henry VHL, were all carefully noted and epitomized in the 
 same way as the documents in the Public Eecord Office. 
 Nor was even this enough. It was important to include 
 printed letters also, of which the originals do not now exist ; 
 and no letter written by or to an Englishman at this 
 period, or even by a foreigner if it contained news about 
 English affairs, escaped Mr. Brewer’s researches. “ I ought, 
 perhaps,” he modestly says, ‘^to apologize for including 
 the letters of Erasmus and Peter Martyr. But only those 
 letters of Erasmus are here noticed which were written by 
 him during his residence in England, or received by him 
 from Englishmen during his residence abroad, or are of direct 
 importance to English history. His correspondents were men 
 of high standing in the region of politics. He numbered 
 among his intimate friends Warham, Tunstal, More, Pace, 
 Sampson, and Ammonius, secretary for the Latin and Italian 
 tongues to Henry VIII. No one was better acquainted than 
 Ammonius with the proceedings between this country and 
 Borne. These letters, therefore, have a claim upon the 
 historical student beyond the personal importance of the 
 names under which they were published.” 
 
 But how much labour even the letters of Erasmus involved 
 would hardly be known from the few brief sentences in which 
 Mr. Brewer refers to this part of his very complicated task. 
 “ Unhappily,” he says, “the dates in all the printed copies 
 are strangely confused and inaccurate. I have, therefore, been 
 compelled to arrange them by their internal evidence, retain- 
 ing the printed dates at the foot of the abstracts. The order 
 adopted by Le Clerc in his splendid collection of the works of 
 
X 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 Erasmus, published at the Hague, is certainly faulty. He 
 was followed implicitly by Jortin.” To find that, in a 
 collection of letters all distinctly dated as if by the writers 
 themselves, many thus assigned to the year 1511 were 
 certainly written in the year 1513, and that, in fact, not a 
 single date is to be taken on trust without inquiry, is certainly 
 an unpleasant experience to one in search of historical 
 accuracy. Mr. Brewer had, on a smaller scale, the same 
 problem with the letters of Erasmus that he had in reducing 
 to order the State papers of the realm. 
 
 But we have not even yet exhausted the comprehensiveness 
 of Mr. Brewer’s plan. 
 
 “I have included,” he tells us, “ a summary of the Privy 
 Seals and Signed Bills, both for their chronological and their 
 historical importance. These documents had to be frequently 
 searched during the formation of the Calendar. They have the 
 advantage of being dated with rigid accuracy.^ To the time of 
 the compilation of this Catalogue they were kept on files, with- 
 out any order. They are now chronologically arranged, and 
 their number has been augmented by subsequent researches. 
 
 “ As the contents of the Privy Seals and Signed Bills are 
 generally entered on the Patent Bolls, and form their most 
 valuable and interesting materials, it seemed only a small 
 extension of labour to include the remaining entries, and thus 
 make the Index to the Patent Bolls complete. That labour 
 was greatly lightened by a manuscript Calendar of these Bolls, 
 prepared and in great part completed by Mr. Boberts, the 
 present Secretary of the Becord Office ; and though it did not 
 suit the purposes of this work to adopt the fuller descriptions 
 of Mr. Boberts, or follow, as he does, the miscellaneous order 
 of the Bolls, d am glad to acknowledge my obligations to the 
 conscientious labours of that gentleman. 
 
 The collation of the Signed Bills and Privy Seals was 
 often of service in detecting errors in the entries on the 
 Patent Bolls. Such mistakes have been noticed wherever 
 they seemed important. 
 
 There are a few unimportant exceptions. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 XI 
 
 “ To the Patent Bolls I have added an abstract of the 
 Parliament Bolls, and propose to add one of the Privy 
 Council hooks as soon as they fall within the scope of my 
 work. The papers and memoranda lately brought to light 
 will supply great deficiencies in those hooks, and prove not 
 the least curious part of the whole collection. 
 
 The Scotch Bolls contain the commissions of ambassadors 
 and agents accredited by England to Scotland, and curious 
 notices of the diplomatic relations between the two countries. 
 The French Bolls detail the same information for France, 
 with a larger amount of miscellaneous matter. Both were 
 frequently consulted by Bymer for his edition of the Foedera, 
 and a full summary of their contents will be found in this 
 Catalogue.” 
 
 It was only after all this vast labour had been gone 
 through, after State papers and letters had been thoroughly 
 sifted and described, after Patents, Privy Seals, and Signed 
 Bills had been all likewise fully examined and summarized, 
 after the whole of those documents had been carefully 
 chronologized and the result already printed, that Mr. Brewer 
 sat down to write these prefaces, which are here presented in 
 another form. No historian certainly ever addressed himself 
 to his work with so much preparation — indeed, no one could 
 have done so, however able and willing, and however self- 
 denying, until the Government of this country had seen the 
 wisdom of authorizing the formation of a Calendar of its 
 Public Becords and State Papers ; nor could the result have 
 been easily achieved even then if old restrictions and for- 
 malities had not been to a great extent removed, and the work 
 placed in the hands of one who knew so thoroughly what was 
 wanted in the interests of historical study. 
 
CONTENTS OF VOL. I. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 HKNRY VIII. AND EUROPE. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Contrast between tlie reign of Henrj VIII. and that of Henry VII. ... 1 
 
 Diminished influence of England on the Continent ... ... 3 
 
 I’ersonal qualities of Henry VIII. ... ... ... ... ... 4 
 
 His popularity ... ... ... ... ... ... V 
 
 His appearance ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 8 
 
 Contemporary sovereigns — Lewis XII. and Maximilian ... ... 10 
 
 Ferdinand of Arragon ... ... ... ... ... ... 11 
 
 Effects of the League of Cambray ... ... ... ... 12 
 
 Lewis XII. in Italy ... ... ... ... ... ... 13 
 
 Cordiality of England and Finance ... ... ... ... 15 
 
 The Council of Pisa ... ... ... ... ... ... 10 
 
 Loss of Italy by the French ... ... ... ... ... 18 
 
 Expedition to Spain under tbe Marquis of Dorset ... ... ... IS 
 
 Disaffection among the troops ... ... ... ... ... 20 
 
 They return home ... ... ... ... ... ... 21 
 
 Wolsey has the management of the war ... ... ... 22 
 
 Gallant death of Sir Edward Howard ... ... ... ... 25 
 
 Henry inyades France in person ... ... ... ... 20 
 
 And James IV. invades England ... ... ... ... ... 27 
 
 The Duke of Orleans ... ... ... ... ... ... 31 
 
 Ferdinand’s treachery ... ... ... ... ... ... 32 
 
 Lewis XII. a widower ... ... ... ... ... 36 
 
 Prince Charles and Heniy’s sister Mary ... ... ... ... 37 
 
 Marriage of Mary to Lewis XII. ... ... ... ... 39 
 
 CHAPTEP II. 
 
 INTERNAL CONDITION OE ENGLAND. 
 
 Pleasure and pageantry ... ... ... ... ... ... 44 
 
 The King’s early mairied life ... ... ... ... ... 45 
 
 Death of his infant son ... ... ... ... ... ... 40 
 
 Eesults of the W ars of the Koses ... ... ... ... 48 
 
XIV 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Decline of Monasticism 
 The Privy Council 
 
 Public business falls chiefly on Wolsey 
 
 His personal appearance, history, and character 
 
 Ambassadors 
 
 Changes in social life ... 
 
 Crown lands 
 
 Wealth and power of the sovereign 
 
 PAGE 
 
 50 
 
 52 
 
 57 
 
 60 
 
 64 
 
 68 
 
 69 
 
 70 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 SUFFOLK AND MARY.— DESIGNS OF FRANCIS I. 
 
 Heath of Lewis XII. 
 
 Suffolk sent to Fi’ance 
 
 His conversations with Francis I. ... 
 
 How Francis learned his secret 
 His negociations ... 
 
 He and Mary privately married 
 The King’s displeasure at it 
 The open marriage 
 Francis starts for Italy 
 Crosses the Alps 
 The Cardinal of Sion 
 The battle of Marignano 
 
 74 
 
 76 
 
 77 
 80 
 
 85 
 
 86 
 90 
 94 
 96 
 
 100 
 
 101 
 
 102 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 EFFECTS OF THE BATTLE OF MARIGNANO. 
 
 How the news wms received in different quarters 
 Henry and his great galley 
 Richard Pace 
 
 The Swiss desire to serve England 
 Pace’s mission 
 
 Maximilian tries to get hold of the money 
 Sir Robert Wingfield 
 
 Persuaded by the Emperor to disobey instructions 
 Receives a rebuff from Wolsey, and stands upon his dignity 
 The expedition begins to move 
 The E mperor hangs back ... 
 
 And deserts his allies 
 Sion and Pace imprisoned 
 Maximilian extorts money from Pace 
 
 Offers the King the Duchy of Milan and the Imperial Crown 
 A further remittance for the Swiss sent to Pace ... 
 
 Who is threatened and cajoled for money by Maximilian 
 Wingfield complains of Pace to the King 
 Receives an unpleasant message for the Emperor 
 And brings down a severe censure on himself 
 
 105 
 
 106 
 112 
 
 113 
 
 114 
 116 
 117 
 119 
 121 
 122 
 124 
 127 
 132 
 132 
 
 135 
 
 136 
 
 137 
 
 140 
 
 141 
 145 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 XV 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE TREATY OE NO YON. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Prince Charles courts an alliance with Francis I. ... ... ••• 148 
 
 Becomes King of Spain ... ... ... ... ••• 151 
 
 The Treaty of Noyon ... ... ... 153 
 
 Conduct of the Emperor ... ... ... ... • • • 154 
 
 He agrees to come to the Low Countries and remove Charles’s councillors 155 
 Obtains money from England for the journey ... ... ... 157 
 
 Yet accepts the treaty of Noyon ... ... ... ... ... 159 
 
 Tunstal demands an explanation ... ... ... ... 160 
 
 Wolsey pursues the same course as before ... ... ... ••• 163 
 
 Tunstal’s advice ... ... ... ... ... .•• 166 
 
 Knight’s view of matters ... ... ... ... ••• 167 
 
 The King is fully informed already ... ... ... ... 171 
 
 The deceivers are outwitted ... ... ... ... 173 
 
 Need of Charles’s presence in Spain ... ... ... ... 174 
 
 For which he wants money of England ... ... ... ... 179 
 
 His voyage to Spain ... ... ... ... ... ... 181 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 ENGLAND AND FRANCE. 
 
 Wolsey’s policy towards France ... ... ... ... ... 184 
 
 Secret negociations ... ... ... ... ... ... 186 
 
 Offer of Francis for the surrender of Tournay ... ... ... 188 
 
 A French embassy comes over .. . ... ... ... ... 190 
 
 Its object carefully disguised ... ... ... ... ... 190 
 
 A matrimonial treaty ... ... ... ... ... 194 
 
 A more splendid embassy comes ... ... ... ... ... 197 
 
 Banquet to the ambassadors ... ... ... ... ... 199 
 
 The Dauphin married by proxy to the Princess Mary ... ... ... 200 
 
 English embassy to France in return ... ... ... ... 202 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 SCOTCH AFFAIRS. 
 
 Competitors for the see of St. Andrews ... ... ... ... 207 
 
 Second marriage of Queen Margaret ... ... ... ... 208 
 
 Her adventures ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 209 
 
 Arrival of Albany in Scotland ... ... ... ... ... 211 
 
 Intrigues of Lord Dacre ... ... ... ... ... ... 212 
 
 Margaret besieged in Stirling Castle ... ... ... ... 213 
 
 She escapes to England ... ... ... ... ... ... 215 
 
 Her return ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 221 
 
 Execution of Hume and his brother ... ... ... ... 222 
 
 Murder of La Bastie ... ... ... ... ... ... 223 
 
XVI 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 DOMESTIC HISTORY. 
 
 TACK 
 
 The King’s expenditure ... ... ••• • •• 
 
 Pageants ... ... ... ••• ••• 228 
 
 Private life of the King ... ... ••• • ••• ••• 230 
 
 Birth of the Princess Mary ... ... •• 231 
 
 Henry’s patronage of art and letters ... ... ... ... 233 
 
 Luther and indulgences ... ... ... ... •.• 234 
 
 The sweating sickness ... ... ... ... ■.■ •.■ 237 
 
 Wolsey Lord Chancellor ... ... ... .. ... 241 
 
 Henry’s solicitude for him ... ... ■ ... ... ... 242 
 
 General dislike of foreigners ... ... ... ... ... 244 
 
 Evil May day ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 245 
 
 Dr. Standish and the Royal supremacy ... ... ... ... 250 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 MOLSEY CARDINAL AND LEGATE. 
 
 Wolsey at the height of power ... ... ... ... ... 256 
 
 The plot against Leo X. ... ... ... ... ... 263 
 
 Poly dore Vergil in disgrace ... ... ... ... ... 264 
 
 Wolsey made a Cardinal ... ... ... ... ... 266 
 
 The proposed crusade against the Turks ... ... ... ... 274 
 
 Campeggio’s mission to England ... ... ... ... 279 
 
 His reception as joint legate with Wolsey ... ... ... ... 281 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 TWO BOOKS OE THE PERIOD. 
 
 Erasmus’s Greek Testament ... ... . . . 285 
 
 More’s Utopia ... ... 288 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 , THE IMPERIAL ELECTION. 
 
 Death of the Emperor Maximilian ... 298 
 
 The struggle for empire ... ... 303 
 
 Henry VIII. a candidate ... ... 310 
 
 Wolsey finesses with the Pope ... ... 312 
 
 Pace sent to Germany ... ... ” 214 , 
 
 Finds he is too late ... ... ' " " ' 
 
 Francis hides his resentment at Henry’s intrigues ... ... ' ... 319 
 
 England also ostensibly cordial towards France ... ... ' ... ' 32I 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 XVll 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Preparations for an interview between Henry VIII. and Francis ... 323 
 
 Charles V. less inclined to France ... ... ... ... 325 
 
 Offer of Mary’s band to tlie Emperor ... ... ... ... 326 
 
 Arrangements for an interview between Henry and Charles V. ... 328 
 
 The Spaniards dilatory ... ... ... ,.. ... ... 332 
 
 The French active ... ... ... ... ... ... 334 
 
 Arrangements for the French interview pressed forward ... ... 338 
 
 The Emperor’s visit to England ... ... ... ... 345 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD. 
 
 Henry sails for Calais ... ... ... ... ... ... 347 
 
 Palace erected at Guisnes ... ... ... ... ... 348 
 
 Wolsey visits Francis at Arde ... ... ... ... ... 351 
 
 Meeting of the two Kings ... ... ... ... ... 353 
 
 Meeting of Henry VIII. and the Emperor at Gravelines ... ... 356 
 
 Mary’s hand offered to Charles V. ... ... ... ... 359 
 
 England remonstrates against the fortification of Arde ... ... 361 
 
 Francis prepares to invade Italy ... ... ... ... 362 
 
 The Emperor’s perplexities ... ... ... ... ... 364 
 
 Diet of Worms dissolved ... ... ... ... ... 366 
 
 The Emperor secretly negociates for a marriage with Portugal . . . 367 
 
 But Wolsey is not to be trifled with ... ... ... ... 369 
 
 And Tunstal is recalled ... ... ... ... ... ... 373 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM. 
 
 Buckingham present at the Field of the Cloth of Gold ... ... 375 
 
 His instructions to his chaplain Gilbert ... ... ... ... 377 
 
 Kny vet not the informer ... ... ... ... ... ... 379 
 
 Examination of the Duke’s surveyor ... ... ... ... 382 
 
 Apprehension of Buckingham ... ... ... ... ... 384 
 
 Depositions against him ... ... ... ... ... 388 
 
 His trial ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 392 
 
 His execution ... ... ... ... ... ... 395 
 
 What men said of it, abroad and at home ... ... ... ... 398 
 
 Division of his property ... ... ... ... ... 401 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE CALAIS CONFEEENCE. 
 
 Policy of Wolsey to prevent a union of Francis and the Emperor ... 405 
 
 Francis prepares for war ... ... ... ... ... 407 
 
 Fitzwilliam sent to France ... ... ... ... ... 409 
 
 The Emperor and Francis both accept the mediation of England ... 412 
 
xviii 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Wolsey to be sent to Calais, ostensibly to adjust tlieir differences 
 Interview of Henry with the Imperial ambassadors 
 Wolsey sets out ... 
 
 Gives audience to the Imperial and French ambassadors ... 
 
 Wolsey deceives Francis ... ••• 
 
 Fitzwilliam’s indignant answer to Marguerite 
 Keturn of Wolsey 
 
 He receives the Abbey of St. Alban s 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 DEATH OP LEO X. — WAR WITH FRANCE. 
 
 Death of Leo X. ... ... ••• ••• ••• .... 
 
 His triumph over the French ... 
 
 Wolsey a candidate for the papacy ... 
 
 His extraordinary proposal to the Bishop of Elna 
 The Conclave 
 Election of Adrian VI. 
 
 His character 
 
 War declared against France ... 
 
 The Emperor’s second visit to England 
 Difficulties of the commissariat 
 Invasion of France 
 The treason of Bourbon 
 
 The Emperor thinks of marrying Isabella of Portugal 
 Beaurain sent a second time to England 
 
 His intrigue with Bourbon apart ... ... ... .... 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE PARLIAMENT OF 1523. 
 
 Parliament summoned 
 Sir Thomas More chosen Speaker 
 Tradition of his conduct as Speaker 
 Wolsey proposes a subsidy 
 
 The House declines to discuss matters in his presence 
 Wolsey rejects the grant of the Commons 
 Contemporary account of the debates 
 Murmurs in the country 
 The Act for the subsidy ... 
 
 Early history of Thomas Cromwell 
 His speech in Parliament ... 
 
 Prorogation of Parliament 
 Payment of members 
 
 The convocations of York and Canterbury summoned to meet at West- 
 minster 
 The loan 
 
 Oppressive taxation ... 
 
 PAGK 
 
 414 
 
 416 
 
 418 
 
 419 
 
 421 
 
 422 
 425 
 427 
 
 429 
 
 430 
 433 
 438 
 440 
 
 447 
 
 448 
 451 
 451 
 454 
 456 
 458 
 463 
 
 465 
 
 466 
 
 469 
 
 470 
 
 471 
 473 
 
 475 
 
 476 
 
 478 
 
 479 
 
 481 
 
 482 
 484 
 489 
 
 491 
 
 492 
 494 
 496 
 
CONTENTS. xix 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 INVASION OF FRANCE. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Henry’s expectation of conquering France ... ... ... ... 498 
 
 Revolt of Bourbon ... ... ... ... ... ... 499 
 
 The Venetians abandon France ... ... ... ... ... 500 
 
 The spirit of Francis rises to the emergency ... ... ... 503 
 
 Suffolk invades France ... ... ... ... ... ... 504 
 
 Proposed siege of Boulogne ... ... ... ... ... 505 
 
 Alarm at Paris ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 509 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 SCOTLAND. 
 
 How Scotland was affected by the treaty between England and Prance 511 
 Margaret seeks a divorce from Angus ... ... ... ... 513 
 
 And promotes the return of Albany ... ... ... ... 514 
 
 Who returns accordingly ... ... ... ... ... 519 
 
 Dacre’s bitter reply to Margaret ... ... ... ... ... 521 
 
 Gawin Douglas sent to England ... ... ... ... 523 
 
 Angus makes peace with Albany ... ... ... ... . 525 
 
 Clarencieux sent to Scotland ... ... ... .. ... 526 
 
 Henry writes to the Estates of Scotland, demanding the dismissal of 
 
 Albany ... ... ... ... ... ... 527 
 
 Henry’s demands rejected ... ... ... ... ... 529 
 
 Neither England nor Scotland desires war ... ... ... ... 529 
 
 The Scots determine, too late, to invade England ... ... 531 
 
 While secret negociations proceed ... ... ... ... ... 53^ 
 
 Albany advances to the Borders ... ... ... ... 532 
 
 Agrees to a truce ... ... ... ... ... 533 
 
 Dacre’s letter to Wolsey on the subject ... ... ... 534 
 
 Albany returns to Prance .. . ... ... ... ... 5.37 
 
 Effects of his withdrawal ... ... ... ... ... 533 
 
 Surrey takes the command against Scotland ... ... ... 549 
 
 The war renewed ... ... ... ... ... 542 
 
 Margaret’s ambition as peacemaker ... ... ... 544 
 
 Albany’s return to Scotland ... ... ... ... ... 547 
 
 Margaret wavers ... ... ... ... . . 559 
 
 Albany makes great preparations against England ... ... 551 
 
 Alarm of Surrey .. . ... ... ... 553 
 
 Wolsey’s sagacious advice ... ... ... 554 
 
 Albany’s attack on Wark Castle ... ... ... 557 
 
 His retreat ... ... ... ... ... . . _ 553 
 
 Effect of the Border wars ... ... ... . . 593 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 DEATH OF ADRIAN VI. SIEGE OF RHODES. 
 
 Death of Adrian VI. 
 
 His character and administration 
 
 565 
 
 566 
 
XX 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 His distress at the capture of Rhodes ... ... ... ... 570 
 
 Wolsey and the papacy ... • • • • • • ■ ■ • • • • 573 
 
 The Conclave ... ••• ••• ••• •• 
 
 Election of Clement VII. ... ... ••• ••• ••• 579 
 
 The siege and capture of Rhodes ... ... ... ... ... 580 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 LUTHEE AND HENRY VIII. 
 
 The Augustinian Friars of Saxony ... ... ... ... ... 597 
 
 Luther’s Scholastic training ... ... ... ... ... 599 
 
 The age preceding the Reformation not particularly immoral ... ... 600 
 
 Henry’s ambition to write against hei’esy ... ... ... 601 
 
 Writes in reply to Luther’s treatise, He Captivitate Bahylonica ... 602 
 
 His book presented to the Pope ... ... ... ... 603 
 
 Title of Fidei He/ensor given to Henry ... ... ... ... 605 
 
 Luther’s reply to the King ... ... ... ... ... 606 
 
 More’s answer to Luther ... ... ... ... ... 608 
 
 Appendix 
 
 610 
 
THE REIGN OF HENRY YIII 
 
 o 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 HENEY VIII. AND EUEOPE. 
 
 The Middle Ages came to a close in England with the death of 
 Henry VII. and the accession of his son. The contrast 
 between the two reigns, even taken by themselves, is typical 
 of an expiring feudalism and the dawn of a new era. It is 
 reflected not merely in the events and literature of the period, 
 but still more vividly in the correspondence of Henry VIII. ’s 
 time as compared with that of his father. Where the 
 documents of the reign of Henry VII. are reckoned by tens, 
 those of Henry VIII. may be reckoned by hundreds. Whilst, 
 under the former, reports of ministers and ambassadors are 
 confined to political news, told in general with a dryness and 
 succintness characteristic of the monarch to whom they were 
 addressed, the letters addressed to Henry VIII. are full of 
 miscellaneous information and lively personal details. The 
 writers seem to be conscious that the young King takes more 
 than ordinary interest in the appearance, manners, doings, 
 and designs of his contemporaries. His personality makes 
 itself felt immediately on his accession ; it penetrates in 
 different degrees all classes in the nation, from the highest to 
 the lowest. Though the prime ministers and agents of his 
 father were retained, and the political maxims of the last 
 reign remained unchanged, the spirit of the times is trans- 
 formed. The youth, the frankness, and even that ostentation 
 in which the secure position of Henry VIII. enabled him to 
 indulge, broke down that reserve in which the closer nature 
 and more perilous position of his father induced him con- 
 tinually to fence himself. 
 
 That change finds its most adequate expression in the papers 
 
 VOL. I. B 
 
2 
 
 THE REIGN OF HENRY YIIL 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 to which the modern student has access through the “ Calen- 
 dar,” published in our days by the authority of the Govern- 
 ment. In the earlier pages of that work little more will be 
 found than the names and offices of those who were destined 
 to play their parts in the great drama that followed and 
 developed itself with unexampled rapidity and energy. Whole 
 pages are occupied with notices of commissions, rolls of 
 sheriffs, appointments at court — indications of a regular 
 order long established — as if nothing had interrupted for 
 centuries the even flow of the nation, and no such event as 
 the Eeformation were at hand to break up the great deeps. 
 But as the reign proceeds questions of greater moment break 
 upon the nation ; the correspondence multiplies in variety and 
 detail. The individuality of the writers is more strikingly 
 displayed ; a new era has risen with the new reign, deepening 
 every hour into the fuller day. A more lively curiosity in the 
 proceedings of their contemporaries, especially on the Conti- 
 nent, from which they had long been virtually excluded, 
 pervades the mind of Englishmen. A fuller conviction exists 
 of their own strength, as of men entering on and fully pre- 
 pared for a new stage of existence. Their judgment is more 
 confident and penetrating, less apt to submit to established 
 traditions, less willing to defer to constituted authority. Their 
 criticisms on things passing around them are freer and not 
 unfrequently marked with indignation. Their reports of the 
 times, lively and minute, contain shrewd observations on the 
 characters, appearance, and actions of those with whom these 
 English agents have to deal. Already they begin to display 
 the peculiar temper and genius of the nation. Plodding and 
 cautious, not easily susceptible of emotion, they look with 
 apparent stolidity, real or assumed, on what is before them. 
 Inferior in statecraft to the Frenchman or the Spaniard, the 
 veteran diplomatists of Europe thought it scarcely worth wdiile 
 to deceive such inexperienced negociators. It was no credit 
 to assume the mask before men who had never sounded the 
 turbid depth,s of political intrigue. Everywhere. on the Conti- 
 nent the notion prevailed that England was 'wealthy and 
 easily duped, even by intellects of no heavier calibre than 
 Maximilian’s. It possessed none of the warlike or administra- 
 tive genius of its great rival ; and none of the prestige which 
 still clung to tlie Holy Boman Empire. It was not fit to he 
 named in the same breath with the reserved and metaphysical 
 Spaniard. A wealthy parvenu in the great family of nations 
 
1509 .] 
 
 HIS ACCESSION. 
 
 O 
 
 O 
 
 — no more — its riches and resources were to patch up the 
 broken finances of Ferdinand, Lewis, or the Empire. And 
 the correspondence of the time shows the little pains taken 
 by the sovereigns and statesmen of the age to conceal their 
 designs, or veil the contempt they entertained for English 
 simplicity and honesty. 
 
 The feeling was not unnatural. In the long civil wars 
 which had desolated the country during the last century, Eng- 
 land had lost its influence on the Continent. From policy and 
 temperament Henry VII. was little inclined to interfere in 
 foreign politics. It was enough to provide for the security of 
 his throne. He was satisfied to feel his way without in- 
 dulging in needless exhibitions • of confidence or chivalrous 
 designs, which might bring glory, but certainly brought 
 hazard. Great projects, if he formed any, he kept to himself, 
 and before the time for action had arrived he had grown 
 afraid of his own conceptions. So, during his reign, England 
 rose to no higher estimate on the Continent than that of a third 
 or fourth rate power. Even this degree of importance was 
 rather accorded to the sagacity of a king, whose wonderful 
 ability had been displayed through twenty years of unexampled 
 difficulty, than to the genius and character of the nation itself. 
 
 But it was not to be expected that the respect paid to the 
 experience and reserve of Henry VII. should be as submis- 
 sively yielded to the youth of Henry VIII. The old sovereigns 
 of Europe were not at all prepared to recognize his right of 
 interference in continental politics. He was but a youth 
 among kings and emperors old enough to be his uncles. His 
 gaiety of disposition and unbounded generosity were no secret. 
 Without the title of Catholic or Christian, he was the most 
 Christian and Catholic son of the Church. To Ferdinand he 
 paid the deference of a son-in-law, to Maximilian that of a 
 nephew. Obligations which they considered as nominal, he 
 regarded as real; for Pope, father-in-law, or ally, would 
 never, at any moment, have scrupled to sacrifice to their own 
 interests a son and a nephew who entertained such romantic 
 notions of duty. The difference of their conceptions of honour 
 from his is abundantly manifested in State papers ; and no 
 one who examines these sources will be at a loss to see that 
 they would have engaged Henry VIII., under the most 
 solemn promises of aid and fidelity, to the most perilous 
 adventures, and then have shamelessly abandoned him, 
 whenever it suited their convenience. 
 
4 
 
 THE REIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 At his accession to the crown he was in the prime of youth 
 and manly beauty. Had he lived in a more poetic age and • 
 died before his divorce, he might, without any great effort of 
 imagination, have stood for the hero of an epic poem. He 
 possessed just those qualities which Englishmen admire in 
 their rulers at all times — a fund of good temper, occasionally 
 broken by sudden bursts of anger, vast muscular strength, 
 and unflinching courage. In stature he towered above all his 
 contemporaries. From the brilliant crowd that surrounded 
 him he could at once be distinguished by his commanding 
 figure, and the superior graces of his person. In an age 
 remarkable for feats of strength, and when bodily skill was 
 held in highest estimation, no one outdid him in the tourna- 
 ment. Man and horse fell before him, and lance after lance, 
 at the jousts held in Tournay in honour of the Lady Margaret 
 and the Emperor Maximilian.^ It may be thought that the 
 courtesy of the age and place prevented either subject or 
 foreigner from contesting the palm with one who commanded 
 the armies of England. But other feats are recorded of his 
 personal skill and activity, which can scarcely be attributed 
 to flattery. He was no less an adept in the great national 
 weapon than in the more exclusively aristocratic pastime of 
 the tilt-yard. He drew the best bow of his age ; and in the 
 mastery of it was a match for the tallest archers of his own 
 guard. Tayler, then clerk of the parliament, v^ho served in 
 the siege of Tournay, tells in his amusing Diary ^ how he saw 
 the King diverting himself with his archers in a private 
 garden, and as much surpassing them in their own weapon as 
 he exceeded them in the graces of his person. He spoke 
 French, Italian, and Spanish.^ Of his proficiency in Latin a 
 
 ^ Sagudino, an unexceptionable 
 witness, says : “ The preparations for 
 the joust being at length accomplished, 
 this most serene King made his ap- 
 peai’ance in very great pomp. On 
 his side M'^ere ten of these noblemen on 
 most capital horses, all with housings 
 of one sort, namely, with cloth of gold 
 with a raised pile, his Majesty’s war. 
 horse being caparisoned in the same 
 manner. And in truth he looked like 
 St. George, in person, on its back. 
 The opposing party consisted of ten 
 other noblemen, also in rich array, and 
 very well mounted, so that really I 
 never saw such a sight. Then they 
 began to joust, and continued this sport 
 for three hours, to the constant sound 
 of the trumpets and drums, the King 
 
 excelling all the others, shivering 
 many lances, and unhorsing one of his 
 opponents : so that the show was 
 most beautiful, and I only regret not 
 having time to describe it in full ” 
 (Giustinian’s Desp., i. 81). 
 
 ^ “ Calendar,” vol. i. No. 4284. 
 This work, of which the exact title 
 is “ Letters and Papers, Foreign and 
 Domestic, of the Reign of Henry 
 VIII.,” will be understood to be re- 
 ferred to hereafter (whenever no other 
 authority is cited) by such references 
 as I. 4284, in which the Roman number 
 indicates the volume, and the Arabic 
 the number of the entry in that volume, 
 unless a page is specified instead of 
 the number of the entry. — Ed. 
 
 ® In the Bibliotheque Nationiale 
 

 
 XngrPTved. bvS.So'birLsoxL. 
 
 t 
 
 i 
 
 , (^UEl'm JANE SEYMCmU. 
 
 OB. \b\M- 
 
 ™0M THE OJRXGIKAL OF HOLBEIFT, XN THE COJTHH'iTOH OF 
 
 JUS CtKace Tin-: dtjki-: of bfdfokj). 
 
1509.] 
 
 HIS ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 
 
 5 
 
 specimen has been preserved among the letters of Erasmus. 
 All suspicion of its genuineness is removed by the positive 
 assertion of Erasmus, that he had seen the original and 
 corrections in the Prince’s own hand. In the business of the 
 State, he was, with the exception of Wolsey, the most assiduous 
 man in his dominions. He read and noted the despatches of 
 his ministers and ambassadors without the aid of a secretary 
 or interpreter. He spoke French fluently, though he had 
 never been in France ; and we have a curious confirmation of 
 his ability in this respect in a letter from the Lady Margaret 
 of Savoy. When Suffolk, in a fit of uncouth gallantry, made 
 love to this lady at Tournay, and stole a ring from her finger, 
 she was unable to make him understand her wish to reclaim 
 it, from his ignorance of French. One night at Tournay, 
 being at the banquet, after the banquet he put himself upon 
 his knees before me, and me speaking and him playing, he 
 drew from my finger the ring and put it upon his, and since 
 (afterwards) showed it to me : and I took to laugh, and to 
 him said that he was a thief, and that I thought not that the 
 King had with him led thieves out of his country. This word 
 larron he could not understand.” So she was compelled to call 
 in the aid of the King to interpret her meaning to the Huke.^ 
 Among his lighter accomplishments, still more rare 
 among the sovereigns and nobility of that age, w^as his skill in 
 the practice and theory of music. We learn from Sagudino,^ 
 secretary to Giustinian, who visited England in 1515, that the 
 King practised the lute, organ, and harpsichord^ ‘‘day and 
 night,” and was passionately fond of music. “He was 
 extremely skilled in music,” is the remark of Giustinian an 
 Italian, accustomed to hear the best composers of his own 
 country, when the musicians of Italy were scarcely less 
 eminent than its painters.^ Nicolo Sagudino writes in 1517 
 that “he remained ten days at Eichmond with the ambassador, 
 and in the evening they enjoyed hearing the King play and 
 sing, and seeing him dance, and run at the ring by day ; in 
 all which exercises he acquitted himself divinely.” 
 
 The vast number of warrants, letters, and despatches 
 
 at Paris, there is an entire letter in ® Or spinet according to Mr. 
 
 French, the body and address in the Brown’s note at p. 83. The instrn- 
 King’s hand, evidently composed ex- ment was in all probability the 
 clusively by himself. It is addressed virginals, of which we hear so much 
 to Francis I., on the birth of Edward in those days. — Ed. 
 
 YI. and the death of Jane Seymour. ^ For further proofs, see Mr. R. 
 
 ^ I. 4851. Brown’s note to Giust. Desp., i. 297. 
 
 ^ Giust, Desp., i. 80. 
 
6 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENEY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 which every day demanded his attention and required his 
 signature — and such a signature as was not struck off in a 
 — is entirely at variance with the popular notion that 
 he gave himself up wholly to amusement, and was indifferent 
 to more serious occupations. Had such been the case the 
 business of the nation must have fallen into confusion or 
 come to a stand, and we should have seen some traces of it 
 in the correspondence of the time. On the contrary, nothing 
 could exceed the regularity and despatch in every department 
 of the State, as shown by the documents now preserved in the 
 Kecord Office. Above all, is the interest Henry took in the 
 navy, and the corresponding zeal he was able to make others 
 feel for this important branch of the service. Men of inferior 
 rank were sure of his favour and attentive hearing if they had 
 any experience of the sea, or could communicate information 
 on this favourite subject. Details about the speed, the size, 
 and capacity of his ships never came amiss. When Gerard 
 de Pleine arrived in England, from the Lady Margaret, he 
 found the King in his new ship the Great Harry, with the 
 Queen, the bishops, and the nobility,^ acting as a guide to his 
 new visitors. Admiral Howard,^ who fell in the great action 
 in Brest, dwells with minute complacency on the speed of the 
 different vessels under his command. He enlarges on the 
 theme, with the pride and garrulity of a sailor, to no cold or 
 indifferent ear : Sir, your good ship is the flower, I trow, of 
 
 all ships that ever sailed.” — “ Sir, she is the noblest ship 
 of sail, is this great ship at this hour, that I trow be in 
 Christendom.” And then he goes on to tell how they came 
 in one after another. “ And there was a foul tail between the 
 Mary George and another.” And he begs he may be excused 
 the length of his letter, but the King commanded him ‘Mo 
 send word how every ship did sail.” 
 
 His delight in gorgeous pageantry and splendid ceremonial, 
 if without any studied design, was not without advantage. 
 Cloth of gold and tissue. New Year’s gifts, Christmas mas- 
 querades and May-day mummeries, fell with heavy expense 
 on the nobility, but afforded a cheap and gratuitous amuse- 
 ment to the people. The roughest of the populace were not 
 excluded from their share in the enjoyment. Sometimes, in 
 a boisterous fit of delight, he would allow and even invite the 
 lookers-on to scramble for the rich ornaments of his own dress 
 and those of his courtiers. Unlike his father, he showed him- 
 ' I. 5173. 
 
 2 I. p. 514. 
 

1509 .] 
 
 HIS POPULAEITY. 
 
 7 
 
 self everywhere. He entered with ease into the sports of 
 others, and allowed them with equal ease to share in his. To 
 this hearty compliance with the national humour, which no 
 subsequent acts, however arbitrary or cruel, could altogether 
 obliterate ; to the impression produced by his frankness and 
 good humour ; to his unquestionable courage, and ability to 
 hold his own against all comers, without the adventitious aid 
 of his exalted position — Henry YIII. owed much of that 
 popularity, which seems unintelligible to modern notions. 
 
 In fact, it is almost impossible to exaggerate his popularity 
 during those early years, or the fascination which he exercised 
 over the minds of his subjects. The old feudal nobility, scarred 
 and broken by the civil broils of the last century, had never 
 recovered that haughty independence which had once success- 
 fully defied the royal authority. Their spirit had fallen with 
 their power; and the smallremnant that survived remembered 
 too well the unbending rule of Henry YIL to venture on fresh 
 rebellions. They acquiesced in the succession of his son with 
 a tameness and submission strikingly at variance with the 
 rugged insubordination of their ancestors. They had nothing 
 to fear, if they had little to hope from his frankness. The 
 clergy, insecure, and jealous of the laity, expected to find a 
 champion in one who was universally acknowledged to be the 
 most orthodox and dutiful son of the Church ; whilst the 
 people, looking little beyond the gratification of the hour, 
 were delighted with the splendour and munificence of the new 
 reign, which stood out in striking contrast to the parsimonious 
 and almost puritanical reserve of Henry YII. 
 
 I will not undertake to say how much of his popularity 
 was to be attributed to other motives than those of loyaltj^ 
 The position of the King was remarkable ; he was the poise 
 and centre of the nation, and no party in it could afford to 
 neglect his favours. The factions of the time regarded each 
 other with watchful jealousy. Their unanimity was that of 
 enemies who take the measure of each other’s strength, and 
 are unwilling to commence the strife. In the council, Norfolk, 
 Surrey, and Buckingham looked with jealous eye on the in- 
 fluence of Fox and the ecclesiastics. The predilection of 
 Henry for theology, his love of learning and the fine arts, 
 seemed to give the clergy a hold upon him which the lay 
 members of the council dreaded and despised. The bishops 
 were on their part equally apprehensive of Henry’s love of 
 enterprise, and his dreams of conquest. Outside the cabinet 
 
8 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENRY YIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 more unanimity apparently prevailed. The old Yorkist faction 
 showed no symptoms of animation. With great "wisdom and 
 forbearance Henry VII. had condoned the offences of many of 
 the Northern chieftains, and advanced them to place, if not 
 to power. The heads of the party had been laid in the dust, 
 and there was no man of sufficient trust or strength to bind 
 the smouldering embers into a firebrand, and launch it upon 
 the rich provinces of the South. But there were elements of 
 discord, though dispersed and for the present harmless, which 
 one false move at home, one signal discomfiture abroad, 
 would have brought into perilous union. These Northern 
 chiefs still remembered Bichard III., and yielded a precarious 
 subjection. Brought up from their infancy to war, nursed in 
 the forays of the Borders, accustomed to obey no laws except 
 those of their own imposing, they looked with displeasure on 
 a silken King, reigning on the banks of the Thames, and 
 treated his deputies and lieutenants with ill-disguised insolence 
 and contempt. The gentry and nobility of Yorkshire, Cum- 
 berland, Westmoreland, and the Borders proportioned their 
 obedience to their inclination. They harboured the King’s 
 enemies, they thwarted his lieutenants of the Marches, or 
 betrayed them to the Scotch. 
 
 But for the present, and in the South at least, Englishmen 
 had found at last a living counterpart of that ideal loyalty 
 which they had often longed for, and seldom been able to 
 realize. That ideal is not ours ; it falls far short of our con- 
 ceptions ; still it must be judged by the times. And no 
 attentive reader of the papers or chronicles of the reign will be 
 at a loss to find a counterpart to those passionate expressions 
 of loyalty which Shakespeare has put into the mouth of Wolsey. 
 
 Eor the personal appearance of the King we are indebted 
 to the accounts of strangers. Giustinian, the Venetian 
 ambassador, in a secret memoir intended for the Seignory, ; 
 thus described him a year or two after his accession : “ His | 
 Majesty,” he says, ‘‘ is twenty-nine years old, and extremely ; 
 handsome. Nature could not have done more for him. He 
 is much handsomer than any other sovereign in Christendom ; 
 a great deal handsomer than the King of France ; very fair, 
 and his whole frame admirably proportioned. On hearing 
 that Francis I. wore a beard, he allowed his own to grow ; < 
 
 and as it is reddish, he has now got a beard that looks like 
 gold. He is very accomplished ; a good musician ; composes i 
 
 well; is a most capital horseman; a fine j ouster; speaks | 
 
1509.] 
 
 HIS PERSONAL APPEARANCE. 
 
 9 
 
 good French, Latin, and Spanish ; is very religions ; hears 
 three masses daily when he hunts, and sometimes five on 
 other days. He hears the Office every day in the Queen’s 
 Chamber ; that is to say, vesper and compline. He is very 
 fond of hunting, and never takes his diversion without tiring 
 eight or ten horses, which he causes to be stationed beforehand 
 along the line of country he means to take ; and when one is 
 tired he mounts another, and before he gets home they are all 
 exhausted. He is extremely fond of tennis, at which game it 
 is the prettiest thing in the world to see him play, his fair 
 skin glowing through a shirt of the finest texture.” ^ 
 
 To the same purport is an earlier account written in 1515 
 by the Venetian Pasqualigo. ‘‘His Majesty,” says the am- 
 bassador, “is the handsomest potentate lever set eyes on: 
 above the usual height, with an extremely fine calf to his leg ; 
 his complexion very fair and bright, with auburn hair combed 
 straight and short in the French fashion, and a round face, 
 so very beautiful that it would become a pretty woman, his 
 throat being rather long and thick.” ^ 
 
 To the same authorities we are indebted for an account of 
 the King’s appearance at a solemn reception. After passing 
 the ranks of the body-guard, which consisted of three hundred 
 halberdiers, with silver breastplates, who “were all as big as 
 giants,” he and his fellows were brought to the King. They 
 found him standing under a canopy of cloth of gold, leaning 
 against his gilt throne, on which lay a gold brocade cushion, 
 with the gold sword of state. “ He wore a cap of crimson 
 velvet, in the French fashion, and the brim was looped up all 
 round with lacets and gold enamelled tags. His doublet was 
 in the Swiss fashion, striped alternately with white and 
 crimson satin, and his hose were scarlet, and all slashed from 
 the knee upwards. Very close round his neck he had a gold 
 collar, from which there hung a rough cut diamond, the size 
 of the largest walnut I ever saw, and to this was suspended a 
 most beautiful and very large round pearl. His mantle was of 
 purple velvet lined with white satin, the sleeves open, with 
 a train more than four Venetian yards long. This mantle 
 was girt in front like a gown, with a thick gold cord, from 
 which there hung large golden acorns like those suspended 
 from a cardinal’s hat ; over this mantle was a very handsome 
 gold collar, with a pendant St. George entirely of diamonds. 
 Beneath the mantle he wore a pouch of cloth of gold, which 
 * Giust. Desp., ii. 312. ^ Ibid,, i. 86. 
 
10 
 
 THE KEIGN OF HENKY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 covered a dagger ; and his fingers were one mass of jewelled 
 rings.” ^ 
 
 But all this splendour must have appeared more dazzling 
 when contrasted with the courts and persons of contemporary 
 sovereigns. Age had not yet abated the ambition of Lewis XII. 
 or blunted the activity of his intellect, but it had made sad | 
 ravages in his person. Long before his death at the age of i 
 fifty-three, he is everywhere spoken of as an infirm old man, j 
 the victim of disease. Has not the King of France had the | 
 small pox ? ” asks a nobleman of Gerard de Pleine, with i 
 malicious curiosity.^ The terms applied to him in Peter j 
 Martyr’s unceremonious letters are far from flattering. On | 
 his own acknowledgment to the English ambassadors, “he j 
 was a sickly body,” and not fond of having too curious eyes j 
 about him.^ His treasures had been exhausted in ruinous ! 
 wars. He had neither the inclination nor the means for that I 
 pomp and splendour which the parsimony of Henry VII. had ! 
 liberally accumulated for Henry VHI. ! 
 
 The bankrupt Emperor Maximilian, “ the man of few ; 
 pence,” as he was styled in derision throughout Europe, had j 
 even less means for rivalling the splendour of the English 
 court. Always receiving large sums for services he never 
 performed, the activity of his intellect was concentrated on j 
 shifts and expedients for raising money which never made 
 him richer. In the pursuit of it, there was no meanness to : 
 which he would not stoop, even to the sale of honour and 
 of empire. The correspondence contained in this volume 
 abounds with such instances. The most barefaced and im- 
 portunate of beggars, he felt no delicacy in appropriating to 
 his own use the sums entrusted him for other purposes. And 
 yet he set up a claim for fastidiousness and modesty. He 
 was too scrupulous and conscientious ; and allowed his pride | 
 to stand in the way of his interests ! When Dr. Knight, on j 
 April 18, 1514, asked Lady Margaret for an explanation of : 
 some suspicious movements of the Emperor, then coquetting 
 with France in violation of his written engagements, she said ' 
 
 “ she did not know the reason; but from the manner which 
 was peculiar to her father and her, and all their house, there | 
 was something he would have which he would not press.” I 
 She lamented that such was the manner of their house ; and ' 
 
 2 victim of gout and 
 
 3 ' _ elephantiasis. (Ep. 427.) But, of | 
 
 jCwis evidently suffered from course, he does not speak technically, t 
 
 some scorbutic affection. Peter Martyr ^ 
 
Pl3TiR]R^vlAHTXjRjD]D . 
 
 B>bh':,hed J<vr Y 6 . icj6. ht^CrJone-’; 
 
1509.] 
 
 CONTEMPOKAKY SOVEREIGNS. 
 
 11 
 
 had it been her and her father’s fortune to have come of a 
 low house and humble stock, her father and herself must have 
 died for hunger, rather than their courage should have 
 served them to have asked a’-God’s name.” In the English 
 camp at Tournay he took pay and served as a soldier under 
 the King of England. There Tayler, clerk of the Parliament, 
 saw him, and thus describes this renowned Head of the Holy 
 Koman Empire in his diary already noticed: The Emperor,” 
 
 he says,^ “is of middle height, with open. and manly counte- 
 nance and pale complexion. He has a snub nose and a grey 
 heard; is affable, frugal, and an enemy to pomp. His 
 attendants are dressed in black silk or woollen.” 
 
 The portrait of Ferdinand, as drawn by contemporaneous 
 and independent writers, is scarcely more flattering. Peter 
 Martyr, who was in constant attendance upon him at Valla- 
 dolid, ridicules his uxoriousness, in common with the rest of 
 the world, and Machiavelli with equal truth condemns his 
 suspicious and niggardly disposition. His ungenerous or 
 timid policy had estranged from his councils the ablest of his 
 nobility. In his single hand he still grasped all the adminis- 
 trative functions of the State, which had long since outgrown 
 his powers. “For in truth, sovereign lord,” says Stile,^ 
 addressing Henry VIII., “ according to my allegiance and 
 fidelity unto your Highness, the King of Arragon, your good 
 father, is a noble, wise, and well fortunate prince of himself, 
 having right few noblemen of his council unto whom he may 
 surely trust, except that it be his secretary Alma9an, and a 
 gentleman called Fernando de Vega, and other such men 
 learned in the law, and men of base manner (low degree) ; 
 and never a lord meddles in his counsel, except the Conde de 
 Cifuentes, which is a wise knight, and of no great lands nor 
 rents. For the which, and it please your grace, the King your 
 said good father taketh great labour and pain with his royal 
 person, daily giving audience, and hearing all the matters and 
 causes of this realm, and of all his realms, himself, be they of 
 never so little substance ; for all the causes here that resound 
 not to their own profits, or perforce, be endless.” 
 
 Such were the contemporaries of Henry VIII. As their 
 political intrigues occupy a prominent place in history from 
 the very outset of the reign, some remarks on the object which 
 each of them had in view, will enable the reader to follow the 
 course of events with greater facility. 
 
 ^ I. p. 625, 
 
 2 I. 490, 
 
12 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 For the first two years after Henry’s accession, England 
 remained little more than an idle spectator of foreign in- 
 trigues. The league of Cambray ^ had virtually excluded it 
 from all share in continental politics, and prostrated Europe 
 at the feet of a powerful triumvirate. Henry VII. had quietly 
 acquiesced in the dishonest compact. We must in charity 
 believe that his closeness towards the latter years of his life 
 had a little impaired and “ perished his understanding.” ^ 
 
 Ostensibly the work of Margaret of Savoy, the real author 
 of this league was George Cardinal d’Amboise, who willingly 
 abandoned the empty honour of its consummation to that 
 princess, the daughter and confidante of Maximilian, whilst 
 the substantial benefits of its arrangements were reaped by 
 France. That Maximilian should have been cajoled might 
 have been expected ; that Julius II. should have been a con- 
 senting party can be attributed only to the blindness of his 
 exasperation against the Venetians. By the terms of the 
 compact Bimini and Eavenna were reserved for the Pope ; 
 Brescia, Bergamo, Crema, and Cremona, for Lewis XII. ; the 
 more splendid acquisitions of Verona, Padua, Vicenza, and 
 Friuli fell to Maximilian ; Trano and Otranto to Ferdinand. 
 The real advantage rested with Lewis. He w^as content for 
 the time to abandon his claim upon the rich cities of the 
 south ; for what man of military genius would commit so 
 capital a blunder as to make the southern peninsula of Italy 
 the basis of great military operations ? He needed, moreover, 
 Ferdinand’s friendship. Content with the modest acquisition 
 of Crema and Cremona, he abandoned to Maximilian the rich 
 prizes of Padua and Verona. But Padua and Verona were 
 more tempting to sight than tractable to the touch. Their 
 subjection would have demanded all the energy, skill, and 
 resources which the greatest military power could command ; 
 it might be left with perfect safety to the poor, ill-adjusted, 
 desultory efforts of one whose greatest schemes evaporated in 
 bluster. Whilst Ferdinand, safe in the possession of a wealthy 
 and obedient son-in-law, was weaving his nets, like a solitary 
 spider, for his own exclusive advantage, whilst Julius was 
 snorting vengeance, and Maximilian dozing over his stove, ^ 
 
 ^ Concliided Dec. 1, 1508. publications show that be tried to 
 
 ^ Bacon’s Essay on “ Friendsbip.” separate tbe confederates. But it 
 • It is, perhaps, too much to say was not bis interest to quarrel witb 
 that Henry VII. “ acquiesced in tbe France.— Ed. 
 
 dishonest compact.” He simply bad ^ Tbe expression of Erasmus. His 
 
 nothing to do witb it; and recent Flemish subjects were even less com- 
 
il.'.lK'IDRWKS 
 
 
1509.] 
 
 LEWIS XII. IX ITALY. 
 
 13 
 
 Lewis bad started off to the scene of conquest. With the 
 energy and adroitness of his nation, he had opened the 
 campaign as early as April, 1509. By the battle of Agnadel, 
 on the 14th May, and the capture of the Venetian general 
 D’Alviano, he had become master in effect of the north of 
 Italy. 
 
 This w^as evidently more than his good friends and con- 
 federates had anticipated, with the exception, perhaps, of 
 Maximilian. He writes with unaffected delight to his daughter 
 Margaret of the successes of his faithful ally, and is persuaded 
 that such good fortune is only a prelude to that promised aid 
 of five hundred lances which Lewis had engaged to lend him 
 for the reduction of Padua. With very different feelings 
 Julius beheld the ascendancy of his hated rival. He bit his 
 lips and stroked his beard in vexation.^ He had baited the 
 trap for himself by his own intemperate passion. Ferdinand 
 concealed his feelings. He would not entrust them even to 
 his son-in-law. So much of them, however, as he permitted 
 to transpire are made known to us in a letter of John Stile, 
 then in the court of Arragon, dated September 9, 1509.^ 
 “Touching the commandment of your Highness,” proceeds 
 the ambassador in his quaint and homely style, “ I demanded 
 of the King your good father, how that his Majesty intendeth 
 for to be and continue in amity with the Emperor and with 
 the French King, and with evoriche of the said princes. To 
 the which, an it please your Grace, the answer of the King 
 your good father was, that he is fully determined for to con- 
 tinue in amity with the Emperor, for that there is none other 
 cause reasonable betwixt them, by the which any variance or 
 breach of peace should be ; trusting that the Emperor will be 
 reformed, and suffer him with the governacion of the realm of 
 Castile ” — the great point in debate between them. “And as 
 touching the French King, that he also intendeth for to con- 
 tinue in amity with him, as long as that your Highness and 
 your good father shall think standeth with the honours and profits 
 of your highness, and no longer.'' Then follows this cautious 
 advice : “ The King your said good father being joyous and 
 glad that your highness is in amity and good peace with all 
 Christian Princes, and his Majesty not counselling nor advising 
 
 plimentary. “Jo prie a Dieu que sa 230), 
 
 tardite ne soit cause de beaucoup de ^ “ Prae ira in turbatorem Galium 
 
 maux. Je ne sgay quel diable fait ses nutrire barbam ciupfulo tenus dicitur 
 affaires si malheureux” (De Burgo to (Pet. Martyr, Ep, 451), 
 
 Marguerite. Lett, de Louis XII. i. ^ I. 490. 
 
M 
 
 THE KEIGN OF HENRY YIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 your highness as yet for to move any war unto any outward 
 princes, unless that great causes shall move your highness there- 
 unto.'' 
 
 From this it appears that Henry had already sounded the 
 intentions of Ferdinand as to an expedition against France. 
 But gladly as Ferdinand would have crippled the power of 
 France, he dreaded no less the influence of Maximilian. More 
 strangely still, he was afraid of his dutiful son-in-law. The 
 marriage of the Princess Mary with Archduke Charles must 
 naturally favour a settlement of the claims of the latter to 
 Castile — claims which Ferdinand had resolved never to recog- 
 nize. To friend or enemy he measured his conduct by his 
 fears ; as this party or that gained the ascendancy, and were 
 likely to support the rights of the Archduke, Ferdinand turned 
 against them. For the present, however, the Emperor was 
 the more to be dreaded. The turn of affairs in Italy alarmed 
 the apprehensions of Ferdinand. An it please your grace,” 
 says Stile,^ “ the King of Arragon, your good father, doth not 
 nor will not take pleasure in the Emperor’s prosperous estate. 
 He is in doubt of the realm of Naples that they woll yield 
 themselves unto the Emperor for the Prince of Castile, in case 
 that the Emperor’s cause prospers in Italy.” So, without 
 openly opposing, Ferdinand threw every sort of discourage- 
 ment in the way of Maximilian, refused to let his fleet aid in 
 the conquest of the Venetians, and masked his conduct with so 
 much doubt and hesitation that the poor Emperor was in a 
 continual flutter of hope and despair — at once amused, 
 encouraged, and betrayed. 
 
 With the tact of a woman, Margaret saw through the 
 artifice ; but the simple-minded Emperor, in the conceit of his 
 own sagacity, outwitted his daughter to his own disadvantage. 
 He would not be led by a woman. He offered to accept the 
 terms proposed him by Ferdinand, in the hope of securing his 
 assistance in Italy To the delight of Margaret,^ the arrange- 
 ment ended in a total rupture. Meanwhile we find by the 
 letters of ^tile, of the 3rd of December,^ that Henry had not only 
 made a proffer of his services to Ferdinand, but had since been 
 in correspondence with France. “ Your noble good father is 
 not contented nor pleased with the answers the French King 
 
 ^ I. 490, pp. 69, 70. 3 Lettres de Max. et de Marg., i. 
 
 bee his extraordinary letter, p. 189, Oct. 
 bept. 5, 1509, and March 31, 1510 ^ 1509. Recited in one of 11th 
 
 (Le Orlay s Lettres de Max. et de of Jan., 1510, p. 113. 
 
 Marg., 1 . 185, 252). ^ 
 
1510.] 
 
 CORDIALITY OF ENGLAND AND FRANCE. 
 
 15 
 
 made to your Highness.” These letters have not been pre- 
 served. But we know the result. Ferdinand, now thoroughly 
 alarmed, desired Henry to send a private mission to the 
 Emperor, and induce him to join in a league which should 
 comprehend the Emperor, England, Ferdinand, and the 
 Prince of Castile. Both were to write secretly to the Pope 
 and obtain his concurrence ‘‘to the intent that the French 
 King shall not nor may not attain unto his cruel purpose for 
 to destroy all the country of Italy.” ^ 
 
 But the resolutions of Ferdinand and Maximilian were not 
 to be trusted. With war on their lips they were ready to 
 temporize ; one to gain money, the other because peace and 
 policy were more advantageous than violence. France had 
 nothing to fear from the indecision of the Emperor, and 
 nothing to hope from the promises of Ferdinand. Secret 
 negociation went on through most part of the year 1510, 
 without any open rupture. The fiery Julius employed all his 
 energies, but in vain, to detach Ferdinand and Maximilian 
 from their unholy ally. Every day the power of France grew 
 strong in Italy, and threatened to overawe the papacy. But 
 nobody moved. Even England continued indifferent appa- 
 rently. Pageants and tournaments constituted its most 
 serious occupations. If more ambitious designs had entered 
 the thoughts of Henry VIIL, young as he was, he still 
 possessed enough of his father’s reserve to conceal his future 
 intentions. As late as the 26th of July, 1510, Docwra and 
 West, the English ambassadors, were sent to Paris and 
 received with every demonstration of respect. The cordiality 
 of the two kings continued unabated. West, on the part of 
 the King of England, enlarged on the unalterable affection 
 between the two crowns, to the extreme satisfaction of 
 Lewis. ^ The King of England would do more, he said, to 
 oblige his Most Christian Majesty than for all other princes in 
 the wide world. The King of France was not a whit behind 
 in profuseness of compliments. 
 
 ^ I. p, 115. 
 
 “ See I. No. 1104, sq. In the 
 Lett, de Louis XII. (i. 263), Dr. Mota, 
 who was present at the audience 
 given to these ambassadors, thus 
 describes the interview : “ Nudius 
 tertius immediate post prandium Regis 
 sua Kristianissima Majestas dedit eis 
 primam audientiam, in qua nos in- 
 terfuimus. Scribam per aliam postam 
 aliqua de particularibus ; nuncsolum- 
 Biodo significamus haec pauca, quod 
 
 Doctor (West) non potuisset habere 
 orationem magis ad honorem et satis- 
 factionem Kristianissimi Regis ; et 
 inter caetera dixit, quod plus amabat 
 et aestimabat et erat facturus plus pro 
 sua majestate quam pro caeteris om- 
 nibus [irincipibus. Item dixit Regem 
 fore semper tanquam bonum et 
 naturalem filium Kristianissimi Regis ; 
 et ex parte suae majestatis fuit etiam 
 optime respousum.” 
 
16 
 
 THE KEIGN OE HENEY YIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 This is not the first time in history that France, by its 
 singular adroitness and dexterity, saw the Continent at its feet. 
 Nor was it the only time that it lost all the advantages it had 
 gained, by a single act of folly and bravado. Upon the 
 ostensible pretext of ecclesiastical reform, but in reality to 
 revenge himself on Julius II., Lewis set on foot the Council at 
 Pisa. The most zealous advocate for ecclesiastical reform 
 could not be misled by such pretences. He could not expect 
 to see the spirit of peace and holiness shedding its influence 
 over an assembly summoned for the purposes of strife and 
 division, however much, in common with many of his age, he 
 might have looked to a General Council as the only remedy 
 for the troubles of Christendom. Barely supported by a few 
 prelates notoriously in the interests of France, the Council fell 
 into discredit from the beginning.^ Its promoters, in their 
 anxiety to gain credit with the world, published the names of 
 certain cardinals among its adherents without their sanction. 
 They were glad to disavow it and denounce it. The secret 
 and open enemies of Lewis eagerly laid hold of the pretext to 
 stigmatize him as the enemy of Holy Church. The “ King ; 
 Catholic ” could do no less than come forward in its defence. 
 Henry, the Pope’s most obedient son, was bound to assert the j 
 cause of his spiritual father. From a turbulent sovereign, ' 
 engaged in advancing his own exclusive interests, Julius was 
 suddenly transformed into the champion of Christendom. He 
 stood before the eyes of Europe as the uncompromising 
 defender of that pure Faith of which Lewis and the Turk 
 w^re the deadliest and most accursed enemies. The world 
 justified the calumny. The arrogance of the French, and the 
 cruel use they had made of their victories in Italy, recalled to 
 the memories of men the sanguinary persecutions of their 
 Christian brethren by the Infidels. A parallel to “ the Son of ' 
 Iniquity ^ had been found in the Most Christian King. Nor 
 was Julius slow to see and seize his advantage. Nothing ' 
 could daunt his indomitable energy. He flourished both 
 swoids. iHe opposed Council to Council, and army to army. 
 
 He had fallen sick through anxiety and vexation, and had been 
 like to die. Condoling cardinals had fluttered round his ; 
 death-bed, as they supposed, and his attendants had stripped 
 him to his last shirt. But he rose up when given over, and 
 in midvdnter led his troops on foot in the midst of ice and | 
 snow. Terdinand at once made an alliance with the Pope 
 
 ' Wingfield, May 24, 1511. See Calendar. I 
 
Juif.I, 181 P. hy 
 
BAYAMD BLliil i BMliCIA. 
 
 I.;u'ivu-'re puix 
 
 Tiiip. de Boudeard. . 
 
1511.] 
 
 THE COUNCIL OF PISA. 
 
 17 
 
 and the Venetians/ and used all his influence to induce Henry 
 to join. 
 
 Maximilian, in the mean time, marching pari passu with 
 Lewis, had taken to himself with inexpressible complacency 
 the notion of an opposition Council. He had requested his 
 daughter Margaret to send deputies to Pisa. She had told 
 him, like a sensible woman, ‘‘ Monseigneur, under your great 
 correction, it seems to me you ought not to mix yourself up 
 with this Council which is to be held at Pisa. Leave it to the 
 Pope, to whom the cognizance of such things belongs.” He 
 was not to be dissuaded. Again he urges ; again she replies : 
 Touching the sending of deputies to Pisa, of which you 
 have written to me. Monseigneur, it seems to me, that as you 
 are the governor of Monseigneur my nephew, and my lord 
 and father, it will be sufficient if you send deputies for us 
 both. And, to tell you the truth, our finances here are so 
 low we cannot muster a penny for any such purpose.” 
 Abandoned by all, he was now left to weather the storm 
 alone. Eeproach and contumely pressed upon him from all 
 sides. He was taunted for his heresy by Julius and Ferdinand.^ 
 Even Henry could not help telling him that those who had 
 advised or supported the Conciliable,” as he contemptuously 
 called it, had incurred the censures of the Church ; and he 
 read Maximilian a grave lecture on the sinfulness of setting at 
 defiance the authority of his Holy Father.^ 
 
 It was in vain for Lewis or the Council to make head 
 against the general prejudice. The loss of Bologna by the 
 Pope, May, 1511, the splendid military achievements of 
 Gaston de Foix,^ the siege of Brescia (Feb. 19, 1512), the 
 victory at Eavenna (April 11, 1512), the terrors inspired by 
 
 1 Nov. 1510. 
 
 2 Lett, de Max. et Marg., i. 421. 
 
 3 1.1828,4182. From a letter pre- 
 served in the Bibliotheque Nationale 
 at Paris (8464 = 2928) , it appears that 
 Julius had sent a nuncio into England 
 as early as June, 1511, to engage Henry- 
 in a league against Prance. The 
 •writer, no less a person than the nuncio 
 himself, proceeds to betray the whole 
 design to Lewis ; tells him that the 
 Papal army is in confusion, that the 
 King of Arragon is desirous of peace, 
 and had sent his troops from Africa 
 to Naples ; that he wished for a league 
 between himself, the Pope, and Eng- 
 land; and to this Henry was well 
 disposed. But the writer further in- 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 forms Lewis that though Ferdinand 
 imagined he could do as he liked with 
 England, himself and Darizolles had 
 devices in store to break the project. 
 He then enters largely into the 
 villainous schemes he intended to put 
 in use to defeat the purposes for 
 which he was sent by the Pope, and 
 make Henry believe that his mission 
 was really intended for the very oppo- 
 site purpose for which it was ostensibly 
 despatched. The letter is dated from 
 London, June, 1511 ; but who the 
 traitor -was, I have not been able to 
 discover. 
 
 * For the ultimate fate of Gaston 
 de Foix, not mentioned by any other 
 writers, see I. 3341. 
 
 C 
 
18 THE REIGN OP HENRY VIII. [A.D. | 
 
 i 
 
 his conquests, failed to regain for Lewis the advantages he | 
 had forfeited. Before ‘the winter of 1512 he had lost every 
 foot of ground in Italy, on which so much blood and treasure 
 had been spent. Justice sits at the wheel of Fortune. The 
 prime agent of the League of Cambray against the unhappy 
 Venetians was to reap the fruits of his own lessons. Lewis ] 
 
 now saw himself face to face with a powerful confederacy,^ I 
 
 consisting of the Pope, the Emperor, the Kings of Arragon | 
 
 and England. The cruelties of which he had been guilty in | 
 
 Italy were to he retaliated on himself. In the swirling of St. I 
 
 Peter’s boat,^ consequent upon the dissensions raised by this j 
 
 degenerate son of the Church, his more obedient brothers had 1 
 
 taken counsel together, by letters and messengers, how they j 
 
 should best protect it from the storm, and find a remedy, if I 
 
 need be, even to the cutting off of the rebellious member. | 
 
 Tandem sic Deo disponente, it was arranged that Ferdinand | 
 
 of Arragon should invade the Southern, England the Western | 
 
 and the central provinces. Maximilian was to receive 200,000 [ 
 
 gold crowns for making himself generally useful in molesting | 
 
 the extra-Italian dominions of Lewis. Julius, with anathemas j 
 
 in one hand and blessings in the other, should fulminate his j 
 
 censures, as often as required by his allies, against all who | 
 
 upheld and comforted this prodigal son who had endeavoured i 
 
 to rend the indivisible coat of Christ’s Church ; whilst plenary | 
 
 indulgence was in store for those who assisted this Holy , 
 
 Confederacy v/ith men and victuals. j 
 
 Whilst these matters had been in preparation, England in 
 the summer of 1512 had fleshed its sword in a continental 
 war — now for the first time after many years of inaction, for 
 the expedition of Lord Darcy to Cadiz in 1511 had proceeded f 
 
 no further, owing to mutual jealousies. By arrangement | 
 
 between Henry and Ferdinand, a simultaneous attack was to ; 
 
 be made upon France in opposite quarters.^ Ferdinand, ; 
 
 supported by a large body of English troops under the I* 
 
 Marquis of Dorset, was to invade Guienne, whilst Henry ; 
 
 himself prepared to attack Normandy or Picardy. A measure 
 of so much boldness can be attributed to no other genius than , 
 Wolsey’s, and we learn from the letters of Knight, that he j. 
 was generally reputed the author of the war.^ The armament 
 
 ^ The Holy Leagtie, concluded be- (Rym. xiii. 358). I 
 
 tween the Pope and Ferdinand, Oct. ^ See I. 3243, 3298, 3313, 3350, i 
 
 11 ; joined by Henry the December 3352, 3355, 3356, 3388, 3451, 3584, j 
 following. 3593 ^ 3614, 3662. J 
 
 2 “Petri navicTila flnctnante” “ See 1. 3356 and 3451. | 
 
1512.] 
 
 WAR WITH FRANCE. 
 
 19 
 
 was ready by May, 1512,^ and landed on the coast of Spain, 
 June 1 ? But even the genius of Wolsey could not enforce 
 strict discipline amongst raw soldiers drawn from hasty levies, 
 and impatient of service in a foreign land. Great as his 
 energy was, it failed to overcome the incapacity of com- 
 manders, whose personal bravery but ill atoned for their 
 inexperience. Insubordination broke out in the fleet and the 
 army ; the seamen plundered the victuals when the soldiers 
 were sea-sick ; ^ no provision had been made for their landing, 
 and no tents for their shelter. The troops slept out in the 
 fields and under bushes, exposed to incessant rains, and the 
 tropical sun of a Spanish sky. The season was pestilential ; ^ 
 the hot wines of Spain increased the evil ; worst of all, no 
 beer was to be had, and the English had not yet learnt to fight 
 without it. ‘^And it please your Grace,” says Stile, in his 
 quaint fashion, ‘‘ the greatest lack of victuals that is here is 
 of beer, for your subjects had lever for to drink beer than 
 wine or cider; for the hot wines doth harm them, and the 
 cider doth cast them in disease and sickness.” The disorders 
 and discontents were augmented by their total inaction. 
 Faithless to all his promises, Ferdinand had failed to join 
 them. He answered the repeated entreaties of the Marquis 
 with excuses for delay. Instead of adhering to his arrange- 
 ment made with Henry, he was busy in securing for himself 
 the kingdom of Navarre. In August, Stile writes to the 
 King:^ And it please your grace, as touching the King 
 your good father and his council, as ever before this, accord- 
 ing to the truth, I have certified unto your grace that their 
 words and writings be so diligent and so fair, and their deeds 
 so immeasurably slack, that I cannot judge, say, ne write 
 what is to be thought or done ; and continually I do write, 
 according to the commandment of your grace, to the King 
 your good father, and always his Majesty, by his letters, 
 answereth that he will perform everything unto your grace, 
 and that all the delays of time hath been for the best ad- 
 vantage for your enterprize of Guienne, that Navarre should 
 be first put in a surety ; the which surety could not be had 
 otherwise than it is now had. And of a surety. Sovereign 
 Lord, at my last being with the King your good father, I was 
 so plain with his highness that I never saw his Majesty 
 
 1 I. 3188. 2 I 3243, 
 
 ^ Not without its parallel in modern times. 
 
 " I. 3298. 5 I, 3355 
 
20 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.H 
 
 further out of patience than with me at that time, saying I 
 believed not him, his Majesty affirming with many oaths that 
 all his drift and entent was for the surety and weal of the 
 Holy Church, and for your enterprize of Guienne. And in 
 case. Sovereign Lord, that the entent or purpose of his 
 Majesty be otherwise, it is hard for to trust the oaths and 
 words of a prince or any other Christian man that so sweareth 
 or sayeth it. It is evidently seen and known, by his policy 
 and long drifts he attaineth many things to other men’s 
 pains.” 
 
 No wonder the troops became intractable, and disaffection 
 sprangmp among officers and men.^ A large number refused 
 to serve any longer unless their wages were increased from 
 6d. to Sd. the day. The dearness of all necessaries in Spain, 
 even the commonest, placed them out of the reach of the 
 ordinary soldier. The mutiny was quelled, and one of the 
 ringleaders suffered. But the inefficient management of those 
 in command is strongly condemned in the summary expres- 
 sions of Dr, Knight, who was then in the camp, and sent 
 home to Wolsey accounts of its mismanagement. No martial 
 exercises were kept, no training was insisted on, musters were 
 neglected, many had been slain, others had died, and some 
 had deserted. The instructions they received were dis- 
 regarded, and many of our council,” he concludes with 
 bitter sarcasm, may suffer no counsel.” 
 
 A letter from the same writer to Wolsey,^ dated 4th of 
 October, presents the rare and humiliating spectacle of a 
 council of war held by the English commanders at St. Sebas- 
 tian on the 28th of Aug., when the disaffection had reached 
 its height. By a breach of discipline, unexampled in the 
 military annals of England, the army resolved to return 
 home, in direct violation of the King’s commands. They had 
 provided ships and baked their biscuit by the first week in 
 October, turning a deaf ear to the entreaties of Ferdinand, 
 and threatening their officers who dared advise them to stay. 
 According to Polydore Vergil, who was exceedingly well in- 
 formed on the subject, and evidently compiled this portion of 
 his history from authentic materials, the indignation of the 
 King was unbounded. He wrote to Ferdinand to stop them 
 at all hazards, and cut every man’s throat who refused 
 obedience. But the order came too late. The world was 
 breathless with astonishment at such a flagrant act of in- 
 
 ' I. 3356. 
 
 2 I. 3451. 
 
1512.] 
 
 THE TROOPS RETURN HOME. 
 
 21 
 
 subordination, and expected from tbe King some signal mark 
 of his displeasure. He would have brought the Marquis and 
 his associates to trial.^ But it was hard to discriminate 
 where all were guilty alike. The matter was hushed up, and 
 further proceedings were abandoned at the earnest request of 
 the Council. 
 
 The news of this disgrace was not unacceptable to foreign 
 courts and ministers. It confirmed the mean opinion enter- 
 tained by them of the military inexperience of Henry, and 
 deepened their conviction of English intractability and mis- 
 management. Even the Emperor and his daughter Margaret, 
 though on the verge of bankruptcy, and stooping to every sort 
 of meanness to extract a loan of 50,000 crowns from England, 
 could not resist the temptation of throwing the popular taunt 
 into the teeth of the English ambassador: “You see,” said 
 they, “Englishmen have so long abstained from war, they 
 lack experience from disuse; and,” added Margaret, “if the 
 report be true, they are sick of it already.” ^ The sarcasm 
 circulated from mouth to mouth, and was so bitterly felt, that 
 Henry considered it incumbent upon him to draw up formal 
 instructions for his ambassadors, stating that Ferdinand and 
 he had mutually agreed upon the return of the troops in 
 consequence of the rainy weather.^ 
 
 In fact, so signal a failure at the outset of his reign, and 
 in the first attempt which England had made for many years 
 to take part in a continental war, was infinitely more disas- 
 trous than it appears to us at this day, and threw an air of 
 ridicule over the King’s more ambitious pretensions. To the 
 veteran politicians of Europe, accustomed to regard France 
 as the first military power of the time, habituated to this 
 conviction by its splendid victories in Italy, dreading its 
 shrewd diplomacy and experienced statesmen, it appeared 
 more than ordinarily quixotic and absurd for a young 
 sovereign, who had never witnessed a siege, and never seen 
 a sword drawn except at a tournament, to undertake the 
 conquest of so great a kingdom. And, beside the blot on the 
 national escutcheon, the late failure was the more disastrous 
 from its effect on the minds of those whom Henry wished to 
 conciliate, and whose co-operation, or at least whose tacit 
 consent was requisite, before he could prosecute his cherished 
 
 IT’st. xxvii. 'p. 13, ed. 1641. Europe. No man was better informed 
 Polydore was factor for Card. Hadrian, on European politics, 
 who managed to gain for a time the ^ I. 3469. 
 
 confidence of alJ the sovereigns of * I. 3555, 
 
22 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENKY YIIL 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 design with any tolerable chance of success. To invade 
 France on the Flemish frontier, as he had proposed, it was 
 expedient for him to gain the good will of the Emperor and 
 his grandson Charles, Prince of Castile. The toilsome 
 negociations by which he endeavoured to fix the shambling, 
 shuffling, irresolute Maximilian to some definite and distinct 
 arrangement are detailed in the letters of Poyninges and his 
 associates.^ Much, however, as Maximilian hankered after 
 English crowns, it was easy to see that he placed little con- 
 fidence in the warlike genius of England ; he had no expecta- 
 tion that she would succeed in the struggle. He dallied with 
 France, and offered but a feeble resistance to its fascinations.^ 
 Whilst, on the other hand, the governors of the Prince of 
 Castile, the betrothed of the King’s own sister, made no secret 
 of their little esteem for the English arms, they were at no 
 pains to dissemble their preference for its rival, and looked 
 with studied contempt on Henry’s preparations. Had any 
 wavered before, the failure on Guienne was decisive. I 
 
 If England is to right itself with Europe, and wipe out the ! 
 stain of its recent discomfiture, needful it is she should fall to I 
 work in earnest. War was not the wish of Fox or Wolsey. 
 They had rather opposed it, and thrown all their infiuence 
 into the opposite scale. Now the directing genius of the ! 
 enterprize was not Norfolk or Brandon, but Wolsey himself ; j 
 and his vast influence with the King dates from this event. | 
 Though holding no higher rank than that of Almoner, it is | 
 clear that the management of the war, in all its multifarious 
 details, has fallen into his hands. He it is who determines i 
 the sums of money needful for the expedition, the line of 
 march, the number and arrangement of the troops, even to k 
 the fashion of their armour and the barding of their horses, i 
 It is he who superintends the infinite details consequent on ! 
 the shipment of a large army. He corresponds with Gonson i 
 and Fox about the victualling,® and is busy with beer, beef, and ! 
 biscuit, transports, foists, and empty casks.^ He puts out or i 
 puts in the names of the captains and masters of the fleet, J 
 and apportions the gunners and the convoys.^ Ambassadors, f 
 admirals, generals, paymasters, pursers, secretaries, men of I, 
 a glades, and in every sort of employment, crowd about him A 
 or advice and information. By the unconscious homage paid to 
 
 2 ^ See his remarkable memoranda, 
 
 bee i. 3555. j jq-i-i 
 
 ^ I. 3946, 4056. May 21, 1513. ' ^ i, 3977^ 
 
 11 
 
1513.] 
 
 WOLSEY’S MANAGEMENT. 
 
 23 
 
 genius in times of difficulty, he stands confessed as the master 
 and guiding spirit of the age. Well may Fox say, “ I j>ray God 
 send us with speed, and soon deliver you out of your out- 
 rageous charge and labour ; else ye shall have a cold stomach, 
 little sleep, pale visage, and a thin belly, cum pari egestione” ^ 
 There was no lack of energy on all sides. Men felt that 
 the credit of England was pawned in the encounter. But 
 vigour and energy could not of themselves overcome the inert 
 resistance of incapacity and inexperience. To bring together 
 a large army from every part of England, to secure unity of 
 action among officers who had never before served together, 
 to assemble shipping from different ports, to ascertain the 
 tonnage and sailing capabilities of the transports, to make the 
 necessary provision of beef and bread and beer, to place all on 
 board without confusion, to provide against minute accidents 
 proverbially fatal to large bodies, demanded an amount of 
 forethought, energy, patience, and administrative genius not 
 to be found in any other man of that age. There was no war 
 department, and no traditions of office to fall back upon. It 
 is clear from the correspondence of the time that though 
 Wolsey was surrounded by willing instruments, they had to 
 look up to him for their instructions. He had seen no service ; 
 he had never so much as handled a sword, or tested the merits 
 of a falconet or a culverin. His education had been that of a 
 churchman ; and till now he had only been employed in a 
 subordinate capacity. Since the memory of the oldest 
 Englishman, no enterprize on so large a scale had ever been 
 undertaken by the nation. Not one in all that numerous host 
 had seen much of foreign service. They had to encounter a 
 great and powerful nation, full of veteran soldiers, accustomed 
 to conquest, engaged for years in foreign wars, and rich in 
 those resources which can alone bring war to a successful 
 termination. Such an enterprize, with all the long training 
 and subdivisions of modern official experience, must appear in- 
 credibly bold ; how much more at that time, when the untrained 
 genius of one churchman had to compensate for official defects 
 and delinquencies, to ride triumphant over the inefficiency of 
 officers, the absence of a commissariat, the disorganization 
 of an army unaccustomed to discipline, unused to command, 
 brought at haphazard from the plough, and never mustered 
 for exercise except at the caprice or vanity of some great 
 landed proprietor or some reluctant lord of the county ? 
 
 I. 4103. 
 
THE KEIGN OF HENKY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 
 To modern notions the motive for such an enterprize will 
 doubtless appear inadequate. But war had not then lost all 
 traces of its chivalrous aspect. It was the chosen field for the 
 display of personal skill, courage, and gallantry ; — a tourna- 
 ment on a grander scale. So long as martial exercises 
 remained in vogue, so long as every gentleman was trained to ' 
 feats of arms, war became a necessity ; and those dangerous 
 pastimes, which often toppled over the nice distinctions of 
 game and earnest, were only redeemed from childishness by 
 this necessity. War, like the duelling of later times, stood 
 not on adequate motives ; or found them adequate when 
 measured by the spirit of the age. “ Let nations,” says Lord 
 Bacon,^ ‘'that pretend to greatness have this, that they be 
 sensible of wrongs, and that they sit not too long upon a 
 provocation.” And in that age nations that wefe not sensible 
 to wrong and ready for war, with and almost without provoca- 
 tion, must have forfeited all claims to distinction, and 
 abandoned the hope of security as well as of greatness. It 
 was the race in which all started for the prize, who felt a i 
 drop of genuine blood in their veins; the heat of exercise 
 which kept heart and body healthy, when no other employ- 
 ment that could be considered noble, no other chance of 
 distinction, was open to men. 
 
 The expedition put to sea in March, 1513, under the 
 command of Sir Edward Howard. It was arranged that the 
 King should follow in June with the main body. Sir Edward 
 had already gained reputation by his conduct in the late war i 
 of Guienne. His letters detailing the movements of the fleet i 
 will be read with interest.^ There is something of that tone | 
 of self-confidence in them which will remind the reader of 
 Wolfe and Nelson; and in men of more doubtful courage 
 would be deemed vainglorious. The French had made great 
 preparations to keep the sea and intercept the passage with a 
 fleet of fifty sail. The English navy at the time consisted of 1 
 twenty-four ships, of which the total tonnage amounted to I 
 8,460 tons, ^ It carried 2,880 seamen and 4,650 soldiers. The f 
 Admiral’s ship, the Mary Rose, was of 600 tons, and carried | 
 200 mariners. His subordinates in command were Sir Edward | 
 Echyngham, Sir Henry Shirborne, Sir William Sidney, Sir ; 
 Thomas Cheney, all equally anxious with himself to win the ! 
 King s favour and signalize their valour against the French. | 
 On the 25th of April Sir Edward caught sight of the French f 
 
 Essay xxix. 2 i 3320 , 3857, 3877, 3903. * I. 3977. i 
 
1513.] 
 
 FATE OF ADMIKAL HOWAKD. 
 
 25 
 
 galleys laid up in shallow water. They were protected by 
 bulwarks on both sides, ‘^planted so thick with guns and 
 crossbows that the quarrels ^ and the gunstones came together 
 as thick as hailstones.” ^ He at once resolved to board them 
 with his boats. The rest must be told in the words of Sir 
 Edward Echyngham, who was present at the engagement.^ 
 “ The admiral boarded the galley that Fryer John was in ” (Prior 
 John was an English corruption of the name of Pregian, the 
 French Admiral), ‘‘and Charran the Spaniard with him, and 
 sixteen others. By advice of the Admiral and Charran they 
 had cast anchor [into the rails] of the French galley, and 
 fastened the cable to the capstan, that if any of the galleys 
 had been on fire they might have veered the cable and fallen 
 off ; but the French hewed asunder the cable, or some of our 
 mariners let it slip, and so they left this [brave man] in the 
 hands of his enemies.” In the mUee, at ebb of the tide, no 
 one came to his support. “ There was a mariner wounded in 
 eighteen places, who by adventure (by mere chance) recovered 
 unto the buoy of the galley, so that the galley’s boat took him 
 up. He said he saw my Lord Admiral thrust against the rails 
 of the galley with marris pikes. Charran’ s boy tells a like 
 tale ; for when his master and the Admiral had entered, 
 Charran sent him for his hand-gun, which before he could 
 deliver, the one galley was gone off from the other, and he 
 saw my Lord Admiral waving his sword and crying to the 
 galleys, ‘ Come aboard again ! Come aboard again ! ’ which 
 when my Lord saw they could not, he took his whistle from 
 about his neck, wrapped it together and threw it into the 
 sea.” On making inquiries the next morning they could learn 
 no more from the French Admiral than that, “ one leapt into 
 his galley with a gilt target on his arm, whom he had cast 
 overboard with marris -pikes.” Such was the end of Sir 
 Edward Howard, whose loss was universally lamented : “ for 
 there was never a nobleman so ill lost as he was, that was of 
 so great courage and had so many virtues, and that ruled so 
 great an army so well as he did, and kept so great order and 
 true justice.” 
 
 It was a costly sacrifice ; but the gallantry of the action 
 retrieved in the eyes of the world the reputation of England.^ 
 At such a time, when unbounded admiration was felt for 
 personal bravery, and victory depended much less on scientific 
 
 ^ Quarrels ov quarreauxYf eve BqvLQjiQ ® Ib. 
 
 iron bolts shot from crossbows. ^ Heniytook to heart the Admiral’s 
 
 ^ I. 4005. fall, and expressed his displeasure that 
 
26 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 combinations, such a ‘‘ a dangerful enterprize ” was fruitful in 
 momentous consequences. It fastened on the imagination of 
 both nations. From this man’s example his countrymen 
 jumped to the conviction that nothing was too arduous, and 
 no odds on the side of an enemy justified retreat. From this 
 man’s daring the world took the measure of English courage 
 generally. The French dared no longer dispute the possession 
 of the narrow seas. The news was received with feelings of 
 alarm and discontent by those who had hitherto disparaged 
 the prowess of England. Its importance may be judged by 
 the effect it had on those who Vvere meditating treachery, and 
 seeking an opportunity to make their peace with France. The 
 victory gained over the French by sea, on St. Mark’s day, as 
 Knight informs the King,^ gave no satisfaction to his father-in- 
 law, Ferdinand. James IV., then plotting an invasion of 
 England, condoles with Flenry : “ Surel}^ your late Admiral, 
 ‘ quha decessit to his grete honour,’ was a greater loss than 
 winning all the French galleys would have been to your 
 advantage.” He spoke more truth than he intended. But it 
 was some consolation to remind his brother-in-law of his great 
 loss in the full swing of his triumph. The most undeniable 
 evidence of the importance of the victory were the sedulous 
 endeavours taken to underrate it. 
 
 On June 30, 1518, Henry took shipping and arrived at 
 Calais with the main body. The vanguard had crossed some 
 days before, under the command of Charles Brandon Viscount 
 Lisle, better known afterwards as Duke of Suffolk. The pro- 
 gress of the army step by step to the surrender of Tournay on 
 Sept. 24, is traced by Tayler in his minute and faithful Diary.^ 
 The news and correspondence received during the expedition, 
 the arrangements for the army, the cost of preparation, the 
 “ moving accidents ” of the field, are here accurately detailed. 
 The main body under the King marched in three divisions : 
 first came the van-ward with the chief of the ordnance ; then 
 the middle-ward with the king himself; last the rear -ward 
 under th,e Lord Chamberlain,^ the Earl of Northumberland, 
 and others.^ The King was preceded by the Household, to 
 the number of 300, mustered under the Trinity banner; in 
 
 te had been so badly supported. . His heard of, and the most manly handled.” 
 toother and successor, Lord Thomas I. 4020. 
 
 Howard, however, exculpates all who ^ I. 4058. ^ 4234 . 
 
 weie concerned in the action, and ex- ® Charles Somerset Lord Herbert, 
 
 presses his opinion that “it was the soon afterwards created Earl of 
 most dangerful enterprize he ever Worcester. * I. 4306. 
 
V :V ' 
 
 .. .. 
 
 #*v 
 
 .-■ • . 
 
 ■ ' ■-. •■ T 
 
 
 ■•^. ■ :.^v- 
 
 ^ i ■• ^ 
 
 K ; 
 
 .■ ' .;, . 
 
 
 
 
 
 -J 
 
 v >^A.- . . . .^. 
 
 U- ■ . 
 
 - ,. :v-'-,.. ^ ; --S, 
 r.-V ■ ^ 
 
 L; 
 
 
 ' 
 
 ,4 . cr, . 
 
 m!>h. 
 
 .'.vS;J .• :i^-' 
 
 ■ - 
 
 :7-.‘ ;, i » 
 
 
 1/ •' ' ," ' ■• 
 W-* ,C<J».^^-„ 
 
 Vvi.,.',- ‘ ■ . ' iQ : '.7..v; ■ ■■ 
 
 
1513.] 
 
 CAPTUEE OF TOUKNAY. 
 
 27 
 
 advance was the unhappy Duke of Buckingham with his 400 
 men. His banner was followed by Mr. Almoner (Wolsey) 
 commanding 200, the Bishop of Durham (Euthal) with 100, 
 Fox, the Bishop of Winchester, with the same number. Next 
 came the King with his banner and guard of 600 men, the 
 priests and singers of the chapel to the number of 115, secre- 
 taries, clerks, sewers, grooms and pages of the chamber, with 
 Peter Carmelianus^ his lutanist, whose bad taste and false 
 quantities furnished endless jokes for Erasmus.^ The King 
 decamped from Calais, July 21, arrived before Terouenne on 
 the 1st of August, and was visited by the Emperor on the 
 12th. The experienced eye of Maximilian at once detected a 
 capital blunder in the king’s strategic position, of which his 
 enemies, however, had failed to avail themselves. In fact, not- 
 withstanding the disuse of war and the impetuosity of the 
 Englishmen, the experience and superior skill of the French 
 proved of small service to them. The veteran regiments of 
 Lewis, still remaining on the other side of the Alps, had been 
 shivered into fragments at the terrible battle of Novara.^ Sick 
 at heart and feeble in body, Lewis himself had driven over in a 
 carriage from Paris, but was prevented by illness from taking- 
 part in the action. With the exception of La Palice and the 
 well-known Chevalier Bayard, made prisoner at Terouenne, 
 we miss the great names of the veterans who had served in 
 the campaigns of Italy. 
 
 The surrender of Terouenne on the 22nd of Aug., was 
 followed by that of Tournay on Sept. 24.^ 
 
 During the King’s absence in France James IV. of Scotland 
 had seized the opportunity of executing his long cherished 
 project — the invasion of England. The letters of this King to 
 the different potentates of Europe ^ have an indirect interest 
 in connection with this subject which may justify a few words 
 of comment. Not that their contents are always very im- 
 portant. They add something, though not much, to the 
 scanty information we have of the state of Scotland in those 
 
 ' I. 4314. 
 
 ^ I. 2001. I do not suppose that 
 Wolsey and Fox were present at any 
 engagement; but that they attended 
 the army is certain. Tayler states 
 that on one occasion Fox suffered 
 from a kick of his mule. We know, 
 from the amusing letters of Erasmus, 
 that Ammonius was there, and em- 
 ployed himself in sending home to his 
 witty correspondent ludicrous ac- 
 
 counts of his life in the camp. 
 
 ® June 6. 
 
 For an account of the demolition 
 of the fortifications of Terouenne see 
 I. 4431. 
 
 ® A selection of these was printed 
 by Euddimann in 1722 from a manu- 
 script in the Advocates’ Library, 
 Edinburgh. Abstracts both of these 
 and of others still unprinted will be 
 found in the Calendar. — E d. 
 
28 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENEY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 turbulent times. With the exception of these few facts, the 
 history is nothing more than the turbulent doings of an 
 intractable nobility, who — 
 
 “ laid about them at their wills and died.” 
 
 By means not very easily traced, a thin sprinkling of the new 
 learning had been introduced into Scotland. Here and there, 
 among a barbarous and unlettered nobility, hardly able to 
 write their own names, might be found a scholar whose 
 command of the Latin tongue would not have disgraced 
 Muretus. James IV. was one of these ; and his Latin letters, 
 as compared with the general Latin letters of that age, are 
 not unworthy of Erasmus, who is said to have been his 
 master. But they are too often characterized by a feeble 
 elegance, that shrinks in dismay from the rough and ready 
 Latinity of earlier times, and so lose in force, perspicuity, and 
 directness. The character of James was not unlike his letters. 
 That he had some reputation for learning is clear from the 
 remarkable letter addressed to him by Polydore Vergil, who 
 was engaged at the time in composing his history.^ A better 
 proof may be found in the interest he took in the studies of 
 the youthful Archbishop of St. Andrews.^ But with these 
 good qualities James had the vices of his family — a great 
 conceit of his own wisdom and statecraft ; an unshaken belief 
 in his own powers as a universal peacemaker. Without the 
 means of preserving peace and dignity at home, he was thrust 
 forward by his vanity to mediate between the great conflicting 
 powers of Europe. He was bearded and defied in the precincts 
 of his palace, not merely by his nohility but by his bishops ; 
 and at the time when he was making pompous professions of 
 what he intended to do to secure the peace and salvation of 
 Christendom, he was writing letters to the Pope to save him 
 from the insolent encroachments of the Archbishop of Glasgow. 
 That such a King, though not without some amiable qualities, 
 should be untrue to his word, and in this respect most 
 opposite to his rival, my readers will have expected. Among 
 ail the documents of the time none are more painful than 
 those in which Dr. West, the English ambassador, afterwards 
 Bishop of Ely, describes his various interviews with James. 
 A month before the expedition to Terouenne he had been sent 
 by Henry into Scotland to ascertain the intentions of the 
 Scottish King, and bring him, if possible, to some resolute 
 ' I. 751. 
 
 I. 379, 3618. This Archbishop was his own natural son, Alexander Stuart. 
 
1513.] 
 
 THE SCOTCH INVASION. 
 
 29 
 
 answer. The cool, patient, and determined bearing of the 
 Englishman, who never betrays his temper or the contempt 
 he feels for the swagger of James and his repeated prevarica- 
 tions, the ability with which he unravels his contradictions 
 and hunts him out from one subterfuge after another, the 
 King ‘‘ sore moved and chafed,” plunging and floundering 
 from one false statement or imprudent admission to another, 
 form a striking but not agreeable picture.^ 
 
 He was bound by treaty between the two nations not to 
 levy war against England, but allow their mutual disputes to 
 be decided by arbitration. James had no intention to regard 
 his oath, hut he had not the courage to announce his deter- 
 mination to break it. He had written to the Pope already for 
 a dispensation ; and failing this, had resolved to obey his own 
 inclination. Such was the state of hostility between the two 
 kingdoms, that, notwithstanding the ties of blood, open war 
 between the two Princes could never have been considered 
 unnatural at any time. But James contrived to make his 
 own share in the rupture wear a look of meanness and 
 treachery. When the King was away, and all eyes were bent 
 on the siege of Terouenne, James began his march into 
 England. His defiance, sent by Boss Herald, reached Henry 
 in the field before Terouenne, Aug. 11. If not a perfidious, 
 it was an unchivalrous advantage. It told badly for James in 
 the estimation of his contemporaries. From Henry it pro- 
 voked no other reply than an expression of his disbelief that 
 James would disregard the solemn obligation of an oath ; but 
 if such were his intention he doubted not the Scotch King 
 would live to repent it.^ No change was made in his arrange- 
 ments. The only person who appears to have been despatched 
 to meet this contingency was Euthal, Bishop of Durham,^ 
 who returned to London, and immediately put himself into 
 communication with the Lord Treasurer Surrey appointed 
 Lieutenant-General of the North, and hastened towards 
 Norham to arrange for its defence. ‘‘You are not so busy 
 with war in Terouenne as I am encumbered with it in Eng- 
 land,” writes Katharine to Wolsey on the 13th of August. 
 They are all here very glad to be busy with the Scots, for they 
 take it for a pastime. My heart is very good to it, and I am 
 horribly busy with making standards, banners, and badges.”^ 
 Could James have foreseen the result it would have added 
 
 2 I. p. 624. 
 
 ^ I. 4398. 
 
 I. 1926, 3128, 3129, 3811, 3838, 3882. 
 2 I. 4388. 
 
30 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [AD. I 
 
 j 
 
 to the bitterness of his death, that he was to fall by the hands | 
 of a woman. For there is no donbt that Katharine herself j 
 was the soul of the enterprize. She quieted uneasy thoughts 
 of Henry’s dangers by occupying herself in warlike prepara- 
 tions. The story of her address to the soldiers, as detailed by j 
 Peter Martyr,^ may be apocryphal ; not so the evidences of her j 
 activity, as furnished by official documents. But the rashness ! 
 of James, his impatience to take his rival at disadvantage, I 
 and strike the blow before Henry could return, proved his | 
 worst enemies. The battle of Flodden remains a lasting I 
 monument of his incapacity. Of the correspondence relating j 
 to it, the letters of Euthal to Wolsey, lately discovered, are | 
 among the most curious.^ The Bishop is bewildered between 
 joy and grief, between wonder at the great victory obtained 
 and greater wonder, if possible, that there should have been 
 such a number of goodly men, so well fed and fat,” left 
 among the slain. The Scotch,” as he tells Wolsey, “ had a 
 ‘Harge army and much ordnance, and plenty of victuals.”^ , 
 He would not have believed that their beer was so good, had ^ 
 it not been tasted and viewed by our folks, to their great j 
 refreshing.”^ At one time he is for accumulating honours on | 
 my Lord Treasurer, who must be a Duke at least for his ^ 
 victory. “And if ye made twenty for Lords with their styles, 
 and the residue with ‘ Trusty and well-beloved,’ it would do |, 
 very much good.” At another time he attributes the entire j 
 glory of the day to “ the banner of St. Cuthbert. The banner- j 
 men won great honor, and gained the King of Scots’ banner, 
 which now stands beside the shrine. The King fell near his 
 banner.” — “ The victory has been the most happy that can be ; 
 remembered. All believe it has been wrought by the inter- 
 cession of St. Cuthbert, who never suffered injury to be done ! 
 to his Church unrequited. But for that the Scotch might have 
 done much more harm.” Eising above all these varied ex- 
 pressions of triumph and wonderment is heard the sound of j 
 his grief for the destruction of his castle of Norham ; “ which : 
 news touched me so near with inward sorrow that I had lever 
 to have been out of the world than in it.” However, he i 
 expresses his trust that by penance, and spending on it i 
 
 2 plied to the English army of the North 
 
 „ h on this occasion was of a better quality | 
 
 ^ See I. 4460, sq. and higher price than ordinary. It 
 
 Yet, as if the Scotch had been cost 10s. the pipe, the usual price i 
 excellent judges of strong beer, as no being 7s. 6d. ? 
 
 doubt they were and are, the beer sup- I 
 
1513 .] 
 
 THE DUKE OF OELEANS. 
 
 81 
 
 10,000 marks the next four years, life may still be made 
 tolerable. These remarks are followed by expressions of 
 resignation worthy of so wealthy a prelate : I never felt the 
 
 hand of God so sore touching me as in this, whereof I most 
 humbly thank Him ; and after the inward search of conscience, 
 to know the cause of the provocation of God’s displeasure 
 against me, I shall reform it, if it be in my power, and regard 
 Him more than the world hereafter.” 
 
 On the capture of Tournay, Maximilian, now thoroughly 
 won over by English crowns and the discomfiture of France, 
 was earnest with Henry to push his advantage to the utter- 
 most. Poly dor e Vergil is willing to attribute it to Henry’s 
 moderation, that he turned a deaf ear to the Emperor’s 
 proposal. France had been sufficiently humbled to perceive 
 its error ; enough had been done to avenge the injuries of the 
 Church. Without wishing to detract from the praises bestowed 
 on him by Polydore for acting like a Christian Prince, we may 
 reasonably believe that the lateness of the season, the difficulty 
 of keeping such an army on foot, and the delicate state of 
 affairs in Scotland, were strong motives in urging Henry’s 
 return. The late brilliant victories had fully sustained the 
 honour of England ; and in defeating his enemies Henry per- 
 haps had learned to respect them. 
 
 Among the prisoners taken at the Battle of Spurs ^ was 
 Louis d’ Orleans, the young Duke of Longueville, and Marquis 
 of Eothelyn, “ un tres honneste jeune prince, whom I should 
 pity,” says Philip de Bregilles, writing to Margaret of Savoy, 
 ‘‘if he were not a Frenchman.” The young Duke was sent to 
 London, to the safe-keeping of Queen Katharine, much to her 
 annoyance ; for she could find no one fit to attend upon him 
 except my Lord Montjoy, the friend of Erasmus, who was 
 then going over to Calais. Therefore, like a sensible woman, 
 much too busy to have the care of lively French noblemen, 
 she recommended that he should be disposed of in the Tower. ^ 
 Young as the Duke was, he was in high estimation with 
 Lewis XII., who had appointed him the year before his mis- 
 fortune ^governor of Boulogne and the whole of Normandy. 
 The tendency in England at the time to admire and imitate 
 French fashions and French manners is well known. The 
 great dramatist, in his wonderful play of Henry VHI., has 
 given prominence — not more, however, than is warranted by 
 
 * I. 4405. The Battle of Spurs Bomye, near Terouenne, on August 18. 
 was fought at Guinegaste, or rather at ^ I. 4432. 
 
32 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENRY VIH. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 history— to this passion in the English aristocracy. Then, as 
 on subsequent occasions, French captives and hostages were 
 courteously received and caressed by their English masters. 
 How the young prisoner spent his time we are not permitted 
 to learn precisely, from want of the necessary documents, at 
 least here in England — a mortification to which students of 
 English history are continually exposed. He was evidently 
 taken into favour ; contrived, with the dexterity of a French- 
 man, to make himself agreeable, perhaps to Queen Katharine 
 herself, certainly to the King and to Wolsey. He was not 
 slow in turning these advantages to the interests of Lewis, as 
 will be seen in the sequel. 
 
 Henry had returned to England in November, fully re- 
 solved, to all appearance, to continue the war, and make 
 additional preparations in the ensuing spring. There is no 
 reason to doubt the sincerity of his intentions, or of his 
 resolution to continue the war in spite of the insincerity and 
 defection of his allies.^ At its commencement he could scarcely 
 have reposed much faith in the constancy of Ferdinand. He 
 had heard of the dissatisfaction expressed by his father-in- 
 law at the naval advantages gained by the Howards over the 
 French. Ferdinand’s subsequent abandonment of the league 
 to which he had sworn a few months before,^ — the treacherous 
 and underhand mission of his minister Quintana to form an 
 alliance with France, when the conquest of that country by 
 England seemed inevitable, — could not have been unknown to 
 Henry, or occasioned him much surprise. Peter Martyr, on 
 the information of Stile,® represents Henry as extremely 
 indignant at Ferdinand’s conduct, and jorotesting he will never 
 trust him again ; but this may be no more than Stile’s version 
 of the remonstrance which Henry thought proper to address to 
 Ferdinand, through his ambassador, and not the expression of 
 his actual feelings. Externally there was no change in his 
 resolutions or designs. He appeared bent upon the conquest 
 of France as much as ever. His ambassadors were instructed 
 to demand leave from Maximilian and Charles to take up 
 troops in ijhe Low Countries.^ They were ordered to remonstrate 
 with the Emperor for his vacillation, and insist on the fulfil- 
 ment of his engagements against France. Yet it appears from 
 
 * See the remarkable letter to the * I. 4794. The Emperor had 
 
 new Pope, Leo. X. I. 4502. agreed, through his daughter Mar- 
 
 ^ He had actually concluded a garet, to a treaty with Henry, to carry 
 treaty with Henry for invading Prance on the war against France, Nov. 15, 
 as late as Oct. 17, 1513. 1513. I. 4560. 
 
 I. 4864. 
 
1514.] 
 
 TREACHERY OF FERDINAND. 
 
 33 
 
 the correspondence at this time^ that the King and his ministers 
 were fully aware that Maximilian was playing a double game. 
 Whilst keeping up appearances with England, he was sidling 
 and coquetting with France, anxious to secure the best terms 
 from the highest bidder. 
 
 On the 24th of Jan., 1514, the Emperor wrote to his 
 daughter Margaret announcing Quintana’s arrival from the 
 court of Ferdinand, and his proposal for an accommodation 
 with France.^ Margaret in return tried hard to persuade him 
 that he could not in honour assent to the offered arrangement.^ 
 She warned him that the only object of Ferdinand was to 
 amuse him. No man, as she told him frankly, ought to know 
 better than he how little dependence was to be placed on 
 French promises. Besides, Ferdinand’s interest and his own 
 were diametrically opposed. If Henry, she said, had agreed 
 to an accommodation with France (as Ferdinand pretended, 
 and Maximilian affected to believe), he would have communi- 
 cated the information to his ally ; but she was convinced 
 there was no truth in the insinuation ; and if a hint of Quin- 
 tana’s negociation transpired, or the suspicions of the King of 
 England were awakened, it would put thoughts into his head 
 he never would otherwise have entertained. The Emperor 
 must consider how perilous that contingency would be, for if 
 the King of England threw off his allies, and expressed a 
 desire for an accommodation with France, his terms would be 
 accepted with open arms. He needed not the help of Ferdinand 
 or Maximilian for an arrangement with Lewis, who would 
 be only too happy to receive him without caring for his 
 allies. With the tact of a woman she easily perceived that 
 the widowhood of Lewis XII.,^ and the unsatisfactory state 
 of the marriage settlement between Prince Charles and 
 the Princess Mary opened the way for a union between the 
 two crowns, of which France would only be too glad to avail 
 itself. 
 
 “ Monseigneur,” she urges some days after, “there is great 
 reason to fear that these fair offers are only put forward, on 
 the ]3art of France, to escape the storm that would fall upon 
 it, if every one were as ready to do his duty as the King of 
 England, who has made incredible preparations for continuing 
 the war. . . . Ferdinand may desire peace, for he is old and 
 
 * I. 4622, 4725, 4831. Lett. Max. et Marg., ii. p. 221, 
 
 ^ Lett. Max. et Marg., ii. 229. The * His Queen had died Jan. 9. 
 
 order of these letters is incorrect. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 I) 
 
34 
 
 THE KEIGN OF HENRY YIIL 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 infirm ; but that is not the interest of Monsieur (Prince 
 Charles) and his dominions P . . . This young king, be well 
 assured, will aid you with his person and his purse, without 
 any deceit (like France) or hypocrisy (like Ferdinand), if you 
 give him no occasion to act otherwise ; car je vous asseure, 
 Monseigneur, que en luy n’a nulle faintise ; par quoy en ce que 
 luy touche, Von doit alter de semhlahle maniere et ne luy rompre 
 nulle promeseV' 
 
 The advice was as prudent as it was honourable. But this 
 was not the only occasion on which Margaret had reason to 
 suspect that Maximilian disclosed to her only half his inten- 
 tions, and asked her advice when he had formed his resolution 
 already. He announced to her, on the 9th of April, that the 
 King Catholic and himself had agreed to a truce for a year 
 with Lewis, upon an assurance from Quintana that Henry 
 would make no objection. Her comment is very significant : 
 Monseigneur, the news you have sent me is very important, 
 and very much opposed to my judgment {entendement) I 
 know not how the King of England will accept it, considering 
 the great preparations he has made for war. However, 
 Monseigneur, I do not want to know more than you are willing 
 to communicate. I doubt not you have acted with the best 
 intentions, and understand these affairs much better than 
 I do.” 
 
 In this same year, and at the time when this correspond- 
 ence was going on between father and daughter, he who was 
 the chief and unconscious subject of it had been struck down 
 by sickness.^ Peter Martyr tells his correspondent Furtado, 
 in March : ‘‘ The King of England has had the fever, and his 
 physicians were afraid it would turn into pustules called the 
 small pox (variolce).” ^ By the instructions sent to Spinelly ^ 
 on this occasion, it is stated to have been the small pox, 
 apparently less dreaded than the plague — the universal scourge 
 and terror of this century. Henry had escaped all danger by 
 the end of February, and rose from his bed with renewed 
 resolutions to continue his conquests in France. He then 
 learnt for the first time the full extent of Ferdinand’s cunning 
 and insincerity. By a series of secret negociations, for which 
 he was famous, he had contrived to detach the Pope and 
 Maximilian from the confederacy, and in conjunction with 
 them had agreed to an armistice with France for twelve 
 
 ^ Lett. Max. et Marg., ii. pp. 227, 228. ^ Ibid., ii. p. 245. 
 
 3 I. 4726, 4727, and 4845. ^ 4345 . s 4331 . 
 
1514 .] 
 
 TREACHERY OF FERDINAND. 
 
 35 
 
 months. The duplicity of which he had been guilty was 
 increased, if possible, by the meanness of his excuses : — It 
 was his duty to promote peace ; he could not prevail upon his 
 conscience to be a party any longer to a war against Christian 
 princes, to which he had hitherto consented much against his 
 will. He had never liked the war ; had always expected that 
 he would be betrayed by the English, and left to bear the 
 burthen alone, which was more than an old man at his time 
 of life ought to think of. Besides, the King of France had 
 begged for peace ; — to refuse it was inhuman ; it was horrible. 
 When such a king humbly sought reconciliation, and under 
 such circumstances, he could not find it in his heart to refuse 
 him, especially as he was anxious to devote the few days he 
 might be spared to expeditions, not against the friends but 
 the enemies of the Faith. 
 
 When he framed these excuses he knew full well that no 
 one would believe them. He knew that they would not 
 convince any one of the honesty of his proceedings, or impose 
 upon the meanest understanding. If they served any purpose 
 beyond that of mere diplomatic conventionalism, it was to 
 trail off inquiry from the true cause, which was not so much as 
 hinted at. It was the policy of Ferdinand to keep all things, 
 if possible, in statu quo ; and balance against each other the 
 different powers of Europe. He was afraid of the aggrandise- 
 ment of his son-in-law; he was afraid of the projected 
 marriage of Prince Charles with the Princess Mary, lest it 
 should lead to a demand of Castile by the former. By the 
 skilful arrangements he had so secretly concluded he hoped 
 that he had effectively prevented the further progress of all 
 parties, and he trusted that out of gratitude for his compliance 
 the King of France would shelter him from the vengeance his 
 treachery had deserved. But, like most cunning men, he had 
 overreached himself. 
 
 Henry saw all his hopes reft from him by his own father- 
 in-law, and all his labours dashed to the ground. His indig- 
 nation for the moment knew no bounds. He reproached 
 Ferdinand for his ingratitude and deceit — reminded him that 
 at his own earnest entreaty he had entered on the war, had 
 gone to vast expense, and directed the war in person. He 
 broke off all communications with Ferdinand, and swore he 
 would never trust him again. Maximilian, on the other 
 hand, conscious of his treachery, did not stay to weather 
 the storm, but withdrew, like a coward, from the king’s re- 
 
36 
 
 THE KEIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 proaches, and allowed the whole fury of them to fall upon 
 Margaret.^ 
 
 A few weeks after, strange rumours had got into circula- 
 tion. Anne of Brittany, Queen of Louis XII., had died on 
 Jan. 9, 1514, ‘'underly lamented,”^ in the language of the 
 day. On April 20, Gattinara writes to Margaret that it 
 was commonly reported, “the old gallant would marry the 
 young girl.”^ The report was probably premature, but it is 
 certain that some correspondence had been going on between 
 his master and Henry by the means of the Duke of Longue- 
 ville, who has been already mentioned. He writes to Wolsey 
 from Canterbury as early as March 16, stating he had 
 received a packet from France expressing the cordial feelings 
 of his Sovereign towards Henry. The matter was kept a pro- 
 found secret. Not the slightest hint of it was conveyed to the 
 English ministers or the ambassadors at the different courts, 
 who, like the rest of the world, were kept in entire ignorance 
 of the negociation. Whether a marriage with Henry’s sister 
 Mary formed part of the original design cannot at present be 
 ascertained. She was not more than seventeen years of age, 
 and Lewis was fifty-two. Contemporary accounts describe her 
 as the most beautiful woman of her times, though somewhat 
 under size for a Tudor. “ This last Sunday in Lent,” says an 
 unknown correspondent to Margaret,^ “I saw the Princess Mary 
 dressed in the Milanese fashion ; and I think never man saw 
 a more beautiful creature, or one possessed of so much grace 
 and sweetness.” Gerard de Pleine, writing to the Archduchess, 
 bears similar testimony : “I would not write to you about the 
 princess until I had seen her several times. I assure you 
 
 * No one, I think, can read the 
 extraordinary letter of Maximilian to 
 his daughter Margaret, in which he 
 professes his intention of becoming a 
 pope and a saint, and resist the con- 
 clusion that the Emperor was flighty 
 at times. One expression — not to say 
 more than one — in that letter is so 
 extraordinary, that it is hardly possi- 
 ble to suppose it could have emanated 
 from a sane intellect. He tells 
 Margaret he is sending the Bishop of 
 Gurce to Rome, to have himself made 
 coadjutor to the Pope, and succeed to 
 the Papacy. He intends to be sainted 
 after his death ; and then he proceeds 
 in this extraordinary strain : — “ et il 
 vous sera de necessite que, apres ma 
 mort, vous seres constraint de me 
 adorer, dont je me trouvere bien 
 
 gloryoes ” (Lett, de Max. et Marg., 
 ii. 38). The idea of Maximilian being 
 worshipped as a saint by Margaret 
 must, to the readers of this corre- 
 spondence, appear infinitely comical! 
 Yet the old Emperor is perfectly 
 serious, as is shown by his other 
 letters. 
 
 2 I. 4692. 
 
 2 “ On dit commnnement que le dit 
 Roy d’Arragon traicte le paix d’entre 
 les Roys par le moyen des manages, 
 que entendez assez, et la hon vieillard 
 veult avoir la jeune garce, pour essayer 
 s’il pourra encoires avoir ung fils; mais 
 j’entends qu’il est bien debile.” Lett, 
 de Louis XII. iv. 300. These corre- 
 spondents of Margaret were not always 
 very refined in their language. 
 
 ^ April, 1514. 
 
1514.] 
 
 MARY AND PRINCE CHARLES. 
 
 37 
 
 that she is one of the most beautiful young women in the 
 world. I think I never saw a more charming creature. She 
 is very graceful. Her deportment in dancing and in conver- 
 sation is as pleasing as you could desire. There is nothing 
 gloomy or melancholy about her. I am certain if you had 
 seen her you would never rest until you had her over. I 
 assure you she has been well educated. It is certain, from 
 everything I hear, that she is much attached to Monsieur 
 (Prince Charles) ; of whom she has a very bad picture. And 
 never a day passes that she does not express a wish to see 
 him ‘ plus de dix fois, comme Ton m’a af&rme.’ I had 
 imagined that she would have been very tall ; but she is of 
 middling height, and, as I think, a much better match in age 
 and person for the prince, than I had heard or could have 
 believed before 1 saw her.”^ 
 
 By the terms of the original compact Prince Charles was 
 bound to consummate the marriage in the May of this year, 
 when he had turned fourteen. But his governor Maximilian, 
 now completely under the influence of Ferdinand, would come 
 to no definite arrangement, and invented various excuses to 
 avoid a decisive answer.^ Margaret did all that she could to 
 fence off the evil day ; and wrote to her father in agony, as 
 one pretext gave way after another.^ The prince was. too 
 young, or he was too ill, or he was not in the way. She was 
 feebly supported by the Emperor, who was disingenuous and 
 vacillating. Her efforts were thwarted in every way by the 
 Prince’s Council, who hated her influence, and feared their 
 authority would be undermined by the alliance with England. 
 They were, moreover, under the influence of France.^ Peter 
 Martyr says, in a letter dated June 8, 1514 : ^ “ The sister of 
 the King of England was betrothed to Prince Charles on con- 
 dition that he should marry her when he had passed the age 
 of fourteen. The king is urgent to have the marriage com- 
 pleted, as the Prince was of the age required on the 24th 
 of Feb. last. But Maximilian and Ferdinand require its 
 postponement, as the prince is naturally of a feeble constitu- 
 tion.” The excuse was not perhaps entirely without founda- 
 tion. The feebleness, both physical and mental, of his 
 mother, cast its shadow on the earlier and later years of 
 
 * June 30. editor lias most strangely perverted 
 
 ^ Her letters on this subject to 
 Maximilian will be found in the Lett, 
 de Max. et Marg., ii. 254 and 117. The 
 
 2 April 28, 1514. 
 
 ^ TTov 1 off ova rvv 
 
 their arrangement. 
 
 * Knight, May 2, 10, 1514. 
 ® L 5152, 
 
38 
 
 THE REIGN OF HENRY VIIL 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 Charles V. He was a sickly boy, of a sedate and melancholy 
 disposition, grave and business-like beyond his years. Peter 
 Martyr, in one of his letters,’- endeavouring to impress his 
 correspondent with a favourable notion of the Prince, then in 
 his thirteenth year, dwells much upon the gravity of Charles. 
 Even then he was a solemn censor of the manners of his 
 attendants, and never failed to administer a severe rebuke if 
 they had been guilty of any excesses over night. In fact, if 
 he had one overmastering quality it was that of gravity ; — a 
 gravity that was never pierced by a single ray of passion or 
 generous enthusiasm. The romantic affection of Mary, the 
 appeals of Luther, the destruction of Eome fresh from the 
 hands of Eaphael and Michael Angelo, the fears of Katharine, 
 and the curses of Spain, fell like water on that staid and 
 decorous nature, and left no mark. At fifteen he was his own 
 j3rime minister, and got out of bed at midnight to answer the 
 despatches of his ambassadors. From his earliest years there 
 was no spirit of boyish intemperance in Charles ; no excesses 
 to be corrected, no frivolity to be restrained. In active sports 
 he took little or no delight ; so that Margaret, writing on one 
 occasion to Maximilian, thought it a grand piece of news to 
 announce that the prince had been out hunting.^ The utmost 
 excess of which Charles is recorded to have been guilty in his 
 }?outh, was that of dancing himself into an illness at his 
 sister’s marriage. In a chivalrous age, and with two such 
 rivals as Henry VIII. and Francis I., he was never betrayed 
 into an unconscious fit of romance or generosity. ' No good 
 saying, no act of forgetfulness, no impropriety, so far as I can 
 remember, is recorded of him. He was universally solemn, 
 decorous, and insipid ; indifferent to the feelings of others, 
 and never forgetful of his own. Sordid as Maximilian in his 
 money dealings, he was without Maximilian’s carelessness, 
 irresolution, and nonchalance. That preciseness which after- 
 wards found scope in regulating clocks, manifested itself even 
 now. It presided over the amusements of the boy and pre- 
 scribed the affections of the man. One of his love letters to 
 Mary is preserved,^ written probably to dictation ; but it is so 
 dull and decorous, it might as well have been his own compo- 
 sition. Love he felt not, and he made no effort to prevent 
 the rupture. The story of his regret in after life is a mere 
 
 ^ Let. 515. chasse; aultrement on pourra pense qui 
 
 ^ “ Nous fumes bien jouyeulx,” fust basta 7 't.” — Lett. Max. et Marg., 
 I’eturus the old Emperor, “ que nostre i. 241. 
 filz Charles prenne taut de plesir a la ^ 1. 4606. 
 
71nt7r,Trcd fir die I]ncycl-:!piTdia Xoruir?icnsU', M2d. 
 

 
 : 4 ^ 
 
1514.] 
 
 MAKY AND LEWIS XII. 
 
 39 
 
 invention. Who can wonder, therefore, that a respectable 
 Scotch clergyman of the last age, on the look-out for a hero, 
 should have thought he had found one in Charles V. The 
 mistake is precisely one into which he was likely to fall — into 
 which Princess Mary fell with her bad picture. 
 
 Early in June,^ if not before, Lewis sent to demand the 
 hand of Mary. He was ably seconded in his negociations by 
 Longueville. There was not much to choose between a sickly, 
 melancholy boy of fourteen, and a valetudinarian of fifty-two. 
 What solicitations were used to obtain her consent we know 
 not ; perhaps Gerard de Pleine has exaggerated her attach- 
 ment; perhaps, in that age, female scruples and female 
 delicacy were not much respected. The love affairs of the 
 Tudors never ran in a straight or smooth channel. We learn 
 from her subsequent letters, when she was married to Suffolk, 
 that her reluctance, whatever it might be, was overcome by 
 the assurance, that if she would comply with her brother’s 
 wishes in this instance, on the next occasion of the kind she 
 should be at liberty to do as she pleased ; — a promise of which 
 she afterwards availed herself. She was induced openly to 
 renounce her contract with Charles on the 30th of July,^ at 
 the royal manor of Wanstead, in the presence of Brandon and 
 others, — and in August to make a public declaration of her 
 engagement to Lewis,^ and appoint the Earl of Worcester as 
 her proxy The whole course of her wooing, her love letters, 
 the number of her dresses, her attendants, her reception at 
 Paris, her coronation and life at the French court, may be 
 read in the State papers of the period.^ 
 
 She was conducted across the water with a splendid 
 retinue, and" met Lewis at Abbeville in the first week of 
 October. The description given by Peter Martyr of his 
 appearance as he sate on a great Spanish war-horse covered 
 with magnificent trappings, giving unmistakable indications 
 of premature senility, with moist lips and slouching gait, we 
 may charitably trust, is somewhat exaggerated. But the 
 contrast was the more remarkable when Lewis took her by 
 
 ^ I. 5164. See also the Com- 
 mission, July 29. 
 
 2 I. 5282. 
 
 3 I. 5322. 
 
 4 I. 534V. 
 
 ® I., p. 848, sq. I take this oppor- 
 tunity of correcting a common error. 
 It was not Anne, but Mary Boleyn, 
 her elder sister, who attended the 
 Princess into France ; and no doubt 
 
 it is Mary, and not Anne Boleyn, 
 who was fille d’honneur to Margaret 
 of Savoy and the subject of that lady’s 
 letter to Sir Thomas Boleyn, cited by 
 M. Le Glay in his able edition of the 
 Lett, de Max., etc., ii. p. 461. This 
 letter has never attracted the atten- 
 tion of English historians, strangely 
 enough. See especially the letters of 
 Worcester, Oct 3. 
 
40 
 
 THE KEIGN OF HENRY VIH. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 the hand in all the freshness of youth and beauty, — beautiful 
 (as Peter Martyr says) without the adventitious aids of art, 
 and with her native roses on her cheek. (Epist. 542.) They 
 were detained at Abbeville some weeks, as Lewis was suffering 
 from the gout. The marriage ceremony had no sooner been 
 concluded than all her English servants were dismissed. 
 Mary does not scruple to ascribe this measure to the Duke 
 of Norfolk. ‘‘I marvel much,” she writes to Henry,^ “that 
 my Lord of Norfolk would at all times so lightl}^ grant every- 
 thing at their requests here. I am well assured that when ye 
 know the truth of everything, as my mother Guldeford can 
 show you, ye would little have thought I should have been 
 thus intreated. Would God my Lord of York (Wolsey) had 
 come with me in the room of my Lord of Norfolk ; for then I 
 
 am sure I should have been left 
 than I am now.” ^ 
 
 ^ Oct. 12. See also lier letters to 
 Wolsey of the same date. 
 
 ^ Her appeal to Wolsey was not 
 without effect, as will be seen from 
 the following letter addressed by him 
 to Lewis, copied from the French 
 archives. For this interesting docu- 
 ment I am indebted to the Rev. Joseph 
 Stevenson. 
 
 “ Sire, le plus treshumblement que 
 faire Je puis a votre bonne grace me 
 recommande. 
 
 “ Sire, pour ce qu’il vous a plu de 
 votre grace me advertir par voz lettres, 
 datees a Beauvais le xxvj. jour du moys 
 precedent, que je vous ay fait singullier 
 plaisir de ouvertement et privement 
 vous escripre de ce que jevous escripviz 
 auparavant, me pryant contynuer et 
 faire le semblable, et tout ainsi que je 
 feroye, si j’estoye de votre estroit and 
 prive conseil : 
 
 “ A ceste cause. Sire, je vous veuil 
 bien advertir d’une chose. S’est que 
 la on le Roy, mon Souverain Seigneur 
 et Maistre, votre bon frere, avoit or- 
 donne pour la vraye, parfaicte and 
 entiere confidence qu’il avoit en 
 Madame de Guylford, quelle seroit 
 avec la Royne,, sa seur, votre com- 
 paigne, pour les bonnes meurs et 
 experience qu’il congnoissoit qu’elle 
 avoit et bien parlant le langaige ,• affin 
 ausi que la Royne, sa dite seur, peust 
 estre meulx conseillee et advertye par 
 elle, comme elle se devoit en tons 
 endroitz regir et conduire en vers vous ; 
 considerant oultre que la Royne, sa 
 dite bonne seur, est une jeune dame. 
 
 much more at my heart’s ease 
 
 et que quant elle se trouveroit pardela, 
 non ayant le langaige parfaictement, 
 ne aucnne congnoissance a nulles des 
 dames depardela, a qui elle pourroit 
 discouvrir telles passions que les fem- 
 mes ont, et que si elle n’avoit quelque 
 une de sa congnoissance a qui elle 
 pourroit dire et declarer familliere- 
 ment son cueur, quelle se trouveroit 
 quasy comme desolee, dont elle pour- 
 roit prendre aucun regret et desplaisir, 
 que par aventure seroit occasion de 
 prendre quelque malladye, et son corps 
 en estre de pis, que Dieu ne veuille : 
 Et si tel accident advenoit, je croy, 
 Sire, que vous en serez le plus dollent 
 et desplaisent. Et pour ce. Sire, que 
 j’ay sceu et entendu que la dite Dame 
 de Guilford est a Boullongue, pour 
 faire son retour pardela, et quelle 
 estoit des tout dischargee, doubtant 
 que le Roy, mon dit maistre, s’il en 
 avoit la congnoissance, qu’il trouveroit 
 la chose aucunement estrange, je me 
 suys enhard[y] descripre a la dite 
 dame de sejoouruer encores audit lieu 
 de Boullongue, jusques ad ce que je 
 vous eusse sur ce escript ma simple 
 et petite opp inion. Ce que je faiz, 
 Sire, a present. Et me semble. Sire, 
 soubz correction, que la devez pour 
 quelque espace de temps retenir au 
 service de la Royne votre dite com- 
 paigne et non sy soubitement la dis- 
 charger, veu et considere que le Roy, 
 votre dit bon frere, la tiree hors d’un 
 lieu solitaire ; la ou elle estoit deliberee 
 de non jamais en partir pour aller au 
 service de la Royne, sa dite bonne 
 
Ejig:ra.v<^ d "by T. lag-litfoot 
 
 THOMAS TIOWATH), JHH\E OF NORFOLK. 
 
 OJV I5.5 J . 
 
 FllOM THE OfllGlK'AE OF HOLBEIET, ENT TTTE rOT.T.ErTTOA' OF 
 
 lU.S ('rI{A(’E, THE DUKE OF XORFOJ.K. 
 
h 
 
 . ? 
 
 .i 
 
1514.] 
 
 ALLIANCE OF ENGLAND AND FRANCE. 
 
 41 
 
 The truth of the complaint is substantiated in some 
 measure by a letter from Suffolk to Wolsey ; ^ who directly 
 attributes the dismissal of the Queen’s servants to Norfolk and 
 his son, because they were of Wolsey’s choosing, and not 
 theirs ; ” and advises him to have it redressed. 
 
 The alliance between the two crowns was not popular in 
 England or the Netherlands ; at least the disappointed corre- 
 spondents of Margaret endeavoured to make it appear so, and 
 magnified to the utmost the murmurs of the discontented. 
 But, if we look back to the last three years, it cannot be denied 
 that a vast advance has been made in the political position of 
 England. From a second-rate kingdom, under the dictation 
 of Ferdinand, it had at once risen to the highest rank in the 
 confederacy of nations. Its power was not the less imposing 
 or dreaded, because in the moment of victory it had acted 
 with moderation. 
 
 The marriage dazzled the eyes of Europe. France was 
 in one continual dream of delight. English ambassadors 
 swarmed about the French court, which they had never 
 visited before, to congratulate the bride and bridegroom, to 
 feast their eyes ou the pageants or take part in the tourna- 
 ments. But in the midst of all this mirth, a conversation 
 was going on between Dorset, Worcester, and Eohertet, the 
 purport of which can scarcely he gathered from the dark and 
 
 seur; et je ne faiz double nulle, Sire, 
 que quant vous I’aurez bien congneue, 
 que la trouverez dame saige, honorable, 
 et secrete, toute desirante et preste 
 I d’ensuyvir et acomplyr en toutes 
 choses a elle possible votre voullente 
 et vous plaisirs, en tout ce que vous 
 
 I luy ordonnerez et commenderez, quel- 
 que rapport que vous ait este, ou pourra 
 estre fait an contraire ; comme j’ay 
 escript plus a plain a monseigneur le 
 vous chambrelan, pour le vous declairer 
 de ma part. 
 
 “ Au surplus. Sire, je vous supplye 
 que votre bon plaisir soit de me par- 
 donner et tenir pour excuse, si je me 
 suys tout enhardy d’ainsy promptement 
 et entierement vous advertir de ceste 
 * matiere, et considerer que je le faiz 
 a bonne intencion pour le tres singullier 
 desir que j’ay de nonrrir et entretenir 
 le Roy, votre dit bon frere et vous, en 
 amour, amytie et bien vueillance 
 ensemble. 
 
 “ Et pour faire fin a ma lettre, 
 Sire, si vous advisez appres et quelle 
 aura este pardela quelque espace de 
 
 temps, et vous n’estez content de son 
 demeure la, il vous plaira. Sire, m’en 
 advertir, et je feray tant envers le 
 Roy, mon dit maistre, qu’il y pourveyra 
 de sorte que vous serez content. Mais 
 il me semble. Sire, que si toust vous ne 
 la devez descharger, ains entretenir 
 pour la consollacion de la Royne, votre 
 dite compaigne, et jusques ad ce quelle 
 eit meilleure experience et congnois- 
 sance pardela. Yous supplyant, Sire, 
 me signiflBer et advertir de votre bon 
 plaisir et intencion sur ce, affin que 
 j’en puisse advertir la dite dame, et 
 quelle congnoisse comme elle se devra 
 conduyre en cest endroyt. Priant au 
 demourant notre Seigneur qu’il vous 
 doint. Sire, bonne vie et longue. 
 
 “Au manoir de Eltham, le xxiij. 
 jour d’Octobre. 
 
 “Yotre tres humble et tres 
 obeyssant serviteur, 
 
 “ T. Ebor. 
 
 Borso. “ A la bonne grace 
 du Roy.” 
 
 ' No. 5512. 
 
42 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENKY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 oracular hints dropped in the correspondence of these ministers. 
 It is so silent and so dark, that their fellow-ambassadors in 
 the same court have no notion of it, and Ferdinand for once 
 was thrown off his guard. Suffolk writes to Henry, on the 
 3rd of November, that his letters were opened. ‘‘ He had 
 sent letters which he would not should have been seen, which 
 the King knows well.” After a variety of manoeuvres to gain 
 the ear of Lewis unseen, Suffolk is sent for by Lewis to come 
 and visit his two daughters. In the midst of this innocent 
 occupation, seeing the King at leisure, “ and the chamber well 
 rid,” he took out his secret letter, and told the French king 
 he had a private message for him from his master. Not a 
 word is drojDped by himself or Dorset, of the exact nature of 
 this commission. “We have had,” says Dorset, “ divers 
 communications with the (French) Privy Council. We leave 
 (omit) to write because the charge is my Lord of Suffolk’s. 
 But, as far as I can perceive, all things go well, and to our 
 master’s honor.” ^ 
 
 What was the purport of that communication we learn 
 only from the reply of Lewis himself,^ — not from the 
 English, hut the French archives. After thanking the King 
 for sending so important a personage as the Duke, Lewis 
 professes his desire to deal frankly with his new brother-in- 
 law. With the proposition^ made him by the English ambas- 
 sadors, that he should assist Henry in expelling Ferdinand 
 from Navarre, as a punishment for having violated his engage- 
 ments, Lewis expresses his willingness to comply, and to raise 
 an army for that purpose. To the second proposition, which 
 was far more startling, he makes a more cautious answer. It 
 seems that Henry had insisted that as the kingdom of Castile 
 descended in equal portions to the sisters Katharine and Joan,^ 
 and he had married one of the sisters, he had a right to 
 Castile, and as he was resolved to assert his claim he was 
 anxious to know what aid Lewis would lend him for that 
 purpose. Lewis excuses himself from giving any advice on 
 this head, because he was not acquainted with the laws and 
 customs df Spain, hut if Henry would set an enterprize on 
 foot for recovering the whole or part of Castile, Lewis would 
 take his part without further inquiry ; “ mais la et quant le 
 
 ^ I. 5606. choly state of this unfortunate lady 
 
 I. 5637. be found in the letters of John 
 
 Kuiglit was the author of this Stile and Peter Martyr. Both kuew 
 proposition. See his letter to Wolsey. her well, and had no reason for palli- 
 
 The best account of the melan- ating the unwelcome truth. 
 
1514 .] 
 
 HENRY’S DESIGNS AGAINST FERDINAND. 
 
 43 
 
 Koy d’Angleterre trouvera par son conseil qu’il peult et doit 
 faire I’entreprise mencionnee es dits articles, tant pour expeller 
 le dit Eoy d’Arragon du dit royaume de Navarre, que aussi 
 pour recouvrer le dit royaume de Castille, en tout ou partie, 
 le Eoy lors, et en ce cas, sans soy vouloir informer autrement 
 des dites querelles, est delibere et resolu de pourter le querelle 
 du dit Eoy d’Angleterre,” This important concession, how- 
 ever, is coupled with a reservation that in the mean time, 
 without disclosing their intentions, both parties should hear 
 what the ambassadors of Arragon had to say, and communicate 
 the result to each other. 
 
 The death of Lewis, shortly after, put an end to this 
 extraordinary project, of which no distinct record remains 
 except in this letter of the French archives. 
 
44 
 
 THE REIGN OF HENRY VIH. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 I 
 
 |: 
 
 CHAPTEE II. 
 
 INTERNAL CONDITION OF ENGLAND. 
 
 During this time the domestic events of the reign are com- 
 paratively barren and unimportant. For two years or more 
 after the King’s accession, the court and the people were too 
 much occupied with pleasure and pageantry to pay attention 
 to more serious matters ; a little later war and foreign politics 
 threw domestic affairs into the background. The chroniclers 
 have been unjustly condemned for filling their pages with 
 accounts of masques and revels, as if their attention had been 
 engrossed by these to t];ie exclusion of graver subjects. But 
 at home, during the first two years, there was little else to 
 chronicle. It was one unbroken round of amusements — revels 
 at Christmas — masques and archery at May-day — tilting, and 
 running at the ring the rest of the year. King, ministers, and 
 people were occupied with no higher thoughts than such 
 fantastic sports. The chroniclers are justified also by a 
 curious letter of Queen Katharine to her father Ferdinand. 
 “These kingdoms of your highness,” she tells him with delicate 
 flattery,^ “ are in great tranquillity, and show great affection to 
 my lord and myself. The time is spent in continual feasting.” 
 Empson and Dudley^ are borne to premature graves with little 
 notice ; the unfortunate Edmund De la Pole with less. The 
 masques were not a whit less brilliant, or the maskers less 
 lively. Who could expect that tragic and “hearse-like airs” 
 should succeed such careless easy strains ? Or that broken 
 hearts and forms of blood should change places with all that 
 mirth and laughter ? These chroniclers see more into the 
 texture of life than their philosophical critics. The reign of 
 Henry VIII. was “ a dark and melancholy work upon a 
 
 the crime of extortion, but for con- 
 structive treason in attempting to 
 escape from the Tovs^er ; a crime 
 which long disgraced English juris- 
 prudence. 
 
 ^ I. 368. 
 
 ^ I must refer the reader to a very 
 curious paper (I. 1212) containing the 
 last will and confession of this un- 
 fortunate minister. It seems from 
 that paper that he did not suffer for 
 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
 II 
 
 I 
 

1509-14.] 
 
 HIS EARLY MARRIED LIFE. 
 
 45 
 
 lightsome ground : ” and therefore, in the language of the 
 dramatist, '' sad, high, and working.” 
 
 For the present, whatever scruples might afterwards arise, 
 there was nothing to interfere with Henry’s affection for 
 Katharine. Of his marriage he writes in the highest spirits 
 to Margaret of Savoy ; ^ he assures Ferdinand his love for 
 Katharine is such that if he were still free, he would choose 
 her in preference to all others.^ In virtues befitting a Queen 
 and a woman no one will deny her pre-eminence. The small 
 disparity of age was rather in her favour at so early a period 
 of their married life. She was a Spaniard born, of the bluest 
 blood, of the noblest descent, of the proudest court in Europe. 
 Ferdinand had not thought that in bestowing her on an English 
 prince he was receiving a favour. What was Henry VII. in 
 the eyes of Europe when he ascended the throne ? Or what 
 were the chances that he could hold it ? It was he, not they, 
 who received the favour, and touched his bonnet when the names 
 of Ferdinand and Isabella were mentioned in his presence.^ 
 Accounts vary as to Katharine’s personal appearance (as of 
 what woman will they not, according to the taste or humour 
 of the spectator?). “She is rather ugly than otherwise,” 
 says Nicolo Sagudino, secretary to the ambassador Gius- 
 tinian.^ “ She is not handsome,” says the ambassador him- 
 self, “ but has a very beautiful complexion.”^ “ She is of a 
 lively and gracious disposition; quite the opposite of the 
 Queen her sister (Joan) in complexion and manner,” says 
 Gerard de Pleine.® She danced well, was a good musician ; 
 was better educated, wrote and read much better, and com- 
 posed in English more correctly than half the ladies of her 
 court. Above all, her love and admiration for Henry were 
 unbounded. There was not such a paragon in the world. He 
 was her hero, her paladin. “ With his health and life,” she 
 writes with affectionate solicitude to Wolsey, “nothing can 
 come amiss to him ; without them I can see no manner good 
 thing shall fall after it.” ^ She is persuaded that the victory 
 at Flodden and the capture of Terouenne “is all owing to the 
 King’s piety.”® Her greatest comfort in his absence is to 
 
 ^ I. 224. further on (see p. 117), did the same 
 
 ^ I. 338. in deference to Henry VIII., in con- 
 
 * This curious piece of diplomatic versation with the English ambas- 
 courtesy, which was first revealed sador. — E d. 
 
 by Mr. Bergenroth’s researches at 
 Simancas, was not practised by 
 Henry VII. only, and perhaps did 
 not mean so much as is here implied. 
 The Emperor Maximilian, as noticed 
 
 X./C/ OjyCl; U v-* i_lC XX* 
 
 ® I. 5203 (p. 835). 
 
 ^ I. 4398 (Aug. 13, 1513). 
 * 1.4417. 
 
 * Despatches, i. 81. 
 
 ® Despatches, ii. 313. 
 
46 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENRY YIH. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 hear from Wolsey of the King’s health, and all the news of 
 his proceedings.^ After the battle of Klodden she writes to 
 Henry that she sends him the piece of the King of Scots’ 
 coat which John Glyn now bringeth. In this your grace 
 shall see how I can keep my promise, sending you for yom* 
 banners a King’s coat.” She tells him she is praying for his 
 return, and with characteristic devoutness is setting out on a 
 pilgrimage to our Lady at Walsingham for that purpose.^ 
 
 One great grief had befallen her which had redoubled her 
 anxiety and devotion.^ To the inexpressible delight of the 
 King and the nation, a prince had been born Jan. 1, 1511. 
 A household and officers were appointed for the royal babe.^ 
 His Serjeant at arms with IM. a day, and his clerk of the 
 signet with an annuity of 20h, are immortalized in Privy Seals 
 and Treasury Warrants. Even the name of his nurse, Eliza- 
 beth Pointes, is recorded, and that of the yeoman of his beds 
 and wardrobe. Preparations were made to celebrate the 
 joyous event with all the fantastic splendour and magnificence 
 characteristic of the times. In the spirit of the days of 
 romance, the King, in the garb of a knight, held the barriers 
 with three others against all comers. Articles of the challenge 
 were put forth in conformity with the strict rules of ancient 
 chivalry.^ Coeur loyal, the title assumed by Henry himself, 
 Valliaunt desyr, the appellation of Sir Edmund Nevill, Bon 
 valoir, of the Earl of Devonshire, and Joyaux penser, of Sir 
 Thomas Knevet, were to recall to the world once more the 
 golden days of good report and knightly deeds. But the 
 bright vision faded almost as soon as the pageant itself. On 
 Feb. 22 this desire of all eyes died ; and the following 
 entry, signed by the King and his council, is found among the 
 wages of minstrels, lords of misrule, and salaries of ambas- 
 sadors, grim and emotionless as death itself : — 
 
 1 I. 4432. 
 
 2 I. 4451. 
 
 ® Peter Martyr mentions another. 
 He states that Henry, in his indig- 
 nation at the treachery of Ferdinand, 
 had bitterly reproached her with her 
 father’s infidelity, and vented his anger 
 against her in no measured terms. 
 Her grief brought on premature child- 
 birth. (See I. 5718.) We learn from 
 Holinshed and Stow that the Queen 
 was delivered of a Prince in Novem- 
 ber, 1514, which died soon after. No 
 notice of this event is found among 
 any of the official documents ; no 
 
 rejoicings at its birth, as on a previous 
 occasion, and no notice of its burial. 
 Probably it was still-born. But the 
 imputation of Peter Martyr is devoid 
 of all probability. How could he, 
 living at that time at Yalladolid, come 
 to the knowledge of this story .? More 
 probably it was a malicious report, 
 vrith no other foundation than the ill 
 humour of the Spanish court, never 
 favourable to Henry, and now more 
 than ever exasperated at his alliance 
 \rith France. 
 
 " I. 1495, 1513, 1862. 
 
 " I. 1491. 
 
EDWARD COURTEAAV. EARL OF DEAA)ASHIRE. 
 
 ()B.i5.>G . 
 
 FJiOM THE ORIGIN AX IN THE COLLECTION OE 
 
 HTS GRACE, THK DUKK OF liFDFORD. 
 
 Ezigraved ly J. Corlran- 
 

1509-14.] 
 
 DEATH OF HIS INFANT SON. 
 
 47 
 
 By the King. 
 
 Henry YIII. 
 
 Trusty and welbeloved, we greet you well. And forasmuch as our 
 subject John Tomson of London, waxchandler, hath delivered in tapers 
 of wax of 3 lb. the piece the weight of 432 lb. , to burn about the hearse of 
 the late Prince, our dearest son, within our monastery of Westminster, 
 over and above the charges of the said hearse, which before this hath 
 been accompted for and paid to the said Tomeson by Sir Andrew Winde- 
 sore, keeper of our Great Wardrobe : We therefore will and command 
 you forthwith and without delay, upon the sight of these our letters, to 
 content and pay unto the said John Tomson or his assignee for the said 
 432 lb. of wax after the rate of 3L 14s. d>d, the 100, amounting in the 
 whole to the sum of sixteen pounds sterlings. And these our letters shall 
 be your sufficient warrant and discharge in that behalf. Given under 
 our signet at our castle of Windsor, the 13th day of July, the third year 
 of our reign. 
 
 T. Surrey — Hi. Wynton — C. Somerset — Harry Marny — T. Englefild. 
 
 To our trusty and welbeloved servant, John 
 Heron, treasurer of our Chamber.^ 
 
 With these exceptions, there was nothing in those early 
 years to cloud the brilliancy of the reign. The conspiracies 
 that had troubled Henry VII. so often, dared not raise their 
 front against Henry YIII. The Simnels and Warbecks had 
 disappeared altogether. The only miserable shadow of a 
 pretender, Kichard He la Pole,^ was a fugitive in France, 
 
 ^ There appear in the same accounts, 
 about the same time, various entries 
 of donations to religious orders ; among 
 others, the following, probably rela- 
 ting to the same event : — 
 
 30 June 1511. Henry VIII. to John 
 Heron. 
 
 To pay 58s. for ‘‘ one 
 hundredth of pure wax,” 
 given in alms to the Friars 
 Observants, Greenwich. 
 Greenwich, 30 June, 3 Hen. 
 VIII. 
 
 Among the warrants to the 
 Treasurer of the Chamber is an order 
 dated Feb. 25, 1512, to pay Wm. 
 Lambert, “ yeoman of the beds with 
 our late dearest son, the Prince de- 
 ceased,” 4L 11s. 3d., for his year’s 
 wages ending Candlemas last, and for 
 expense of boat-hire from Richmond 
 I to Baynard’s Castle for conveying the 
 i wardrobe there, 7s. 25 Feb., 3 Hen. 
 
 i VIII. ; and another dated Dec. 12, 
 1512, to pay “ Wm. Lambert, late 
 ' yeoman of the wardrobe of beds with 
 : our dearest son the Prince deceased,” 
 
 : his wages for “ keeping the same stuff ” 
 
 I from the Feast of Purification last to 
 the Feast of Circumcision, “ by the 
 1 space of 326 days, after the rate of 
 3d. for every day ; ” total, 4L 18d. 
 I Westm., 12 Dec., 4 Hen. VIII. 
 
 ^ Of the execution of Edmund De 
 la Pole in 1513, no notice is found in 
 contemporary documents except in 
 the letter of Peter Martyr (No. 4324), 
 where it is attributed to his treason- 
 able correspondence with his brother. 
 The Wardrobe Warrants contain the 
 following order : — 
 
 “ By the King. 
 
 “ Henry R. 
 
 “We will and charge you, that 
 unto our trusty and welbeloved knight 
 for our body. Sir Richard Cholmeley, 
 deputy lieutenant of our Tower of 
 London, ye deliver or cause to be 
 delivered for the use of Edmund De 
 la Pole and William his brother these 
 parcels following : first, for either of 
 them two gowns, the one of russet 
 furred with fox, and the other of 
 tawney furred with black bogye, price 
 of every yard 5s. ; for either of them 
 two doublets, the one of black satin, 
 the other of black velvet ; for either 
 of them three pair of hosen and three 
 shirts ; for either of them three pair 
 of sheets ; for either of them a black 
 bonnet, three pair of shoes or slippers, 
 three dozen silk points and a ribbon 
 girdle. And these our letters shall be 
 unto you sufficient warrant and dis- 
 charge at all times hereafter. Given 
 under our signet at our manor of 
 
48 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENRY YIIL 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 dependent on a precarious subsistence, and surrounded by 
 spies who transmitted notice of his movements to England. 
 The nation at large was content and flourishing. It is 
 astonishing to observe the rapidity with which it had settled 
 down to order in the reign of Henry VII. after so many years 
 of civil dissension. It would lead us to infer that those wars 
 were the wars of a class, and not of the nation ; and that the 
 effects of them have been greatly exaggerated. With the 
 single exception of Cade’s rebellion,^ they had nothing in 
 common with the revolutions of later or earlier times. They 
 were not wars against classes, against forms of government, 
 against the order or the institutions of the nation. It was the 
 rivalry of two aristocratic factions struggling for superiority, 
 neither of them hoping or desiring, whichever obtained the 
 upper hand, to introduce momentous changes in the State or 
 its administration. The main body of the people took little 
 interest in the struggle ; in the towns at least there was no 
 intermission of employment. The war passed over the nation, 
 ruffling the surface, toppling down high cliffs here and there, 
 washing away ancient landmarks, attracting the imagination 
 of the spectator by the mightiness of its waves, and the noise 
 of its thunders ; but the great body below the surface remained 
 unmoved. No famines, no plagues, consequent on the in- 
 termittence of labour caused by civil war, are recorded ; even 
 the prices of land and provisions scarcely varied more than 
 they have been known to do in times of profoundest peace. 
 
 But the indirect and silent operation of these conflicts was 
 much more remarkable. It reft into fragments the con- 
 federated ranks of a powerful territorial aristocracy, which 
 had hitherto bid defiance to the King, however popular, how- 
 ever energetic. Henceforth the position of the Sovereign in 
 the time of the Tudors, in relation to all classes of the people, 
 became very different from what it had been : the royal 
 supremacy was no longer a theory, but a fact. Another class 
 had sprung up on the decay of the ancient nobility. The 
 great towns had enjoyed uninterrupted tranquillity, and even 
 flourished; under the storm that was scourging the aristocracy 
 and the rural districts. Their population had increased by 
 numbers whom fear or the horrors of war had induced to find 
 
 Greenwich, the 23rd day of July, the ' Which is not a real exception 
 
 first year of our reign. after all, for Shakespeare was certainly 
 
 “ To our trusty and welbeloved wrong in attributing to Cade’s move. 
 Sir Andrew Wyndysor, knight, ment the democratic character of Wat 
 keeper of our GreatWai’drobe.” Tyler’s. — Ed. 
 

 
HUGH UATIMEH, 
 
 ^TSM'OJ‘ on CJE S . 
 
1509-14.] EESULTS OF THE WAKS OF THE HOSES. 
 
 49 
 
 shelter behind stone walls. The diminution of agricultural 
 labourers converted into soldiers by the folly of their lords, 
 had turned corn-lands into pasture, requiring less skill, less 
 capital, and less labour. Consequently, a new class of men, 
 at the commencement of this century, were occupying the 
 soil and had invested their money in land ; and a complaint 
 is made to the Parliament of Henry VIII. that “ in conse- 
 quence of the occupation of land by merchants, clothiers, and 
 others,”^ housekeeping had decayed, and tillage had been 
 turned into pasture. The petition assumes as self-evident 
 that picturesque form of the happiness of ancient days, not 
 uncommon in such complaints. But this tendency to recall 
 the past, and invest it with brilliant but imaginary colours, 
 was characteristic of the reign. It was the same with knight 
 and peasant. The bright sunset of a departing age, from 
 which men were rapidly and unconsciously drifting, still 
 fascinated many minds, and filled them with wistfulness and 
 regrets. When every man was contented, say the petitioners, 
 with one farm, there was plenty of everything, as every 
 acre of land ploughed bore the straw and chaff besides the 
 corn, able, with the help of the shack in the stubble, to feed 
 as many great beasts as the land would keep laid in leyes ; 
 and by the winnowing of corn there were kept at every barn- 
 door pigs and poultry, to the comfort of the people in every 
 shire. Now in a town of twenty or thirty dwellings the 
 houses are decayed, the people gone, the churches in ruins, 
 and in many parishes nothing more than a neatherd or a 
 shepherd or a warner is to be seen.” 
 
 But allowing that this account may be exaggerated, it 
 could scarcely be entirely without foundation. The efforts of 
 the Legislature to regulate wages and punish vagabondism are 
 a proof that many irregularities did exist. Licences to beg, 
 and the continuous efforts to repress unlicensed begging, 
 indicate the prevalence of beggary. In fact, while wages 
 remained high in the towns, and skilled labour commanded 
 good prices, the drying up of the ordinary employments and 
 means of food in the agricultural districts led probably to the 
 wretchedness described by Sir Thomas More in his Utopia, 
 and the severe measures required to suppress it. If Latimer 
 thought that two acres of hemp, sown up and down England, 
 
 were all too little to hang the thieves in it,” the prevalence of 
 thieving must have been notorious. And these statements are 
 
 ' I. 5727. 
 
 VOL. I. E 
 
50 
 
 THE REIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 countenanced by the frequent complaints of robbers made by 
 Erasmus when resident in England, and still more by a letter 
 of Peter Martyr, dated May 19, 1513 : ^ “ John Stile told him 
 that a band of robbers had attacked the King’s wagons carry- 
 ing money to the wars, and afterwards fled to sanctuary. But 
 the King caught 80 of them before they could escape, and 
 hanged them all.” 
 
 To the religious foundations, which had sprung up in 
 such numbers in every shire of England, and engrossed the 
 revenues of the secular and parochial clergy, the civil dis- 
 turbances of the last century were specially disastrous. Dis- 
 cipline had relaxed and could not easily be enforced. The 
 springs of charity which had supported the smaller houses 
 ceased to flow ; the estates of the greater houses, by the loss 
 of their tenantry, were neglected and became unproductive. 
 Debt, with no chance of redemption, weighed heavily upon 
 all. An extreme measure was required to avoid the scandal 
 and misery caused by this state of things ; and Wolsey, by an 
 Act not altogether unlike what we have seen in our own days 
 applied to Ireland,^ found it necessary to suppress and sell the 
 smaller and more encumbered houses. The larger, which 
 still remained, were necessarily modified by the circumstances 
 of the times, and their religious character impaired. They 
 admitted a number of lay inmates, or at least kept open house 
 for persons not connected with their foundations. In some 
 cases the abbots were bound to give endowments to scholars 
 of the King’s nomination, or provide them with competent 
 benefices ; ^ pensions and corrodies were granted under the 
 Privy Seal to yeoman ushers of the wardrobe and the 
 chamber, to clerks of the kitchen, sewers, secretaries, and 
 gentlemen of the chapel royal, ^ and these were strictly en- 
 forced, whatever might be the other incumbrances of the 
 house. We find Ammonius, in a letter to Erasmus, discussing 
 
 1 I. 4096. 
 
 2 It is important to note that this 
 was written in the year 1862. The 
 author, of course, alludes to the Eu- 
 cumbered Estates Act (1848), the 
 memory of which, and of all the good 
 it did while in operation, has since 
 been almost effaced causes of which, 
 doubtless, the less said here the 
 better. — E d. 
 
 ® I. 1235, 1360. One of the most 
 interesting of these cases is that of a 
 pension paid by the prior of St. Frides- 
 wide’s, Oxford, to Reginald Pole, then 
 
 a student in the University of Oxford, 
 af tei’wards Cardinal. No. 4190. Among 
 the warrants to the treasurer of the 
 Chamber is an entry dated Feb. 17, 
 1511-12, commanding him to pay “for 
 the behoof of our scholar, Raynold 
 Pole, son unto the said Lady Margaret 
 Pole,” 12Z. assigned to him for his study 
 and learning for this year ensuing, 
 “ like as we be minded to give unto 
 him yearly the same exhibition here- 
 after.” Westm., Feb. 17, 3 Hen. VIII. 
 
 " I. 49, 60, 106, 615, 920, 1072, 
 1081, 1595. 
 
IiiTL.c^j-^C'/ed'by H.T.SvcQl. 
 
 (^AKl)lXAL 1M)LK. 
 
 oi; ]'.:.7. 
 
 o:i'' t.iti,vn, in thk, f’oi..ij';(''n(-)N of 
 
 mi' I!'.' iiox'”-'"’ i.oiti) .\urxi)i;i, ok \\:\i;i)ori; 
 
1509-14.] 
 
 DECLINE OF MONASTICISM. 
 
 51 
 
 the question where the latter is to lodge when he comes to 
 London. The Augustinians have only unfurnished apart- 
 ments. He will not recommend the monastery where he is 
 lodging, as they keep a poor table. Another is not to be 
 thought of; it is too mean, and the rooms are not com- 
 fortable.^ Expressions strangely at variance with modern 
 notions of monastic seclusion and religious asceticism. 
 
 But, in fact, respect for monastic life had in a great 
 measure passed away with the necessity that created it. The 
 writings and example of Erasmus himself, a monk leading a 
 secular life, caressed by bishops and all the eminent men of 
 his time, were not of a nature to inspire respect for monastic 
 institutions. In England, no minister, no ecclesiastic, no 
 scholar, of any eminence, had of late years sprung from the 
 religious orders. Their influence over public opinion, at least 
 in the southern counties of England, had been entirely 
 eclipsed, and they had done nothing to recover it. That in 
 so large a body of men, so widely dispersed, seated for so 
 many centuries in the richest and fairest estates of England, 
 for which they were mainly indebted to their own skill, per- 
 severance, and industry, discreditable members were to be 
 found (and what literary chiffonnier, raking in the scandalous 
 annals of any profession, cannot find filth and corruption ?) is 
 likely enough ; but that the corruption was either so black or so 
 general as party spirit would have us believe, is contrary to all 
 analogy, and is unsupported by impartial and contemporary 
 evidence. The general complaint against them is that of 
 ignorance and bigotry ; and — what an Englishman would now 
 consider as the root of all evil — the absence of any ostensible 
 employment. Of this, however, more will be said hereafter. 
 
 The laxity thus introduced by the events of the last 
 century, and the occupation of bishops in political affairs, 
 allowed a freedom in religious practice and discussion to 
 spring up unchecked among the middle classes. Except a 
 man with more zeal than discretion chose to obtrude his 
 heresies in the face of his diocesan, he had little chance of 
 incurring the penalty of martyrdom. Of course then, as now, 
 there were exceptions. The canons were enforced with dif- 
 ferent degrees of severity in different dioceses. A prelate 
 might distinguish himself by unreasonable severity; — he 
 might enforce the law against a length of beard,^ or laxity of 
 opinions. But, in general, the indifference or contempt with 
 
 ^ I. 1982. ^ The canonists are verj stridb upon clerical beards. 
 
52 
 
 THE KEIGN OF HEXRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 which the bishops regarded departures from established 
 doctrines, especially when that dissent was not attended with 
 scholarship, was more galling in many cases than when they 
 launched against it their ecclesiastical fulminations. At a 
 later period, wdien Lutheranism grew into notice by its daring 
 defiance of ecclesiastical authority, the bishops changed their 
 measures, and became more strict and vigilant. The King’s 
 own book against Luther gave a new tone to the age, and a 
 sharper edge to ecclesiastical discipline. But as late as 1520, 
 diversities of religious opinion spread among the lower orders, 
 especially in the towns, without much notice from the 
 hierarchy. We find Ammonius, indeed, bantering Erasmus, 
 who was very susceptible of cold, on the price of faggots, in 
 consequence of the daily multiplication of heresy, and Erasmus 
 answering in the same tone.^ But this is a sort of banter 
 which must not be interpreted too literally. Had it been 
 literally true, a man of so mild a temper as Erasmus, and an 
 enemy to religious persecution, would scarcely have indulged 
 in so cruel a jest. Eoxe, who was not likely to have overlooked 
 such instances, records only two cases of capital punishment 
 for heresy during this early period of Henry’s reign.^ The 
 rapid increase of religious independence among the lower and 
 more illiterate classes in London, as stated by the Italian 
 secretary,^ may be accepted as a fact. But, saving their old 
 freedom of taxing the Pope and his doings, and the cherished 
 national privilege of preaching and being preached to, the 
 general body of the people had not yet learned to question the 
 established doctrines of the Church. For the most part they 
 paid Peter pence, and heard mass, and did as their fathers 
 had done before them. 
 
 I turn to some remarks on the ministers and ambassadors 
 through whom the business of the nation w^as carried on, at 
 home and abroad. 
 
 Sir Harris Nicolas has collected with great assiduity all 
 that relates to the constitution and powers of the Privy 
 Council.^ Unfortunately his researches point to a later period, 
 and he ha^ been able to throw very little light on the functions 
 and formation of that body as it existed in the early years of 
 
 ^ I. 1948, 1957. freely indulged in those very faults 
 
 2 Had Foxe, the Martyrologist, of suppression and equivocation for 
 been an honest man, his carelessness which ^e condemned his opponents, 
 and credulitywould have incapacitated ® Ammonius was Italian secretary 
 
 him from being a trustworthy his- to Henry VIII. — Ed. 
 torian. Unfortunately he was not ^ Proceedings of the Privy Council, 
 
 honest; he tampered with the docu- Pref. to Vol. VII. 
 nients that came into his hands, and 
 
1509-14.] 
 
 THE PEIVY COUNCIL. 
 
 53 
 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 Henry VIII. It is certain, however, from the answer made by 
 Henry VIII. to the rebels of Yorkshire in 1536, that the 
 appointment of the Lords of the Council, — of the Privy Council, 
 as it is sometimes called, — was entirely dependent on the 
 King’s pleasure. As some of the great officers of the Crown 
 had no seat at the Council, so men holding no office, and of 
 no rank, were to be found among its numbers.^ In fact, the 
 Privy Council at this time was apparently nothing more than 
 a body of advisers whom the King might summon at pleasure 
 to his presence, without binding himself to accept their sug- 
 gestions ; without necessarily consulting them on matters of 
 great moment. He might declare war, or determine peace, 
 or form treaties, or enter upon the most important negotia- 
 tions, not only without their advice, but without so much as 
 making them privy to his intentions. To our modern notions 
 it will seem strange that the orders of the Privy Council, 
 which are pretty frequent at the commencement of the reign, 
 should diminish in number in proportion as events become 
 important, as if they had been entrusted only with the ordi- 
 nary and formal business of the administration. In all 
 matters of domestic, and still more of foreign, politics the 
 King was absolute. No check was imposed upon his in- 
 clinations by his ministers or the House of Commons. Even 
 as late as 1526, when a body of regulations was issued for 
 the establishment of a Council, it will be seen that the 
 Council was far from being of the highest consideration 
 in the State. ‘‘Forasmuch as the Lord Cardinal,” it is 
 stated, “the Lord Treasurer of England, Lord Privy Seal, 
 Lord Steward, and divers other Lords and personages before 
 mentioned, by reason of their attendance at the terms for 
 administration of justice, and exercising of their offices, and 
 
 * The King, in his answer to the 
 demands of the rebels (State Papers, 
 I. 507), specifies as members of the 
 Privy Council in these early years the 
 Treasurer (Surrey), the High Steward 
 of the Household (Shrewsbury), Lords 
 Marney and Darcy, the Archbishop of 
 Canterbury (Warham), and the Bishop 
 of Winchester (Fox). The rest, he 
 says, were law'yers and priests. Among 
 the latter he doubtless includes Wolsey, 
 who was only Almoner when lie sate 
 in the Council. It is strange, and 
 hardly candid, that he should have 
 omitted the names of the Earls of 
 Oxford and Worcester, and Dr. Euthal, 
 Bishop of Durham, Secretary of State. 
 
 The entire list embraced the following 
 names ; — the Archbishop (Warham), 
 the Bishops of Winchester, London, 
 Eochester, and Durham, the Earls 
 of Surrey, Oxford, Shrewsbury, and 
 Worcester, Sir Thomas Lovell, Sir 
 Henry Marny, Sir T. Brandon, Sir T. 
 Englefeld, Sir Edw. Poyninges, Sir 
 John Husee, Sir H. Wiat, Sir Th. 
 Darcy, Dr. Yong, T. Docwra, and the 
 law officers Sir J. Cutte, Sir J. Fyneux, 
 and others. Wolsey does not appear 
 to have had a seat in the Council till 
 Nov., 1511, and therefore I. 679 is 
 misdated in the Calendar, and should 
 probably be referred to that year. 
 
54 
 
 THE KEIGN OF HENKY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 other reasonable impediments shall many seasons fortune 
 to be absent from the King’s court, and specially in term 
 times, to the intent the King’s highness shall not be any 
 season unfurnished of an honourable presence of councillors 
 about his grace, with whom his highness may confer upon the 
 premises at his pleasure; — it is ordered that the persons 
 hereafter mentioned shall give their continual attendance on 
 the causes of his said Council, unto what place soever his 
 highness shall resort.” Then follow the names of the Lord 
 Chamberlain, the Bishop of Bath, and others. “ And because 
 per case it may chance some of these aforenamed persons to 
 he absent, he it always provided that the Bishop of Bath, the 
 Secretary, Sir Thomas More, and the Dean of the Chapel, or 
 two of them at the least, always he present, being every day in 
 the forenoon by 10 of the clock at the furthest, and at after- 
 noon by two of the clock, in the King’s dining chamber, or in 
 such other place as shall fortune to be appointed for the 
 Council Chamber.” ^ 
 
 The great officers of the Crown were Warham Archbishop 
 of Canterbury, Chancellor; Thomas Earl of Surrey, Lord 
 High Treasurer ; Fox Bishop of Winchester, Privy Seal ; Sir 
 Edward Howard, Lord High Admiral ; the Earl of Shrews- 
 bury, Steward of the Household ; Lord Herbert, Chamberlain ; 
 Kuthal Bishop of Durham, Secretary of State. Of the 
 members of the Privy Council who enjoyed the greatest 
 influence, Wolsey, as might be expected, occupies the most 
 conspicuous place. Next to him was the Duke of Norfolk, “ a 
 person of extreme authority ; ” to whose jealousy of the 
 Cardinal foreign ministers, when they could not succeed with 
 Wolsey, were more than once indebted for valuable informa- 
 tion. Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, nearer than any 
 other to the King in age, tastes, and love of martial exercises, 
 shared much of his confidence, although he was infinitely 
 inferior to Henry in all literary and intellectual qualifications. 
 “He is associated with his Majesty,” says Giustinian, “ ton- 
 quam intelligentiam assistentem orhi, which governs, commands, 
 and acts with authority scarcely inferior to the King him- 
 self.”^ Next in authority was Fox, Bishop of Winchester; 
 
 * Ordinances for the Household. simply addressed, “ To the King’s 
 (Soc. of Antiquaries), 160. — I have Majesty,” etc. 
 
 abridged one or two needless expres- ^ Brown’s Four Tears at the Court 
 
 sions. I may observe that the style of Henry VIII., i. 119. As Mr. Brown 
 “King in Council” has no warrant remarks, the “ oi'b ” which governs is 
 whatever from any document of this evidently Wolsey. — E d. 
 early date. The letters are always 
 
1509-14.] 
 
 ARCHBISHOP WAEHAM AND FOX. 
 
 55 
 
 last of all, Euthal, the patient drudge of Wolsey. Warham is 
 seldom mentioned, and none of the rest appear to have en- 
 joyed any consideration. 
 
 It will seem strange that the name of Warham should 
 occur so seldom except in connection with his high legal 
 functions. He is never engaged in any diplomatic mission of 
 importance. He appears from the first to have declined all 
 public business. Drafts, memoranda, and letters are frequent 
 in the handwriting of Fox, Euthal, and Wolsey. But nothing 
 of the kind is found in the handwriting of Warham. In the 
 bustle and excitement consequent on the wars in Guienne and 
 Flanders, and the naval preparations against the French, 
 
 I Warham remained an impassive spectator. He fell at the 
 first from the great group which surrounded the throne of the 
 young prince, and lost whatever influence he might otherwise 
 have commanded by his station and experience. To what 
 causes this neglect is to be attributed, it is by no means easy 
 to discover. The vulgar supposition which imputes it to 
 jealousy on the part of Wolsey is without foundation. Long ' 
 before Wolsey’s name appears among the king’s advisers, 
 Warham’s want of influence is visible. Jealousy of the Arch- 
 bishop’s power over the young king would have been the most 
 causeless thing imaginable ; for he never had any. He was 
 never acceptable either to Henry or to Katharine. His 
 munificence to Erasmus procured for him the praise and 
 gratitude of that somewhat venal scholar ; but with the solitary 
 exception of Erasmus, and perhaps of the unhappy Duke of 
 Buckingham, for whom he seems to have entertained some 
 kindness, it would be hard to point out a single person with 
 whom Warham lived on terms of friendship. Probably, there- 
 fore, the little influence he enjoyed at court may be attributed, 
 with more justice, to a hardness and inflexibility of temper, 
 which could not bend to the new state of things, or comply 
 with the impetuous and stirring movements of Henry VIII., 
 so contrary to the stateliness, reserve, and mystery of the 
 previous reign. In 1513 we have indications that the Arch- 
 bishop was engaged in a dispute with Fox,^ the most devout 
 and gentle of all Henry’s ministers. We find Katharine, no 
 less gentle and conscientious than Fox, in allusion to the same 
 dispute, hinting at the same infirmity ; ^ and Warham’s own 
 letters at a subsequent period confirm the impression of his 
 discourtesy, not to say moroseness. 
 
 ^ “ A lord of extreme authority and goodness,” says Giustinian, i. 163. 
 
 2 I. 4452. 
 
56 
 
 THE REIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 Nor does the common tradition, which owes its parentage 
 to the spite of Polydore Vergil, whom Wolsey had committed 
 to prison, rest on any better foundation. This historian, 
 who never forgot the injury, and never could forgive the 
 Cardinal, would have us believe that Wolsey paved the way 
 for his own advancement by supplanting Pox, and driving him 
 from the Council. The calumny, like many others affecting 
 the intimacies of great men, has no foundation. It was better 
 suited to the atmosphere of Eome than of England. And had it 
 been uttered here, Polydore would probably have been told, as 
 one of his countrymen was told by an Englishman on a similar 
 occasion: “Non isto vivitur illic, quo tu rere modo.’’ The 
 insinuation is at variance with the correspondence of the two 
 ministers. We see in their letters, not only the cordial friend- 
 ship which existed between them, but also the rooted disin- 
 clination of Fox to a life of diplomacy. It is only with the 
 strongest arguments that Wolsey can prevail on him to give 
 his attendance at the court, and occupy his seat at the Council 
 table. He was always anxious to get away. He felt it incon- 
 sistent with his duties as a bishop to be immersed in politics, 
 and he laments it to Wolsey, in a letter to be noted hereafter, 
 in terms the sincerity of which cannot be mistaken. In fact 
 the noblest minds of the time often experienced the bitter 
 struggle between the King as their conscience and their con- 
 science as their King. Others than Fox regretted that they 
 had neglected their spiritual calling to serve the State. 
 
 It must also be remembered that Fox belonged to the old 
 order of things, when monastic seclusion to men of his devout 
 turn, and total retirement from secular employments seemed 
 the only life that deserved the name of religious. Great was 
 the fascination exercised by Henry VII., and still more by 
 Henry VIIL, over the minds of such men; but times of com- 
 punction came when this total alienation of thought and action 
 from their duties as spiritual men became an intolerable 
 burthen. So far from driving Fox from the court, it is the 
 utmost that Wolsey can do to bring him there ; and when he 
 succeeds, it is evidently more out of compassion for Wolsey’s 
 incredible labours than his own inclination. 
 
 In this respect the statesmen of Henry differ greatly from 
 those of Elizabeth. Numerous are the complaints of the 
 weariness and expense of public employment. There is not 
 an ambassador who does not send reiterated entreaties to the 
 King or Wolsey to be recalled and released. Men of still lower 
 

 IQ) TLT Jll ]H1 A\ M . 
 
1509-14.] 
 
 PUBLIC BUSINESS FALLS ON WOLSEY. 
 
 57 
 
 grade petition continually for exemption from offices which 
 were greedily sought a century later. The simpler and 
 sincerer habits of those days, must not be measured by the 
 finesse and dissimulation of later times. Habits of seclusion 
 were congenial to the age. 
 
 So the main weight of public business fell upon Kuthal 
 and Wolsey ; the former of whom had the reputation of being 
 the wealthiest prelate in England, and was not altogether 
 exempt from the imputation of penuriousness. His import- 
 ance was due to his close connexion with Wolsey,^ and to his 
 dignity as Bishop of Durham. Owing to the proximity of 
 Durham to the borders, none but a wealthy prelate could hold 
 that see with efficiency. It demanded a princely income to 
 keep Norham and the neighbouring fortresses in repair, and 
 provide against the continual incursions of the Scots. It 
 needed a wealthy bishop, but no more ; the less formidable for 
 genius or ambition the better. For there were elements of 
 discord and insubordination in the North, which might burst 
 forth at any time, and find a nucleus for their organization in 
 an active and enterprizing prelate. On that head there was 
 not much to apprehend from the talents or ambition of 
 Euthal. The numerous letters and drafts in his handwriting, 
 often mistaken for Wolsey’s, and probably written at Wolsey’s 
 dictation, show Kuthal’s labour and patience. His own letters 
 do not inspire much respect for his judgment or his genius. 
 
 Unlike his fellows in the Council, Wolsey’s attention to 
 business was not distracted by the duties of a high ecclesias- 
 tical appointment, or even the claims of large territorial 
 estates. He held at this time no other preferment than the 
 deanery of Lincoln. The bent of his genius was exclusively 
 political ; but it leaned more to foreign than domestic politics. 
 It shone more conspicuous in great diplomatic combinations, 
 for which the earlier years of the reign furnished favourable 
 opportunities, than in domestic reforms. No man understood 
 so well the interests of this kingdom in its relations to foreign 
 powers, or pursued them with greater skill and boldness. 
 The more hazardous the conjuncture, the higher his spirit 
 soared to meet it. His intellect expanded with the occasion. 
 Even at this early time he knew the extent of his power, and 
 the temper of those with whom he had to deal. In a very 
 characteristic letter to his vicar-general at Tournay, Dr. 
 
 ^ “ Singing treble to the Cardinal’s base,” is the expression of Giastiniaii, 
 i. 260. 
 
58 
 
 THE REIGN OF HENRY YIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 Sampson, who alleged the difficulties he encountered in his 
 administration there, Wolsey tells him to do his duty “Ye 
 need not doubt thereof ; the pope would not offend me for one 
 thousand such as the elect ^ is, nor there is no such thing 
 spoken of nor intended. I would not have you muse upon the 
 moon, but to go straightly and wisely to my matters.” Proud 
 Cardinal and proud prelate were the terms lavished upon him 
 by men as proud as himself, with much less reason to be 
 proud. From a humble station, by his own unassisted efforts 
 he had raised himself to the most consj)icuous position, not in 
 this nation only, but throughout the whole of Europe. “ He 
 was seven times greater than the Pope himself,” is no exagge- 
 ration of the Venetian Giustinian ; for he saw at his feet, what 
 no Pope had for a long time seen, and no subject before or 
 since. Princes, Kings, and Emperors courting his smiles. 
 Born to command, infinitely superior in genius to those who 
 addressed him, piercing their motives at a glance, he was lofty 
 and impatient. But there is not a trace throughout his 
 correspondence of the ostentation of vulgar triumph or 
 gratified vanity. Grave and earnest, it occasionally descends 
 to irony — is sometimes pungent, never vainglorious. Am- 
 bassadors from foreign courts, when they first visit England, 
 address themselves to the King, and write letters to the 
 Council. After a few weeks a little penetration enables them 
 to discover by whose judgment and decision every great 
 question will be eventually decided. 
 
 But throughout the whole period of his long administra- 
 tion, and through all his correspondence, it is remarkable how 
 small a portion of his thoughts is occupied with domestic 
 affairs ; and with religious matters still less. Looking back 
 upon the reign, and judging it as we do now by one great 
 event, and one only, it appears inconceivable that a man of 
 so much penetration and experience should have taken such a 
 little interest in the religious movements of the day, and 
 regarded Luther and the progress of the Beformation with so 
 little concern. Grand also and munificent as w^ere his notions 
 of education, it is hard to find any statesman of his eminence 
 wdio manifested less interest in the revival of letters, and 
 cared less for Ciceronianisms and Latin elegancies. When, 
 from a variety of causes, questions of domestic interest became 
 
 * I. p. 949. the English; who was never con- 
 
 * The French bishop elected to the secrated, but was continually seeking 
 see of Toui’nay before its conquest by recognition from the Pope. — Ed. 
 
1509 - 14 .] 
 
 WOLSEY’S CAREER. 
 
 59 
 
 ! 
 
 I paramount, and the Sovereign and the nation were engrossed 
 I in religious discussions, the genius of Wolsey was no longer 
 j required. It no longer occupied the entire field of politics. 
 
 ! The result was fatal ; younger men understood the temper of 
 j the times better than he ; they had the advantage of mixing 
 ! in the strife with minds less prejudiced by the traditional 
 j maxims of the past ; they were less trammelled by rules 
 ! which no longer suited the rapid changes of the age. But so 
 I long as domestic questions remained in abeyance — so long 
 as the movements of Francis I., Charles V., or the Pope, 
 
 ' were immeasurably more important than labourers’ wages, 
 j the exactions of the London clergy, or the excesses of the 
 Ecclesiastical courts — so long the genius of Wolsey rode 
 
 I triumphant. No one could for a moment mount within his 
 sphere, or contest his superiority. 
 
 The eclipse of his greatness was inevitable. It was in 
 some measure owing to the dying off of his older associates 
 who had served under Henry VII. — to the youth and inex- 
 perience of the men about Henry VIII. — to the reluctance 
 with which Wolsey admitted fresh hands to a share of his 
 labours. More than once he was urged by the King to promote 
 younger associates, and provide for contingencies in the public 
 service. More than once he finds excuses for complying, not 
 from envy or selfishness ; but, like other great and successful 
 I ministers who have long stood supreme and alone, he grew 
 more fastidious as he grew older ; he v/as less willing to 
 hazard his measures by intrusting them to others, or damage 
 the success of his plans through the indiscretion and inex- 
 i perience of younger heads. With the failing natural to old 
 
 . age, he was more willing to tax his waning strength, than 
 
 undertake the ungracious and unpalatable task of communi- 
 cating his designs and explaining their bearings to raw asso- 
 ciates. The policy was fatal ; — it angered the King, it raised 
 up a host of enemies in the able and rising courtiers. It left 
 1 Wolsey friendless when he most needed friends ; and the 
 moment an opportunity offered of attacking the minister 
 - behind his back, it was readily seized on. Without any great 
 ingratitude on the part of his Sovereign, his fall was inevitable ; 
 the work and the time had outgrown him ; — and the exj^ression 
 put into his mouth by the great dramatist, ‘'the King has gone 
 beyond me,” expresses Wolsey’s profound conviction of the real 
 causes of his disgrace, and the impossibility of his restoration. 
 But of his wonderful genius, most wonderful in the earlier 
 
60 
 
 THE KEIGN OF HENRY YIIL 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 stage of his career, abundant proofs will be found in the 
 corresjpondence of the time. The policy of Henry VIII. at the 
 outset presented as great a contrast to the policy of Henry VII. 
 as the administration of Cromwell did to his predecessor’s. 
 No minister so thoroughly understood that change as Wolsey, 
 or entered upon it with so much zeal and energy. 
 
 Of his personal appearance the most faithful record will 
 be found in his picture at Hampton Court. On that portrait 
 the memorial sent by Sebastian Giustinian to his Signory in 
 1519 is the best comment : — 
 
 ‘‘He is about forty-six years old,” says the writer, “very 
 handsome,^ learned, extremely eloquent, of vast ability, and 
 indefatigable. He alone transacts the same business as that 
 which occupies all the magistracies, offices, and councils of 
 Venice, both civil and criminal ; and all state affairs likewise 
 are managed by him, let their nature be what it may. 
 
 “He is pensive, and has the reputation of being extremely 
 just. He favours the people exceedingly, and especially the 
 poor, hearing their suits and seeking to despatch them 
 instantly. He also makes the lawyers plead gratis for all 
 paupers. He is in very great repute, seven times more so 
 than if he were Pope.^ 
 
 “He is the person,” continues the ambassador, “who 
 rules both the King and the entire kingdom. On the ambas- 
 sador’s first arrival in England he used to say, ‘ His Majesty 
 ivill do so and so ; ’ subsequently by degrees he went on for- 
 getting himself, and commenced saying, ‘ We shall do so and 
 so ; ’ at this present he has reached such a pitch that he 
 says, ‘ I shall do so and so,’ ” 
 
 The story of his low" birth, though noticed by Giustinian, 
 is apparently exaggerated.^ Its common version is hardly 
 
 by Skelton. Speaking of the dread 
 entertained of Wolsey by the nobility, 
 be has these lines ; — 
 
 “ They dare not look ont at doors 
 For dread of the mastiff cur ; 
 
 For dread the butcher’s dog 
 Would worry them like a hog.” 
 Why co7tie ye not to Court ? ver. 293. 
 
 And again he asserts : — 
 
 “ His base progeny 
 And his greasy genealogy ; 
 
 He came out of the sink royal 
 That was cast out of a butcher’s 
 stall.” — Ver. 488. 
 
 ^ Yet his implacable enemies, 
 Skelton and Roy, state that he was 
 disfigured by the small-pox. Skelton 
 adds that he was 
 
 “ So full of melancholy, 
 
 With a flap afore his eye.” 
 
 Why come ye 7iot to Court ? ver. 1166. 
 
 Apparently a hanging eye-lid. He 
 elsewhere speaks of Dr. Balthazar, 
 Queen Katharine’s surgeon, beino- em- 
 ployed by Wolsey for a complaint in 
 his eye. Ver. 1194. It is noticeable 
 that Holbein gives Wolsey’s side face 
 only. 
 
 ^ Desp. ii. 314. 
 
 ^ The story was probably set afloat 
 
1509-14.] 
 
 DESCRIPTION OF WOLSEY. 
 
 61 
 
 consistent with the Privy Seal/ Feb. 21, 1510, granted to 
 Edmund Daundy, of Ipswich, empowering him to found a 
 chantry in the southern nave of St. Lawrence, Ipswich, to 
 pray for the good estate of the King and the Queen, and 
 among others for the souls of Eobert Wolsey and Joan his 
 wife, father and mother of Thomas Wolsey, Dean of Lincoln. 
 Indeed, had the story been true, it is highly improbable that 
 it would have escaped the notice of his implacable enemy 
 Polydore Vergil. He was educated at Oxford for the priest- 
 hood, but from the expression in his father’s will, published 
 by Fiddes, appears to have felt some reluctance at taking 
 orders. Many evidences remain of his skill in the Latin 
 tongue, hut none that he was a master of any other, whether 
 French or Italian. Though theology was not his forte, yet 
 even his old enemy and maligner, Polydore Vergil, admits 
 his abilities as a theologian.^ According to the same writer, 
 he was a Thomist, and induced the King to study the works 
 of Aquinas. Beneath the malice of his personal enemies it 
 is easy to trace the more obvious traits of his person and 
 character. He was extremely popular in his manners ; 
 offended the older courtiers of the last reign by his wit, 
 and by the absence of that reserved and solemn demeanour 
 which, we can readily believe, was acceptable at the court 
 of Henry VII. From the bitter and indiscriminate satire of 
 Skelton, written at a later period, we gain a few other personal 
 traits of the Cardinal. After affirming that the French, 
 though defeated in legitimate warfare, shot crowns at the 
 cardinal’s hat and blinded him — ■ 
 
 “ That he ne see can, 
 
 To know God or man ; ” 
 
 he proceeds in the following strain : — 
 
 ‘ ‘ He is set so high 
 In his hierarchy, 
 
 Of frantic phrenesy 
 And foolish phantasy, 
 
 That in the Chamber of Stars 
 All matters there he mars. 
 
 Clapping his rod on the Board, 
 
 No man dare speak a word ; 
 
 For he hath all the saying. 
 
 Without any renaying.^ 
 
 He rolleth in his records. 
 
 And saith, ‘ How say ye, my Lords ? 
 
 ' I. 899. * “ Divinis litteris non indoctus,” p. 17. ^ Contradiction. 
 
62 
 
 THE REIGN OF HENRY YIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 Is not my reason good ? ’ 
 
 Good even, good Robin Hood ! ^ 
 
 Some say, ‘ Yes ; ’ and some 
 Sit still as they were dumb. 
 
 Thus thwarting over them 
 
 He ruleth all the roast 
 
 With bragging and with boast.” ^ 
 
 Expressive enough this, of the Cardinal’s abrupt behaviour to 
 the Lords in the Star Chamber. The charge of not keeping 
 the Lent fast, a graceless accusation from Skelton, has some 
 foundation in fact : 
 
 ‘ ‘ In Lent, for a repast. 
 
 He eateth capons stewed. 
 
 Pheasant and partridge mewed.” 
 
 for we find in the records of the time that, in consequence of 
 the weakness of his stomach, Wolsey had obtained a dispen- 
 sation from Leo X. to eat flesh in Lent. The poet is not less 
 severe against the Cardinal’s conduct as chancellor, and his 
 contempt of the lawyers who pleaded before him : 
 
 “At the Common Pleas, 
 
 Or at the King’s Bench, 
 
 He wringeth them such a wrench, 
 
 That all our learned men 
 Dare not set their pen 
 To plead a true trial 
 Within Westminster Hall. 
 
 In the Chancery where he sits. 
 
 But such as he admits. 
 
 None so hardy to sj)eak. 
 
 He saith, ‘ Thou huddypeke. 
 
 Thy learning is too lewd | ’ ” 3 
 
 He then alludes to divisions in the Privy Council ; ^ — to the 
 vast crowd of suitors who attended the Cardinal’s palace at 
 Hampton Court as compared with the King’s Court ; — to the 
 influence which the Cardinal exercised over^the King’s mind : 
 
 “ That all- is but nut-shells 
 That any other saith : 
 
 He hath in him such faith.” ® 
 
 Not satisfied with this indiscriminate condemnation of 
 Wolsey’s public conduct, Skelton proceeds to attack him for 
 his want of learning : 
 
 “He was but a poor master of art ; 
 
 God wot, had little part 
 
 ' They are compelled to be civil ver. 181. Written about 1524. 
 as one is to a robber who demands ® Ib. 383. 
 
 his purse. ■* Ib. 401. 
 
 ^ Why come ye not to Court ? ® Ib. 440. 
 
1509-14.] 
 
 DISLIKE OF WOLSEY. 
 
 63 
 
 Of the quadrivials, 
 
 Nor yet of tri vials/ 
 
 Nor of philosophy. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 His Latin tongue doth hobble, 
 
 He doth but clout and cobble 
 In Tully’s faculty.” ^ 
 
 And for this charge there might be some foundation in the 
 little apparent interest taken by Wolsey in classical learning. 
 Such indifference was enough to expose him to the attacks of 
 the popular writers of the day. But abuse so virulent and 
 unguarded defeats itself. Besides, in animosity against the 
 Cardinal, Skelton was animated by party feelings. He was 
 a native of Norfolk, had evidently resided some time at 
 Norwich,^ was intimate with the Duke of Norfolk and his 
 son, and never omits any opportunity of recommending him- 
 self to their good graces by praising some member of the 
 family, or blackening their personal and political adversaries.^ 
 Yet when occasion demanded, Skelton could be as servile to 
 Wolsey as at other times he was severe. 
 
 For the long feud between Wolsey and his formidable 
 rival in the cabinet, Thomas Earl of Surrey, the Treasurer, 
 created for his victory at Flodden Duke of Norfolk, there is 
 much better authority. From one of Wolsey’s own letters® 
 it is clear that Polydore Vergil was not far wrong in stating 
 that he and Fox regarded this nobleman with dislike. They 
 suspected him of tempting the King into habits of extravagance, 
 and fostering his passion for military distinction. Polydore 
 insinuates that the earl made use of his influence with the 
 King for the selfish purpose of repairing his estates crippled 
 by the late civil wars. I cannot find any documents which 
 justify this assertion. No extraordinary gifts to the Earl in 
 land or money are to be found among the earlier records of 
 the reign; with the exception of his patent of nobility, and 
 the annuities granted him after the battle of Flodden ; ® — a 
 victory which eclipsed all others in the estimation of his 
 contemporaries, and could scarcely be overpaid by any honours 
 or emoluments. In common with other members of his family. 
 
 ^ That is, either of tbe bigber or distance from tbe gates of that city, 
 
 lower university training. ^ One of bis most biting poems 
 
 ^ Ver. 5U9. is upon Cbristopber Garnisb, whose 
 
 ® The scene of big most popular name frequently occurs in tbe Calendar, 
 
 poem, “ Philip Sparrow,” is laid at ^ I. 3443. 
 
 Carrow Abbey, the ruins of which ® I. 4694. 
 
 remained not long since at a little 
 
61 
 
 THE REIGN OF HENRY YIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 the Duke was not partial to Wolsey. He disliked the influence 
 exercised by the Churchmen over the young King, and pro- 
 bably hoped to counteract their authority by engaging Henry 
 in foreign conquests and removing him from the sphere of 
 their influence. The feud descended to the next Duke ; and 
 their party was espoused by the Earl of Northumberland. 
 They would have been much more formidable opponents, but 
 for the affection which the King entertained for Charles 
 Brandon, afterwards Duke of Suffolk. Henry’s partiality to 
 this brilliant nobleman exceeded the bounds of ordinary 
 friendship. He pushed Brandon’s fortunes with the affection 
 and assiduity of a brother. But Suffolk managed a war-horse 
 much better than he wielded a pen.^ He took but little 
 interest in politics, and his subsequent marriage with Mary, 
 the King's sister, compelled him to espouse the side of Wolsey 
 rather than of Norfolk. The other members of the Council 
 had a vote, no more ; vox et prteterea nihil. 
 
 Of the offlces connected with the Privy Council little needs 
 be said. The chancellorship of the Exchequer was a patent 
 office of forty marks a year. The King’s secretary, if Erasmus 
 may be trusted, was a more lucrative post. The most eminent 
 of the number was Eichard Pace, who in these early years 
 appears only as the faithful servant and executor of Cardinal 
 Bainbridge. The Secretaries of State were secretaries, and no 
 more, employed in making fair copies of despatches. The 
 secretary for the Latin tongue was Andreas Ammonius, the 
 friend and correspondent of Erasmus ; the secretary for 
 the French tongue, Peter Meautys, whose salary amounted to 
 no more than forty marks a year.^ 
 
 Of the ambassadors of the time few seem to have been 
 drawn from the higher class of the nobility. The duties and 
 emoluments, and even the honour of such appointments, were 
 not sufficiently tempting. The usual fixed pay of a resident 
 was five shillings a day, increased by occasional bounties from 
 the King. In some instances the ambassador was paid as 
 much as 20s. per diem, but this sum included his own travel- 
 ling expenses and diet and those of his suite. John Stile, 
 sent to reside with the King of Arragon, Jan. 20, 1511, is 
 
 * Of the three greatest noblemen is the most tortuons and ingeniously 
 of the time, the Duke of Suffolk, the perverse. Doubtless it was phouetic ; 
 Duke of Buckingham, and the Marquis and fastidious readers will be shocked 
 of Dorset, it Avould be hard to say to learn that the aspirate often pre- 
 which was the most illiterate. Per- dominated where it had no right, 
 haps the spelling of the Duke of Suffolk ^ I. 5SS. 
 
1509-14.] 
 
 AMBASSADOES. 
 
 65 
 
 paid 10s. a day ; Sir Eobert Drury and Lord Dacre, ambas- 
 sadors into Scotland, 20s. a day; June 19, 1511. Dr. Yong, 
 Master of the Eolls, on his embassy into France, July 18, 
 1511, the same. When the Bishop of Eochester (Fisher), the 
 Prior of St. John’s, and the Abbot of Wynchcombe, were sent 
 ambassadors to the Pope, Feb. 5, 1512, the first and 
 second received 800L, the third 800 marks, for their expenses 
 during 160 days. Dr. West, ambassador into Scotland, 
 April 16, 1512, had 20s. a day, and Lord Dacre, sent with 
 him, 40s. a day. In addition to his pay as an ambassador, 
 John Stile receives a pension. May 12, 1511, of 40 marks 
 yearly for his services beyond sea; Thomas Spinelly, 50L, 
 Dec. 23, 1511.^ But their emoluments and their dignity 
 were entirely dependent on the King’s liberality; and, as the 
 sums given them were often irregularly paid, and generally in 
 arrears, the position of an ambassador was not always to be 
 coveted. More, writing to Erasmus,^ in his usual pleasant 
 strain, describes in lively colours the miseries to which an 
 English plenipotentiary was subjected. Tunstal,” he says, 
 “has just left this; having spent scarcely ten days here, and 
 none to his own satisfaction. He has been anxiously and 
 arduously employed all the time in setting forth those things 
 which belong to an ambassador’s commission. No sooner is 
 this over, than, vastly against his will, he is thrust again on 
 a new legation, without any warning. I never liked the ofiice 
 of an ambassador. We laymen and you priests are not on 
 equal terms on such occasions ; for you have no wives or 
 children at home, or find them wherever you go. Whereas 
 whenever we laymen are away, we are called back by the love 
 of our wives and our families. When a priest starts on his 
 mission, he can take his whole family with him, and feed at 
 the King’s expense, those whom he must otherwise have fed 
 at home ; but whenever I am absent I have two families to 
 keep, one at home and one abroad. The King provides 
 tolerably well for those whom I must take with me ; but no 
 consideration is paid to those whom I leave behind. You 
 know what a kind husband I am ! what an indulgent father, 
 and lenient master ! and yet for all this I cannot prevail on 
 my wife, children, and servants to close their mouths and 
 stop eating until I return.” The miseries of ambassadors, 
 
 * These notices are from the warrants directed to the Treasurer of the 
 Chamber. 
 
 2 Ep. ii. 16. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 F 
 
66 
 
 THE KEIGN OF HENRY YIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 thus jocosely insisted on by More, find an echo in earnest in 
 the correspondence of the ministers at the different courts ; 
 and though the cares of their employment were sometimes 
 alleviated by donatives or appointments, it was sufficiently 
 onerous and ill-paid to deter many competitors from seeking it. 
 
 Of the ambassadors thus employed few were of high birth, 
 or, with one exception, of high position. John Stile, the 
 English ambassador at the expensive court of Ferdinand and 
 Isabella, was a man of no rank or education. His English is 
 extremely uncouth and often obscure. It is not improbable 
 that he was engaged in business, like others in the same 
 position.^ Peter Martyr calls him a gentleman of the chamber. 
 This may well be ; for such occupations were not considered 
 incompatible with a place at court. Thus, Eichard Lloid, 
 groom of the chamber, is searcher in the port of Yarmouth ; ^ 
 Brian Tuke, clerk of the signet, obtains a licence to export 
 kerseys James Worsley, groom of the robes, to import wine 
 and woad;^ Giles Talbot, groom of the chamber, to import 
 400 tons of the same Sir Wistan Brown and William Sydney, 
 to export 2,000 sacks of wool.® They may have retailed these 
 licences to Italian or other merchants, and occupied their 
 offices as searchers by deputy. But whether they traded in 
 their own names, or used their influence at Court in obtaining 
 these licences for others, never seems to have been either 
 questioned or condemned. 
 
 Another of these ambassadors, Thomas Spinelly, the Eng- 
 lish resident in Flanders at the court of the Archduchess, was 
 evidently a merchant like his brothers. His earlier letters 
 are written in French, his latter ones in English ; but he 
 wrote neither of those languages with elegance, and barely 
 with correctness. He seems to have been by birth an Italian ; 
 but little else is known of him beyond the information 
 furnished by his own correspondence. Like Stile, he appears 
 to have been employed by Henry VII. He died in the King’s 
 service at the court of Spain in 1524. Sir Eobert Wingfield, on 
 the contrary, the ambassador with Maximilian, was of a good 
 family, settled in the county of Suffolk, and evidently a man 
 of some litferary culture, — a gift he did not hide in a corner. 
 He was deputy of Calais, but discharged the duties of that 
 
 ^ The nanie of John Stile, grocer 
 (that is, engrosser), London, alias 
 scribe, occurs in I. 1662; and again, 
 of John Stile, collector at the port of 
 Plymouth (I. 1810), who is certainly 
 the same as the ambassador at the 
 
 court of Arragon. 
 
 2 I. 700. 
 
 3 I. 1873, 3700. 
 ^ I. 2058. 
 
 ® I. 4746. 
 
 6 I. 3143. 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 < 
 
 \ 
 
 1 
 
 \ 
 
 i 
 
 ! 
 
 
 I ' 
 
 I 
 
 jl 
 
 il 
 
T.H.Bara€tt. 
 
1509-14.] 
 
 AMBASSADOHS. 
 
 67 
 
 place by Sir Eichard Wingfield, his brother. His allowance at 
 the court of the Emperor was 20s. a day,^ and the liberal 
 grants made him by the King are evidences of the estimation 
 in which he was held.^ He, too, seems to have been employed 
 by Elenry VII. In fact, with the exception of Cardinal Bain- 
 bridge at Eome, the same names of English and foreign 
 residents occur under both reigns. Cardinal Bainbridge was 
 selected for his high ecclesiastical position in a court entirely 
 governed by Archbishops and Cardinals. His wealth probably 
 was an additional motive. For none but a wealthy prelate 
 could hope to support the expense of a residence at Eome. 
 His rival in the same court. He Giglis, Bishop of Worcester, 
 who was supposed to be instrumental in Bainbridge’ s death, 
 had been in the service of Henry VII. So was Hadrian de 
 Corneto, the patron of Polydore Vergil ; both of whom seem to 
 have tasted the bounty of Henry VIII. The letters of these 
 ecclesiastics, and the correspondence relating to Bainbridge’s 
 murder, are of the greatest interest. Above all, the letter of 
 Wolsey to the Bishop of Worcester,^ partly on that subject, and 
 partly on the efforts made to obtain for him the cardinalate, 
 will repay an attentive perusal. Sir Edward Ponynges, Hr. 
 Will. Knight, Sir Thomas Boleyn, Hr. Tunstal and Hr. Yong, 
 Masters of the Eolls, and the Earl of Worcester, were employed 
 on occasional missions of more than usual delicacy and import- 
 ance. But the permanent residents were generally men of a 
 lower position. This policy was inaugurated by Henry VII. 
 It seemed to his reserved and suspicious temper safer to trust 
 meaner instruments, whom he could shake off at pleasure 
 without incurring danger from their resentment. It was more 
 economical. The employment of humbler men had, moreover, 
 this advantage : they could more easity accommodate them- 
 selves to circumstances, and collect information with greater 
 readiness than men of higher rank and pretensions. We are 
 gainers by this policy in the minuteness of details furnished 
 by such negociators, and in the absence of all affectation of 
 political sagacity. They report the occurrences of the hour 
 and the day with a laborious fidelity, which is of the utmost 
 value to the modern historian, and forms a refreshing contrast 
 to the dry and pompous formalities of later diplomatists. Of 
 the actions and personal appearances of Maximilian and 
 
 ^ From the 20th of May, 1510, to ^ See Index to Vol. i. of the 
 the 31st of Oct., 1512, his full allow- Calendar, 
 ance was 8961. See Calendar, Vol. ii. ® I. 5465. 
 p. 1459. 
 
68 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 Ferdinand, of the movements of the unconquerable Julius, 
 the Caesar of all Pontiffs, more trustworthy information can 
 be gained from the unpretending reports of Wingfield, Spinelly, 
 or even Bainbridge, than from any other sources. 
 
 But it is desirable to know something, not merely of 
 ministers and ambassadors, but of the nation. Of what 
 elements were the people, the gentry, the nobility composed ? 
 What classes were now on their way to promotion? What 
 changes were taking place in social life ? A careful study of 
 the grants from the Crown, partly enrolled on the Patent 
 Bolls, but many of them only recorded in the Privy Seals and 
 Signed Bills of the reign, supplies the best answer to these 
 questions. It is from documents such as these, bald and 
 uninteresting as they may seem, that we must look in future 
 for any light on the history of the English gentry and of that 
 body of men who from the time of the Eeformation have been 
 identified with all the great constitutional struggles in this 
 country. The dissensions which ploughed up the land in the 
 previous century exterminated with few exceptions the old 
 race of nobility. A few, like the Duke of Norfolk, still 
 remained, rather as fragments of their ancient grandeur, to 
 connect the era of the Tudors with that of the Plantagenets, 
 than in the full integrity of their might. But the civil wars 
 turned up a new soil to the surface, from which all the great 
 names in modern history have sprung ; and the cradle of the : 
 
 new race is to be seen in these Signed Bills and Privy Seals. , 
 
 This will be understood more clearly when we describe the 
 nature of the information which these documents contain. 
 Among them are to be found the nominations of ambassadors, 
 confirmations of treaties, commissions, summonses for Con- 
 vocation and Parliament, creations of nobility, conges d'elire 
 of bishops, abbots, and priors, presentations to livings and ; 
 pensions, stewardships of forests and manors, distribution of 
 forfeited lands, appointments at court, pensions, lists of i 
 sheriffs, mortmain licences, wardships, cancels of recog- 
 nizances wrung from his subjects by Henry VII., licences to i 
 import and' export merchandize, to beg alms for the redemption 
 of captives and the like. But even this list will scarcely convey 
 to the reader a just idea of the significance of these documents, j 
 unless he bear in mind that they are also the records of the 
 personal acts of the Sovereign, not of his ministers. No other ‘ 
 papers, in fact, can give such an adequate notion of the f 
 enormous powers of the Crown, under the Tudors, or show i 
 
1509-14.] WEALTH AND POWEK OF THE SOVEREIGN. 
 
 69 
 
 more distinctly the steps by which it had been aggrandized 
 under Henry VII. Under Henry YHI. the patronage and the 
 revenues of the Crown were immense. Besides the ordinary 
 grant of tonnage and poundage, the expenses of the King’s 
 household were provided for by an annual grant of 19,400L, 
 not including the assignments for the Wardrobe. To these 
 must be added the sums received from Lewis XII., the sub- 
 sidies voted to the King in various years by the Commons and 
 ; the Convocation, benevolences exacted under the title of free 
 gifts, and loans that were never repaid. Happily these were 
 not of frequent occurrence. When, however, the necessities 
 of the Crown were urgent, the nobility and gentry were sent 
 i down to their several counties to stir up the liberality of the 
 inhabitants. They were commanded to bring up their 
 tenantry and the neighbouring towns to meet together, in 
 order to determine on a contribution for the King, and each 
 man’s quota. A troublesome opponent or refractory minority 
 was easily controlled by a threat of being sent to London, to 
 state their objections before the Privy Council — a threat which 
 generally proved effectual in silencing opposition. For the 
 expenditure of these and other sums, levied on the nation, the 
 King was responsible to no one. He had no control beyond 
 his own sense of right, or the dread of unpopularity, always a 
 potent check upon the Tudors. Henry VII., by his ministers 
 Empson and Dudley, imposed fines, upon different pretexts, 
 under the names of recognizances, with what justice may be 
 seen in the acts of his son and successor. The early pages of 
 the Calendar are loaded with cancels of these recognizances. 
 In more than one instance, the writ is even charged with a 
 clause that such recognizances were made “ without any cause 
 reasonable or lawful, by the undue means of certain of the 
 learned Council of our late father, contrary to the law, reason, 
 and good conscience, to the manifest charge and peril of the 
 soul of our late father, and that the sums contained in those 
 recognizances cannot be levied without the evident peril of 
 our late father’s soul, which we would for no earthly riches 
 see nor suffer.”^ 
 
 These remarks, however, can only give a feeble idea of the 
 wealth and power of the Sovereign. Small chance as there 
 was of successful opposition to his wishes, the King was in 
 some measure dependent for these sources of his revenue on 
 the good will of his subjects. There were others for which he 
 
 I. 1004, also 1756, sq. 
 
70 
 
 THE REIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 was not dependent upon them in any measure, and in the 
 employment of which they would no more have presumed to 
 express an opinion than he would have thought of demanding 
 it. In the union of the houses of York and Lancaster in 
 Henry YIL, it must not he forgotten that, besides a union of 
 claims to the Crown, there was a union of estates. Before this 
 time Yorkist or Lancastrian had to supply the expense and 
 means for war from one-half only of the revenues which fell 
 into the hands of Henry VII. The lands of attainted and 
 rebellious nobles were confiscated to the Crown ; the estates 
 of a Yorkist increased the Crown lands of a Lancastrian, the 
 triumphant Yorkist retaliated the same measure on his 
 Lancastrian opponent. When the war ended, heirs and 
 claimants had died off, or were in ill-favour or under suspicion 
 of disaffection; and even when the attainted lands were 
 restored, some portion stuck fast in the transit ; a part was 
 voluntarily surrendered to secure the remainder. The re- 
 bellions under Henry VII. added greatly to these acquisitions ; 
 and the reader has only to turn over a few pages of the 
 Calendar to see how the Crown lands had augmented through- 
 out the length and breadth of England by the attainders of 
 the He la Poles, the Salisburies, the Charltons, the Empsons, 
 and the Dudleys. In fact, treason was more profitable to 
 Henry VII. than any other branch of his revenue. 
 
 Amidst the legal and state fictions of this day, it is hard 
 to realize the true position of a Tudor sovereign in the six- 
 teenth century. The lands of the Crown, by whatever means 
 acquired, were as much in the King’s power as those of any 
 other landlord. His personal management and control of 
 them were as unlimited. He exchanged them, cut down the 
 timber, built up or pulled down, appointed stewards or 
 managers as he pleased, and at whatever salary he pleased. 
 The revenues he derived from them were his own, to employ 
 or waste at his pleasure. It is probable that this vast increase 
 of estates under the first Tudors did not bring a proportionate 
 increase of revenue ; but it placed the power and supremacy 
 of the King on a footing it had never been placed on before. 
 It afforded him numerous opportunities of bestowing lucrative 
 appointments on his courtiers. He had at his own immediate 
 disposal the stewardships of forests, manors, chaces, castles, 
 fisheries, and mines ; the collector ships of customs in various 
 ports ; nominations to churches on his estates ; not to mention 
 his ancient right of wardship and marriage, which now sunk 
 
Mont A. CUTE 
 
 EA.RL af SELISB im 'Y . 
 
 I ’^cIrjT^7icZ 7<? i>y S.JIa7'dz7i^ . 7 'Zy Jii-71 3^0.71 &: TP. TBt'Oivzl Thzjwzi S?Si77io . 
 
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 i 
 
 I 
 
 
1509-14.] WEALTH AND POWER OF THE SOVEREIGN. 
 
 71 
 
 into an insignificant item compared with the more splendid 
 and lucrative offices at his sole disposal. What is the result ? 
 The forests and chaces maintained a numerous and hardy 
 race of men, trained to arms, and ready for the King’s service 
 at any time he should deem fit to employ them. They formed 
 a standing army without its obnoxious features ; without the 
 dangers to which standing armies are subject, of becoming 
 mischievous weapons in the hands of their officers. The 
 appointment of customs at various ports was not only a 
 reward for past services, hut a watch on the loyalty and 
 disaffection of the towns, and the indirect means for trans- 
 mitting important information of foreign or domestic insurrec- 
 tions. Even wardships were not without their uses in this 
 respect ; for the King could, as we have positive evidence that 
 he did, entrust to those of whose fidelity he had no suspicion 
 the wardship, training, and marriage of the sons and daughters 
 of disaffected families. Of course, appointments of ambas- 
 sadors, commissions in the army and navy, had been in his 
 gift from time immemorial ; but now, in consequence of the 
 vast augmentation of the Crown lands, he could supplement 
 the small wages attached to such employments by some 
 lucrative post on the royal estates. 
 
 It may be thought that, after all, Henry would he guided 
 by his ministers ; that he could know nothing or little of the 
 hundreds of claimants on his bounty. As an answer to that 
 objection, we find among the warrants to the Treasurer of the 
 Chamber,^ signed by the King, one in favour of William 
 Wynesbury, his Lord of Misrule, directing the treasurer to 
 pay him 5^., ‘‘ upon a prest, {i.e. as an advance) towards his 
 reward for his business against this Christmas next ensuing.” 
 But annexed to the above is a note from the petitioner to the 
 following effect : — “ If it shall like your Grace to give me too 
 much, I will give you none again; and if your Grace give 
 me too little, I will ask more.” An indication of the freedom 
 with which Henry sometimes allowed himself to be addressed, 
 for he granted the petition ; and still more, of the petitioner’s 
 conviction that the writ would be read by the King. 
 
 But we have better evidence than this. On examining 
 these appointments, it is remarkable how many of them are 
 made to those who are or have been in personal attendance 
 on the Sovereign. Scarcely any man holds an office of import- 
 ance who is not familiarly known to the King. The Howards, 
 
 ^ Dated Dec. 9, 1509. 
 
72 
 
 THE REIGN OF HENRY YHI. 
 
 [A.D, 
 
 the Brandons, the Jerninghams, the Sydneys, the Plantagenets, 
 the Sherbornes, the Fitzwilliams, the Marneys, were or had 
 all been squires or knights of the Body or gentlemen of the 
 Chamber. The King’s patronage naturally flows in this 
 direction ; and we have this curious result, that not only all 
 great and important offices in the army, the navy, and all 
 influential departments of the State, are filled by men who 
 have been in personal attendance on the King, but that the 
 exclusive road to promotion is dej)endent on this personal 
 service. No minister dispenses or even shares the patronage 
 of the Crown ; he may recommend, but evidently that recom- 
 mendation is confined within the narrow circle of those who 
 are already known to the Sovereign by personal and assiduous 
 service. All this has changed the King’s position, and vastly 
 augmented his power. Unlike the old haughty nobility, who 
 kept a jealous watch over the powers of the Crown, and, in the 
 absence of constitutional restraints, acted as a check upon 
 the undue extension of its prerogatives, the ministers under 
 the Tudors, taken from a lower rank, looked up to the Crown 
 and the extension of its authority as a support for their own. 
 They are the servants of the Crown, an epithet which the 
 ancient nobility of a past age would have rejected with disdain, 
 as they would have rejected that subordination which it 
 signified. 
 
 It is scarcely necessary for me to point the moral suggested 
 by these remarks. It begins to shape itself in the dim vision 
 of the past, and the confusion of the civil wars. As it drifts 
 along the current of events, it assumes more gigantic and 
 more definite proportions. War, peace, and even rebellion 
 force the consideration of it on the minds of men. It flits in 
 dim consciousness across the thoughts of devout men like Fox 
 in their struggle between loyalty and conscience. It stings 
 fierce men into treason, and thoughtful men into disobedience. 
 Even the passions of men and the policy of kings, with no 
 higher object than their own selfish interests, become instru- 
 mental to its development. The ecclesiastics who surrounded 
 the throne of Henry VII. and Henry VHI., and sanctioned 
 with their presence and authority the acts of both those 
 monarchs, invested royalty with a spiritual influence in the 
 minds of the people which could not be disintegrated from it, 
 or resumed when the Kings changed their religious principles, 
 and dismissed their spiritual ministers. The royal supremacy 
 was now to triumph after years of efforts apparently fruitless 
 
1509 - 14 .] 
 
 THE ROYAL SUPREMACY. 
 
 73 
 
 and often purposeless. That which had been present to the 
 English mind for centuries was now to come forth in distinct 
 consciousness armed with a power which nothing could resist. 
 Yet that it should come forth in such a form is marvellous. 
 All events had prepared the way for the king’s temporal 
 supremacy. Opposition to papal authority was familiar to 
 men ; but a spiritual supremacy, an ecclesiastical headship, 
 as it separated Henry YIII. from all his predecessors by an 
 immeasurable interval, so was it without precedent and at 
 variance with all tradition. Fools could raise objections, the 
 wisest could hardly catch a glimpse of its profound significance. 
 
74 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 i 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 SUFFOLK AND MARY— DESIGNS OF FRANCIS I. 
 
 ! £ 
 
 i 1 
 I i 
 
 ! S 
 
 The political fabric reared by Wolsey with so much labour, , 
 skill, and perseverance, fell to the ground at the death of ' ^ 
 Lewis XII. By the marriage of the Princess Mary with Lewis I ^ 
 the policy of the treaty of Cambray had been turned back * 
 upon its authors. One chief object of that policy had been, ^ 
 as explained already, to shut out England from all interference ^ 
 in continental politics ; to render France, in effect, the dictator ^ 
 of Europe ; and, what in those days was scarcely less im- ^ 
 portant for this purpose, to leave the Pope entirely dependent i i 
 on the will of the Christian"^ King. But by this marriage * 
 alliance Wolsey had contrived, under the semblance of an < 
 equal partition of authority, to make England in reality pre- ; ' 
 dominant. So it was felt to be by Lewis himself, and more ' 
 so by his successor. The feeble health of the King, prematurely 1 
 aged,^ and shorn of his due influence by this new affinity, was , * 
 no match for the ambition of Henry or the genius and vigour 
 of Wolsey, now in the prime of his life.^ Ferdinand, advanced 1 
 in years, and not less a martyr to sickness, was contented to < 
 let things take their course, provided he was not molested in i 
 his own dominions, and his new conquest of Navarre was not t 
 called in question. Maximilian, penniless, fertile in devices i 
 for raising money too transparent to deceive, and never a 1 
 penny the richer, even when his plots were successful, was a ' 
 greater terror to his friends than to his enemies. No prince 
 
 ^ In that age life wasted and waned 
 apace. Men were old and worn out at 
 60. Lewis XII. did not live to com- 
 plete his 54th year, and was a wreck, 
 not merely by the report of his 
 enemies, but by his own admissions 
 to Suffolk and others. Francis I. died 
 at 53 ; Maximilian at 60 ; Charles V. 
 at 59. Wolsey, who passed for “an 
 old man broken with the storms of 
 State,” even before his fall, died at 
 55. More remarkable still, Henry YII., 
 whose portraits show indications of 
 
 extreme age in the wasted face and 
 neck, the long bony fingers and feeble- 
 ness of their grasp, died at the early 
 age of 52, completely worn out in 
 mind and body. The fearful excite- 
 ment through which they had passed 
 told heavily upon them ; — like men 
 who had struggled and buffeted for 
 life in a stormy sea, and saved it only 
 to drag out a few weary years on dry 
 land. 
 
 ^ He was only 40 or 41. 
 
! 
 
 1515.] ENGLAND’S MOMENTARY ASCENDENCY. 75 
 
 jhad grander schemes, or less ability and perseverance. Beady 
 to pawn the Holy Eoman Empire to the highest bidder, it was 
 fortunate for the tranquillity of Europe that none of the 
 ' Frescobaldi or Buggers of that age would advance the money 
 Ion any security Maximilian could offer. Nominally the 
 governor of his grandson Charles, he possessed no real in- 
 ijfluence. Grandson and ministers were alike deaf to his 
 r entreaties for money, and jealous of the interference of 
 Margaret of Savoy, who furthered his schemes with the 
 'I adroitness of a female politician and the fidelity of a daughter. 
 
 I So the triumph of Wolsey was complete. For his triumph 
 i it was, and none ventured to dispute his claim. It was his 
 ' first great effort at diplomacy ; and his influence dated from 
 I that effort. With what prudence and ingenuity he had 
 mastered the difficulties that stood in his way cannot be told. 
 He had to overcome the reluctance of Mary herself, even at 
 n that time attached to Suffolk, and break off her engagement 
 : with Charles. This was but a small part of his task. It was 
 j not to be expected that Francis would submit without a 
 struggle to a match which imperilled his succession. The 
 ; difficulties were greater at home. Any union with France was 
 unpopular; it was not acceptable even to those councillors 
 who shared the King’s confidence. The old nobility, represented 
 by Norfolk,^ opposed it ; and the more so as Wolsey’s success 
 j sealed his supremacy and their downfall. 
 
 The debates upon this marriage and the alliance with 
 France had given rise to a mortal struggle in the Privy 
 Council between the old party and the new, of which only 
 feeble indications have reached us. Would the King yield to 
 this new influence and new nobility, of whom Suffolk was the 
 chief, or would he continue his old advisers ? The struggle 
 had ended in a triumph for Wolsey, to be dissipated by the 
 death of Lewis XII. The powers of confusion were again 
 abroad. A powerful minority, irritated by defeat, had resolved 
 once more to strike for supremacy. Matters abroad wore a 
 gloomier aspect ; — a young sovereign on the throne of France, 
 
 ^ “ Would God my Lord of York 
 (Wolsey) had come with me in the 
 room of my Lord of Norfolk, for then 
 I am sure I should have been left 
 much more at my heart’s ease than I 
 am now.” — Mary to Henry VIII., I. 
 5488. And in I. 5512 Sufeolk tells 
 Wolsey that he will perceive the 
 hostile intentions of the Duke of 
 
 Norfolk and his son, to whom it was 
 owing that Mary’s servants were dis- 
 charged on their arrival in Paris be- 
 cause they w^ere of Wolsey’s choosing, 
 not theirs. It is worth observing that 
 at the tournament held at the French 
 court in honour of Mary’s marriage, 
 no mention occurs of any of the 
 Howards. 
 
76 
 
 THE REIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 full of ardent hopes and ambition, the darling of all the daring 
 and restless spirits of the age, despised the English alliance ; 
 
 — Charles and his ministers were sulky and offended, — Fer- 
 dinand old and distrustful, — Maximilian ready to sell himself, 
 his lance-knechts, and the Swiss, to work for pay, plunder, 
 or conquest ; — war gloomed in all directions and in all forms. 
 Who was to ride the storm, and manage the elements ? — that ■ | 
 was the question, which every man asked, and each one 
 answered in his own way. • 
 
 This struggle, productive of so many momentous conse- 
 quences, drew Suffolk and Wolsey closely together. The first i 
 
 thing to be done was to send an embassy, and congratulate i 
 
 Francis I. on his accession. At the head^of it was the Duke 
 of Suffolk, who had only returned from France six weeks 
 before. The deputation arrived at Senlis on Saturday the 
 27th of January.^ Francis was then at Eheims for his 
 ‘‘ sacring,” and desired the ambassadors to meet him at 
 Noyon on Thursday, Candlemas eve. No reception could he 
 more gracious or condescending. He gave them hearty 
 welcome ; asked lovingly after the health of the king and the ^ 
 queen, expressed his pleasure at this renewal of the good i 
 understanding heWeen the two countries, and appointed a 
 formal audience for Friday, February 2. That day West, 
 afterwards Bishop of Ely, made a Latin harangue, a weari- 
 some and indispensable part in such ceremonials. He 
 enlarged on the virtues and qualities of a good ruler, and con- 
 cluded by expressing a hope that the future conduct of Francis 
 would be conformable to the promises he had made, when 
 Duke of Angouleme. To his livelier audience the speech had 
 too much the air of a homily ; hut they were civil enough to 
 say that the matter was good, and the Latin elegant. Francis 
 thanked the deputation for their compliments, and alluded to 
 the death of his predecessor. They had good reason, he said, 
 to be sorry, ‘‘forasmuch as the late King had married the 
 Princess Mary, of which marriage,” he said, “ he was a great 
 cause, trusting that it should have long endured.” In their 
 reply the ambassadors thanked the King in their master’s 
 name for the singular comfort he had given Mary in this 
 season of her affliction, calling to his mind “ how lovingly he 
 had written to Henry, by his last letters, that he would neither 
 do her wrong, nor suffer her to take wrong of any other 
 person, but be to her as a loving son should be to his mother.” 
 
 II. 105. 
 
 I 
 
1515.] 
 
 FKANCIS I. AND SUFFOLK. 
 
 77 
 
 Francis answered, he could do no less for his honour, seeing 
 that she was Henry’s sister, a noble princess married to his 
 predecessor ; ” and he expressed a hope that she would write 
 to England, and report, “ how lovingly he had behaved to 
 her.” Thus ended the public audience. 
 
 The same day, sending for the Duke into his bedchamber, 
 Francis thus addressed him : ‘‘ My Lord of Suffolk, so it is 
 that there is a bruit in this my realm that you are come to 
 marry with the queen, your master’s sister.” Utterly taken 
 aback by this announcement, it was in vain that the discomfited 
 Suffolk stammered out a denial, and protested he had no such 
 intentions. In the utmost confusion, he entreated the King 
 not to impute to him so great a folly as to come into a strange 
 realm and marry a Queen there without the consent of the 
 Sovereign. I ensure your grace,” he added, “ I have no such 
 purpose, nor it was ever intended on the King my master’s 
 behalf, nor on mine.” Francis replied, that if Suffolk would 
 not be plain with him he must be plain with the Duke ; and 
 then proceeded to inform him that Mary herself had broken 
 the matter to him, and he for his part had promised “ on his 
 faith and truth, and by the troth of a King,” that he would do 
 his best to help her. He then detailed certain secrets which 
 had passed between Mary and Suffolk,^ calling up the deepest 
 crimson into Suffolk’s face. And when,” continues Suffolk, 
 describing the interview to Wolsey, “ he had done thys, I cold 
 do non lyes but to thanke lies grace for the greth godnes that 
 his grace in tynded to schaw unto the quyene and me ; how 
 by et (howbeit) I schowd lies grace that I was lyke to by ondon 
 (to be undone) if the matter schold coume to the knollag of 
 the kyng me masster.” Francis reassured him ; told him to 
 be under no apprehension, for as soon as ever he reached 
 Paris he would see the Queen, and then both should write 
 letters with their own hand to Henry “ in the best manner 
 that could be devised.” Suffolk concluded by expressing his 
 satisfaction at what had passed : “ My Lord,” he says, repeat- 
 ing the conversation to Wolsey, “after mine opinion, I find 
 myself much bounden to God, considering that he that I feared 
 most is contented to be the doer of this act himself, and to 
 
 ^ “ The which I knew no man alive give you in your hand my faith and 
 could tell them but she ; and when he troth, by the word of a King, that I 
 told them I was abashed, and he saw shall never fail her or you, but to help 
 it, and said : ‘ Be not disturbed, for and advance this matter betwixt her 
 you shall say that you have found a and you with as good a will as I would 
 kind friend and a loving ; and because for mine own self.’ ” 
 you shall not think no wrong of her, I 
 
78 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENEY YIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 instance the King my master in the same for me, whereby his 
 grace shall be marvellously discharged, as well against his 
 council as all the other noblemen in his realm” 
 
 Wolsey’s reply to this letter is of so much importance to 
 the clear understanding of this strangest of all negociations 
 that I venture to insert it entire. The draft only remains at 
 the Kecord Office. The words in italics were inserted by 
 Wolsey himself. 
 
 My Lord, 
 
 “In my most hearty manner I recommend me unto your good 
 Lordship, and have received your letter written with your own hands, 
 dated at Paris ^ the 3rd day of this month, and as joyous I am, as any 
 creature living, to hear as well of your honorable entertainment with the 
 French king, and of his loving mind towards you for your marriage with 
 the French queen, our master’s sister, as also of his kind offer made unto 
 you, that both he and the said French queen shall effectually write unto 
 the king’s grace for the obtaining of his good will and favour unto the 
 same. The contents of which your letter I have at good leisure declared 
 unto the king’s highness, and his grace marvellously rejoiced to hear of 
 your good speed in the same, and how substantially and discretely ye 
 ordered and handled yourself in your words and your communication 
 with the said French king, when he first secretly brake with you of the 
 said marriage. And therefore, my Lord, the king and I think it good 
 that ye procure and solicit the speedy sending unto his grace of the letters 
 from the said French king touching this matter, assuring you that the King 
 continueth firmly in his good mind and purpose towards you, for the accom- 
 plishment of the said marriage, albeit that there be daily on every side 
 practices made to the let of the same, which I have withstanded hitherto, and 
 doubt not so to do till ye shall have achieved your intended purpose ; and ye 
 shall say, by that time that ye know all, that ye have had of me a fast f riend. 
 
 “ The king’s grace sends unto you at this time not only his especial 
 letters of thanks unto the French king for the loving and kind entertain- 
 ment of you and the other ambassadors with you, and for his favorable 
 audience given unto you and them, but also other letters of thanks to the 
 queen his wife, and to other personages specified in your letter jointly 
 sent with the other ambassadors to the king’s grace. And his Highness 
 is of no less mind and affection than the French king is for the con- 
 tinuance of good peace and amity betwixt them. And his grace will 
 favourably hear such ambassadors as the said French king shall send 
 hither to commune and treat upon the same ; and upon the overture of 
 their charges ye shall be with all diligence made privy thereunto. The 
 Lady of Suffolk is departed out of this present life ; and over this, my Lord, 
 the king’s grace hath granted unto you all such lands as be come into his 
 hands by the decease of the said Lady of Suffolk ; and also by my pursuit 
 hath given unto you the lordship of Claxton, which his highness had of 
 my Lord Admiral for 1,000 marks, which he did owe to his grace. 
 
 “And fipally, my Lord, whereas ye desired at your departing to have 
 an harness made for you, the king’s grace hath willed me to write unto 
 you, that he saith that it is impossible to make a perfect headpiece for 
 you, unless that the manner of the making of your sight were assuredly 
 known. And because I am no cunning clerk to describe the plainness of 
 such a thing, inasmuch as ye shall perceive by this my writing what the 
 matter meaneth, ye may make answer to the king’s [grace] upon the same, 
 like as ye shall think good. 
 
 An error for Senlis. 
 
FKAXCIS’ ENTEY INTO PAKIS. 
 
 79 
 
 1 1515.] 
 
 j ‘‘•And whereas ye write that the French hing is of no less good will 
 towards me than his predecessor ivas, I pray you to thank his grace for the 
 j same, and to offer him my poor service, which, next my master, shall have 
 I mine heart for the good will and mind which he heareth to you ; beseeching 
 I you to have my affairs recommended, and that I may have some end in the 
 I same, one way or other. And thus for lack of more leisure I hid you most 
 heartily farewell, beseeching you to have me recommended to the queen’s grace. 
 
 I “ From my house besides Westminster.’’ 
 
 Suffolk and his fellows went on to Paris, and arrived there 
 I on February 4. The King stayed behind at Compiegne to 
 I give audience to the ambassadors sent by Charles, Prince of 
 I Castile, for a marriage between himself and Madame Kenee, 
 the youngest daughter of Lewis XII., then four years old. 
 
 I Ferdinand, the old King of Spain, with unwise rivalry had 
 j demanded her hand, at the same time, for the Infant Ferdinand, 
 thus early fomenting a misunderstanding between the two 
 ; brothers. On the 13th, Francis made his entry into Paris. 
 “ M. de Nassau and M. de St. Py,” says Gattinara, who was 
 present on the occasion, writing to Margaret of Savoy — 
 
 ' “were on a scaffold, with the queen and the ladies to view the sight ; 
 
 ' and on the same scaffold were the duke of Suffolk and the deputy of 
 I Calais (Wingfield), who have left off their mourning ; and we others were 
 ' in a house, and looked out of the windows at the pageant. Very near us, 
 in another house, was the queen widow (Mary), and certes, Madame, the 
 entry was fine and sumptuous. First came the archers of the town, a 
 goodly number, all with their habits of goldsmith’s work of one pattern ; 
 
 ' then the eschevins and governors of the town, all attired in black velvet, 
 with a great train of people ; after them, the crafts, dressed in silks, and 
 all on horseback ; then the foot soldiers of the town in great number, 
 dressed en Suisse ; then the provost on horseback and the town councillors, 
 in scarlet ; and next his archers, bedizened with goldsmith’s work ; after 
 them “ la Justice du Chastellet,” with a dozen councillors in scarlet and 
 fur hoods {chaperons) ; then the general of the finances, followed by the 
 accountants, in cloth of silk and splendid furs ; then 80 members of the 
 court of parliament, in scarlet, with their hoods on their shoulders, and 
 the four presidents, with their mantles and hoods, and caps on their 
 heads, clothed in the same manner as I am, when we pronounce our 
 arrets. After a short interval followed 200 pensionaries, all armed and 
 trapped, accoutred and covered, both horse and man, with cloth of gold 
 of various fashions and devices ; — a sight very gorgeous to behold. Next 
 followed the Swiss Guard ; then the old knights of the Order, armed, 
 trapped, and accoutred with cloth of gold ; amongst whom I recognized 
 M. de Piennes, M. de Bussy d’Amboise the elder, M. de Champdenyer, and 
 M. des Chanes. Then came the ushers of the Chancery in great number, 
 and the masters of requests, attired in black velvet furred with letices ; 
 then a horse by itself, which carried the little casket of the seal, set upon 
 a cushion on the saddle, which was of blue velvet sprinkled with fleurs de 
 Us of gold ; then came the Chancellor, wearing over his crimson robe a 
 scarlet cloak, cut on both sides in a different manner from those of the 
 i others, and a different cap on his head. Afterwards came the pages and 
 the equerry of the king, all dressed in white, partly in velvet and partly 
 ' in silver cloth ; and the horses, all Spanish, were also accoutred in white ; 
 then the trumpeters, the heralds, and the kings of arms, in white silk 
 
80 
 
 THE REIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A,D. 
 
 robes, bearing their coats of arms ; next the king, armed, upon his barbed 
 horse, wholly accoutred in white and in cloth of silver. The king did not 
 keep under the canopy {pale\ but displayed his horsemanship by con- 
 tinually curvetting and prancing. And there were good horses and riders 
 who did marvels to attract the notice of the ladies. After the king, and 
 behind the canopy, came the princes of the blood, so richly accoutred, 
 mounted, and barbed, that I know not how to describe them. Then came 
 the 200 gentlemen of the king’s household ; all armed and barbed in 
 divers colours, some more richly than others, and they marched in troops 
 and in battalions, with their lances on their thighs, and morions on their 
 heads. Finally came the 400 archers of the guard, all armed and bearing 
 lances. 
 
 “ After the king’s servants had passed, we waited to see the queen 
 pass as she returned to the palace. First came 20 horses of the duke of 
 Suffolk’s servants, all attired in grey damask, with many of M. de Nassau’s 
 gentlemen ; next those of his household and of his litter, with M. de 
 Nassau and M. de Sainct Py in front. The queen’s litter followed, with 
 the queen and Madame d’Angouleme. In another litter were Madame 
 Renee and the daughter of the Duke of Longueville lately deceased, and 
 another young lady. A third litter contained the old Madame de Bourbon 
 and the young Madame d’Alengon, sister to the king. Five other litters 
 followed. After these came the acquinees to the number of 24 ; the first 
 14 ladies being dressed in cloth of gold, the others in various fashions. 
 The duke of Suffolk spoke as he walked with the first of the said ladies, 
 who some say was the Duchess of Longueville. Next followed tliree 
 chariots filled with ladies. 
 
 “ This evening a banquet was held in the palace, in which M.M. de 
 Nassau and Sainct Py supped with the King. The ambassador of the 
 Pope sate next the king on his right hand, then the duke of Suffolk, M. 
 de Nassau, the deputy of Calais, and M. de Sainct Py, the Venetian 
 ambassador, and no more. On the left hand were seated : — M. d’Alengon, 
 M. de Bourbon, his brother who was made duke, M. de Lorraine, M. de 
 Vendome, who has also lately been made duke, and others, whom I have 
 forgotten, as I was not there. The banquet is said to have been sumptuous. 
 
 “ This morning M. de Nassau was told that an answer would be given 
 us to-day, which has not been the case. The king has caused the English 
 embassy to go to him ; and the grand master, M. de Boissy, M. de Bussy 
 the elder, and three or four great personages, have gone to accompany 
 and conduct them, which it is not the custom to do until after the first 
 audience. This appears to be done in order to make us advance ; but as 
 we do not know the wishes of our master, the king and his council will 
 perhaps think we have come only to entertain them. 
 
 “Paris, 16 Feb. 1515. 
 
 I forgot to say that at the entry there were a great number of eccle- 
 siastics, and more than 300 Cordeliers, without mentioning the other 
 Orders ; for after the king had caught sight of them, they were made pass 
 through other streets where the men-at arms did not come.” 
 
 There were anxious hearts at the gay ceremony. On the 
 Tuesday ;^revious Suffolk had paid his first visit to Mary. 
 To his inquiries of the French King’s behaviour, she replied, 
 in general terms, as if evading the question, that he had been 
 in hand with her about many matters, but on hearing of 
 Suffolk’s arrival had promised to desist, j>raying her not to 
 disclose what he had said to her, either to the King or Suffolk; 
 ‘‘ for because your grace (Henry) should not take none un- 
 
1515.] 
 
 MARY AND FRANCIS I. 
 
 81 
 
 kindness therein.” Suffolk would fain have persuaded himself 
 that Francis had observed his promise: ‘'I think,” says the 
 Duke, writing to Henry, ^ ‘^hen’old do anything that should 
 discontent your grace ; or else I will say that he is the most 
 untrue man that lives.” The same day the Duke wrote to 
 Wolsey,^ to say he had been in hand with Mary to ascertain 
 the nature of the communications between her and Francis, 
 of which he had written in his last ; and she had confessed 
 that Francis had used importunities that made her “ so weary 
 and so afeard ” he would try to ruin Suffolk, that she had 
 thought it best to be candid, and had said to him : “ Sir, I 
 beseech you that you will let me alone, and speak no more to 
 me of these matters ; and if you will promise me by your faith 
 and truth, and as you are a true prince, that you will keep it 
 counsel and help me, I will tell you all my whole mind.” On 
 his promise of secrecy, Mary avowed her engagement to 
 Suffolk, begging the King to have pity and mitigate her 
 brother’s displeasure. 
 
 Once already she had been sacrificed to political considera- 
 tions, and might reasonably apprehend that the promises 
 made her by Henry would not be permitted to take effect, if 
 an eligible match were demanded by the nation, or dictated 
 by national expediency. Henry was aware of her affection for 
 Suffolk before her late portentous union with Lewis. He had 
 promised her, when she parted with him at the water side,”^ 
 that if, to oblige him, she would marry Lewis this time, she 
 should be permitted on the next occasion to do '' as she list.”^ 
 But besides her brother’s good will, the consent of others had 
 to be gained, “hinderers,” as she calls them, and enemies to 
 the man she loved, who would not scruple to retard his 
 advancement. Her marriage was the topic of conversation in 
 every court of Europe ; political agents and ambassadors 
 canvassed the chances of this or that suitor for the Fair 
 Queen, La Royne Blanche, as she was commonly called, 
 whose hand was eagerly sought for its own sake, and not less 
 for the prospective advantages it held out in the uncertainty 
 of Henry’s issue. What was the nature of the offers made 
 her b}" Francis, whose Queen ^ had been already consigned to 
 
 ^ Feb. 8. II. 133. livery ; ” “ et mesmes pour ce que le 
 
 II. 134. roy (Francis) est puissant, et qu’il y 
 
 No. 227. lia signe et apparence que Tenfant 
 
 ^ No. 228. qu’elle porte sera gross et puissant.” 
 
 ® Claude, like her mother, was very — Gattinara to Margaret, Feb. 14. 
 short and very corpulent. “ She is Le Glay, Negociations, ii. 53. See 
 with child : — many fear for her de- also Calendai’, II. 647. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 G 
 
82 
 
 THE REIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 the tomb by the seers and prognosticators of the time, I do , 
 not care to inquire. More than once she had been pestered 
 by his solicitations within the first week of her widowhood,^ 
 sometimes in his own behalf, sometimes in behalf of others, 
 and among the rest for the Duke of Savoy.^ ‘‘ If Mary con- 
 tinue at this court,” writes Gattinara to Margaret of Savoy, 
 “they speak of her marriage with your brother-in-law, whom 
 the King, as I am told, has invited to court, and offered to 
 furnish with money.” The Duke of Lorraine, as the Emperor 
 told Maraton, was anxious to have her, and his suit was 
 favoured by the King of France.^ To this list must be added 
 the Duke of Bavaria and the Prince of Portugal. Maximilian, 
 too, who had foresworn matrimony, and resigned himself to the 
 hopes of canonization, entertained designs upon the hand of 
 this modern Penelope. In the depth of his embarrassments, 
 and the difficulty of finding some decent pretext to raise money, 
 a negociation for a marital alliance with England, whether 
 successful or not, held out the prospect of wealth in earnest, 
 or at least a liberal loan from the purse of so rich a brother- 
 in-law. Not long since he had written to his daughter 
 Margaret, declaring that he would never marry again for 
 “beauty or money,” were he to die for it.^ But beauty he 
 could resist; not so the charms of money. “Madam,” says 
 Lewis Maraton, writing to Margaret on the 9th of February, 
 “ I have received your letter this morning, dated Brussels, the 
 1st February, with the portrait of a certain person whom you 
 know ; and after dinner, when the Emperor was in his chamber, 
 I showed it him. He kept his eyes fixed upon the portrait for 
 a full half-hour or more ; and after thus attentively gazing he 
 summoned a secretary who had seen the said personage, and 
 asked him if it was very like. The secretary told him, ‘ there 
 could not be a better likeness.’ The Emperor has commis- 
 sioned me to ask you, without letting it be known that he had 
 taken any interest in the matter, to write to the king of 
 England to get the lady into his own hands, urging his 
 majesty of England that if she be married in France, and 
 were to die without heirs, his kingdom would be exposed to 
 great hazards.”^ The Emperor’s application arrived too late, 
 and was strangled in the birth, like most of his projects. 
 
 But whilst sovereigns were looking wistfully at the great 
 
 ^ Nos. 134, 139. 3 ]^4gociations, ii. 73 n. 
 
 ^ Charles III., Duke of Savoy. - Corresp. de Max., ii. 379. 
 
 Negociations, ii., 46, 47, Feb. 4. ® Le Glay, Negociations, etc., ii. 73. 
 
1515.] 
 
 MAEY AND SUFFOLK. 
 
 83 
 
 prize, and politicians at home and abroad were speculating 
 on the chances, or projecting matches for Mary, she had taken 
 the matter into her own hands. She possessed, like the rest 
 of the Tudors, though with less opportunities of displaying it, 
 a spice of that wilfulness, which more than once, in cases of 
 emergency, served her family in lieu of nobler qualities, and, 
 if not magnanimity itself, might easily he mistaken for it. 
 The attentions of Francis had been intolerable, ungenerous, 
 and unmanly, especially in her forlorn and youthful state. 
 She had waived the subject, when pressed by Suffolk, with 
 natural modesty and reluctance. But to Henry himself she 
 spoke out more plainly.^ She told him she had been com- 
 pelled to disclose to Francis her affection for Suffolk, in order 
 to be relieved of the annoyances of his suit, which was not to 
 her honour ; and, in conclusion, she urged her brother for 
 leave to return, that she might not be exposed to a repetition 
 of them. Henry’s answer was not such as she might have 
 expected. There was a party in the Council who opposed her 
 union with the Duke for obvious reasons. She wrote to her 
 brother a second time, reminding him of his promise : ^ 
 
 _ “ Sir, — Your grace knoweth well that I did marry for your pleasure 
 this time ; and now I trust that you will suffer me to do what me list to 
 do. For, Sire, I know well . . . rs^ that they doth (do) ; and I insure 
 your grace that my mind (afiection) is not there where they would have 
 me ; and I trust your grace will not do so to me, that have always been so 
 glad to fulfil your mind as I have been ; whereto I beseech your grace will 
 have granted. ... For if you will have me married in any place, saving 
 whereas my mind is, I will be there whereas your grace nor none other 
 shall have any joy of me ; for I promise your grace you shall hear that 
 I will be in some religious house, the which I think your grace would be 
 very sorry of, and your realm also. Sir, I know well that the king that 
 is now will send to your grace for his unclothe duke of Savoy for to marry 
 me ; but I trust your grace will not do it.” 
 
 She then tells him that he knows where she piirposeth to 
 marry, if ever she marry again ; ” meaning Suffolk, who, as 
 she adds, had many hinderers about his grace. 
 
 Meanwhile Suffolk’s opponents in the Council had not 
 been inactive. They had employed a friar, named Langley, 
 to poison her ear against the Buke.^ The friar told her that 
 Suffolk and Wolsey had dealings with the devil, and ‘‘by the 
 puissance of the said devil” kept Henry subject to their wills. 
 
 ^ II. 163. marry ber elsewhere. Some passages, 
 
 ^ II. 228. now lost, have been supplied from 
 
 ^ ^ The passage is mutilated in the Masters’ Extracts, in Jesus College, 
 original manuscript, but she evidently Oxford, 
 refers to Suffolk’s opponents in the ^ II. 138. 
 
 Council, who were urging Henry to 
 
84 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENKY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 He assured her that Suffolk, by his diabolical arts, had 
 caused the disease “ in Compton’s leg; for he knew “the 
 premises well, and could not doubt it was the Duke’s doing.” 
 So Wolsey was left to fight her battles single-handed. The 
 disputes at the Council table were long and obstinate. If 
 Suffolk triumphed, and a good understanding were, by his 
 means, promoted between the two Sovereigns, Wolsey and he 
 would monopolize their master’s favour, as the Duke hinted. 
 If he failed, he must not only forfeit the hand of Mary, but, 
 to all appearance, he and Wolsey would be irretrievably ruined. 
 That Henry should tolerate such scandals, ringing so loudly 
 throughout the courts of Europe ; that he should apparently 
 care so little for Mary’s comfort and reputation as to expose 
 her week after week to the importunities of Francis ; — still 
 more, that he should continue with Francis on the most 
 friendly terms, as if nothing had happened ; — are difficulties 
 not easily solved. Was it confidence in his sister’s honour, 
 though she was but a widow of eighteen ? Did he disbelieve 
 her fears, and think that her assertions were unfounded ? 
 
 Two other projects were hound up with Suffolk’s commis- 
 sion : one was, to obtain possession of the jewels presented to 
 Mary by her late husband ; the other, to make profit out of 
 the wish of Francis to recover Tournay.^ It is recorded 
 that at her marriage with Lewis “ a great diamond and a 
 tablet with a great round pearl ” ^ formed part of the bridal 
 offerings. The Earl of Worcester wrote in glowing terms of 
 “the goodliest and richest sight of jewels that ever he saw.”^ 
 All of them, the King had told Worcester, were destined for 
 Mary’s use ; but he added, merrily laughing, “ My wife shall 
 not have all at once, but at divers times ; ” for he would 
 have “ many and at divers times kisses and thanks for them.” 
 These jewels, and Mary’s claim to them, now formed the basis 
 of a long and intricate negociation, in the conduct of which 
 Mary’s honour and happiness held but a secondary place. 
 The price of her hand was to be the Duke’s success in accom- 
 plishing this intricate and difficult task; and as Suffolk’s 
 abilities as a negociator, though sharpened by . his affection 
 for Mary, were not brilliant, he was no match for the subtle 
 
 ^ No doubt Sir William Compton, tions does not appear. The first 
 who was in great favour with Henry mention of Tournay is in Feb. 10 
 VIII., and afterwards died of the (II. 140). 
 
 “sweating sickness.” 3 1 . 5495 . 
 
 2 Whether these were part of * I. 5468. 
 
 Suffolk’s original and secret instruc- 
 
1515.] 
 
 MAEY AND SUFFOLK. 
 
 85 
 
 politicians of the French court. If his accomplishments as a 
 mathematician were no better than his spelling, it may be 
 doubted whether a “ sum in addition of money ” would not 
 have proved to him an inextricable mystery. At all events, 
 he staggered under the difficulties of his task, and panted to 
 get away from the “ stinking prison” of Paris, as he calls it, 
 in words more emphatic than elegant. x\gain and again he 
 earnestly besought the King "‘to call him and the Queen his 
 sister home.” ^ “Her grace nor I shall never be merry to 
 win,” he tells Henry, “ and therefore I beseech your grace she 
 and I may be in your remembrance.” 
 
 In reply to these urgent and repeated entreaties, Wolsey, 
 their unflinching friend, entreated the two lovers to have 
 patience. He told Suffolk that the King, after the sittings of 
 the Council, had called him apart, and bade him write to 
 Suffolk to use all his efforts to obtain from Francis Mary’s 
 gold plate and jewels ; ^ and until this were accomplished, 
 Suffolk and the Queen would not obtain licence to return. “ I 
 assure you,” continues Wolsey, “the hope that the King hath 
 to obtain the said plate and jewels is the thing that most 
 stayeth his grace constantly to assent that ye should marry 
 his sister ; the lack whereof, I fear me, might make him cold 
 and remiss and cause some alteration, whereof all men here, 
 except his grace and myself, would be right glad.” 
 
 The terms imposed were somewhat of the hardest. In a 
 fit of stinginess, more befitting his father, Henry demanded 
 the restoration of Mary’s jewels and furniture ; all the ex- 
 penses of her passage were to be returned, and the sums 
 reimbursed that had been laid out in providing her bridal 
 apparel. Though rarely accustomed to remonstrate, Suffolk 
 and the commissioners could not but complain of such extreme 
 demands. “As the queen,” they wrote to Wolsey," “shall 
 have all her stuff returned, we think it is not reasonable to 
 demand such sums as have been laid out by the king’s officers 
 for provision of the same, for she may not have both the 
 money and stuff. And sithence it is likely that we shall 
 commune with reasonable men, we would be rather loth to 
 demand anything out of season.” Every day the negociations 
 became more hampered and more perplexed ; the generous 
 spirit in which they had been commenced was fast disappear- 
 ing, and was superseded by the less amiable desire of each 
 
 ^ II. 115. This letter was written. of that date, 
 apparently about the 21st of Feb. ^ II. 203. 
 
 Compare No. 82, which is evidently ^ II. 204,. 
 
86 
 
 THE REIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 party to outwit and overreach the other. The English, in- 
 structed from home, especially by Suffolk’s opponents — who, 
 to suit their own party purposes, urged the King to unreason- 
 able demands — endeavoured to obtain an advantageous ex- 
 change for Tournay. They insisted on the delivery of the 
 jewels which Lewis had promised or given her, and the dowry 
 he had settled upon her. The French negociators fell back 
 upon the promise made at Mary’s marriage, that Tournay 
 should be restored unconditionally; and pleaded in return 
 that the jewels had been given to Mary only as Queen of 
 France, and could not be transported out of the realm. The 
 disj)osition of the two courts became daily more bitter and 
 impracticable, and Mary’s hopes of a happy union with 
 Suffolk more distant every hour. She wrote to her brother to 
 say that all her plate and jewels should be ‘‘at his command- 
 ment ; ’ ’ and she only regretted that the gift was not so large 
 as it might have been, in consequence of the difficulties 
 created by the negociation.^ “ And, Sir,” she added, in a 
 tone of respect contrasting with the more familiar address of 
 her earlier letters, “ over and above this, I most humbly 
 beseech your grace to write to the French king and all your 
 ambassadors here, that they make all the speed possible, that 
 I may come to your grace, for my singular desire and comfort 
 is to see your grace, above all things in this ivorld.” 
 
 We may overlook this extravagant expression of affection 
 for her brother in a young woman of nineteen, brought 
 unexpectedly into the prospect of a union with the man she 
 had long loved, the success of which depended entirely on 
 that brother’s consent. But there w^as a stronger reason for 
 this urgency and vehemence, unknowm to all except herself 
 and Suffolk ; — Mary was married already, and her marriage 
 could no longer be kept secret. The history of this strange 
 affair may be learnt from a letter of Suffolk’s, addressed to 
 the King, and iu closed in another to Wolsey, for Wolsey’s 
 perusal. Whether the letter was delivered to the King or not 
 is uncertain, for to Wolsey alone were the secrets of this love- 
 making confided, and his advice was implicitly followed, even 
 to the expressions contained in the letters of the Queen-widow.^ 
 After stating that he had done his best to obtain “hall her 
 stouf and jowyelles,” Suffolk continues,^ “I find you so good 
 lord to me, that there is nothing that grieves me, but that she 
 and I have no more to content your grace. But, Sir, as she 
 
 ’ II. 229. 2 gpQ curious instance in II. 272. 
 
 » II. 80. 
 
1515.] 
 
 PEIVATELY MARKIED. 
 
 87 
 
 lias written to you of her own hand, she is content to give you 
 all that her grace shall have by the right of her woshound 
 (husband) ; and, if it come not to so much as your grace 
 thought, she is content to give your grace what sum you shall 
 be content to axe, to be paid on her jointure, and all that she 
 has in this world.” Then, after entreating the King, as well 
 he might, not “to let his enemies have the advantage over 
 him,” he thus proceeds : — 
 
 ‘ ‘ Sir, one thing I ensure your grace, that it shall never be said that 
 I did offend your grace in word, deed, or thought, but for this matter 
 touching the queen, your sister, the which I can no longer nor will not 
 hide from your grace. Sir, so it is, that when I came to Paris, ^ the queen 
 was in hand with me the first day I came, and said she must be short 
 with me, and open to me her pleasure and mind. And so she began, and 
 showed how good lady she was to me, and if I would be ordered by her 
 she would never have none but me. She showed me she had verily 
 understood as well by friar Langley and friar Fr . . that and ever she 
 came in England, she should never have me ; and therefore she swore 
 that and I would not marry her at once, she would never have me, nor 
 
 Then follows a passage, unfortunately too mutilated to be 
 intelligible, but apparently implying that she had received 
 information that Suffolk’s purpose was to take her to England 
 and marry her elsewhere : — 
 
 “ I axed her what it was ; and she said that the best in France (Francis) 
 had said unto her, that and she went into England she should go into 
 Flanders.2 To the which she said that she had rather to be torn in 
 pieces than ever she should come there ; and with that she wept. Sir, I 
 never saw woman so weep ; and when I saw that, I showed unto her 
 grace that there was none such thing, upon my faith, with the best words 
 I could : but in none ways I could make her to believe it. And when I 
 saw that, I showed her grace that and her grace would be content to 
 write unto your grace and obtain your good will, I would be content ; or 
 else I durst not, because I had made unto your grace such a promise. 
 Whereunto, in conclusion, she said : ‘ If the king, my brother, is content, 
 and the French king both, the one by his letters and the other by his 
 words, that I should have you, I will have the time after my desire, or 
 else I may well think that the words of the men in these parts, and of 
 them in England, be true — that you are come to ’tice me home, to the 
 intent that I may be married into Flanders ; — which I will never, even to 
 die for it ; and so I possessed the French king ere you came. And if you 
 will not be content to follow my end (comply with my determination), 
 look never after this day to have the same proffer again.’ ” 
 
 Eather than lose all, Suffolk tells the King he thought it best 
 to comply ; and so she and he were privately married in the 
 
 * The 4th of Feb. His interview 
 with Mary took place next day. 
 
 ^ To be married to Charles of 
 Castile. This was an artifice on the 
 part of Francis, for negociations were 
 
 at that time pending for marrying 
 Charles to Renee, sister to Queen 
 Claude. The purpose of such a deceit 
 is as obvious as it was dishonourable. 
 
88 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENKY VIII. 
 
 [A.p. 
 
 presence of ten persons only, none of his fellows from England i 
 being made aware of his intentions : for Mary would not suffer | 
 it; “for she said and I did so she thought they would give 
 me counsel to the contrary.” 
 
 Suffolk’s pathetic appeal was seconded by the following 
 letter from Mary : 
 
 Pleaseth your grace, to my greatest discomfort, sorrow, and discon- 
 solation, but lately I have been advertised of the great and high dis- j 
 pleasure which your highness beareth unto me and my Lord of Suffolk for 
 the marriage between us. Sir, I will not in any wise deny but that I have 
 offended your grace, for the which I do put myself most humbly in your 
 clemency and mercy. Nevertheless, to the intent that your highness 
 should not think that I had simply, carnally, and of any sensual appetite 
 done the same, I having no regard to fall in your grace’s displeasure, | 
 
 I assure your grace that I had never done against your ordinance and I 
 
 consent, but by reason of the great despair wherein I was put by the two 
 friars . . . which hath certified me, in case I came to England, your j 
 council would never consent to the marriage between the said Lord and 
 me, with many other sayings concerning the same marriage ; so that 
 I verily thought that the said friars would never have offered to have 
 made me like overture unless they might have had charge from some of 
 your council ; the which put me in such consternation, fear, and doubt of 
 the obtaining of the thing which I desired most in this world, that I rather 
 chose to put me in your mercy by accomplishing the marriage than to put 
 me in the order of your council, knowing them to be otherwise minded. 
 Whereupon, Sir, I put my lord of Suffolk in choice whether he would 
 accomplish the marriage within four days, or else that he should never i 
 have enjoyed me ; whereby I know well that I constrained him to break 
 such promises he made your grace, as well for fear of losing me, as ,also 
 that I ascertained him that by their consent I would never come into 
 England. And now that your grace knoweth the both offences of the 
 which I have been the only occasion, I most humbly, and as your most 
 sorrowful sister, requiring you to have compassion upon us both, and to 
 pardon our offences, and that it will please your grace to write to me and 
 my lord of Suffolk some comfortable words, for it shall be the greatest 
 comfort for us both. 
 
 “ By your loving and most humble sister, 
 
 “ Mauy.” 2 
 
 In a letter to Wolsey the Duke writes : — ^ 
 
 My Lord, — I recommend me to you, and so it is that I wit that you 
 have been the chief in . . . and has been the helper of me, so that I am 
 obliged to you next God and my master, and therefore I will hide none 
 thing from you, trusting that you will help me now as you have done hall 
 ways. Me Lord, so it is that when I came to Paris I heard many things 
 which put md in great fear, and so did the queen both ; and the queen 
 
 humble for Mary, who certainly be- 
 lieved that she had a perfect right to 
 dispose of her own hand as she 
 pleased ; not to insist upon casual 
 expressions hero and there which are 
 not those of a young woman who had 
 very little practice in writing. 
 
 * II. 222. 
 
 ‘ II. 226. 
 
 2 This touching and eloquent letter 
 is written in Mary’s laborious holo- 
 graph, with very little correction. I 
 have no doubt that it was copied 
 from an original, dictated or over- 
 looked by Wolsey, as on another oc- 
 casion. (See p. 93, post.) The style 
 is too guarded and the tone too 
 
1515.] SUFFOLK DESIKES TO BE MAEEIED OPENLY. 
 
 89 
 
 would never let me be in rest till I had granted her to be married ; and 
 I so to be plain with you, I have married her heartily, and has lien with 
 ’ her, insomuch as far [as in] me lies ^ that she be with child. My Lord I 
 am not in a little sorrow if the king should know it, and that his grace 
 should be displeased with me ; for I ensure you that I had rather ’a died 
 than he should be miscontent, and ... or for me nown good lord, since 
 you have brought . . . hitherto, let me not be undone now, the whiche I 
 fear me shall be, without the help of you. Me Lor, think not that ever 
 you shall make any [friend] that shall be more obliged to you ; and 
 therefore me nown good Lord . . . help.” 
 
 Then after a very mutilated passage, implying that Francis 
 and his mother would write to Henry in his and Mary’s 
 favour, he adds : “ Me Lord, I doubt not they will write this 
 for me, or how you shall think best they should write.” Then 
 he proceeds to tell Wolsey that in France, 
 
 i “ they marry as well in Lent as out of Lent, with licence of any bishop. 
 I Now my Lord, you know all, and in you is all my trust, beseeching you 
 li now of your assured help, and that I may have answer from you of this 
 ! and of the other writings as shortly as may be possible, for I ensure you 
 that I have as heavy a heart as any man living, and shall have till I may 
 hear good news from you.” 
 
 I This letter was apparently accompanied by the following,^ 
 ' although the former is preserved in the British Museum, and 
 the latter at the Eecord Office, — such separation of documents 
 being not uncommon. I have retained the original spelling 
 as a specimen of the Duke’s orthography, though not the 
 I most intricate by any means. Both are wholly in Suffolk’s 
 j hand. 
 
 I “ Me Lord, — For to in deus the quyenes mattar and myene un to the 
 I kynges grace, I thynke byest for your fourst entre you schold dyllewar 
 ! un to to {sic) hem a dymond wyet a greth pryell, wyche you schall rysayef 
 wyet thys from the quyen hes sustar. Ryquyer hem to take et aworth, 
 asuarryng hes grace y* whan soo ewar sche schall have the possesseun of 
 the resedeu y^ he schall have the chowse of them acourdyng unto her 
 formar wrettyng. Me Lord, sche and I bowth ry my ttys tlies mattar holle 
 to your dysskras[eun], tresting y* in hall hast possebbyll wye schall her 
 from you som good tydynges tocheng howar afyeres, wher wyeth I 
 ryquyer you to depeche this byrrar, and y* he tarre for noon oddar cans. 
 By youre, the 5 day of Mache, at tyn a cloke at neth. 
 
 “ Charlys Suffolk. 
 
 ‘‘ To my Lord of York.” 
 
 I think it is clear from these and other expressions 
 scattered throughout his correspondence that Suffolk had left 
 England in the first instance with a promise from Henry 
 that he should be united to Mary on her return ; the King, at 
 least, would offer no obstacle to their union. How far Mary 
 
 Fyer me lyes ; ” query, fear me lest ? 
 
 2 II. 223. 
 
90 
 
 THE REIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. I 
 
 was right in supposing that if she returned that promise would | 
 be evaded, or what were its precise terms, we have no means j 
 of deciding. It is clear from the tone of his letter to Wolsey, j 
 that Suffolk did not apprehend any settled displeasure on the 
 part of his Sovereign. He had pledged his word to the King 
 not to take advantage of Mary’s affection or precipitate their 
 union. The offence was venial, and he assured himself of an 
 easy and prompt forgiveness. But Wolsey understood his 
 master’s temper much better than Suffolk, and he replied to 
 the Duke, in the following letter, every word of which must 
 have struck a pang into Suffolk’s heart : ^ 
 
 “ My Lord, — With sorrowful heart I write unto you, signifying unto 
 the same that I have to my no little discomfort and inward heaviness 
 perceived by your letters, dated at Paris the 5th day of this instant 
 month, how that you be secretly married unto the king’s sister, and have 
 accompanied together as man and wife. And albeit ye by your said 
 letters desired me in no wise to dis[c]lose the same to the king’s grace, 
 yet seeing the same toucheth not only his honor, your promise made to 
 his grace, but also my truth towards the same, I could no less do but 
 incontinent upon the sight of your said letters, declare and shew the 
 contents thereof to his highness, which at the first hearing could scantly 
 believe the same to be true ; but after I had showed to his grace that by 
 your own writing I had knowledge thereof, his grace, giving credence 
 thereunto, took the same grievously and displeasantly, not only for that 
 ye durst presume to marry his sister without his knowledge, but also for | 
 breaking of your promise made to his grace in his hand, I being present, I 
 at Eltham ; having also such a[n] assured affiance in your truth, that for i 
 all the world, and to have been torn with wild horses, ye would not have 
 broken your oath, promise, and assurance, made to his grace, which doth j 
 well perceive that he is deceived of the constant and assured trust that he j 
 thought to have found in you, and so his grace would I should expressly j 
 write unto you. And for my part, no man can be more sorry than I am l 
 that ye have so done, being so incumbered therewith that I cannot devise , 
 nor study the remedy thereof, considering that ye have failed to him ! 
 which hath brought you up of low degree ^ to be of this great honor ; and 
 that ye were the man in all the world he loved and trusted best, and was 
 content that with good order and saving of his honor ye should have in ; 
 marriage his said sister. Cursed be the blind affection and counsel that j 
 hath brought you hereunto ! fearing that such sudden and unadvised j 
 dealing shall have sudden repentance. 
 
 “ Nevertheless in this great perplexity I see no other remedy but first i 
 to make yonr humble pursuits by your own writing, causing also the I 
 French king, the queen, with other your friends, to write ; with this also 
 that shall follow, which I assure you I write unto you of mine own head ' 
 without knowledge of any person living, being in great doubt whether the 
 same shall make your peace or no ; notwithstanding, if any remedy be, it 
 shall be by that way. It shall be well done that, with all diligence I 
 possible, ye and the queen bind yourself by obligation to pay yearly to | 
 the king during the queen’s life £4,000 of her dower ; and so ye and she j 
 shall have remaining of the said dower £6,000 and above to live withal 
 yearly. Over and besides this ye must bind yourself to give unto the 
 
 1 II. 224. j 
 
 ® The words “low degree” were inserted in the place of “nowgth.” j 
 
' 1515.] 
 
 THE KING’S DISPLEASURE. 
 
 91 
 
 : king the plate of gold and jewels which the late French king had. And 
 I whereas the queen shall have full restitution of her dote, ye shall not 
 I only give entirely the said dote to the king, but also cause the French 
 I king to be bound to pay to the king the 200,000 crowns, which his grace 
 ' is bounden to pay to the queen, in the full contentation of the said dote 
 i de novissimis denariis, and the said French king to acquit the king for the 
 I payment thereof ; like as the king hath more at the large declared his 
 • pleasure to you, by his letters lately sent unto you. This is the way to 
 I make your peace ; whereat if ye deeply consider what danger ye be and 
 ! shall be in, having the king’s displeasure, I doubt not both the queen 
 ! and you will not stick, but with all elFectual diligence endeavour your- 
 ; selves to recover the king’s favor, as well by this mean as by other sub- 
 I stantial true ways, which by mine advise ye shall use, and none other, 
 towards his grace, whom by corbobyll drifts and ways you cannot abuse. 
 Now I have told you my opinion, hardily follow the same, and trust not 
 too much to your own wit, nor follow not the counsel of them, that hath 
 not more deeply considered the dangers of this matter than they have 
 hitherto done. 
 
 “And as touching the overtures made by the French king for 
 Tournay, and also for a new confederation with the king and him, like as 
 1 have lately written to you, I would not advise you to wade any further 
 in these maters, for it is to be thought that the French king intendeth 
 to make his hand by favoring you in the attaining to the said marriage ; 
 which when he shall perceive that by your means he cannot get such 
 things as he desireth, peradventure he shall show some change and 
 alteration in the queen’s affairs, whereof great inconvenience might 
 ensue. Look wisely therefore upon the same, and consider you have 
 enough to do in redressing your own causes ; and think it will be hard to 
 induce the king to give you a commission of trust, which hath so lightly 
 regarded the same towards his grace. 
 
 “ Thus I have as a friend declared my mind unto you, and never 
 trust to use nor have me in anything contrary to truth, my master’s 
 honor, profits, wealth, and surety ; to the advancement and furtherance 
 whereof no creature living is more bounden ; as our Lord knowyth, who 
 send you grace to look well and deeply upon your acts and doings ; for ye 
 put yourself in the greatest danger that ever man was in.” 
 
 With SO many anxieties, and the dread of punishment 
 hanging over his head, it is not to be wondered that Suffolk’s 
 negociations at the French court failed of success. His enemies 
 accused him of studying his own interests with Mary and 
 neglecting the interests of the nation. They insinuated that 
 he had sacrificed the purposes of his mission to ingratiate 
 himself with the French King. He desired to have ''some 
 word of comfort ” from Henry ; hut none apparently came. 
 The French, on their side, were displeased with him for the 
 jewel he had sent to England on first announcing his marriage, 
 and demanded its restoration as an heirloom of the Queens of 
 France. They assured him that Queen Claude had such a 
 mind to it she would never be satisfied without it.^ As for the 
 restoration of Mary’s property and jewels, Suffolk tells Wolsey 
 he had done his best ; but it passed his learning, whether she 
 
 ' II. App. 7. 
 
92 
 
 THE KEIGN OF HENRY VHL 
 
 [A.D. ; 
 
 had her right, or had been outwitted by the subtlety of the | 
 French ministers. Above all other things Mary’s condition I 
 occasioned him great perplexity. His intimacy wdth her was | 
 daily becoming more notorious ; his honour and hers was | 
 compromised whilst the marriage was kept strictly private, j 
 No man with a spark of courage and generosity could endure ! 
 to see the woman whom he loved exposed to such a scandal, i 
 or himself and his Sovereign pointed at by the public finger of I 
 scorn in every court of Christendom. “ My Lord,” he says to | 
 Wolsey, in great anguish, ‘‘ at the reverence of God help that ! 
 I may he married, as I go out of France, openly, for many ; 
 things of which I will awartes (advertize) you by mine next I 
 letters. Give me your advice whether the French King and j 
 his mother shall write again to the King for this open | 
 marriage ; seeing that this privy marriage is done, and that j 
 I think none otherwise but that she is with child.” ^ | 
 
 It was now unfortunately the season of Lent, and Easter ! 
 Sunday did not fall until the 8th April. No licence could be j 
 obtained without a dispensation, and such a course would ; 
 have given rise to unfavourable comments in England, where 
 these ecclesiastical restrictions were, at present, more closely : 
 observed than in France. Possibly there might be other ; 
 motives of a political nature, with which we are not acquainted. ! 
 But, whatever they were, the wishes of Suffolk and Mary were 
 disregarded. Notwithstanding their earnest entreaties for a i 
 speedy and favourable reply, there seems to have been a total 
 cessation of correspondence from England between the 12th of 
 March and the 3rd of April. In the displeasure of Henry, and 
 the momentary triumph of Suffolk’s enemies, it was uncertain 
 what line of conduct the King would pursue. For a subject 
 to marry the sister of his Sovereign, without his consent, was 
 a thing unheard of in England ; and the Duke’s enemies 
 called loudly for signal vengeance on the man who had been 
 guilty of such gross presumption. At last Mary obtained 
 leave to depart the first week after Easter ; for Francis was 
 now impatient to start on his Italian expedition. On the 14th 
 of April she gave a receipt at the Abbey of Clugny in Paris for 
 200,000 gold crowns, including 20,000 paid for her travelling 
 
 ^ Her eldest son was born lltli Boleyn and Lady Elizabeth Grey stood 
 March, 1516, and was named Henry, as proxies for Queen Katharine and 
 from his godfather, Henry YIII. (II. the Princess Mary. Her godfather 
 1652). The eldest daughter was born was Thomas Ramridge, Abbot of St. 
 at Bishop’s Hatfield, 17th July, 1517, Alban’s, whose monument still remains 
 and named Frances. See the account in the abbey church, now the cathedral 
 of her christening in II. 3489. Lady of &t. Alban’s. 
 
1515.] 
 
 SUFFOLK’S DANGEK. 
 
 93 
 
 expenses, as a moiety of her dowry ; ^ but her gold plate and 
 her jewels, with the exception of four hagues of no great 
 value ” ^ were never restored, on the beggarly plea that 
 Francis, sorely displeased at the loss of the diamond called 
 the Mirror of Naples, would do no more.^ On the 16th the 
 pair started for England, and reached Montreuil on the 22nd, 
 uncertain of their reception, and even of the fate which awaited 
 fchem. At Calais they were afraid to leave the house, as the 
 Duke would have been killed by the angry moh.^ On his road 
 to the seaside Suffolk addressed the following letter to his 
 master : — ^ 
 
 Most gracious Sovereign Lord, — So it is that I am informed divers 
 ways that all your whole council, my Lord of York excepted, with many 
 other, are clearly determined to ‘ tympe ’ your grace that I may either be 
 put to death or be put in prison, and so to be destroyed. Alas, Sir, I 
 may say that I have a hard fortune, seeing that there was never none of 
 fchem in trouble but I was glad to help them to my power, and that your 
 ace knows best. And now that I am in this none little trouble and 
 sorrow, now they are ready to help to destroy me. But, Sir, I can no 
 more but God forgive them whatsoever comes on me ; for 1 am determined. 
 For, Sir, your grace is he that is my sovereign lord and master, and he 
 hat has brought me up out of nought ; and I am your subject and 
 ervant, and he that has offended your grace in breaking my promise that 
 made your grace touching the queen your sister ; for the which I, with 
 |most humble heart, I will yield myself unto your grace’s hands to do 
 with my poor body your gracious pleasure, not fearing the malice of 
 fchem ; for I know your grace of such nature that it cannot lie in their 
 powers to cause you to destroy me for their malice. But what punish- 
 ment I have I shall thank God and your grace of it, and think that I 
 have well deserved it, both to God and your grace ; as knows ‘ howar ’ 
 Lord, who send your grace your most honourable heart’s desire with long 
 life, and me most sorrowful wretch your gracious favour, what sorrows 
 soever I endure therefor. At Mottryll, the 22nd day of April, by your 
 most humble subject and servant, 
 
 Charles Sufeolke.” 
 
 i But Henry showed no signs of relenting. A day or two 
 lafter the following letter addressed by Mary to her brother is 
 found in the form of a draft carefully revised by Wolsey : — 
 
 My most dear and most entirely beloved brother, in most humble 
 manner I recommend me to your grace. Dearest brother, I doubt not 
 but ye have in your good remembrance, that whereas for the good of 
 peace, and for the furtherance of your affairs, ye moved me to marry with 
 jmy lord and late husband King Loys of France, whose soul God pardon, 
 though I understood that he was very aged and sickly, yet for the 
 advancement of the said peace and for the furtherances of your causes I 
 was contented to conform myself to your said motion, so that if I should 
 fortune to survive the said late king, I might with your good will marry 
 
 1 II. 319. 
 
 ^ The Chancellor of France, how- 
 ,ever, insisted that “ the jewel of 
 Naples” was worth 30,000 crowns, 
 
 I and the 18 pearls Mary had received, 
 
 worth 10,000 crowns. (II. 437.) 
 3 II. 343. 
 
 II. 399. 
 
 ^ II. 367. 
 
91: 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENKY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 myself at my liberty without your displeasure. Whereunto, good brother, 
 ye condescended and granted, as ye well know, promising unto me that 
 in such case ye would never provoke or move me but as mine own heart 
 and mind should be best pleased, and that wheresoever I should dispose 
 myself ye would wholly be contented with the same. And upon that 
 your good comfort and faithful promise, I assented to the said marriage ; 
 else 1 would never have granted to, as at the same time I showed unto 
 you more at large. Now that God hath called my said late husband to 
 His mercy and that I am at my liberty, dearest brother, remembering the 
 great virtues which I have seen and perceived heretofore in my Lord of 
 Suffolk, to whom I have always been of good mind, as ye well know, I 
 have affixed and clearly determined myself to marry with him ; and the 
 same, I assure you, hath proceeded only of mine own mind, without any 
 request or labour of my said Lord of Suffolk, or of any other person. 
 And to be plain with your grace, I have so bound myself unto him, that 
 for no cause earthly I will or may vary or change from the same. Where- 
 fore, my good and most kind brother, I now beseech your grace to take 
 this matter in good part, and to give unto me and to my said Lord of 
 Suffolk your good will herein ; ascertaining you, that upon the trust and 
 comfort which I have for that you have always honourably regarded your 
 promise, I am now comen out of the realm of France, and have put 
 myself within your jurisdiction, in this your town of Calais, where I 
 intend to remain till such time as I shall have answer from you of your 
 good and loving mind herein ; which I would not have done but upon the 
 faithful trust I have in your said promise. Humbly beseeching your 
 grace for the great and tender love, which ever hath been and shall be 
 between you and me, to bear your gracious mind and show yourself to be 
 agreeable hereunto, and to certify me by your most loving letters of the 
 same ; till which time I will make mine abode here, and no further enter 
 your realm. 
 
 “ And to the intent it may please you the rather to condescend to this 
 my most hearty desire, I am contented, and expressly promise and bind 
 me to you by these presents, to give you all the whole dote which was 
 delivered with me, and also all such plate of gold and jewels as I shall 
 have of my said late husband’s. Over and besides this I shall, rather 
 than fail, give vou as much yearly part of my dower to as great a sum as 
 shall stand with your will and pleasure. And of all the premises I 
 promise, upon knowledge of your good mind, to make unto you sufficient 
 bonds. Trusting verily that in fulfilling of your said promise to me made, 
 ye will show your brotherly love, affection, and good mind to me in this 
 behalf, which to hear of I abide with most desire, and not to be miscon- 
 tented with my said Lord of Suffolk, whom of mine inward good mind 
 and affection to him I have in manner enforced to be agreeable to the 
 same without any request by him made, as knoweth our Lord, whom I 
 beseech to have your grace in his merciful governance.” ^ 
 
 The effect of this letter is unknown, for we have no further 
 notice of Mary and her troubles. Henry contented himself 
 with taking her plate and jewels, and binding her in an 
 obligation of 24,000L to repay the expenses of her former 
 marriage with Lewis, by yearly instalments of 1,000L, and 
 to give up her dowry to its full amount.^ The terms were 
 rigidly enforced. On the 13th of May she was openly espoused 
 
 ^ The draft is in Take’s hand, himself, 
 much corrected ; the words in italics ^ See II. 436, pp. 1488, 1489. 
 were corrected or added by Wolsey 
 

 1515.] 
 
 THE OPEN MARRIAGE. 
 
 95 
 
 to Suffolk at Greenwich,^ in presence of the King and Queen. 
 Sir William Sidney, the Duke’s relative, was despatched to 
 Francis with instructions : ^ That, considering there were 
 no more privy to the secret marriage made between them in 
 France, but only the said French king, and none privy here 
 thereunto but the king, to whom the said French king and 
 duke disclosed the same, the said Sir Win. Sidney shall say 
 that the king’s grace desireth and perfectly trusteth that, for 
 the honor of the said French queen, and for avoiding all evil 
 bruits which may ensue thereof, he will reserve and keep the 
 same at all times hereafter secret to himself without making 
 any creature privy thereunto, like as the king shall do for 
 his part.” 
 
 Henceforth Mary’s name drops from the page of history, 
 and is only mentioned in connection with some court banquet 
 or ceremonial. Her dower continued to form a subject of 
 dispute between the two courts for three years after, and 
 more than once Suffolk complained of the pecuniary diffi- 
 culties into which he was plunged by the hard terms imposed 
 upon him by his royal brother-in-law.^ 
 
 1 II. 468. 
 
 2 II. 1129, Act for lier jointure. 
 
 ® Upon the whole, Suffolk had 
 reason to felicitate himself that it 
 was no worse. He had a narrow 
 escape, and was indebted for it en. 
 tirely to Wolsey. There were other 
 circumstances in his private history, 
 not known perhaps to his opponents, 
 or to the King or his Council, which 
 would probably have thwarted all 
 Wolsey’s efforts to save the Duke, had 
 they transpired. He had been twice 
 married already, before his union with 
 Mary, and his first wife was still alive. 
 It seems that in after years, and about 
 the time of Wolsey’s disgrace, the Duke 
 entertained suspicions of the validity 
 of his marriage with Mary, and the 
 legitimacy of her children. Conse- 
 quently he applied to Pope Clement 
 VII. for a bull annulling all objections 
 which might hereafter be raised 
 against their union. The bull was 
 granted apparently on an ex parte 
 statement set forth by the Duke him- 
 self, and the facts detailed are strange 
 enough. The bull was exhibited ac- 
 cording to the notarial attestation, 
 which is without signature, by Ralph 
 Cantrell and Humph. Wingfield, the 
 Duke’s retainers, to Rich. Nyx, Bishop 
 
 of Norwich, August 20, 1529. (IV. 
 5859.) 
 
 We learn from it the following 
 facts of Suffolk’s early life. When 
 he was a young man in the reign of 
 Henry VII. he was contracted to a 
 lady named Ann Brown, per verha de 
 prcBsenti ; but before the marriage 
 was celebrated, he obtained a dis- 
 pensation, and then married one 
 Margaret Mortymer alias Brandon,* 
 living in the diocese of London. With 
 her he cohabited. For some cause — 
 and here his arguments for dissolving 
 the marriage forcibly remind us of 
 those of his master — he resolved to 
 separate from his wife, on the plea 
 that they were in the second and third 
 degrees of affinity; — that Margaret, 
 and Ann his first betrothed, were 
 within the prohibited degrees of con- 
 sanguinity ; — “ac etiam ex eo [quod] 
 avia tua et genitor olim conjugis dictse 
 Margaretae frater et soror fuerant.” 
 
 * I have corrected the footnote 
 here, as I see no evidence that this 
 lady (notwithstanding the alias of 
 Brandon) was Suffolk’s aunt, and the 
 ground of affinity quoted from the bull 
 a little further on seems to imply the 
 contrary. — E d. 
 
 
96 THE EEIGN OF HFJNRY Till. [A.H. 
 
 On Suffolk’s return to England the negociations in France 
 fell into the hands of West, afterwards Bishop of Ely; a man 
 of great ability, and not easily misled. But in every point 
 of his commission, even to the prevention of the Duke of 
 Albany’s return to Scotland, Suffolk had been foiled, and to 
 recover the lost ground was impossible. Secure of his treaty 
 with England, which had been signed in London on the 5th 
 of April,^ Francis was indifferent to the threats and remon- 
 strances of West. He had agreed to pay one million of gold 
 crowns due from Lewis XII. to Henry VIII., and all other sums 
 owing to Mary for her dower. So, having locked the door on 
 his old enemy, and with nothing to fear from that quarter for 
 
 the present, he started at once 
 
 The bull goes on to state that the 
 Duke, considering that his marriage 
 ■was not legal, stung by his conscience, 
 and reflecting that lapse of time, in- 
 stead of diminishing only increased 
 his crime, determined on a divorce, 
 and appeared before the official of the 
 archdeacon, who, as Suffolk alleges, 
 pronounced the marriage to be null 
 and void. He then married Ann Brown, 
 by whom he had a daughter named 
 Ann, whom he committed to the care 
 of his old love, Margaret of Savoy, and, 
 after his marriage with Mary Queen 
 dowager of France, brought home to 
 England (II. 529). The pope granted 
 the bull as supplementing all defects 
 and omissions in the ecclesiastical 
 courts in England ; “ suppleutes omnes 
 et singulos defectus tarn juris quam 
 facti, si qui forsan intervenerint in 
 eisdem ; ” and the Duke’s issue by 
 Ann Brown and Mary of France were 
 thus declared legitimate. To defeat 
 any claim on the part of his first wife, 
 Margaret Morty mer, she and her friends 
 were subjected to ecclesiastical cen- 
 sure, should they make any attempt 
 to invalidate this decree. The bull is 
 dated Orvieto, May 12, 1528, just as 
 the legate Campeggio was starting on 
 his last mission to England. 
 
 These circumstances give point to 
 the x’ebuke administered to the Duke 
 for his insolence at the trial of Katha- 
 rine. He liad never shown himself 
 grateful, and, little to his credit, was 
 a main instrument in Wolsey’s ruin, 
 making use of his influence with 
 Francis to poison the mind of the 
 King against his former favourite. 
 Cavendish reports that when Queen 
 Katharine's trial was going on at 
 Blackfriars, “the duke of Suffolk 
 
 from Paris, impatient to carry 
 
 stepped forth from the king, and by 
 his commandment spake these words 
 with a stout and a hault countenance : 
 ‘ It was never merry in England,’ quoth 
 he, ‘ whilst we had cardinals among 
 us ; ’ which words were set forth with 
 such a vehement countenance, that 
 all men marvelled what he intended; 
 to whom no man made answer. Then 
 the duke spoke again in great despight. 
 To the which words my Lord Car. 
 dinal, perceiving his vehemency, 
 soberly made answer and said : ‘ Sir, 
 of all men in this realm, ye have least 
 cause to dispraise or be offended with 
 cardinals ; for if I 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 in despight of 
 us, who intend you no manner of 
 displeasure.’ Then, with a hint at 
 Suffolk’s clandestine proceedings in 
 this mission — a hint well understood 
 by the duke and the king — Wolsey 
 proceeded : ‘ My Lord, I pray you, 
 show me what ye would do if ye were 
 the king’s commissioner in a foreign 
 region, having a weighty matter to 
 treat upon; would ye not advertize 
 the king’s Majesty or ever ye went 
 through with the same ? * * * Where- 
 fore, my Lord, hold your peace, and 
 frame your tongue like a man of 
 honour and wisdom, and speak not 
 so quickly and reproachfully by your 
 friends ; for ye Tcnoiu best what friend, 
 ship ye have received at my hands, the 
 which I yet never revealed to no person 
 alive before now, neither to my glory, 
 ne to your dishonour.” ’ (Life of 
 Wolsey, 232). Suffolk was -wisely 
 silent. 
 
 1 II. 301. 
 
FRANCIS I. 
 
 97 
 
 1515.] 
 
 out his Italian expedition, leaving West to follow or not as he 
 pleased. In fact, he wanted no English eyes to spy into his 
 intentions ; least of all, eyes so active and suspicious as 
 West’s. The Council of Charles were entirely at his devotion. 
 Charles himself had been betrothed to Madame Eenee. 
 Should England, unfaithful to the treaty, venture to move, 
 he had taken the precaution of sending Albany into Scotland 
 with a large sum of money ; and nothing was easier than to 
 endanger and hamper his rival with an irritating and perti- 
 nacious border warfare, on the very verge of those counties 
 which were least affected to Henry’s rule. If this project 
 failed he had still a card to play in The White Rose, Eichard 
 de la Pole, the exiled claimant of the dukedom of Suffolk, 
 whom Francis fostered, pitied, and cajoled with promises of 
 restoration to the crown of England. 
 
 Francis was now in his twenty-first year.^ His accession 
 to the throne had been the signal for all the ardent and 
 adventurous spirits of the age to rally round him, dissatisfied 
 with that English alliance, to which Lewis had ingloriously 
 resigned himself. His person is too well known to need 
 description here, but most readers will be surprised to hear 
 that Silvester de Giglis, the Bishop of Worcester, not a favour- 
 able witness, who had seen him with the Pope at Bologna, 
 describes him at this period of his life as tall and broad- 
 shouldered, with an oval and handsome face, very slender in 
 the legs, and much inclined to corpulence.^ The contrast 
 of his legs to his stomach seems to have fastened on the 
 memory of his visitors. Pasqualigo, who saw him in Paris, 
 gives an amusing account of a conversation he had with 
 Henry VIII. on the personal appearance and manners of his 
 cousin of France.^ “ His majesty came to me and said : ‘ Is 
 the king of France as tall as I am ? ’ I told him there was 
 little difference. ' Is he as stout ? ’ I told him he was not. 
 ‘ What sort of legs has he ? ’ I replied ‘ Spare.’ Whereupon 
 he opened the front of his doublet, and placing his hand on 
 his thigh, said, ‘ Look here ; I have a good calf to my leg.’ ” 
 Trivulcio told Giustinian^ that Francis was so extremely 
 liberal he would drain the very blood from his veins ; but his 
 mother, Louise of Savoy, hoarded money, and interfered in 
 everything. He regretted that the king was under petticoat 
 government, remained so short a period at the council board, 
 
 ^ Henry was three years older. 
 
 3 II. 411. 
 < I. 253. 
 
 2 II. 1281. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 H 
 
08 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 was fond of amusement, and wasted so much of his time in 
 his mother’s chamber. But Trivulcio belonged to the old 
 school, and was of a jealous and suspicious temper. That 
 the influence of Louise was great is apparent from the letters 
 of the Flemish and English envoys. And she deserved it, for 
 never did mother more idolize a son. She had witnessed the 
 accession of him of whom she was so fond and so proud with 
 unrestrained deliejht. “ God has amply recompensed me,” 
 she writes in her diary on that occasion, ‘‘ for all the sorrows 
 and incommodities I have endured in my earlier years. 
 Humility has kept me company, and patience has never 
 abandoned me.” Her inward satisfaction displayed itself out- 
 wardly. ‘‘ A good report,” says Solomon, “ maketh the bones 
 fat,” and so it proved with her. “ The king’s mother,” says 
 Gattinara to Margaret of Savoy,^ “ appears to me much 
 younger and fresher looking than she was four years ago.” 
 “ Sir,” writes Suffolk to Henry VIII., it is she that rules all; 
 and so may she well ; for I never saw woman like to her, 
 both for [wit], honor, and dignity.”^ “She hath a great 
 stroke in all matters with the King her son,” he observes on 
 another occasion.^ In all his ambitious projects she en- 
 couraged him ; she hoarded money, refused marriage, for his 
 sake, lavished upon him all those epithets which could rouse 
 even the most dormant ambition, “ C’est mon filz glorieux et 
 triomphant Cesar.” “ L’exaltation de mon Cesar,” she 
 murmured to herself as she noted down his exploits in her 
 diary. “ He is young,” says Sir Eobert Wingfield, writing 
 to Henry VHI.,^ “ mighty, insatiable ; always reading or talk- 
 ing of such enterprises as whet and inflame himself and his 
 hearers. He keepeth no silence ; for his common saying is 
 to all that he speaketh with, that his trust is that by his 
 [valor and] industry the things which have been lost, lettyn, 
 [and spoiled] by his ignoble predecessors shall be recovered, 
 and that the monarchy of Christendom shall rest under the 
 banner of France, as it was wont to do. And your Majesty 
 may be sure that at this day it is no small part of that 
 kingdom that would tlie same were true.” 
 
 In this^ temper and with these incitements, Francis now 
 started on the conquest of Milan. He kept all his plans to 
 himself, not disclosing his intentions even to his best allies, 
 the Venetians. All correspondence with England ceased. In 
 
 ' Feb. 4, 1515, in Le Glay’s Negoc. 
 2 II. 82. 
 
 3 II. 105. 
 
 ^ II. 2536. 
 
FRArrCE PITTOKESfUE 
 
 f 
 
 \i 
 
1515.] 
 
 FRENCH INVASION OF ITALY. 
 
 99 
 
 i 
 
 J 
 
 I 
 
 ii 
 
 'I 
 
 I 
 
 '! 
 
 1 
 
 vain Wolsey and the King fretted and fumed at this galling 
 neglect, which wore the air of contempt ; in vain they treated 
 with an ill-assumed indifference the rumour that Francis was 
 meditating the conquest of Italy without communicating his 
 intentions to them. ‘‘ Sir ambassador,” exclaimed Henry, 
 pale with anger, to Giustinian, who had announced ^ to him 
 with malicious candour the departure of Francis from Lyons, 
 the French King will not go into Italy this year, though he 
 says so. I believe he is afraid of me, and that will prevent 
 him from crossing the Alps.” On Sebastian stating that the 
 French King was adored by his subjects, “ By God ! ” exclaimed 
 Henry, “ he gives them poor reason to love him, running thus 
 at the very commencement of his reign into the toil and 
 charges of war.” “ The King of France never cares,” says 
 Wolsey to the same ambassador three days after, “ to ask aid 
 of England ; he omits to make us the least communication of 
 his intentions, showing in how small account he holds his 
 Majesty. Think, sir ambassador, whether this is to be borne, 
 and say if these are the fashions of confederates ! ” ^ Now 
 and then Louise sent a letter so well timed as to come too 
 late to do mischief, offering ample amends for any apparent 
 injury or neglect. Kegardless of all idle menaces Francis 
 held on his way. Ferdinand, who had already been in treaty ^ 
 with Francis to secure his late conquest of Navarre, was too 
 old and too ill to offer serious opposition. Maximilian wasted 
 the time in hunting or coquetting with the Princess of 
 Hungary,^ a young girl not yet in her teens. “ The Emperor,” 
 said Pope Julius, “is fickle and inconstant; he is always 
 dunning for money, which he spends in hunting the chamois ; 
 yet he must be conciliated in the devil’s name,^ and money 
 always provided for him.” ® From him there was no danger. 
 So Francis, the new Cid, started from Lyons for Grenoble at 
 the end of July. The passes in Italy had already been occu- 
 pied by the Swiss under their captain general, Galeazzo 
 Visconti. Galeazzo makes their number not more than 6,000, 
 
 ^ July 3, 15L5. 
 
 2 II. 666. 
 
 3 II. 685. 
 
 * Anne, daughter of Ladislaus VII. 
 of Huno’ary, afterwards married to 
 Ferdinand of Austria, brother of 
 Charles V., who became King of 
 Hungary in her right. 
 
 ® “ Conciliandus nomine diaboli. 
 
 « II. 1876. 
 
 ^ See his letter, II. 1349. Guic- 
 
 ciardini rechons them at 20,000 ; half 
 of whom kept the passes. The 
 French were more than double the 
 number. But in such warfare position 
 was more than number. “ The king 
 of Arragon, fearing at first ” (says 
 Guicciardini) “lest such great pre- 
 parations should be made against 
 him,' had armed his frontiers, and 
 perpetually united the realm of 
 Navarre to that of Castile ; but as 
 
100 
 
 THE REIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 in consequence of the defection of Berne, Friburg and Soleure, 
 who had gone home from want of pay. They were posted at 
 Susa, commanding the two roads from Mont Cenis and 
 Geneva, by one of which the French must pass or abandon 
 their artillery. In this perplexity it was proposed by Triulcio 
 to force a lower passage across the Cottian Alps leading to 
 Saluzzo. The attempt was attended with almost insurmount- 
 able difficulties. There was no regular road ; — every foot of 
 ground had to be gained hand to hand by pioneers, filling up 
 ravines and undermining rocks or fencing the dangerous 
 slopes, as they dragged their heavy guns with toilsome march 
 to the steep summits of the mountains. Arrived at the top, 
 the prospect was still more formidable. The mountain sloped 
 to the bottom with sharp and projecting cliffs, unsafe for the 
 giddy footing even of an unencumbered passenger. Men in 
 armour fell headlong into the abyss ; horses plunged and 
 struggled in vain with their unmanageable burthens, lost 
 their footing, and rolled thundering over the precipice with 
 guns, carriages, and drivers. But the French troops with 
 wonderful spirits and alacrity — never mounting higher than 
 when they have to overcome the most formidable natural 
 difficulties — were not to be baffled. They dropped their 
 artillery by cables from steep to steep ; down one range of 
 mountains and up another, until five days had been spent in 
 this perilous enterprise, and they found themselves safe in the 
 plains of Saluzzo. Happily the Swiss, secure in their position 
 at Susa, had never dreamed of the possibility of such a 
 passage. The men-at-arms and the foot under La Palice 
 clambered over the rocks, some by one passage and some 
 another. 
 
 Prosper Colonna, who commanded in Italy for the Pope, 
 was sitting down to his comfortable dinner at Villa Franca 
 when a scout covered with dust dashed into his apartment 
 announcing that the French had crossed the Alps. The next 
 minute the town was filled with the advanced guard, under the 
 Sieur d’Ymbercourt and the celebrated Bayard. The Swiss 
 at Susa had still the advantage of position, and might have 
 hindered Hie passage of the main body of the French; but 
 they had no horse to transport their artillery, were badly led, 
 
 soon as lie found that the war was in- had done of all covenants and con- 
 tended for Italy, he dismissed all the tracts made to them the years before.” 
 companies he had levied, holding no The accuracy of Guicciardini in this 
 more reckoning of his promises, made part of his narrative is exactly borne 
 that year to his confederates, than he out by the contemporary documents. 
 
G-. Iti-ciLar3.soxL 
 
1 
 
1515.] 
 
 THE FEENCH CROSS THE ALPS. 
 
 101 
 
 and evidently divided in their councils. They retired upon 
 Novara without accomplishing any other feat except that of 
 sacking and plundering Chivasso and Vercelli. In fact the 
 brilliant enterprise and audacity of the French in crossing the 
 Cottian Alps had won for them the victory, and dazzled and 
 dismayed the confederates. Cardona, the Spanish viceroy, 
 lingered in Verona ; Leo temporized and hesitated in his 
 plans ; the Gallicizing Swiss at Novara openly advocated the 
 French cause, and the dissension was increased by the back- 
 wardness of Ferdinand in sending the pay he had promised 
 them. 
 
 There was in the armies of the Swiss, now constantly 
 recruited by fresh and hungry adventurers, an ecclesiastic 
 named Matthew Scheiner, Cardinal of Sion, who plays an 
 important part in the transactions of this particular period. 
 He was a man of inexhaustible activity, of rough and ready 
 eloquence, and highly esteemed by his countrymen. He 
 hated, or at least affected to hate the French, wuth a hatred 
 that nothing could extinguish. The Swiss were now at Milan, 
 intending to effect a junction with the viceroy of Naples, who 
 had advanced to Cremona. Early in the morning of the 13th 
 of September, Sion called the troops together at beat of drum, 
 in the courtyard of the castle of Milan ; then, mounting a 
 chair in the midst of them, he harangued them on the valour 
 and glory of their nation.^ They were, he exclaimed, the real 
 rulers of this world : they it was who dispensed crowns and 
 empires ; without them no prince could be assured of his 
 dominions, and with them the weakest might promise himself 
 assured victory. He enlarged upon their conquests in Italy, 
 reminded them how popes and kings had sought their alliance, 
 and ended by pointing to the French camp and promising 
 them an easy conquest.^ “ There,” said he, “ are treasures 
 sufficient to enrich you all for life ; glory enough to make you 
 the most redoubtable nation on the face of the earth.” It 
 was in vain that Galeazzo and others more experienced in 
 these matters denounced the folly of the enterprize, and 
 advised delay.^ Sion’s speech was received with enthusiastic 
 cries ; hogsheads of wine were broken up and distributed 
 
 ^ “ Comme un reynard qni prescLe employed by Henry VIII., but they 
 les poules,” says Flearanges, oh. 50. never could agree. Their intrigues 
 
 ^ Marillac, F. de Bourbon, 158, ed. with the Swiss and the French occupy 
 Buchon. many pages in this volume of the 
 
 ® See Galeazzo’s letter (II. 1349). calendar. 
 
 Sion and Galeazzo were afterwards 
 
102 
 
 THE KEIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 among the troops ; the cornet de boeuf sounded the rendez- 
 vous through the camp and the streets of Milan, ^ and every 
 man hurried forward, anxious to be the first to assail and 
 plunder the French. The French camp was at Marignano, 
 about twelve miles distant. The day was hot and dusty. 
 The advanced guard of the French was under the command of 
 the Constable of Bourbon, whose vigilance defeated any 
 advantage the Swiss might otherwise have gained by the 
 suddenness and rapidity of their movements. At nine o’clock 
 in the morning, as Bourbon was sitting down at table, a scout, 
 dripping with water, made his appearance. He had left Milan 
 only a few hours before, had waded the canals, and came to 
 announce the approach of the enemy. Bourbon ordered his 
 horse, and galloped to the King’s quarter. As they stood dis- 
 cussing the probability of the news, a gentleman-at-arms rode 
 up, saying that a great cloud of dust had been seen in the 
 direction of Milan.^ The Swiss came on apace ; they had dis- 
 encumbered themselves of their hats and caps, and thrown off 
 their shoes, the better to fight without slipping. They made 
 a dash at the French artillery, and were foiled after hard 
 fighting, though Galeazzo avers that they captured fifteen 
 great guns, and drove the French hack half a mile.^ Marillac, 
 who was with Bourbon that day, admits that the French could 
 make no impression on the main body of the Swiss, who 
 fought with such obstinacy and determination, that the French 
 recoiled, and at one time gave over the battle for lost. It was 
 an autumnal afternoon ; the sun had gone down ; dust and 
 night-fall separated and confused the combatants. The French 
 trumpets sounded a retreat ; both armies couched down in the 
 darkness within cast of a tennis-ball of each other.^ The 
 cornets de vache of the Swiss blared and brayed through the 
 night, answered by the French trumpets and clarions. Where 
 they fought, there each man laid down to rest when darkness 
 came on, within hand-grip of his foe ; — foot-soldier pike in 
 hand, the horseman in the saddle, the gunner with his lin- 
 stock, longing for the dawn. 
 
 It was Friday morning ; ^ the autumnal mist crawled slowly 
 
 ^ Fleurangfes, cap. 50. 
 
 2 Marillac, p. 158. 
 
 ^ II. 1349. Whether it was so, or 
 that Galeazzo made capital of the cur- 
 rent report of their capture, I cannot 
 decide. Guicciardini, speaking of the 
 retreat of the Swiss, states : “ Some 
 say they buried 15 pieces of great 
 artillery, which they won at the first 
 
 charge, for that they had no oppor- 
 tunity to carry them away.” 
 
 ^ “Si prez,” says Francis, writing 
 to Louise, “ que j’eusse bien tire un 
 eteuf, et n’y avait qu’un fosse entre 
 deux.” It was pitch dark, and there 
 was no moon that night. 
 
 ® Sept. 14. 
 
 I 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
 I 
 
 
 I 
 
 j 
 
 ! 
 
 
 
1515 .] 
 
 BATTLE OF MAKIGNANO. 
 
 103 
 
 away, and once more exposed the combatants to each other’s 
 view. The advantage of the ground was on the side of the 
 French. They were drawn up in a valley protected by a ditch 
 full of water. Though the Swiss had taken no refreshment 
 that night, ^ they renewed the fight with unimpaired animosity 
 and vigour. A party of them broke into the French camp, 
 and found their way to Bourbon’s quarters, where they fell to 
 rifling the provisions and the wine-casks, and were burnt to 
 death in the cellars and magazines. Another hand lost their 
 way. Francis, surrounded by a body of mounted gentlemen, 
 performed prodigies of valour. The night had given him 
 opportunity for the better arrangement of his troops ; ^ and 
 as the day wore on, and the sun grew hot, the Swiss, though 
 “ marvellously deliberate, brave, and obstinate,” began to give 
 way. The arrival of the Venetian general, D’Alviano, with 
 fresh troops, made the French victory complete.^ 
 
 But the Swiss retreated inch by inch with the greatest 
 deliberation, carrying off their great guns on their shoulders ; 
 their helmets, their armour, and every part of their person 
 which was unprotected was covered with the shafts of the 
 Gascon cross-bowmen, who did great execution. The French 
 were too exhausted to follow. And their victory had cost 
 them dear ; for the Swiss, with peculiar hatred to the French 
 gentry and the lance-knights, had shown no mercy. They 
 spared none, and made no prisoners.^ 
 
 The glory of the battle was great, and that at a time when 
 such glory was most coveted, and war opened the only road to 
 distinction. At that day there was not a sovereign in Europe 
 who did not envy Francis the fame he had acquired in this his 
 first battle. His old censor, Trivulcio, who accused him of 
 lying in bed too late, and wasting his time in his mother’s 
 chamber, admitted that this battle had been fought not by 
 men but by giants,^ and that the eighteen battles at which he 
 had been present were but the squabbles of little children in 
 
 Such is Galeazzo’s statement. 
 Guicciardini says that Sion had pro- 
 visions brought them from Milan. 
 The two statements are not so irre- 
 concileable as they might appear at 
 first sight. It is difficult to see how 
 refreshments could be brought in 
 sufficient quantity, and effectually 
 distributed, at so short a notice, and 
 in so dark a night. It is admitted 
 on all hands that the Swiss despised 
 the French, and promised themselves 
 an easy victory. 
 
 2 Francis had not taken off his 
 armour all night, but threw himself to 
 sleep for a few hours on a gun-carriage. 
 (Du Bell ay.) 
 
 ® D’Alviano arrived on the field at 
 ten in the morning ; but the Swiss were 
 already retiring. (Du Bellay.) The 
 fight lasted till noon, (Galeazzo.) 
 
 ^ “ Us ne s’epergnoient point, non 
 plus que sangliers echanffes,” remarks 
 Francis, 
 
 ® Guicciardini. 
 
104 
 
 THE REIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 1515. 
 
 comparison with this. The Swiss, the best troops in Europe 
 and hitherto reckoned invincible, had been beaten by the men 
 they despised as effeminate, whom they called in derision 
 “ hares in armour.” ^ They had been the terror and scourge 
 of Italy, equally formidable to friend and foe, and now their 
 prestige was extinguished. But it was not in these merely 
 military aspects that the battle of Marignano was important. 
 No one who reads the French chronicles of the times, can fail 
 to perceive that it was a battle of opinions and of classes even 
 more than of nations ; of a fierce and rising democratical 
 element, now rolled back for a short season, only to display 
 itself in another form against royalty and nobility; — of the 
 burgher classes against feudality. When Sion inflamed the 
 fierce passions of the Swiss by telling them that they were 
 the real dispensers of power, he spoke a language which, in 
 one form or another, had been silently making its way to the 
 hearts of the lower orders throughout all the nations of 
 Europe. The old romantic element, overlaid for a time by 
 the political convulsions of the last century, had once more 
 gained the ascendant. It was to blaze forth and revive, before 
 it died out entirely, in the Sydneys and Ealeighs of Queen 
 Elizabeth’s reign ; it was to lighten up the glorious imagina- 
 tion of Spenser before it faded into the dull prose of Puritan 
 divinity, and the cold grey dawn of inductive philosophy. 
 But its last great battle was the battle of Marignano. 
 
 ^ “Et vous asseure, Madame, que 
 j’ai veu les lansquents mesarer la pique 
 aux Suisses, la lance aux gens d’armes ; 
 et ne dira-on plus que les gens d’armes 
 sent lievres armes, car sans point de 
 faute, ce sont eux qui ont fait I’exe- 
 
 cution.” (Francis to Madame Louise.) 
 He also admits, in common witL 
 Guicciardini, that the seneschal 
 d’ Armagnac, in charge of the artillery, 
 Lad contributed greatly to their 
 success. 
 

 SPENSER. 
 
 This illustrious poet was born about 1553 in London, and educated as a sizar at 
 Pembroke Hall, Cambridge, where he took the degree of B. A. in 1572, and M. A. in 
 1576 . After continuing some time at College he became a candidate for a fellowship, 
 but was unsuccessful, and quitted the University. Residing at the house of a friend in 
 the North, he fell in love with the ‘ Rosalind’, of whose cruelty he composed such pa- 
 thetic complaints in his Shepherd’s Calendar, which appeared about this time, addressed 
 to Sir Philip Sidney, the most popular of all the courtiers of his age. Spenser was, by 
 him, introduced at the court of Queen Elizabeth, who made him poet-laureat, with a 
 pension of fifty pounds per annum, which, it seems, owing to the Lord Treasurer’s dis- 
 like to poetry, was never regularly paid. Lord Grey, of Wilton, being appointed Deputy 
 of Ireland, Spenser was chosen to be his secretary; but this nobleman being re-called in 
 1582, the bard returned with him to England, and seems to have continued here till the 
 untimely death of Sir Philip Sidney in 1586. 
 
 Spenser’s services being recompensed by a grant from Queen Elizabeth, of three thou- 
 sand acres of land, out of the forfeited estates in the county of Cork, he returned to 
 Ireland. His house was at Kilcolman, and the river Mulla ran through his grounds. 
 About this time he became intimately acquainted with Sir Walter Raleigh, whom, in his 
 poem called ‘ Colin Clout’s come home again,’ he described as the Shepherd of the Ocean. 
 In 1594 he fell in love with a merchant’s daughter, and, being more successful than in 
 his first amour, he wrote a beautiful epithalamium, w hich he presented to her on her 
 bridal day. In 1596 he visited England, and presented to the Queen his ‘ View of the 
 state of Ireland,’ a work, which, though very short, contains, probably, the best ac- 
 count extant of the customs, manners, and national habits, of that day. In 1598, the 
 Queen recommended him to be made Sheriff of Cork ; but the rebellion which broke out 
 under the Earl of Tyrone, shortly after, frustrated her generous intentions. In the mean 
 time he had completed his ‘ Fairy Queen:’ at first he published only three books ; but 
 in a subsequent edition added three more ; but the six last books, excepting the two 
 last cantos on Mutability, were unfortunately lost by his servant. His estate formerly 
 belonging to Desmond, and being plundered by the Irish rebels, he w^as forced back 
 to his native country, where he was plunged into new calamities. He died in King 
 Street, Westminster, in 1598, and was buried, as he desired, near Chaucer, in West- 
 minster Abbey. His obsequies were attended by several of his poetical contemporaries, 
 who paid the last honours to his memory. Several copies of verses were thrown into 
 his grave, with the pens that wrote them, and his monument was erected at the charge 
 of Robert Devereux, the unfortunate Earl of Essex. 
 
 Drummond, of Hawthornden, tells a different story of Spenser’s death. Upon the 
 authority of Ben Jonson, he relates, ‘ that Spenser’s goods were plundered by the 
 Irish, in Desmond’s rebellion ; his house and a little child of his burnt ; he and his 
 wife narrowly escaping ; that he afterwards died in King Street, Dublin, through ab- 
 solute want.’ The poems of Spenser, however, will never perish. Though he has 
 unnecessarily introduced into them many obsolete terras, they contain a flow of poetry, 
 an elegance of sentiment, a fund of imagination and glowing enthusiasm, which will 
 infallibly hand them down to posterit 5 % Spenser’s works were published in six volumes 
 i2mo. by Mr. Huerhes, with an account of his life, and a glossary, and re-printed in 
 

 
 
( 105 ) 
 
 1 
 
 t 
 
 CHAPTEE IV. 
 
 j EFFECTS OF THE BATTLE OF MAEIGNANO. 
 
 I The news of the battle of Marignano was received in the 
 
 I I different courts of Europe with very different emotions. Leo 
 
 j for a time left off his intrigues, and hastened to make his 
 
 I peace with the conqueror. Charles sent letters of congratula- 
 
 j tion; Ferdinand trembled for his possessions in the South of 
 
 I Italy, and for the effects of that selfish policy which had 
 
 I deprived him of effectual help when he most required it. To 
 
 I Erasmus, then at Basle, busy with his New Testament, the 
 
 j defeat of the Swiss furnished pleasant matter for jesting.^ 
 
 j “Our friends, the Swiss,” he writes, “are in a great fume, 
 
 |i because the French would not politely allow themselves to be 
 
 i beaten, as they were beaten by you English, but sent many 
 
 ■I of them to the right about with their great guns. They have 
 
 j returned home fewer in number than when they started; 
 
 I ragged, gaunt, disfigured and wounded, their ensigns torn, 
 
 ( their festal songs turned into funeral dirges.” Giustiriian, 
 
 I the Venetian ambassador, gleeful as a schoolboy when he 
 
 I I could throw grit into Wolsey’s bread, was not sorry at the 
 
 i! opportunity of carrying him the tidings. At first Wolsey had 
 
 |s persuaded himself that Francis would never pass into Italy ; 
 
 when that hope failed, he had assured himself, on the faith of 
 letters received from Brussels, that Francis must inevitably 
 ■; be defeated. On the 25th of September, eleven days after the 
 
 I victory at Marignano, he had told Sebastian, on his asking 
 
 II the news,^ that he had letters from Brussels of the 18th,^ 
 
 I quoting advices from Verona of the 12th, and describing the 
 
 j perilous position of the Most Christian King. He lamented, in 
 
 pathetic terms, the ruin which he foresaw must ensue from 
 the mad folly of a misguided young man, and the pertinacity 
 of the Venetians in not abandoning the French alliance. On 
 
 i ^ II. 985. 3 130 Spinelly’s letter of 
 
 III ^ He had jast been made Cardinal, the 19th. See No. 927. 
 
 |] and was more than usually gracious. 
 
106 
 
 THE REIGN OF HENRY VIIL 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 the 11th of October, as Wolsey still affected to disbelieve the I 
 news of the French victory, Giustinian had the satisfaction of | 
 assuring him there could be no doubt of the fact. The King i 
 had been duly notiiied of the victory by Francis himself and | 
 his mother Louise, but, with extraordinary pertinacity, refused | 
 to credit the unwelcome tidings.^ With an incredulity almost 
 childish, he treated the letters as forgeries, and the report as ! 
 
 a political canard got up by the French to suit their own | 
 
 purposes. In order to disabuse him Francis sent an agent to | 
 England, named De Bapaume, with Guienne herald. The 
 envoy’s account of his reception presents an accurate and 
 lively picture of the King himself, and the conflicting emotions 
 of the court. Henry was then building his great galley, called 
 The Virgin Mary, in honour of the French Queen.^ The ! 
 report is addressed to Louise of Savoy. 
 
 “ Madam, on Thursday last, the 25th of this month, ^ I received the 
 letters which you were pleased to send me by the present bearer, Guyenne 
 herald, dated the 18th. And as the hour was late, and the king of 
 England, the two queens, and the council were gone to the great galley, 
 
 I could not on that day accomplish your commands, or do what was con- 
 tained in your letters. The next day before I left there arrived a servant 
 of M. de la Fayette, captain of Boulogne, who brought other letters of 
 yours, dated the 16th, with a cipher enclosed. | 
 
 ‘ ‘ F orthwith , Madam, I departed from this town in company with the said 
 herald, and visited the said king of England in his chateau at Greenwich. ; 
 And after I had made him the most cordial recommendations from my 
 master and yourself, the herald presented his Majesty with the two letters 
 written by the king. He did not take any great pleasure in reading j 
 them ; for it seemed, to look at him, as if tears would have burst from his 
 eyes, so red were they from the pain he suffered in hearing and under- i 
 standing the good news and prosperity of my master, who had advertised i 
 him thereof by his letters.^ ... ■ 
 
 ‘ ‘ Madam, after reading the said letters, the king of England called me 
 apart, and privately asked me what news there was from the king of 
 Arragon, and whether the king mj^ master intended to make war on him 
 for the kingdom of Naples. I replied, I thought not, and that I neither ' 
 knew nor had heard anything about it. I had been given to understand 
 that my master would return from Italy into France with his army, at ' 
 the feast of All Saints, or soon after. On this he told me, he understood 
 so from the king’s letters. Then he asked me about the arrangements 
 with the Pope. I told him they were made and concluded. He replied : 
 
 It was not so ; for the contrary was the case, and the Pope had yet to 
 ratify, and he knew better than I ; for my master and you would have let 
 him know if it had been so. Then he asked me about the Emperor ; 
 
 * Sir Richard Wingfield had sent 
 the news from Calais on the 27th of 
 September (see II. 953), but it was 
 not believed in England until some 
 time after, and Spinelly kept up the 
 delusion (see II. 958). This is the 
 more remarkable as it was known at 
 Brussels at least as early as the 23rd. 
 
 2 II. 1113. 
 
 ® He means October. 
 
 ^ “ Et en icelles lisant il ny prenoit i 
 
 pas grant plaisir, tellement qu’il ' 
 
 serabloit, a le veoir, que les larmes luy 
 deussent tumber des yeulx, tant les | 
 avait rouges de la paine qu’il soufiroit,” 
 etc. I 
 
1515.] 
 
 HOW HENKY EEOEIVED THE NEWS. 
 
 107 
 
 where he was, and what he was doing ? I told him I had heard no news 
 of him ; only I had learnt from some private j)ersons that he was seeking 
 the friendship of the king my master. Then his Majesty said he knew 
 well where he was, and what he was about ; and as for seeking the friend- 
 ship of the king my master, quite the contrary was the truth : and there 
 he stopped. 
 
 ‘ ‘ He next inquired how many Swiss had fallen in the battle. To 
 which I made answer, about 20,000. This assertion he would not believe, 
 although Guyenne herald assured him of it. He protested that not more 
 than 10,000 Swiss, who formed the vanguard, fought with the king and 
 his army ; and that the rearguard, which contained the great body of the 
 Swiss, took no part in the engagement, nor struck a single blow ; for the 
 king or his predecessors had bribed them, and made an agreement with 
 them. His Majesty asserted he was well informed of this by letters from 
 persons present at the battle, who had written the truth of the matter. 
 On this the Admiral (Surrey), and other lords and gentlemen who were 
 present, seeing that the king could not dissemble his resentment, or even 
 pretend to take pleasure in the prosperity of his ally, began saying that 
 I he ought to be very joyful that the king, his good brother and ally, had 
 defeated the Swiss, who were so fierce and haughty that they had 
 I presumed to name themselves the rulers and correctors of princes ; — that 
 the glory and renown of all gentlemen and nobles were extinguished and 
 annihilated by their usurpation and arrogance ; — with other words to this 
 I effect. Hereupon his Majesty said, that certainly he was very glad, for 
 ! the Swiss were nothing hut villains, and he had ever known them to 
 j be such ; and the lansquenetz, whom he called Almains, were greatly 
 superior, and better soldiers than they. And he asked me, now that 
 Christian princes were agreed and on good terms, what better could they 
 do than make war upon the Turk ? Hereupon all present gave their 
 I advice, concluding that it would be well so to do, saying that the kings of 
 
 B France and of England were young and powerful, and that since 
 Charlemagne there had not been in Christendom any princes who could 
 do it better than they. This discourse was long kept up. ... At the 
 king’s departure I asked him if he would be pleased to write to my 
 master. He answered, Yes ; and to that end he would send the letters 
 I of the king to his council. . . . 
 
 j Madam, after this I went immediately to my lord the Duke of 
 
 Suffolk, who was at the said chateau ; to whom I communicated all the 
 ! news. He answered me much more civilly than the king, and told me he 
 J was as glad of the prosperity of the king my master as any man in the 
 { kingdom of France, if not more so ; praying me to make his humble 
 j recommendations to you. I reminded him of the kind treatment the king 
 I had shown him in France, and the good words they had had together, as 
 , you charged me in your letters. He told me it was true, and for this 
 cause he reputed himself obliged to do the king more pleasure and service 
 than any other prince. And then I declared to him the contents of the 
 cipher which you had sent ; pointing out to him the things which were 
 being done over here, as well by land as by sea. tie told me it was 
 true that the king of England had made an appearance of preparing 
 himself for war, aud for this cause had got ready a small number of ships, 
 and on land had likewise shown some diligence in assembling men, and 
 having them ready ; but this he had done solely to content his subjects, 
 who desired in my master’s absence that England should go to war with 
 him ; but the king himself had no such inclination. The duke said the 
 king of England would maintain the peace and amity between the two 
 kingdoms ; and there was nothing so much to be desired as that they 
 should see each other and speak together ; and he will never rest till this 
 come to pass ; for he is of opinion that after that there will never arise 
 any question or debate between them ; and he prayed me to write these 
 things to the king and yourself, and to return to him at his house near 
 
108 
 
 THE KEIGN OF HENRY VHL 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 this town immediately after the feast of All Saints, when he would send 
 for me, and speak more plainly to me of this matter. 
 
 “ I left him, and, accompanied with the herald, went to my lord the 
 Cardinal of York, being at Westminster, whom likewise I informed of the 
 good news of the king and his prosperity. He told me he rejoiced at it, 
 and that he esteemed the victory of the king and his success as much as if 
 they had been the king’s his master, by reason of the alliance and friend- 
 ship between them. He thanked the king and you for making him 
 participator of the news, and said he was pleased to hear it above all 
 things in the world. Then I gave him to understand the contents of 
 your cipher, and told him that if he and the king of England thought 
 that the king my master at his departure into Italy had not left his 
 kingdom strong and powerful, and chiefly the towns on the frontiers, they 
 had been greatly deceived ; although the king had never thought that the 
 king of England would attempt to invade his country and make war upon 
 him in his absence, considering the treaty of peace and amity existing 
 between them. On this he laid his hand on his breast, and swore to me 
 that the king his master had never thought of such a thing, nor his 
 council ; and as for the ships which he had prepared during this time, and 
 chiefly his great galley, that was done solely to give pleasure and pastime 
 to the queen and queen Mary his sister ; and that it was true that on 
 Thursday last the king, the said queens, and all the council had dined on 
 board, and made the greatest cheer and triumph that could be devised. 
 And with regard to preparations by land, the king of England had done 
 nothing with intent to make war on France or on Scotland, but only for 
 the purpose of keeping himself ready for all contingencies ; for if the king 
 his master had resolved on making war upon the Scotch, he would have 
 done so by land, and not by sea. In saying this, however, he did not 
 mean to have it understood that, if the duke of Albany did not abstain 
 from the injuries and violent dealing he had used towards the queen of 
 Scotland, his master’s sister, and her children, and if he did not make 
 amends W the same, the king of England would not endeavour, when 
 time and place offered, to make him acknowledge and repair them, as he 
 had formerly told me, and charged me to write to you ; but on his faith 
 there was not at present any such thing in meditation. Both the cardinal 
 and the duke of Suffolk advised me not to speak to the king of this, for 
 fear he should entertain some suspicion. So I have deferred doing so till 
 it please you to send me further instructions. 
 
 “Madam, when the answers of the cardinal and the duke of Suffolk, 
 who do not agree, are weighed and considered by you, you will take such 
 counsel as you may think best. I am and shall always be of opinion that 
 if the king my master had met with worse success in Italy, the king of 
 England would have certainly prepared with all his power to descend upon 
 France ; this is now quite common and well known over here. But, God 
 be thanked, it is no longer necessary to think of such things,^ for all is 
 changed with our good fortune ; and as for Scotland, if war is to take 
 place there, it cannot be within six months and more from this date, 
 because there will not be sufficient time for it. 
 
 “ I wrote to you that the Great Chamberlain of Scotland (Hume) had 
 been taken prisoner by the duke of Albany ; and such was the fact : but 
 the Cardinal has since told me, he has escaped, and is at present in this 
 kingdom. The Cardinal informed me that the duke of Albany had 
 delivered him into the custody of the earl of Arran, who has married the 
 Chamberlain’s sister, and the said earl released him without the know- 
 ledge of the duke ; and he and the said earl came away into this kingdom, 
 where they remain at present with the queen of Scotland ; by reason of 
 which, as the same Cardinal said, they are at this time more mutinous 
 in Scotland than ever ; and though the greatest part was heretofore with 
 
 ^ “ II ne s’en fault plus donner de mal temps.” 
 
1515 .] 
 
 THE FRENCH AMBASSADOR’S SUSPICIONS. 
 
 109 
 
 ■j the said lord of Albany, they have now abandoned him, and he is much 
 h| reduced. So, in spite of him, the uncle of the said chamberlain and 
 B| others his relatives and friends were at liberty and released from prison. 
 SI Subsequently I made enquiry of the herald of arms of Scotland to know 
 tt| if this was the case, who told me he did not know for certain, but he 
 Sil believed it was not. . . . 
 
 i “ Madam, those who were on Thursday last in the galley, dining with 
 j the said king of England, have told me for certain that there are in the 
 ii|^i said galley 207 pieces of artillery, large as well as small, of which 70 are 
 iil of copper and cast (fonte), and the rest of iron, with four or five thousand 
 »| bullets, and four or five hundred barrels of powder. The galley is pro- 
 I pelled by six score oars, and is so large that it will hold 800 or 1000 
 fighting men. The king of England acted as master of the galley, 
 i wearing a sailor’s coat and trowsers of frise cloth of gold ; he had on a 
 j thick chain, in which were five links, and amongst the same there were 
 three plates of gold, on which was written, as a device, ^ Duu est ^ mon 
 ! Droit and at the bottom of the said chain was a large whistle, with which 
 he whistled almost as loud as ^ a trumpet or clarionet. Mass was sung on 
 board by the bishop of Durham ; and the galley was named by queen 
 Mary, ‘ The Virgin Mary.’ 
 
 “Madam, after these things I went twice to the said Cardinal of 
 I York, who sent for me ; and on each occasion, and especially yesterday 
 I in the presence of the bishops of Winchester and Durham, he told me 
 I that the king of England and his council considered the language which 
 f the king my master had used in his letters to the king of England was 
 I very strange ; viz that the king of France had not suspected that so noble 
 ij and so virtuous a prince, loving his own honour and fearing God, as the 
 j] king of England, would have wished to make war upon him, contrary to 
 I his faith, and promise, without first advertising and informing him of the 
 ijl same, and without signifying it to him and letting him know it, in order 
 ij that, if there was any fault, it might be amended, or at any rate he might 
 prepare to defend himself ; which words the said king of England and all 
 ;] his council considered very harsh and unpleasant. . . . 
 j “ After further arguments to this effect they said they hoped the 
 ||j king of France would henceforth behave more graciously and use more 
 i gracious wmrds in his communications, as their master would to him. 
 J To this the writer replied, that his master’s letters were couched in 
 lil nothing but gracious and good terms ; and if they would otherwise 
 if interpret them, the fault lay in the king of England and his council, for 
 ij the king of England had written in still ruder terms to his master ; 
 
 i| otherwise the king would never have made him such a reply. Other 
 
 ill arguments passed on both sides. In the conclusion it w^as agreed that 
 
 I henceforward they should write as good brothers and allies ought to do. 
 f “ This done they spoke to me afterwards of the jewels which queen 
 I Mary demands, telling me that the answers which the king of France 
 I had given were like all his previous replies, and that the objections 
 ;|i contained in the said letters, by which the king pretended he was not 
 I bound to deliver up the jewels, were unreasonable, as the king of 
 Ij England had represented to him by a bishop, his ambassador, whom he 
 jl had sent for that purpose ; that my lord chancellor and the said bishop, 
 I the ambassadors, had many times met together, but that they could not 
 
 I determine the matter ; and it appeared to them, that the king deceased 
 
 . had given the jewels to the said queen Mary to adorn and decorate her 
 
 person, although this was after the marriage for the most part, and that 
 they ought to be delivered up. I defended myself as well as I could ; and 
 so, at the end, they deferred the matter, without saying more about it. 
 I believe they see clearly that this is only reasonable. 
 
 I ‘ ‘ Afterwards they proceeded to the Scotch business ; and though I 
 
 ^ Sic, 2 te Apres force de.” 
 
no 
 
 THE REIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 had told them that I had no commission from the king, and so knew ! 
 
 nothing about it, they nevertheless did not omit to reiterate the com- | 
 
 plaints which I have repeated so often to you ; viz. the ill treatment j 
 
 which they say my lord the duke of Albany has shown to the queen of i 
 
 Scotland, in having taken from her her children, deprived her of the j 
 
 government, seized all her goods, and driven her out of the said kingdom, I 
 
 with only one gown, and no attendance : adding that the said lord duke | 
 
 of Albany had caused it publicly to be proclaimed throughout the said 1 
 
 kingdom that every one should prepare himself for war against the king j 
 of England, who was coming to assail them in order to take and subvert , 
 their kingdom, — a thing which the said king of England, as they say, 
 never purposed to do. . . . They prayed me to write these things to you, 
 to the end that it might please the king and you to prevent them. ... | 
 
 “Madam, I was afterwards alone with the Cardinal of York, who j 
 charged me to write to the king and yourself that there is no prince in j 
 
 this world that the king of England loves better or holds more dear than j 
 
 he does the king of France. He swore and affirmed this to me, with his i 
 
 hand on his breast. He said they were both young, and there was the | 
 greatest similarity between them in nobility, magnanimity, and virtue, j 
 wherefore they ought the more to love one another ; and he humbly 
 prayed the king and you to treat the king his master well, stating that j 
 the king of England for his part would do more than he was bound to do : j 
 
 and on this subject may it please you to consider that the time is no ! 
 
 longer such as it used to be. i 
 
 “ To learn how the Scotch business stood, I asked him about it ; and | 
 
 he told me that if the king would recall the duke of Albany, — allow the i 
 
 estates of that country and the Scotch parliament to nominate guardians I 
 
 of the children and take the administration of the realm during the j 
 
 minority of the king of Scotland, the queen retaining the name only, and 
 allowed to go and come with her children when and as often as she ; 
 
 pleased, — and if her goods and dowry were restored, and she enabled to 
 return to Scotland, — then all would be appeased, and there would never 
 be occasion for war. But if this were not done, the king of England was 
 resolved to aid his sister, and to do so much that she should have what 
 belongs to her. I also spoke to him touching the king of Arragon, ; 
 because I had heard that within a few days past something had taken 
 place between the king of Arragon and them, and how they had renewed 
 their ancient amity, and amongst other things had engaged that if the : 
 king of England made war on Scotland the king of Arragon should assist 
 him ; and also if the king of France made war on the king of Arragon in 
 Guienne, the king of England should succour him. Hereupon the 
 Cardinal told me, that if the king would treat the king of England well, 
 and not do anything contrary to the treaty of peace and amity between 
 them, I might assure you on his part, that the king of England would 
 not make an alliance with the king of Arragon, or any other person, pre- , 
 judicial to the king my master. ... 
 
 “ Madam, I have written a long letter in order to obey you. I trust 
 it will not tire you, and very humbly pray the king and yourself that I 
 may return. . . . 
 
 “ At London this 6th day of November.” 
 
 It might be true in the language of diplomacy that up to 
 the date of the battle of Marignano Henry had not been guilty 
 of any overt act which could be construed into a breach of his 
 treaty with France, whatever might have been his inclinations. 
 The time had not yet arrived for forming a powerful con- 
 federacy against his rival, with any tolerable hopes of success. 
 
tbe 
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 I 
 
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 pifci 
 
 ^OH,, 
 
 f mia • 
 Wii 
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 b^:ri 
 
 1 1, V '•'■ ? 
 
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 llml 
 
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1515.] 
 
 MAXIMILIAN AND THE SWISS. 
 
 Ill 
 
 i Ferdinand, as I have stated before, was content to remain 
 neutral, undoubtedly believing, like the other rulers of Europe, 
 that the ambition of Francis would end in his ruin, and the 
 Swiss would secure an easy victory. There was better expec- 
 tation of Maximilian. The imperial cities of Brescia and 
 Verona were menaced by the Venetians, and the Emperor was 
 in danger of losing every foot of land in Italy. He had the 
 reputation of being an able soldier. Better than all, he had 
 great influence with the Swiss, and could bring any number 
 of them or of German lance-knights into the field. Such men, 
 to whom war was a trade from their infancy, had so manifest 
 a superiority over the raw national militia of other countries, 
 that no king had any chance of success without their aid. 
 That superiority was not merely in their superior training and 
 experience. Beyond that of keeping their arms and imple- 
 ments in full trim, war was their only employment. Whereas 
 the national militia — and that of England especially, taken 
 from the plough-tail at few and irregular intervals for muster, 
 
 I clothed in ill-fitting and old-fashioned habiliments which 
 descended from father to son, badly cleaned and scarcely ever 
 complete — must have presented a spectacle more ludicrous 
 than formidable, as they took the field in rusty head-pieces 
 
 I and cumbrous body armour, hastily patched together for the 
 occasion. It is clear, from the various unsuccessful attempts 
 described in contemporary papers to prevent even the armour 
 furnished by the King from being pawned or purloined, that 
 I native troops were of small account in a continental war. 
 
 But then who could trust Maximilian, himself as much a 
 
 mercenary as the Swiss, and ready like them to sell himself 
 
 I to the highest bidder ? At the very time when he was abusing 
 the French to Sir Eobert Wingfield, and declaiming against 
 their subtle practices, he was giving private audience to 
 French ambassadors,^ and listening to the proposals of his 
 grandson Charles for a closer amity with France.^ Alv7ays 
 extravagant and always in difficulties, any aid from Maximilian 
 had to be purchased at a heavy cost. But Wolsey was inclined 
 
 1 II. 786. 
 
 ^ During the eventful months of 
 August and September the Emperor 
 spent much of his time in hunting ; — 
 a trick which he had when he wished 
 to get out of the way of the honest 
 and simple-minded Sir Eobert Wing- 
 field, who was continually deluded, 
 but never suspected his Imperial 
 Majesty. He imagined that the 
 
 Emperor withdrew himself into the 
 solitudes of the woods to meditate on 
 the best means of succouring Verona, 
 and taking vengeance on the French. 
 It is surprising that he did not per. 
 ceive that Maximilian’s passion for 
 the chase was always at the highest 
 when a message from France was in 
 the way. See II. 873, 886, 900, 
 909. 
 
112 
 
 THE REIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 to venture. The successes of Francis in Italy, his league and 
 evident good understanding with the Pope, had thoroughly 
 alarmed Ferdinand, and provoked the resentment of England. 
 The former had sent an ambassador, and, what was still more 
 unusual with him, rich presents to Henry to invoke his aid. 
 But whatever was done must be done secretly. The treaty 
 with France still stood in the way. The French King had 
 carefully avoided all literal violation of it ; and Henry could 
 not, without breach of faith, venture upon open aggressions. 
 
 There was in the Cardinal’s service an ecclesiastic, of 
 whose early career little is known — Eichard Pace, immortalized 
 by Shakespeare, and reckoned by some as scarce inferior to 
 Wolsey himself in ability or in the favour of Henry. The 
 date and place of his birth are unknown. He tells us. himself,^ 
 however, that he lived in a menial capacity with Thomas , 
 Langton, the predecessor of Fox in the see of Winchester. 
 The Bishop, discovering Pace’s proficiency in music, believed 
 he would make a scholar, and so furnished him with the 
 requisite means to study at Padua ; for this prelate, like 
 others of his order in that age, used to say of himself, that he 
 considered he had been advanced to his high dignity solely 
 for the purpose of fostering learning. He had a school attached I 
 to his palace, where he superintended the education of the = 
 hoys; and “ it was his great delight,” says Pace, “to hear < 
 the hoys repeat to him at night the lessons they had said to 
 their schoolmaster during the day ; and whoever acquitted ' 
 himself to the Bishop’s satisfaction never failed of being praised : 
 and rewarded. For the good Bishop had always these words ^ 
 in his mouth : Virtus laudata crescit. If a dull hoy appeared ! 
 before him, but one who was willing to learn, the Bishop never 
 reproached him with his stupidity, but cheered and exhorted » 
 him to do his best, and to overcome nature by diligence, j 
 setting before him the shining example of others who had 
 surmounted similar obstacles.” ^ During his stay in Italy, 
 Pace seems to have made the acquaintance of Erasmus, 
 Tunstal, and William Latimer. He returned to England, 
 settled at Oxford — as Wood thinks,^ with some reason, at 
 Queen’s College, of which Langton had been the provost ; was 
 taken into the service of Bainhridge, who succeeded Langton j 
 in the provostship, and went with him to Borne, when he was S' 
 Cardinal and Archbishop of York, at the close of the year i 
 
 ^ De Doctrina, 27. of gratitude to his earliest patron. 
 
 ^ Pace excuses himself for diverg- ^ Wood’s Ath. i. 29. 
 
 ing from his subject to pay this tribute 
 
1515.] 
 
 THE SWISS DESIBE TO SERVE ENGLAND. 
 
 113 
 
 1509. When Bainhridge was poisoned, Pace, who had been 
 appointed one of the Cardinal’s executors, was extremely active 
 in bringing the offenders to justice. His pertinacity and 
 resolution in this matter brought down upon him the resent- 
 ment of I)e Giglis, Bishop of Worcester, who was strongly 
 suspected of being implicated in Bainhridge’ s murder ; with 
 what degree of truth must for ever remain uncertain, for the 
 court of Borne were not willing to prosecute the matter too 
 strictly, and Worcester’s services at the time in procuring the 
 cardinalate for Wolsey imposed silence on his accusers. Pace 
 returned to England in March, 1515, with a recommendation 
 to Wolsey from Sir Bichard Wingfield; ^ and from this time 
 to the close of the year we hear no more of him. He was now 
 to be employed by the Cardinal on a secret mission of the 
 greatest importance, and his correspondence on that occasion 
 occupies a considerable space among the state papers of the 
 next two years.^ 
 
 After the battle of Marignano and the surrender of Milan 
 the Swiss had made their way back to their mountain homes, 
 greatly dissatisfied and exasperated at their defeat. Cardinal 
 Sion returned to the Emperor, and here he fell in with Sir 
 I Bohert Wingfield, not the most discreet or reticent of English 
 ambassadors, and learned from him the dissatisfaction of 
 England at the successes of Francis, and still more at the 
 omnipotence of French influence in the court of Flanders, 
 where it displayed itself in ail the forms of arrogance, insult, 
 and opposition to the English commissioners appointed to 
 carry out the treaty of intercourse with Charles of Castile.^ 
 On the 2nd of October^ Wingfield wrote to Wolsey to say that 
 I the Cardinal of Sion had informed him the Swiss desired 
 nothing better than to serve the King with 20,000 men at 
 40,000 florins a month. The Emperor, he questions not, will 
 add as many horse and artillery as shall be necessary, for a 
 I reasonable sum, for all the world knoweth that he is not best 
 purveyed of money ; ” and then Wingfield concludes with a 
 
 1 II. 273. 
 
 ^ This correspondence extends to 
 189 letters ; viz. 149 from Pace, and 
 40 to him. Of these, one or two only 
 have been hitherto known to historians. 
 Not more than seven of them appear 
 in the eleven volumes of State Papers 
 of Henry VIII. published under the 
 sanction of the State Paper Com- 
 mission. 
 
 ® This is the mission on which Sir 
 
 Thomas More was employed with 
 Tunstal, and Young, then Master of 
 the Rolls. It was in this his first visit 
 to Flanders, in a public capacity, that 
 he had the opportunity of making 
 those observations on the political 
 abuses of the times, which he after- 
 wards set forth, with such exquisite 
 humour and keen good sense, in his 
 Utopia. 
 
 ^ II. 982. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 I 
 
114 
 
 THE BEIGN OF HENKY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 flourish from his own trumpet, which the mutilation of the 
 letter has unfortunately marred, of Henry’s triumphant coro- 
 nation in France. On the 8th of October ^ Knight wrote from 
 Brussels with great eagerness, urging Wolsey to enter at once 
 on a war with the ancient enemy and rival of England. “ If 
 he is suffered to invade the innocent, England will lose all 
 her friends.” He pressed the Cardinal not to lose the oppor- 
 tunity. Now is the time a league can be made with the Swiss, 
 “ which shall be a scourge to the pride of France ; notivith- 
 standing divers in England say that they he villains and disdain 
 to hear speak of them. But if ye will not have them, the 
 Frenchmen shall. Well fare the villanies that keepeth and 
 favoreth the rest of noblesse ! The Church, the Empire, and 
 all other princes desire their confederation, save only we, 
 which might have more profit by them than all others.” 
 
 It was creditable to England that it should be so. The 
 facts here disclosed by Knight constitute the best apology for 
 the measures now adopted by Wolsey and the King, scarcely 
 well-judged, and certainly at variance with their usual policy. 
 Papal and French emissaries were busy among the Swiss, 
 and Pace was sent to counteract their intrigues. His mission 
 was one of some delicacy, and required more than usual tact 
 and adroitness. With the view of lulling suspicion it was to 
 be given out that he was acting only in a private capacity. 
 He was ordered to put himself in communication with Cardinal 
 Sion and Sforza Duke of Milan ; and after thanking them for 
 the kind wishes they had expressed, that Wolsey should urge 
 the King of England to recover his rights and inheritance in 
 France by the aid of the Swiss, Pace was instructed to say, 
 that Wolsey would “ spare neither body, life, nor goods ” to 
 join with so excellent and noble a prelate as the Cardinal of 
 Sion, whom he knew above all Christian prelates to be most 
 minded to that universal peace, and some glorious expedition 
 against the Infidels, as soon as a check shall have been laid 
 on the great ambition of France.^ If the Swiss could be 
 persuaded to give battle to France on their side of the mountains, 
 the King of England would no doubt advance them 100,000 
 crowns of gold for two months’ service.^ At the suggestion of 
 Sion the tei;ms were afterwards increased to 120,000 crowns 
 for 20,000 men, to serve wherever England might think fit to 
 employ them. 
 
 Pace started towards the close of October ; crossed to 
 
 ' II. 1003. 
 
 2 II. 1095. 
 
 3 II. 1065, 1146. 
 
1515.] 
 
 PACE’S MISSION. 
 
 115 
 
 Calais ; passed Sir Thomas More on his way to Antwerp, 
 where he arrived on the 25th ; escaped through the dominions 
 of Eohert de la Marche, called The Devil,'' by byepaths to 
 Spires on 1st November; reached Inspruck on the 8th; 
 opened his commission to Sion, and found him so ready for 
 the enterprize that if Pace had brought money, and not 
 promises only, the Swiss would have attacked the French in 
 ten days’ time.^ He arrived at Constance on the 22nd, and 
 at Zurich on the 24th. Nothing can be done here without 
 money,” he says ; “ the French king has offered them 200,000 
 crowns, and we sola spes." They had been too often beguiled 
 by large offers. “ The Pope ought to contribute,” he adds ; 
 “ but, except they see his money, the Swiss say they will not 
 believe the Pope’s word, spoken or written.” The arrange- 
 ment of 120,000 crowns for two months was now increased to 
 140,000 ; in February Galeazzo Visconti, their commander, 
 demanded 300,000.^ Their greed was excessive, and they 
 flocked to the English standard in overwhelming numbers ; 
 but all had to be engaged, at least had to be paid, for fear the 
 rest should take offence. “I am at expences intolerable for 
 to bear amongst the Swiss ” (writes Pace to Burbank), whom 
 a man must have always at meat and drink with him, or 
 shame his prince, his master, and himself.” “ The Swiss be 
 unreasonable in asking money, and remedy is there none ; 
 quia talis est illorum barharies ut pecuniam petitam neganti 
 mortem minentur." English royals and nobles, in spite of 
 Pace’s care and precaution, melted away like snow in the 
 sun; andWolsey could not supply gold with sufficient rapidity 
 to satisfy their insatiable demands. 
 
 It was not to be expected that Maximilian could remain 
 unmoyed at such a sight ; — English gold falling in showers 
 so near him, and not a drop to quench his intolerable thirst. 
 He had been dallying for a long time with the French, unable 
 to decide whether for a sum of French crowns he should 
 abandon all hopes of Italy for ever, or make terms with his 
 good son in England, more to his honour, and probably not 
 less for his interest. Had the French advanced their terms, 
 or had Maximilian entertained better opinions of their 
 solvency, he would not have hesitated what course to adopt. 
 His conduct is not very intelligible, and we can only guess at 
 it in the absence of the documents from foreign archives. 
 But this much is obvious : If he joined England he might 
 
 ® II. 1135, 1146. 
 
 2 II. 415. 
 
116 
 
 THE KEIGN OF HENRY YIIL 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 have a chance of selling his aid to Henry at a high price ; 
 and whilst he invaded Italy ostensibly with the purpose of 
 leading the Swiss and attacking the French, he might succour 
 his own cities of Verona and Brescia, and recover his lost 
 territory from the Venetians, at the expense of his ally. This 
 seems to have been his first idea ; — this done, he could drive 
 a better bargain with France by selling his friendship when it 
 was most valuable to France and most disastrous to England. 
 To keep him favourable to France he was surrounded by 
 ministers in the French interest, who never ceased represent- 
 ing to him the value of the French alliance in colours most 
 attractive to a needy and extravagant man. “ Though I 
 assure your grace,” says Wingfield to Wolsey, “that the 
 Emperor hath as great favor and affection for the King’s 
 Highness as is possible, yet his council, being of other mind, 
 may so impeach and retard the affairs that they shall not fail 
 to be right largely stopped of their course.”^ Therefore 
 Wingfield thought it would be well, if it would please the 
 King and Wolsey, that he and Pace had lOOL of secret service 
 money to distribute amongst such of the Emperor’s council 
 as they should deem fitting ! German venality must have 
 been cheap, when the favours of a whole court could be 
 purchased at such a sum. 
 
 As soon, therefore, as Maximilian had obtained an inkling 
 of what was going forward, he wrote to his daughter Margaret^ 
 to inform her that he had learned from Pace that Henry had 
 deposited 100,000 gold crowns at Antwerp to be delivered in 
 wages to the Swiss. He begged her to send to Antwerp, and 
 inquire of Sir Thomas Spinelly if such were the fact, and, if 
 it proved correct, to contrive and get hold of the money, and 
 secretly deliver it to the factors of the Fuggers to be deposited 
 in the imperial treasury. He purposed, without asking 
 authority from England, to obtain the entire control of the 
 money. Two days after, he wrote again to say, that as 
 Francis had helped the Venetians to lay siege to Brescia and 
 Verona, he could not believe that the offers of accommodation 
 made him by the French King, through the Archduke Charles, 
 were to be trusted. The revenues of the two cities, he says, 
 are worth some millions, and he hoped to be able to prevent 
 them from falling into the hands of the Venetians ; but at 
 present his allies had abandoned him, and he was powerless. 
 Now, however, when least expected, an opportunity had pre- 
 
 ' II. 1447. 
 
 2 Dec. 1, 1515. II. 1231. 
 
HE NUE" ’EIo 
 
 Tablishii . is thcActdirecrsMnr /O bSCCt 
 

1516.] 
 
 SIR ROBERT WINGFIELD. 
 
 117 
 
 sented itself in the desire of England to attack the French in 
 Italy, and he hastened to avail himself of it. His instrument 
 for that purpose was Sir Kobert Wingfield. 
 
 Sir Eohert belonged to a class of statesmen then rapidly 
 disappearing before a younger, more versatile and expert 
 generation, of whom Wolsey might be considered as the chief. 
 He speaks of himself as living in the days of Henry YI.,^ — of 
 his long experience as a negociator,^ — of the white hairs 
 which he had gotten in the cold snowy mountains of 
 Germany, which have the power to make all hares and 
 partridges that abide amongst them white, where my heard 
 (which I have promised to bear to our Lady of Walsingham, 
 an God give me life) is wax so white that whilst I shall wear 
 it I need none other mean to cause women rejoice little in my 
 company.”^ He had the quaintness and precision of a man 
 of the old school, and both are visible in his conversation, his 
 letters, and his handwriting, with a tinge of pedantry not 
 unbecoming a man of his years, and displaying itself in the 
 use of Latinized English and classical references. He was 
 a little proud of himself, but more proud of the Wingfields, as 
 he v/as bound to be ; was easily hurt, but bore no malice. If 
 there was any creature in the world that he hated, it was 
 a Frenchman. He devoutly believed that the French had 
 been at the bottom of all the evils that had happened in 
 Christendom during the last 400 years. He had not 
 read Baker’s Chronicle, like Sir Eoger de Coverley, for he 
 lived 200 years before Baker’s Chronicle was written; but 
 he had read the English Chronicles of his days, and he 
 could tell ^ how disceivately King Philip dealt with King 
 Eichard the First, called Cceur de Lion, being in the Holy 
 Land ; how, by the subtle mean of the same. King John was 
 accursed, and his realm laid under an interdict ; how Henry Y. 
 won all France ; how Henry YIII. had good right to be king 
 of France, for it was notorious that his ancestor and pro- 
 genitor king Edward the Third refused to do homage for the 
 duchy of Guienne, because he would not by this mean deface 
 or impair his title in the crown of France ; ” and so forth. 
 He was, in short, the most guileless, upright, humane, and 
 valiant of all bachelor knights, as he called himself ; stiff and 
 formal, somewhat conceited and pedantical, but full of a wise, 
 gracious, hearty, and forgiving humanity, which was not the 
 worse because it had a smack of his peculiar failings. 
 
 * II. p. 334. 2 n p. 131. 
 
 ^ II. p. 334, 
 
 3 See II. 1131. 
 
118 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.H. 
 
 I know not whether it was more to his credit or Maxi- 
 milian’s that he had been so long in the court of the latter, 
 and yet persisted in believing that the Emperor was the best, 
 the wisest, the most profound, the most honest and patriotic 
 of mortal men. Seeing is believing ; ” hut no seeing would 
 have converted Sir Eobert. Had he beheld the Emperor in 
 the very act of the most flagrant turpitude, he would have 
 set it down to the score of a subtle and inscrutable policy 
 designed to cover some act of sublime virtue, which in the end 
 would ensure the peace and the happiness of Christendom. 
 If the Emperor ran away from the battle-field — if he falsified 
 his word, if he shuffled and prevaricated. Sir Eobert imputed 
 it all to that mysterious wisdom which must needs reside in 
 the heart of an Emperor. Maximilian, though no genius 
 himself, found little difficulty in managing such a man. To 
 Sir Eobert he was universally respectful ; listened to his 
 tedious speeches without betraying signs of impatience, and 
 treated him occasionally, and his despatches, with most 
 magnificent courtesy. He professed to make Sir Eobert the 
 depository of his secrets, to unbosom to Sir Eobert those 
 deeper feelings and designs he could trust to no others, not 
 even to his most intimate councillors. To the proud and 
 susceptible Englishman he spoke of his King in “the most 
 hearty and most affectuous manner ; ” raised his bonnet when 
 he received or referred to his despatches ; had tears in his 
 eyes (the veteran deceiver !) when he thought what a virtuous, 
 loving, and noble son he had in Wingfield’s master. The 
 King’s remembrances, he said, were as comfortable to him 
 “ as the figure of the crucifix which is brought by the cure to 
 his parishien that lieth in extremis ^ 
 
 Pace had been strictly enjoined to keep the money in his 
 own hands, and employ it exclusively in wages for the Swiss, 
 for Wolsey was too well acquainted with the Emperor’s fail- 
 ings to allow him any share in the transaction. Pace was to 
 communicate directly with Galeazzo, and suffer no interven- 
 tion on the part of the Emperor. This being so, the Emperor 
 could find no decent pretext for drawing the money into his 
 own hands, ’ He therefore began with pointing- out to Wing- 
 field the dangers arising from the French successes in Italy. 
 Francis would have the Pope at his disposal ; he would keep 
 Maximilian so employed by aiding the Venetians that the 
 latter would have no opportunity of succouring the Neapolitan 
 
 ' II. p. 387, 
 
1516.] 
 
 WINGFIELD DISOBEYS INSTKUCTIONS. 
 
 119 
 
 territory, and thus the South like the North must fall to the 
 French. “My son, the prince (Charles),” he continued, 
 “ being so young, and his council clearly French, the French 
 King shall for money lead him after his appetite ; which 
 premises, if they shall fortune to take effect, I cannot see how 
 the realm of England shall remain without broilerie and great 
 danger.” ^ Then he suggested that if the league proposed 
 by England (between the Pope, Henry, Arragon, and the 
 Emperor) could be carried into effect with provision for the 
 Swiss, it would be for the weal of Christendom ; “ but the 
 sickness,” he said, “was so great and pernicious that it must 
 be cured or (before) the said medicine may be prepared, the 
 convenient drugs be so distant one from another ; and also 
 he (the Pope) that should be chief hath now of late given 
 hearing and favor to the French enchantments, in such wise, 
 that as long as the French reuiain in Italy the said head is 
 not to be treated with in that .matter, and likewise the 
 Swissers.” In the simplicity of his heart Wingfield wrote to 
 Wolsey three days after,^ that he and the Emperor had can- 
 vassed the plans proposed by the Cardinal for the coming 
 campaign, and he doubted not that as the case then stood 
 Wolsey would perceive “ it was not meet to attempt the 
 Swissers by any of the ways expressed and assigned ” in 
 Wolsey’s letter; — a piece of audacity which shows how totally 
 ignorant Wingfield was of the true state of things, and still 
 more of the character of those with whom he had to deal. As 
 if this had not been enough, he proceeds, with extraordinary 
 complacency in his own sagacity, to state that it was the 
 Emperor’s wish that Pace should make Wingfield privy to all 
 his charges, and follow his advice and counsel from time to 
 time ; “ and as touching the Swissers, if they will not now 
 condescend that 10,000 of them may join the Emperor, which 
 hath had his armies ready in Verona and Brescia, with more 
 footmen and horsemen put in a-readiness to join with them 
 by the space of three months and more, to his marvellous 
 great cost and charge, they will never be got in any manner 
 of way ; and then by necessity there is none other remedy but 
 to wage (employ) 10,000 lance-knights and 1,000 horse,” — the 
 Emperor’s own troops :■ — so falling blindly into the trap which 
 it was the special purpose of the King and Wolsey to avoid. 
 
 The anger of the Cardinal with his unseasonable inter- 
 ference may be better imagined than described. He was not 
 
 ' IL 2351. 
 
 2 II. 1404. 
 
120 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 accustomed to brook opposition from bis equals or even 
 superiors in the Privy Council. Even at this early date the 
 great minister was omnipotent ; “all really depends upon 
 him,” says Giustinian writing home to the Council of Ten. 
 An inferior man would have dismissed Wingfield from his 
 post ; — would have made a fuss, and superseded him. Not so 
 he ; to the credit of the reign, a freedom of opinion and dissent 
 was allowed in official men, which disappeared in after times. 
 Omnipotent as Wolsey was, and impatient of contradiction, he 
 never used his power to remove an inferior from his post 
 because that inferior thought fit sometimes to disagree with 
 him. If an ambassador failed in the expectations that had 
 been formed of him, it was deemed more discreet to send an 
 inferior agent, as occasion might arise, to supplement his 
 deficiencies. Such a policy was not without advantage. 
 The long experience of a man of inferior talents compensated 
 for brighter natural powers ; the credit gained at foreign 
 courts by the permanency of his appointment gave respect 
 and influence to the agent. So, far from employing his 
 authority in recalling the representatives at foreign courts, 
 Wolsey seldom listened to their repeated applications for dis- 
 missal, even when they demanded it in a momentary fit of 
 disgust, or were fretted into impatience by a reprimand, which 
 he sometimes administered with considerable severity. 
 
 They, on the other hand, accustomed to rebuffs, which the 
 sensitive honour of later times considers intolerable, did their 
 best out of a sense of duty to their King and country. The 
 peculiar position of the Tudors fostered this feeling of personal 
 responsibility to the Sovereign. The King was the only repre- 
 sentative of the nation ; Parliament was little more than an 
 institution for granting subsidies and regulating duties on hats 
 and caps. No ambassador, no political agent, cared the least 
 what Parliament might or might not think of his conduct. 
 To Parliament he would never have appealed against an act of 
 ministerial severity or oppression. His sole object was to 
 please the King, and next, perhaps, his minister. And whilst 
 the King, as in the Tudor times, put himself at the head of 
 the nation, knelt with his people at the altars of St. Paul’s or 
 Westminster, fought openly at the tilt with his nobles, came 
 home a-Maying from Greenwich with pasteboard Gogs and 
 Magogs and a noisy rabblement at his heels, shot with his 
 own archers of the guard, discussed the New Testament of 
 Erasmus with friars and bishops, read all his despatches, 
 
1516.] 
 
 HOW WINGFIELD KECEIVED A REBUFF. 
 
 121 
 
 ’■was everywhere seen, heard, and talked of, and that without 
 J bating an atom of his dignity, the entire personality of the 
 I nation was wrapped up in the King, and a unity was given to 
 Jits aim and action, individually and collectively, which never 
 ! had existed before, and possibly never will again. The divine 
 f| right of kings was identified with the divine right of national 
 ^ existence and independence. 
 
 iii But to return to Sir Eobert. What reply Wolsey made to 
 phis despatch we do not know; hut, whatever it was, it was 
 ^ scarcely pleasant to the old knight’s honest and sensitive 
 pride. He had often spoken of resigning before ; now, like a 
 I true Englishman, he breathed not a word of resignation. In 
 I silent and solemn dignity he mounted his tallest horse, wrote 
 sIj home a letter to Wolsey, said he had done nothing to hinder 
 i business, and proceeded to read him a lecture on the duties of 
 f. ministers. ‘‘ Ministers,” he said, should possess four things, 
 I viz. wit, learning, good-will, and experience. For my part,” 
 j| he continued, “ I am not ashamed to give place to your 
 I secretary (Pace) in the first twain, and as to the third it 
 I were too great a shame for me to give place to any ; and in 
 I the fourth, both to eschew arrogance and comparison, I will 
 leave the judgment of that part to such as have practised with 
 us both.” ^ He was a little annoyed, and could not help 
 I showing it. Pace’s commission w^as a secret ; it nowise inter- 
 : fered with Sir Eobert’s duties : but Pace had the control of the 
 ; money and the management of the expedition ; — the two things 
 ‘ which Maximilian desired and hoped to obtain by means of 
 ' Wingfield. Nothing can show more clearly the opposite 
 i characters of the two men — the old and the new school — than 
 j the letter written by Pace on the same occasion. He had 
 been too long in the court at Eome, and had seen too much of 
 I its proceedings at the death of Cardinal Bainbridge, to he 
 I influenced by great names and fair pretensions. For the 
 Emperor he cared not a jot ; and in this he was encouraged 
 by Galeazzo and the Swiss.^ They told Pace they would have 
 no Emperor in the field, for on a previous occasion he had 
 
 ■ received for them 100,000 crowns from England, and had 
 r never paid them more than 40,000 florins. ‘‘ Nothing can 
 I'l hurt my cause,” he declared to Wolsey, '‘but only the 
 
 Emperor’s slowness, I do hourly tarry for his resolution, 
 
 ■ but these Almains be so diligent in resolving their matters, 
 they had liever lose a great city than rise from their dinner 
 
 i ^ II. 1582, 2 II. 1470. 
 
122 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENEY VIII. 
 
 [A.E 
 
 to defend it.” Then in answer to a letter from Wolsey^ 
 expressing a doubt lest Pace should be guided by Wingfield’s 
 counsels, he tells Burbank, Sir, you may show unto my lore 
 Cardinal mine opinion of Smmner-shall-he-green ^ (the name b} 
 which Sir Eobert was known in Pace’s circle), and put his 
 grace out of doubt that dreams and new inventions cannot lei 
 (hinder) me to do that see I most expedient according to my 
 charge.” 
 
 To no purpose did Maximilian lavish his blandishments 
 and caresses on this clever diplomatist. He sent polite invita- 
 tions to Pace, but Pace politely declined them. A small taste 
 only of the liberality of England as an encouragement for the 
 enterprize. No, not a ducat, until he was fairly in motion. 
 So, to his great chagrin, Maximilian was compelled to abandon^j 
 his ordinary routine of excuses, and drop his intrigues with'j 
 the Erench for a time at least. At last the expedition got j 
 under weigh : the Swiss were commanded by Galeazzo and | 
 Pace ; the Emperor took the lead at the head of his own 
 troops. The two armies marched a mile apart. The first 
 detachment started on the 20th of February, 1516, and was ; 
 rapidly followed. As early as the 29th the Emperor had 
 reached Maran in the Tyrol ; was at Trent on the 2nd of 
 March ; left on the 9th for Italy, intending to be at the fray ^ 
 himself, if possible. “I pray God,” says Wingfield,^ “ send | 
 him speed, as yesterday the good Prince received the sacra- ; 
 ment and made -his Paske,^ so that from henceforth he may [ j 
 the more liberally intend to martial acts.” Pace was in high j l 
 spirits. If the King and the Cardinal could see what he sees, ; i 
 they would not ‘‘miss the opportunity for a million of gold,” ' 
 he exclaims in an access of military enthusiasm.^ At that ^ i 
 moment of triumph even his dislike and habitual distrust of 
 the Emperor were forgotten. “ The Emperor undertakes this f 
 expedition,” he wrote to Wolsey,^^ “ against the mind of all his ! 
 council. All the good is done by himself. It is a pity to hear { 
 how they do peel and pluck him of his money, whereby his I 
 
 ^ 1565, sq. 
 
 2 I think the expression must 
 have been derived from some popular 
 ballad ; for'' in another letter to the 
 same correspondent Pace writes : 
 “ As touching new inventions of 
 Summer-shall~l>e~Green, you did very 
 wisely and kindly offer your life 
 therein. For you shall not die there- 
 for.” Are the last words a quotation 
 also ? Prince Henry uses a kindred 
 
 expression to Sir John, “ thou latter 
 Lammas ! ” These glimpses of the im- 
 pressions of rural life, still lingering 
 in the English mind, and recorded in 
 these cant phrases, are very curious. 
 
 3 II. 1644. 
 
 ^ Easter Sunday fell this year on 
 23rd March, 
 
 II. 1564. 
 
 « II. 1634. 
 
 1 
 
TKANSMISSION OF MONEY. 
 
 123 
 
 J 1516.] 
 
 good intents be oftentimes greatly let. Surely of his own 
 n person no man can honestly make other relation, but that he 
 ;,.is a noble, wise, kind, and manly Prince.” Wingfield could 
 only express his admiration by the extravagant remark, that 
 ;ijGod and the King this year “ had done miracles.”^ 
 
 One difficulty stood in the way which even the genius of 
 jWolsey could not entirely surmount,— but one, — and that was 
 I the difficulty of sending money from England. There were 
 
 I but two ways then of foreign exchange ; either to transmit 
 coin direct to the army by messengers, or ship bullion to 
 Antwerp, there to be exchanged and forwarded to its destina- 
 j tion by the bankers Frescobaldi, the Fuggers, or the Campucci. 
 i The merchants were not always to be trusted ; their terms for 
 j discounting were exorbitant; they took their own time in sending 
 ^ the money to its proper destination, and had a thousand 
 excuses for delay which no one could contravene. To trust 
 : messengers with large sums of bullion was less satisfactory. 
 
 ‘ How was it to be disposed about their persons and how escape 
 : discovery ? How could it be stowed in sufficient quantity for 
 ' so large a host ? How were the carriers themselves to make 
 their way in safety through a hostile territory, swarming with 
 robbers, where even single and unencumbered travellers dared 
 scarcely venture ? Such a sum as 300,000 gold crowns could 
 not even be shipped from England without provoking discus- 
 sion and attracting attention. All kinds of excuses were 
 invented to draw curiosity and cupidity off the scent. A score 
 of times did Giustinian urge upon the Cardinal that he was 
 sending money to the Emperor for a war against Italy ; as 
 often was he met with the reply that his suspicions were un- 
 founded. On one occasion,^ after listening most patiently for 
 a quarter of an hour to Giustinian’s remonstrances (a thing 
 not very usual), the Cardinal went so far as to say, “ I will 
 speak to you with all sincerity and truth, as it becomes a 
 Cardinal, on the honour of the cardinalate ” (his favourite 
 expression), laying his hand upon his breast: “It is true 
 that this most serene king has remitted money to Flanders, 
 which will reach Germany and perhaps Italy ; for two pur- 
 poses ; — the first is for the purchase of inlaid armour, the 
 other for a quantity of very fine jewels pledged by certain 
 princes in France, Germany, and Italy, Although the money 
 may reach our ambassadors, it will not come into the power 
 of the Emperor ; for you need not think that the king would 
 
 2 Jan. 2, 1516. No. 1380. 
 
 ^ II. 1633. 
 
124 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 expend his treasure to aid the Emperor in the recovery of j 
 Brescia and Verona. No man in this kingdom has so much as ‘ 
 thought of such a thing, or of waging war on the King of 
 France, or of opposing any of his undertakings. By the 
 honour of the cardinalate what we tell you is the truth, and 
 they who have asserted otherwise lied in their teeth.” ^ Yet, 
 in spite of so solemn a contradiction, the rumour spread in all , 
 directions. Knight heard of it at Mechlin. The Italian 
 merchants in Antwerp had informed him, as he wrote, that ; 
 none of the Italian bankers could furnish half the sum required, : 
 
 “ in the high parts of Almain ” — not even the Buggers and the I 
 Belzers. Already since Christmas last, he added, one mer- , 
 chant had taken sanctuary at Antwerp for a debt of 35,000L 
 Flemish, of which the staplers would lose 12,000Z.^ To send 
 over 50,000L in coin to Italy, for soldiers’ pay, was a gigantic 
 enterprize, of which modern times can form no conception. ! 
 
 For the present all things went merrily; Swiss and 
 imperialists trooped along with assured hopes of victory. On ; 
 the 11th of March the army reached Verona ; on the 12th it 
 crossed the Mincio ; on the 23rd it was at the banks of the 
 Adda.^ Onwards and onwards, with a rapidity that astonished ’[ 
 the Venetian light horse, and compelled the French to shut 
 the gates of Milan, and protect it with a broad belt of fire and 
 desolation. Onwards across tottering bridges and through 
 waving fields of corn ; for the road was more familiar than I 
 their own homes to these Swiss and German freebooters. 
 
 On Easter Monday (24th) the invaders had reached within ; 
 nine miles of Milan ; ^ one brisk push, and all would be over. I 
 Easter Tuesday dawned, but a change had now come over the ; 
 Emperor. The story is a strange one and will best be told in : 
 Pace’s letter to Wolsey. 
 
 “ In my last letters I advertised your grace of the Emperor at the 
 river of Ade (Adda), and how wisely and valiantly he behaved upon 
 Easter even, when the Frenchmen and the Venetians showed themselves 
 to be in areadiness to fight with him and the Swiss. Now your grace 
 shall understand that my lord Cardinal Sedunensis,^ lord Galias,® with all 
 other captains, upon Easter Monday moved, desired, and prayed most 
 instantly the said Emperor to persecute the Frenchmen, and shewed him 
 evidently that they could in no wise keep Milan if he would be contented 
 to use their counsel. But it was not possible to induce him thereunto ; 
 
 ^ Other ^ meinbers of the council five miles of Milan, where they lay 
 made similar answers when Gius- till the next day, the 25th.” Sir 
 tinian applied to them. See II. 1294. Rob. Wingfield, No. 1736. 
 
 ^ 11.1384. 2 The Cardinal of Sion, whom Pace 
 
 ^ II. 1699. always speaks of by his Latin title. 
 
 * II. 1721, “ Prewtelle, within ® Galeazzo Visconti. 
 
1516 .] 
 
 THE EMPEROR HANGS BACK. 
 
 125 
 
 and no man could ne can conject what thing moved him to be so slack at that 
 time, when every man did see the victory in his hands, and the expulsion 
 of the Frenchmen out of Italy. But upon Easter Tuesday in the morn- 
 fl^ing, being within nine miles of Milan, he sent for Sir Robert Wingfield 
 "and me, and, showing himself to be sore moved, said that he had perfect 
 knowledge that the French king had offered unto the king’s grace our 
 master to forsake utterly Scotland, and to set apart all his practices there, 
 so that his grace would keep firm peace and amity with him. Hereunto 
 we made this answer : that his Slajesty should in no wise be moved 
 herewith, for we would lose our lives if it should be found by him or any 
 other man that the king’s grace had or did intend by any means to let 
 this his enterprise in Italy, but rather to advance it and set it forth ward ; 
 and showed three evident reasons against the same : one, that his grace 
 paid the Swisses’ wages in the aid of his Majesty ; the other, that his 
 grace had sent his ambassadors unto his nephew the prince of Castile, for 
 to offer unto him men and money with his own person for defence of his 
 realm, which the French king intendeth to usurp ; thirdly, I declared 
 
 fer. 
 
 Majesty and others comprised in the commission lately sent by your 
 grace to Sir Robert Wingfield and me. The said Emperor could not deny 
 but these our reasons were evident, and made this answer only, viz. that 
 he trusted that the king’s grace would not forsake him. For all this yet 
 that day he would not move, but did sit still in pensiveness, and was 
 angry with every man that did move him to set forthward. 
 
 About night he sent for my lord the Cardinal Sedunensis, Sir 
 Robert Wingfield, and me, and said plainly he could not perform his 
 promise made unto the Swiss in paying the residue of their wages for the 
 two months, unto such time that the king’s money should come, for he 
 had none for to content his own army, ne yet to sustain his household, 
 and for that cause was compelled to return back and not to lay siege to 
 the city of Milan. My said lord Cardinal was sore troubled with these 
 words, and in most wise and substantial manner, using all reasons con- 
 venient for that purpose, moved him to the contrary, putting no doubt 
 (as truth was) in taking of the said city of Milan, where he should lack no 
 money. Sir Robert Wingfield affirmed the same. As for me I did 
 plainly show unto him the most great inconvenients that should ensue 
 upon his return, viz. loss of all his cities in Italy evident, the realms of 
 Naples and Navarre, his own extreme dishonour, with the loss of the 
 king’s money expended in his aid. But neither reason ne persuasion 
 could move him to do well. Wherefore we thought it necessary to speak 
 with his own most secret servants and councillors, whom we found as evil 
 contented with him as we were ourselves ; for they did not only show 
 unto him all the inconvenients before rehearsed, but also added thereunto, 
 that if he should draw back without cause or peril at that time, no man 
 within Almain would esteem him the valor of one groat. 
 
 “ Whiles we were in this communication, arrived from Milan a 
 Spaniard, a vile person, sent from the duke of Bourbon to the Emperor, 
 with this message : that if the said Emperor would come to Milan, and 
 drink with him, he should be welcome ; if not, he would meet the Emperor 
 by the way. Herewith the Emperor showed himself to be very glad, and 
 commanded the marquis of Brandenburg to send a trumpet immediately to 
 the said duke, and offer him battle the day following afore the walls of 
 Milan, and to show him that he that had offered him battle at the three 
 rivers, viz. Mynce, Oleo, and Ade,^ would not be afraid to fight with him 
 at Milan. And herein he kept his promise, and went thither with all the 
 army in goodly and sure order, ready to have made an end of this 
 business. But the said duke, when he did see this, he sent the said 
 trumpet again with word unto the Emperor that he would fight, but not 
 
 * The Mincio, Oglio, and Adda. 
 
126 
 
 THE KEIGN OF HENEY VIII. 
 
 [A.D 
 
 at that time, knowing right well that it was not possible for him to obtain 
 the victory. The Emperor, this answer had, would tarry no longer, 
 though the lord Galias advertised him that the Frenchmen could in no 
 wise bide within the city two days, both for lack of horse-meat and fear 
 of insurrection of the people against them, which undoubtedly, had 
 followed if the Emperor would have continued there but one night ; but 
 neither he, ne my lord Cardinal, ne none other, could induce him there- 
 unto. 
 
 The Frenchmen, immediately after his returning, did begin to burn 
 the suburbs of the city, and destroyed utterly the habitations of 60,000 
 honest poor men, fearing that the Swiss would have lien in them, as they 
 intended to do if the Emperor had not let them. The said Swiss, seeing 
 his departing, sent unto him two of their chief • captains for to advertise 
 him, that it was not their manner to show their backs to their enemies, and 
 therefore they would not depart. The Emperor made unto them this 
 answer ; that he would lead them another way, where they should have a 
 sure victory, without any great shedding of blood ; and so desired them 
 to follow him, or else he would have from them his horsemen and 
 artillery : and by these means he had them from thence, to their incredible 
 discontentation. And he himself passed the river of Ade again, the 
 righter way towards Almain than the Frenchmen, saying that he had 
 certain practice there for to take the town of Crema ; but this was but a 
 thing feigned for to colour his flying. 
 
 ‘‘The Swiss went to the city of August, straightway towards Milan, 
 which city the lord Galias and they did take by force. The castle 
 thereof was by the space of six hours valiantly defended by the Frenchmen, 
 who did slay four or five Swiss, wherewith the residue were so moved 
 that they made a vow [not] to depart unto the time they had taken the 
 said castle by force, and slain every Frenchman within it. They set so 
 fiercely upon [it] that it was not possible for the Frenchmen to defend it 
 longer. First, they offered to yield themselves unto the mercy of the 
 Swiss ; but they would take no condition, but killed every man found 
 within it, to the number of 150 ; and divers there were that offered 
 thousands of crowns for their lives, but nothing could help. This done 
 they sent a message to the Emperor, by the counsel of the lord Galias and 
 me, with these tidings, and for to desire him either to come personally 
 with his army, or else, if he feared his own person, to send his horsemen 
 unto them, and put himself in surety in the city of Brixia (Brescia), or 
 any other place where it would please him, until such time as they had 
 expelled the Frenchmen out of Italy. 
 
 “ I assure your lordship the Swiss neither dothne will lack in anything 
 concerning the destruction of the Frenchmen. The Emperor hath kept 
 no promise with them. Nothing grieveth them but this, that the 
 Emperor goeth more backward than forthward, and putteth every man 
 in suspicion of his flying away into Almain ; and if he so do, this enter- 
 prise is clean lost {quod Beus avertat !) to the ruin evident of himself and 
 the destruction of all Christendom. My lord Cardinal Sedunensis, the 
 lord Galias, and I, be almost dead for sorrow ; and the said lord Galias 
 hath desired [me] to write these words, to be kept secret unto your 
 grace, viz. that if the Emperor do at this time fly withoat cause, he shall 
 commit greater treason against all princes Christian than ever did Judas 
 against Christ. 
 
 ‘ ‘ The Swiss will in no case that the lord Galiace or I depart from 
 them, though the Emperor fly away ; but they will keep both him and 
 me in pledge of their wages, as well for the residue of the second month 
 as the whole of the third, if they shall continue the said third month and 
 deserve their wages, as they will surely do if the Emperor let them not. 
 If he do let them, they intend to do him a shrewd turn. They have 
 knowledge that the said Emperor should say he feared them, which saying 
 
 it 
 
 ill 
 
 Jst, 
 
 al 
 
:516.] 
 
 THE EMPEROR WITHDRAWS. 
 
 127 
 
 
 s but a frivoll excuse and seeking of an occasion to fly away ; for no one 
 iving could have served him more faithfully than they have done hither- 
 ;oward, and so they will continue if he give them none occasion to the 
 jontrary. From the city , the first day of April.” 
 
 Was it a trick of the Emperor from the first ? Was it in 
 i sudden fit of resentment at not having received money from 
 England ? Had he been deluded by the French ; or, what is 
 nore probable, had he sold himself and his honour, too often 
 old before, for French gold ? Francis WTote to Palvoisin, his 
 imbassador at Kome, only a week before,^ that the Emperor 
 lad been soliciting his amity through the Prince of Castile. 
 But as this letter was evidently intended to be seen by the 
 ope, who was vacillating between one party and the other ; 
 nd as Francis had sent in it a very significant message that 
 e intended, if necessary, to pass into Italy with an army, 
 nd in that case he ‘‘ would crave the honor once more 
 f kissing the feet of his Holiness ; ” it may be doubted 
 hether this statement, so damaging to Maximilian’s repu- 
 ation, was anything more than a political ruse. But the 
 xact truth of this and other passages of history can never 
 ™ 36 known until other Governments, following the example 
 ets 3f this country, shall throw open their archives to historical 
 inquirers.^ 
 
 - The Emperor continued to hover at a distance, and would 
 fed take no resolution. Sir Kobert Wingfield’s account of the 
 Daatter may be seen in a letter dated the 4th of April.^ It is 
 3f course the Emperor’s version. It rested upon two points; — 
 eniffl first, his inability to convey provisions and money in conse- 
 quence of the superiority of the enemy’s cavalry ; and, secondly, 
 his fear of the Swiss, Germans, and Spaniards, who were 
 ttiif mutinous for lack of pay. Satisfactory to no one else, this 
 excuse was sufficient for the Emperor. Turning a deaf ear to 
 ijji all remonstrance, he hastened to put as large a space as he 
 * pould between his own army and the Swiss under Pace and 
 ^ J Galeazzo. He allowed the enemy’s cavalry to scour the country, 
 and cut off all communication between himself and his ex- 
 P asperated allies.^ He recrossed the Adda without warning, 
 and turned his steps in the direction of Bergamo. The Swiss 
 [were fed with promises of his speedy return, but he took care 
 to prevent them from doing mischief by carrying off the gun- 
 
 laiii 
 
 ^ 1 March 17, 1516. No. 1680. 
 hrf I 2 gince t;his was written in 1864, 
 iiBOt jthe Archives of most foreign countries 
 '0 have been made more accessible j but 
 
 \iftl 
 
 Calendars of their contents are still 
 wanting. — Ed. 
 
 3 II. 1736. See also No. 1752. 
 
 4 II. 1746, p. 493. 
 
128 
 
 THE KEIGN OF HENRY VIII 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 powder. To Wingfield he held out assurance ^‘that he would 
 join again, and bring the enterjarise to its desired end.” ^ And 
 Wingfield, as a matter of course, believed him. But with his 
 promises to return he hurried off in the opposite direction, and 
 in a few days shut himself up in the walls of Trent, leaving 
 Pace and Galeazzo to their fate.^ Sick at heart and ill at ease, 
 Pace wrote to the Cardinal : ^ 
 
 “ I am advertised by Sir Robert Wingfield that the Emperor will not 
 leave this enterprise, but see an end thereof ; nevertheless, he doth go 
 backward still towards Alniain, and now is in Valle Camonica. The 
 Marquis of Brandenburg is coming towards us with his men at arms. If 
 he will join his army with us, we shall sleep no longer, as we have done 
 these 15 days by the Emperor[’s] express commandment, which, if we 
 should have broken, the Emperor would have been gone. Yesterday the 
 Swiss did send unto him two ambassadors, for to have a final conclusion 
 of his mind ; for they will have no more delays ne trifles, for this delaying 
 of time and also of money is death to them and all us. ” — From Laude 
 (Lodi), the 10th of April. 
 
 Five days after Pace continues : 
 
 “The Emperor, notwithstanding his late writing unto the Swiss, and 
 promise made for to join with them, is undoubtedly departed in great 
 haste towards Almain, and afore this time is arrived nigh unto Trent. 
 This his sudden departing hath marvellously discouraged the Swiss, with 
 all other desiring the prosperous success of the enterprise. Nevertheless, 
 because that he hath left behind him the marquis of Brandenburg with his 
 army, and commanded him to join with us, some hope there is that he 
 will not mar all. 
 
 “ The lord Galias hath at this time a very good intelligence with the 
 Pope, which hath proceeded by the king’s writing unto his Holiness, and 
 also by my writings according to your Grace’s commandment. Your 
 Grace shall have some knowledge thereof by a letter from the Cardinal 
 Saint Mary in Portion, directed unto the said lord Galiace, whereof he 
 sendeth a copy at this time in ciphers unto Master Anchises. If the 
 Emperor had not gone backward, the Pope had been surely ours afore 
 this time ; insomuch that now the French king doth complain of his 
 Holiness’s dissimulation, saying that he hath nothing of him but letters. 
 
 “ Yesterday arrived here a courier with letters of the Emperor directed 
 unto the lord Galiace, desiring him to declare the contents of the same 
 unto the Swiss, which were these : First, that they should be of good 
 comfort, for he would shortly join with them again, with great power and 
 all provision necessary for continuance of this war. Secondarily, that 
 five and twenty thousand florins of the king’s money, which they had long 
 lacked, was brought into the city of Brixia (Brescia), from thence to be 
 conveyed immediately into the field to them by the marquis of Brandenburg. 
 To whom we sent two captains of the Swiss for to understand the truth of 
 the said money : and they advertised their company here that the said 
 sum was within Brixia ; but at such time as the governor of the city 
 would have sent it with a sufficient company unto the said marquis, the 
 Emperor[’s] soldiers being in the city did sequester the same there, for so 
 much owed unto them by the said Emperor. The Swiss, hearing of this, 
 hath begun marvellously to murmur amongst themselves against the 
 Emperor, saying that now twice they have been betrayed by him sith the 
 
 * II. 1752. 2 15^ 
 
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 3 II. 1754. 
 
1516 .] 
 
 DISAPPOINTMENT OF THE SWISS. 
 
 129 
 
 beginning of this enterprise ; once at his departing from Milan, which 
 they might have taken if he would have suffered them to have lodged 
 there but one night ; and now again in this sequestration of the king’s 
 money ; for they think it is done by his consent, and that he will do in 
 like manner with the residue of the king’s money, which he writeth to be 
 at the city of Trent, or nigh thence. Wherefore the Swiss, seeing that 
 they can lie no longer there, both for lack of victual and money, they 
 have concluded to go themselves against the said money, having both the 
 said lord Galiace and me for hostages and prisoners ; and also to know 
 what the Emperor intendeth. For, notwithstanding his daily fair writings 
 (without effect), they can believe none other but that he will betray us 
 all, and go straight into High Almain ; whereby this enterprise shall be 
 utterly destroyed and the king’s money cast away, not only to the 
 Emperor’s extreme rebuke and shame, but also to the great damage of all 
 his friends ; and, for to speak more plainly, to the ruin of all Christendom, 
 except that God and wise princes make substantial provision against the 
 same. 
 
 “ The lord Galias and I both be at this time sick in our beds, and 
 almost dead, more for thought than for sickness, considering the unreason- 
 able demeanour of the Emperor, for he hath no manner of cause thus to 
 deal, having by us hourly perfect knowledge that all thing[s] doth 
 succeed prosperously for his intent against the Frenchmen ; for not only 
 the rebels of Switzerland hath forsaken the Frenchmen, and many more 
 Swiss doth come in to our aid, but also the Yenetians and they be at 
 variance amongst themselves, and neither of them hath any money to 
 sustain their armies : insomuch that three days passed Master Andreas 
 Gritie, general captain of the said Yenetians, was like to be slain in his 
 own house by his own soldiers for lack of money. Furthermore, all the 
 country is in areadiness to arise to our aid. These premises be occasion, 
 which (as me seemeth) should not only move an Emperor to set forthward, 
 but an ass ; yet he neither will set forthward himself, ne suffer us to 
 do ; for he hath left us artillery without gunpowder, and hath daily pro- 
 mised to send us some ; but as yet we did see none, but hath been 
 compelled by force to consume twenty-two days in vain. 
 
 ^ ‘ The said marquis of Brandenburg is gone personally to Brixia for to 
 see if he can get the said money sequestered, and to bring it to the Swiss, 
 And when I had written thus far, we had letters from the said marquis, 
 containing his arrival unto the said city of Brixia, and that the soldiers 
 within would not suffer him to enter, ne to have the said money, but 
 compelled him to depart without it ; so that the lord Galiace and I be 
 now in extreme desperation, not so much for the evident jeopardy of our 
 lives, as for the loss of this great enterprise, by the false and crafty mean 
 of them that hath retained in this manner the King’s money, nothing 
 appertaining unto them. 
 
 “ To show plainly the truth unto your Grace, everything is now clean 
 out of order here, and very little hope of any amendment by reason of the 
 Emperor’s thus departing. Few men or none doth know surely the cause 
 thereof, but many doth suppose it is the death of the late king of Hungary,^ 
 and the lucre that he should win by the same, whereof he had tidings at his 
 being within six miles of Milan, and after that never had mind to go 
 forthward, but the day following began to draw back towards Almain. 
 Some doth suspect a secret practice with the French king for .a large sum 
 of money, as it is comprised in my lord the Cardinal Saint Mary in Portion’s 
 letters ; but hereof I could never have any perfect knowledge, and as yet 
 I think it is not true. I am informed that the said Emperor intendeth to 
 write unto the king’s Grace in excusation of this his departing, that he 
 feared that not only the Swiss but also his own lanceknights would, for 
 
 ^ Ladislaus VI. or VII. 
 
 YOL. I. 
 
 K 
 
130 
 
 THE KEIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 lack of money, have sold him unto the Frenchmen, if he should have 
 tarried at the city of Milan anywhile. He may write what it pleaseth him, 
 or cause other to do the same ; but I assure your lordship all that is but 
 trifles. These my letters doth contain the very truth of the Emperor’s 
 acts ; tam in hono quam in mala veritatem scribo, postposita omni affectione. 
 For it is impossible for the Swiss to be more obedient unto any prince 
 than they have been unto him, and yet be ; and so will they continue if 
 the default be not in him. 
 
 ‘‘From Laude, the 15 of April.” 
 
 A month passed, but no amendment. Then Pace wrote 
 again : — ^ 
 
 “Please it [your] Grace, — From the city of Laude I did write unto 
 the same three letters, containing the Emperor’s sudden and wilful 
 departing from the walls of Milan, which undoubtedly the Swiss had 
 taken if the said Emperor would have tarried there but two days ; but 
 neither counsel, nor reason, nor resp[ect] to his own or his friends’ 
 honour, could induce him to remain, but he returned immediately towards 
 Almain, leaving the Swiss at the said city of Laude, and commanding 
 them to continue there until such time as he should return again with a 
 greater army, more great guns and gunpowder, whereof he left none with 
 the Swiss ; but unto this day he kept no manner of promise in any of 
 these premises. Wherefore the said Swiss, seeing themselves hereby 
 deceived, and having also knowledge that the Emperor’s soldiers in Brixia 
 had intercepted 25,000 florins of the king’s money, sent unto them, and, 
 lacking victuals, departed unto the city of Bergamo, where was abundance 
 of victuals, and there tarried 10 or 12 days, as well for the Emperor, who 
 never did come, as for the kin[g]’s money promised to them by me sub 
 poena capitis^ according to your Grace’s commandment, for to retain them. 
 
 “ Ell the meantime tidings came to us that my lord Cardinal Sedunensis 
 was sent in haste from the Emperor into the field as his lieutenant, and 
 should bring with him all the king’s money, and content them to the 
 uttermost. And herewith they were so glad that they came running to 
 my house, and said that they alone, without the Emperor, would fight 
 with the Frenchmen, though they were in number an 100,000. But when 
 my said lord Cardinal was arrived, they shortly had knowledge that he 
 had brought but one and twenty thousand florins ; which sum, when they 
 had paid unto them, truly they did murmurate among themselves that 
 there was no more money ; and the night after there departed 7 or 8,000, 
 saying that if there had been any more money my said lord Cardinal 
 should have brought it, and that they were deceived by him as much as 
 by the Emperor. 
 
 “ The Frenchmen, knowing of the departing of so many Swiss, jointly 
 with the Venetians did draw within three mile of us, so that we were 
 compelled to depart from the said city of Bergamo, because it was none 
 equal place for us to. fight in. But all the chief captains of the Swiss did 
 come unto the lord Galiace and me, and comforted us, saying that for the 
 Emperor they would not move one foot to strike battle, but for the king’s 
 sake they would go immediately into the plain field, and suffer the 
 Frenchmen to follow them — having this opinion that they fled for fear — 
 and there put themselves [in] ordinance and flght with the said French- 
 men, notwithstanding the dejjarting of one half of their company. And 
 thus they did in deed. But when the Frenchmen did see them in this 
 areadiness for to strike battle, they made a show with their horsemen 
 alone, leaving their footmen and artillery behind them'. The Swiss did 
 draw nigh unto the said horsemen, and commanded their trumpets to be 
 
 ' No. 1877. 
 
1516.] 
 
 SION AND PACE IMPRISONED. 
 
 131 
 
 blown and provoked them to battle ; but it would not be. The Swiss, 
 seeing this, went towards them within gunshot, and caused the great 
 artillery to be shot amongst them, wherewith divers, both men-of-arms 
 and light horse, were slain, and the residue departed clean out of the 
 field. The Swiss being afoot could not follow them, and the better part 
 of the Emperor’s horsemen were departed out of o[ur] field for lack of 
 their wa[g]es, and 2,000 lance-knights in like manner, to the great 
 discontentation of the Swiss, numbering that amongst other deceits. 
 
 “ This done, we went to a town named Bixansane, and there the 
 Swiss would tarry a day or two for money. As soon as we arrived there, 
 my lord the Cardinal Sedunensis, the count Cariate, and I, were taken 
 and put to hold, and it was laid unto our charge that we had kept no 
 promise with them ; and for that cause, if they had not money the same 
 day, they would convey us as prisoners into their country. Hoc factum 
 fuit a furente populo prccter voluntatem ducum. My said lord Cardinal 
 Sedunensis was put that day to great jeopardy of his life by reason of 
 certain his adversaries, who instigated the people to destroy him. Sed 
 Deus noluit ut tantum mali eveniret tanto viro ; for the same night arrived 
 a messenger with x[x]xij m. florins, and thus we were all three delivered 
 out of prison. The day following arrived Mr. Leonard Friscobalde, 
 with as much money as was sufficient to pay their whole wages of three 
 months which they had served ; and so I contented them according to 
 my promise made unto them. Then they were marvellously well contented 
 with the king’s Grace, considering that his promises were no fables, but 
 truly performed. 
 
 “ The lord Galiace was sore sick in the city of Brixia (Brescia) when he 
 had knowledge that I was in hold ; and because he could not depart out 
 thereof for the Venetians’ soldiers lying alway tliereabout, he conveyed 
 himself in the night over a mountain, and descended into lake of Garde, 
 and did come to me by water, thinking that I had been in greater peril 
 than I was. At his coming we had perfect knowledge that the Emperor 
 would join with us no more. Whereupon the Swiss did convocate [t ,heir 
 council, and there determined that it was not possible for them alone to 
 proceed, as truth was ; and this they declared unto the lord Galiace and 
 me, saying that they would never hereafter trust the Emperor, neither 
 serve him, but they would alway be ready to serve the king’s Grace at his 
 pleasure. When we were driven to this extremity, we did see no remedy 
 but for to procure with all diligence amongst the captains that they would 
 be contented to advertise the superiors of all the cantons, that the king’s 
 Grace hath contented them abundantly for their service, and to desire 
 them that they will establish none amity with France but rather with the 
 king’s Grace. And all this they have done in the best manner that the 
 said lord Galiace and I could devise ; so that I trust this thing shall 
 succeed right well, and that the said lord Galiace shall save his reputation 
 amongst them, which he was like clean to lose by the Emperor’s un- 
 reasonable demeanour, and for the lack of the king’s money at their day. 
 
 The Emperor hath now in his field but 4,000 lanceknights and 1,000 
 Swiss, and a great captain of the same. These be departed for to defend 
 Verona and Brixia, which stand in great jeopardy of losing ; de quo valde 
 quidem doleo. Sed Coesar {testor Deum) longe plus damni meretur. 
 
 ^‘Besides my three letters sent unto your Grace from the city of 
 Laude, I did write one also from Bergamo, containing all thing[s] 
 necessary to be written, after mine opinion. Glad would I be to have 
 knowledge of my four said letters ; for I am advertised that in this court 
 they do lay watch for to intercept my letters, fearing them as comprising 
 the plain truth in everything. They would not that any fault should be 
 laid unto their master, but to the Swiss, who, I assure [your] Grace, 
 upon my faith to God and to the king, have done in this enterprise all 
 that it was possible for men to do ; but the Emperor, to his inestimable 
 
132 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENEY VIII. 
 
 [A.B. 
 
 rebuke and shame, would not suffer them to take Milan when they were 
 sure to have it, as it is evidently known through all Italy, The Emperor 
 hath so dishonoured himself that no man need care whe’r he have him 
 friend or enemy. Nevertheless good it is to use the counsel of the good 
 memory of Pope July, who said these words formally of the said Emperor : 
 Imperafor est levis et inconsfans ; alienee peciinioe semper mendicus, quam 
 male consumit in venandis camueiis : est tamen conciliandus nomine diabolic 
 et pecunia ei semper est danda. 
 
 Thus Jesu preserve your Grace. From Trent, 12 Maij. 
 
 “ Fidelissimus R. P.” 
 
 Where your Grace doth write to have understood there that the 
 Emperor was put back by force by the French army, it is not so ; for he 
 was never put back, but went voluntarily and shamefully back, when he 
 might have won all. The Frenchmen never durst fight with the Swiss, — 
 they ever showed themselves so invincible when any feat of arms was to 
 be done. They never skirmished with the Frenchmen but they were put 
 back, and not we, both with shame and loss.” 
 
 The disastrous result of the expedition brought out, as 
 such things do, the baser nature of all concerned in it. The 
 Swiss fell into disorder, plundered, sacked, or murdered what- 
 ever fell in their way. Pace, Sion, and Galeazzo were thrown 
 into prison. To increase these misfortunes, a bitter feud 
 broke out between the leaders. Sion, never friendly with 
 Galeazzo since the battle of Marignano, was now more incensed 
 against him than ever. He suspected Galeazzo’s intimacy 
 with Pace ; and accused both of impeding the measures 
 necessary for success.^ The Emperor, with his usual facility 
 of giving away that which did not belong to him, had promised 
 no small sums of money to the army, and sent Sion to demand 
 it from Pace«^ On Pace’s refusal, high words ensued ; the 
 Emperor threatened that he would have the money, whether 
 Pace liked it or not, asseverating that if he did not have what 
 he desired he would return home again: ‘Hike children,” adds 
 Pace, “that say they will not go to school without bread and 
 butter. Sion dares not refuse him, and Sir Eobert takes him 
 for a God, and thinks that all his deeds and thoughts do 
 proceed ex Spiritu Sancto.'’ Against such malign influences 
 it would have been hard for Pace to stand firm under the 
 most favourable circumstances. 
 
 Maximilian, with a meanness and inhumanity almost 
 incredible, took advantage of Pace’s helpless condition, to 
 extort from him a large sum of money upon the threat, if 
 Pace refused, to make terms with France, and write over to 
 England that Pace had been the cause of his defection. The 
 
 ' II. 1982. 
 
 2 II. 1817. 
 
1516.] THE EMPEKOR EXTORTS MONEY FROM PACE. 
 
 133 
 
 soul of the HolyEoman Empire certainly dwelt in a low place 
 when the Emperor could condescend to such an act ; and we 
 should have been fairly entitled to disbelieve the statement 
 had it rested on less impeachable authority than Pace’s own. 
 Here is the letter which he wrote to Wolsey, sick in bed and 
 sad at heart for his dishonourable treatment : — ^ 
 
 “ Please it your Grace, — This day the Emperor, having the consense 
 of Sir Robert Wingfield that Mr. Leonard Friscobalde, this present 
 bearer, should lend unto his Majesty 60,000 florins for the continuance of 
 this enterprise against the Frenchmen, made also great instance unto me 
 to consent unto the same — both, in the king’s name, as his ambassadors. 
 I, considering the great sum of money expende[d] already without the 
 obtent of the king’s purpose, showed that I had neither commission so to 
 do, nor authority ; the Swiss, apud quos erat autoritas mea, being departed 
 out of the field. After that he had understood this mine answer, he said 
 that he was sure that the king’s grace would not for that sum of money 
 suffer him to lose both his honour and cities in Italy, as Brixia and 
 Verona ; and sent also word unto me, lying sick in my bed, that, if I 
 would not consent thereunto, he would write unto the king’s Highness, 
 that I alone had been the total ruin of this enterprise, having no manner 
 of respect to his honour or the king’s, and therefore he should be com- 
 pelled to make peace with France to the destruction of all Christendom. 
 I, hearing and noting diligently these his words, and considering what 
 great inconvenients might ensue if he should do as he said, caused myself, 
 sick as I am, to be borne unto him, and shewed the causes, afore 
 rehearsed, why I durst not consent unto his desire ; adding also this 
 (without fear), that whensoever any sum of money did come into his 
 servants’ hands, it was robbed from him and unthriftily expende[d] and 
 little or nothing distribut[ed] amongst the army. Nevertheless, [I] 
 showed unto his Majesty that I had liever lose my life than ever he 
 should have cause to make any peace with France, to the destruction of 
 all Christendom, for any my default. And so I have consented unto the 
 same, and desired this bearer to accomplish his desire, who, for your 
 Grace’s sake, hath so done gladly. Wherefore I can no less do but 
 desire your Grace to see him repaid again shortly without loss ; for 
 surely he is [a] faithful servant to the king’s Highness and your Grace. 
 He hath an obligation of the Emperor’s, binding him to repay the money, 
 if the king’s grace be not content so to do ; sed Coesar solvit ad calendas 
 Grcecas. 
 
 ‘‘The said Emperor intendeth to send again into England Mr. 
 Hesdynge. I know no cause why, but for money. Your Grace must be 
 well ware of him ; for in this last sum conveyed by him he hath not dealt 
 faithfully with the king ; for he hath kept 1,000 and 200 scudi for himself, 
 and paid against the merchants’ will (no cause known why) 11,000 scudi, 
 with more, as this bearer can declare at large unto your Grace. He is 
 one of those that is miscontented with me, because I can never consent 
 that the King’s money be cast away at every unthrift’s desire, asking in 
 the Emperor’s name, but would have it, according to the King’s mind 
 and your Grace’s commandment, expende[d] faithfully amongst the poor 
 soldiers, putting hourly their lives in jeopardy pro communi utriusque 
 principis honore et totius Chrisfiani orbis bono. It shall please your Grace 
 alway to remember this — (whatsoever Mr. Hesdynge shall procure in 
 England), — that all money put in the Emperor’s hands, or committed to 
 any of his, shall be, in great part thereof, evil expende[d], as this present 
 
 ^ II, 1896, 
 
134 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 bearer can at large show unto the same, and declare what business and 
 trouble I have only in resisting against this. 
 
 * * * * * * 
 
 “Ex Tridento, xvj. Maij. 
 
 “ E. D. V fidelissimus 
 
 “ Hi. Paceus, eegrotus.” 
 
 Sir Kobert, a man of fastidious honour and delicacy, made 
 no remonstrances. In the stress of the times he was guilty 
 of acts which even the sternest necessity could barely excuse. 
 Attending on Maximilian, and separated from Pace, with 
 whom he had a joint commission, he ventured to sign receipts 
 for money in Pace’s hand ; “ having feigned Pace’s signature, 
 and sealed in his name with a cornelian in figure of a head.” ^ 
 That was bad enough ; but worse remains. Wingfield found, 
 in a budget from Wolsey, a private letter addressed to Pace. 
 Sir Eobert broke it open. “ It is one of the first (he says) 
 I ever opened without consent of the party ; ” and in it he 
 found expressions applied to himself far from complimentary ; 
 as, Surmner-shall-he-Green. A man of more worldly wisdom 
 than Sir Eobert would have resealed the letter, and kept his 
 own counsel. But Sir Eobert could not digest his resentment. 
 He wrote to Wolsey: “Where in the part by which he 
 toucheth me he calleth me Green-Summer, verily my good 
 Lord,^ it is long sith that I have had to write to such as I 
 was familiar with, that Summer was Green.'' In the irritation 
 of the moment he could not help comparing his own merits 
 with the errors of Pace, which, but for his interference, he 
 insisted, would have produced the greatest mischief. 
 
 It was clear to Wolsey that in such a temper of mind no 
 expedition could succeed. On Pace, Galeazzo, and Sion he 
 enjoined, in terms not likely to be disobeyed, mutual recon- 
 ciliation.^ Of Wingfield’s extraordinary conduct he took no 
 notice for the present. When Sir Eobert wrote in the highest 
 terms ^ of the Emperor’s retreat, who had “ so cawtely ” with- 
 drawn himself from such imminent peril, when he endorsed 
 the Emperor’s plea, that unless money were forthcoming all 
 would be ruined, “ et Gallus regnabit ubique,” ^ Wolsey made 
 no answer. Amongst the multiplicity of his schemes to raise 
 money Maximilian hit upon a new project. He proposed to 
 make Henry Duke of Milan, in lieu of the rightful claimant, 
 Francis Sforza, and invest him afterwards with the Empire. 
 
 ^ II. p. 514. Pace’s seal was a * II. 1983, 1984. 
 head of Cicero. ^ II. 2095. 
 
 ^ II. 1775, Wolsey, to whom the ® II. 2026. 
 letter was addressed. 
 
1516.] 
 
 NEW DEVICES OF MAXIMILIAN. 
 
 135 
 
 Sir Eobert, with ludicrous solemnity, announced this absurd 
 proposal on the 17th of May, 1516.^ That morning the 
 Emperor had sent for him, and, no other person being present^ 
 addressed him in the following terms : — “First, I desire you 
 to make my most hearty and affectuous recommendations 
 unto my most dear and well-beloved brother, the king your 
 master, which by word doth call me father, and I do call him 
 son, which I do take right gladly upon me, and that by reason 
 of years ; for in effect his bounty, kindness, affection, and 
 comfort hath been and is so medicinable to me, that he is to 
 be esteemed and taken for my father, and I for his son, inso- 
 much that he shall be sure to have me at all times and in all 
 points that may be in my power, as glad and desirous to 
 advance all that may be to his honour and laud, as though 
 I were his proper son.” After this magniloquent preamble 
 the Emperor proceeded to state that his army was ready to 
 take the field. He then offered to invest the King with the 
 Duchy of Milan, desiring the King to break war with France 
 as soon as possible ; to cross the sea with 2,000 horse and 
 4,000 archers ; make his way through Flanders to Treves, 
 where the Emperor would not fail to meet him, attended by 
 the Electors and Princes. Then leaving the Duke of Suffolk 
 in command, the Emperor, acting “ as superintendent,” would 
 proceed with the King to Eome, and see the imperial crown 
 placed upon his head. 
 
 Unfortunately, this intelligence, entrusted exclusively to 
 Wingfield with such an air of mystery, had been discussed 
 and talked about some days before, and had been already 
 communicated by Pace to Wolsey.^ To dissuade him from 
 countenancing such an absurdity was scarcely needful. 
 “ Whilst we looked for the crown imperial,” says Pace,^ “ we 
 might lose the crown of England, which is this day more 
 esteemed than the Emperor’s crown and all his empire.” It 
 was a chimera ; a stale trick invented by Maximilian to raise 
 money, for he would “ like to pill and poll the said duchy, 
 and all Italy, under pretence of keeping them till the king 
 came,”^ But it was no part of Wolsey’s policy to undeceive 
 
 1 II. 1902. 
 
 2 12th of May. II. 1878. 
 
 ^ II. 1923. 
 
 ^ See also 1931. This is the text 
 of Pace’s letter: 
 
 “ Please it your Grace, — Sir Robert 
 Wingfield hath showed unto me one 
 letter of his, written unto the King’s 
 
 Grace by the Emperor’s command- 
 ment, upon the resignation of the 
 dignity imperial to be made by him 
 unto the king’s Highness, and the 
 said Emperor’s mind in the way 
 which the king’s Grace should take 
 in coming to accept the said resigna- 
 tion, accompanied with 4,000 archers 
 
136 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 the Emperor or Wingfield. They were left to pursue, un- 
 molested, their own devices. The Emperor’s schemes, what- 
 ever his intentions might be, worked out the purposes of 
 Wolsey’s equally well and equally economically. That policy 
 was to keep Francis I. in continual agitation, and prevent any 
 avowed union between him and the Emperor. The reason of 
 this will appear hereafter. So when Pace expressed the 
 bitterest regret at the Emperor’s misconduct and the failure 
 of the expedition, Wolsey wrote him a letter of encouragement. 
 He thanked Pace for his labours : ^ — told him if the Swiss 
 could not invade France this year, so much the better ; as the 
 King would not be ready before the spring. Pace must apply 
 himself with renewed vigour to repair past errors ; to encourage 
 the Swiss, and tell the Emperor that the King was in good 
 hope he would make use of the first opportunity, and, like a 
 valiant captain, proceed against his enemies v/ho had defamed 
 him in all countries. A sum of 48,000 florins was placed at 
 Pace’s disposal to engage the Swiss, but no part of it was to 
 
 and 2,000 horse, and so to proceed 
 forward unto Rome, there for to 
 be crowned Emperor. My lord, this 
 offer made by the Emperor is great, 
 but I do marvel that the Emperor, or 
 any other man, would move the king’s 
 Highness for to come through Flanders 
 and Almain with such a company ; for 
 his Grace might be destroyed only by 
 thieves and villains, of whom in 
 Almain is great plenty. Over this, 
 the Emperor hath made a promise 
 uncertain, nothing knowing of the 
 mind of the Electors of the Empire, 
 which by all likelihood will never 
 consent thereunto, because they will 
 not suffer that dignity to go out of 
 their nation ; part for that they will 
 not consent to anything moved by the 
 said Emperor, being dissentient from 
 him in everything. If this should 
 fortune, the king’s Grace should get 
 by this promise nothing but shame, 
 and put his person in jeopardy. 
 Furthermore, I cannot judge it good 
 counsel for to move the king’s Grace 
 to be so long absent out of his realm ; 
 for such misorder therein might fall, 
 that whilst we looked for the crown 
 imperial we might lose the crown of 
 England, which this day is more 
 esteemed than the Emperor’s crown 
 and all his empire, et non immerito. 
 Finally, this resignation of the dignity 
 imperial, and the way imagined for to 
 set it, is but a castle made in the air, 
 
 and a vain thing, and peradventure 
 an inventive for to pluck money from 
 the king craftily.” 
 
 The rest of the letter is occupied 
 with exposing the injustice of the 
 Emperor in thus endeavouring to 
 supplant Francis Sforza, the rightful 
 duke of Milan. If this proposal were 
 adopted. Pace insists the" Emperor 
 \vould occupy the said duchy him- 
 self, under this pretext, to give it 
 unto the king’s Grace, and there to 
 tarry unto such time that his Grace 
 should come and fett (fetch) the in- 
 vestiture thereof, which, with surety, 
 is impossible to do ; and he in the 
 mean while, by the king’s aid, would 
 pele and poll the said duchy and all 
 Italy, and deprive the poor duke of 
 Bari of his right : which appeareth 
 and is evidently declared by privileges 
 granted by the said Emperor in forma 
 dutentica, sealed with his great seal 
 and subscribed with his own hand, 
 and be so substantially made, that by 
 no manner of reason or justice they 
 can be annulled or revoked; et non 
 solum legitiniis filiis, sed etiamnatural- 
 ibus et spuriis duds Lodovici, patris 
 duds Bari, ducatam Mediolani con- 
 cedunt. Wherefore necessary it is that 
 the first order taken in the said Duke 
 of Bari’s cause be observed, both for 
 the King’s honour and profit,” etc. 
 '' Tridenti, 21 Maij.” 
 
 1 II. 1965. 
 
1516.] 
 
 WOLSEY HUMOURS THE EMPEROR. 
 
 137 
 
 be expended before he had ascertained that the Swiss had a real 
 intention to fight, not merely make a show of battle and returnd 
 
 It was enough for Maximilian to know that 50,000 florins 
 were again in Pace’s hands to prevent him from making any 
 immediate arrangement with Prance. That could be done at 
 any time, when further expectations from England were at an 
 end. Once already he had intimidated Pace, without ex- 
 periencing any unpleasant consequences. On the 10th of 
 June,^ t..ree days after the money arrived, he sent his treasurer 
 Villinger and the Marquis of Brandenburg to demand provision 
 for 5,000 lance-knights and 2,000 horse in Lorraine ; “ and to 
 induce me hereunto (writes Pace to Wolsey) they said, if it 
 were not done, the said army would run to the French king’s 
 wages ; which saying is common amongst them when they 
 intend to deceive a man in plucking his money.” Pace 
 replied, he had no commission to meddle with money ; and 
 “ if the Emperor wanted anything with England, he had his 
 ambassador there.” This answer must have been reported 
 with unusual celerity,^ for the same day Maximilian wrote to 
 Pace that he had ordered a levy of 10,000 men in the Tyrol, 
 in doing which he had spent all his money, and he therefore 
 requested Pace to transmit to Trent and Verona the 50,000 
 florins he had just received, otherwise the new Swiss levies 
 would go over to the enemy. If Pace, as he alleged, was for- 
 bidden to meddle with these matters until further orders,” 
 Maximilian would undertake to excuse him to his master. 
 Next day came a civil letter from Villinger, desiring Pace to 
 communicate to him the answer he intended for the Emperor, 
 and to be with the Emperor on the morrow.^ Pace replied 
 the next day (14th of June) that the 50,000 florins had been 
 recalled, and he was going to Constance. A week passed, 
 and no change ; Maximilian fretted and chafed : — as well 
 might the angry sea soften the obdurate rocks. So, finding 
 Pace inflexible, in a moment of irritation he ordered him to 
 leave the imperial domains, taxing him with having procured 
 the revocation of the money out of spite.^ Eorgetful alike of 
 his interest and his dignity, he threatened Pace with his 
 heaviest resentment if he were found loitering in his dominions, 
 in any one place, more than two days. Pace prepared to 
 depart, greatly to the discomfort of the Emperor’s messengers. 
 It was not his departure but his money that they wanted. 
 
 ^ II. 1942. 2 n 2034. ® II. 2035. 
 
 ^ II. 2043. See Pace’s note to this letter. ® II. 2070. 
 
138 THE KEIGN OF HENRY VIII. [A.D. i 
 
 i 
 
 i 
 
 They heard his resolution, to follow the Emperor’s mandate, | 
 with dismay. The Emperor’s command should be obeyed ; ^ j 
 though, to say the least, it was a harsh one, especially in the I 
 last clause of it, to be addressed to an ambassador of the King : 
 of England. Seeing him in earnest, the imperial messengers ; 
 said the whole matter might be compromised, if Pace would ! 
 lend the Emperor only 20,000 florins in the King his master’s | 
 name. Pace answered, that their proposal came unfortunately | 
 too late ; for if after a command to depart he should now | 
 remain and pay such a sum, it would be a great rebuke to the | 
 Emperor, and would show that he was dismissed for no fault ! 
 of his own, but because he had declined to pay “ what was ' 
 not in his power to pay.” , 
 
 At this juncture a new actor appeared upon the stage, — S 
 M. Hesdin, maitre d’hotel to Margaret of Savoy, who had i 
 always professed a deep interest in the King of England, and i 
 was supposed to hate the ministers of Charles for their in- | 
 clination to France. He assailed Pace with softer arguments, | 
 and words | 
 
 “ Sweet as honey from his lips distilled.” | 
 
 He lamented the Emperor’s hasty command ; — was sure he | 
 could induce the Emperor to revoke it ; — foresaw in this mis- i 
 understanding the unhappiness of Christendom, and entreated i 
 Pace to stay. But wisely he said nothing that day of the ! 
 20,000 florins. Next day, when his arguments might be ' 
 supposed to have produced the desired effect, Hesdin pressed | 
 upon Pace the desirableness of complying with the Emperor’s ' 
 demand. Firm to his purpose. Pace would not depart from 
 his resolution for friend or foe, for threats or cajolery. And ^ 
 doubtless many an hour afterwards, when Pace had returned ; 
 as secretary to Henry VIII., and his influence with the King ' 
 was second only to Wolsey’s, the history of this adventure 
 with the Emperor, and the various devices put in force by 
 him for obtaining the money, formed an amusing topic of 
 conversation. 
 
 Yet, mean and ludicrous as Maximilian’s perplexities * 
 appear in the recital, Englishmen, in spite of themselves, and ' 
 in spite of his real demerits, could not help feeling pity for • 
 the dilapidated Emperor. No money could pass his hands 
 without diminution in the f^assage ; no bond he gave was 
 worth the’ paper on which it was written; no promise he made 
 could be relied on ; and yet he was popular, not with his own 
 
 1 II. 2076. 
 
I 1516] PACE THREATENED AND CAJOLED FOR MONEY. 139 
 
 ill subjects only, but with strangers. His schemes to raise funds 
 
 I were so awkward and so palpable they deceived no one; his 
 ift necessities so urgent they almost excused his artifices. Then, 
 a! moreover, the empire had not yet been divested of its old 
 4; traditions and the accumulated honours of many centuries, 
 i I To see its last representative reduced to beggary, ready to 
 8 pawn ‘Hiis dukedom for a denier,” and unable to purchase 
 '■] I a dinner, — was a sight to stir noble and generous minds. It 
 
 i did so on this occasion. Pace, Wolsey, Tunstal, the King 
 le himself relented, rather than press too hardly on the chief of 
 
 II Christendom, whose awkward attempts at finesse generally 
 IS ended in his own discomfiture, and brought more tears in his 
 
 I own eyes than smiles in other men’s. 
 
 - j The Emperor’s demands fell with his hopes. Instead of 
 i : 48,000 florins, let Pace pay the 2,588 he had received from 
 i the Frescobaldi, and depart in peace. ^ No, not even that 
 1 - sum ; it had been spent already on the King’s affairs ; and he 
 3,fj ordered Pace out of the chamber. ‘‘Pace,” he exclaimed to 
 Wingfield in the bitterness of his disappointment, “ by the 
 
 ! council of his schoolmaster Galeaz has endangered the 
 common enterprise. All things were in good train, and 
 nothing was wanting but the entertainment of the said 5,000 
 Swiss, which he had desired of Pace as he would have desired 
 g I God.” Such insolence was intolerable. Pie fell to downright 
 gi abuse, and expressed to Wingfield his wonder that the King 
 ^ I should commit so important a charge “ to such a proterve and 
 -gj dissimuling person as Pace; for whatsoever he saith now, 
 gj within an hour he turneth it off another, or rather into twenty 
 ^|j divers fashions. But he hath gone to school with that bald 
 ^ Gallias, which betrayed and sold his master that brought him 
 up ; and therefore it is a less marvel that he with his disciple 
 g would have served me of the same.” But all this fury was in 
 ij; vain. If he ordered Pace to go. Pace prepared to start ; the 
 Jlj next five minutes he countermanded the order, and Pace 
 d| stayed. If he ordered Pace out of his presence, out of his 
 ji presence Pace went. If he stormed and raved. Pace remained 
 * silent ; if he cajoled or intimidated, he was no nearer the 
 object : absolutely Pace would not depart from his instruc- 
 tions ; not a florin would he disburse without an order from 
 J England. Four days after,^ Wingfield made suit, beseeching 
 Pace to procure 500 florins for the Emperor to buy powder 
 and ball ; but Pace turned a deaf ear to all entreaties. 
 
 2 July 4, 1516, II, 2133, 
 
 ^ II, 2104, 
 
140 
 
 THE REIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.r 
 
 The firmness and moderation of Pace, thus standing aloni i 
 — not aided, as he ought to have been, but rather opposed, b ' 
 his countryman Wingfield, — preserving the dignity of hii 
 demeanour in the midst of so many difficulties, — was duly ! 
 appreciated in England. He received the thanks of the Kinj 3 
 and the Cardinal, with a more substantial mark of favour ii ^ ' 
 his appointment as Secretary of State. Yet, much as he ha( 1 ‘ 
 reason to suspect and dislike the Emperor, he was not blindec \ 
 by the treatment he had received to the policy of keeping! 
 him on good terms. He wrote to Wolsey,^ that he had beei| 
 threatened with death for refusing to advance money ; “ but,’ | 
 he added with wonderful prudence and self-control, “thii^ 
 demeanour must be clean set apart (not considered), and th(| 
 Emperor, qualiscumque est, be entertained. The king doei^ 
 right to assist him; ‘‘ sed Ccesar est puer indigens tutore, e\ 
 consiliarios habet corruptissimos et omnium honorum doniini stv ^ 
 expilatores.'' He urged that the king, instead of repudiating- 
 the bond of 60,000 florins extorted by Maximilian, shouky 
 rather pay it, and help ^Mhe poor marcheante,” who haq ^ 
 thought to do an acceptable service to the king, ‘‘and die . 
 that is done at such a time as the Emperor {quod mirahiU] 
 dictu est) had not sufficient money to pay for his dinner.” I 
 
 Sir Eobert blundered on, as honest, well-meaning, con-ij 
 ceited mediocrity is apt to do. Fully convinced of his owrj 
 superior merits, and believing that he stood as high in the' 
 favour and confidence of his royal master at home as he did„ 
 in that of his Imperial Majesty abroad, he ventured with; 
 more freedom than discretion to arraign Pace’s conduct, and ' 
 still more his appointment as Secretary of State. Impressed; 
 with the notion of his own superior ability and experience, he • 
 had broadly insinuated that Pace was deficient in those! 
 qualities which were indispensable for his new position. From 
 Pace he had evidently glanced at the Cardinal.^ 
 
 With a confidence and indiscretion dis23laying a total 
 blindness to the real state of the times, he addressed a letter 
 to the King.^ It appears that in the interval the Emperor 
 had gone to Constance in the firm persuasion that Pace would 
 be induced to relent. High words had passed between them, 
 as already described, and the dispute was evidently approach- 
 ing its climax. Wingfield was sent for. After riding all 
 night, he arrived at Constance (as he reports) about 8 in the 
 morning ; “ and soon after mine arrival, Master Hans Eeyner 
 ' II. 2152. 
 
 2 II. 2154. 
 
 2 II. 2095. 
 
1516.] 
 
 WINGFIELD’S GRAVE INDISCRETIONS. 
 
 141 
 
 came to me from his Majesty, and showed me a long process, 
 accusing Master Pace in divers things, and most special!}^ 
 that his Majesty should be perfectly informed, that the said 
 Master Pace and the Visconte Galias have written such letters 
 to your Highness and to my lord Cardinal of York, against 
 him, that by the mean he findeth your Grace all alienate ; 
 which his Majesty esteemeth to he the more certain, because 
 that now of late he hath desired of Master Pace to make pro- 
 vision for the payment of a month’s wages to such Swisses as 
 were now in the common army, and he hath refused so to do : 
 with wdiich refuse, the said Mr. Hans showed me that the 
 Emperor was grieved marvellously; for he was informed that 
 the said Master Pace had sufficient provision of money with 
 him, by exchange of the Fuggers, and also that the said 
 Master Pace had showed unto his Majesty his own self that 
 he hath commission not only to wage 15,000 Swisses of new, 
 but also authority to give them three score thousand florins in 
 reward.” Mr. Hans further assured Wingfield, that the 
 Emperor w^as convinced this ‘‘w^as none other hut covert 
 treason wrought to his ruin, and the wasteful effusion of your 
 treasure.” Happily, the impending ruin was averted by 
 Wingfield’s providential arrival — so Wingfield writes — for the 
 
 I Emperor would have charged Master Pace to have departed 
 
 II out of all places of his jurisdiction, without sojourning in any 
 Ij place of the same above a night and a day, upon pain of his 
 
 life; and now that I was come the Emperor had sent him 
 I unto me to declare the same.” 
 
 In his vainglorious dream Wingfield received from the 
 King a letter for the Emperor.^ It was the first the King had 
 written to Maximilian since his ignoble retreat from Milan. 
 With it came another for Wingfield himself, the contents of 
 which he was commissioned to communicate. To his Imperial 
 Majesty, calm and reserved in tone, it was far from com- 
 plimentary. The King took occasion to thank him for his 
 offer of the Dukedom of Milan, but as the French were still in 
 possession of it, he thought it would be time enough to accept 
 the Emperor’s loving offers ” when he had renewed the 
 expedition, and, by chastising the French, had re-established 
 his honour, “greatly hindered by his desisting from the fore- 
 said enterprise, whereof the Frenchmen, as well in France as 
 elsewhere, made dishonourable bruits right displeasant to us 
 to hear or understand.” He touched upon the rumour of the 
 
 ^ II. 2176. It should have been placed under the 14th of June. 
 
 k 
 
 i 
 
 ial 
 
 '01 i 
 
142 THE EEIGN OF HENRY VIII. [A.E 
 
 Duke of Savoy’s efforts to negociate an arrangement betweei ; 
 France and Maximilian ; expressed his conviction that then 
 could be no truth in a report so disgraceful to the Emperor 
 who must have too much regard to his own character, an( 
 the welfare of Christendom, to entertain such a proposal 
 And as for any further assistance in the shape of money, tho 
 King considered the sums already advanced by him had beer | 
 employed solely in succouring the imperial towns of Brescit I 
 and Verona, to the neglect of their common interests, anci 
 wondered that Wingfield had ventured, on his own respon-j 
 sibility, to advance the Emperor 60,000 florins. Should tin; 
 King be called upon to repay it, Wingfield would be heldj 
 responsible for the loss and for any alienation it might caustj 
 between his Majesty and the Emperor. In the end Wingfield j 
 was enjoined to lay aside his enmity to Pace, and act cordially 
 with him for the common good. 
 
 Sir Kobert read this letter with a rueful countenance. He ; 
 had done his best within the last few hours to soothe the dis- 
 consolate Emperor, and flatter him with hopes of a favourablei 
 answer from England. The answer had come much soonei‘ 
 than he had anticipated, and of a tenor the very reverse ol{ 
 what he had expected. How was he to break the unwelcome! 
 news ? But he had no alternative : the Emperor was to leave: 
 the next day early, and he must act at once. He sent his 
 Majesty word that he had received a credence from England;! 
 and would be glad to know when should he have the honour : 
 of presenting it. Immediately,” was the reply. It was ' 
 then eight o’clock in the evening. “ When I was come to his 
 presence,” says Wingfield, “and every man avoided save he 
 and I, I presented your letters unto him, making your most 
 hearty and affectuous recommendations, in the best manner 
 I could ; which your letters when he had opened and read, a’ 
 looked a long while upon the subscription, and he said in this 
 wise : ‘ These be letters of credence to be declared by you ; 
 howbeit I do perceive right well by the subscription, without 
 hearing more, that the matter of your credence shallnot be so 
 pleasant unto me as I hoped and trusted, whereby I do know 
 right well that such as I hoped to find my perfect and assured 
 friends have their ears more inclined, and give more credence 
 to mine enemies’ words than to me, or those of my friends ; but 
 I must have patience in that, as I have had in many other 
 things. 'Nevertheless, declare your credence, and I shall give 
 you the hearing, but not with so joyful a heart as I would.” 
 
1516 .] 
 
 WINGFIELD’S UNPLEASANT MESSAGE. 
 
 143 
 
 Wingfield was greatly moved. He could not behold so 
 much humility and so much innocence trampled upon by the 
 malice of designing men without strong feelings of indigna- 
 tion. He longed to relieve the oppressed and defy the 
 oppressor. The Kitig, in his letter, had urged the Emperor 
 to recover his tarnished reputation, but Wingfield ventured to 
 , I qualify the asperity of his commission. The Emperor was 
 j not so blamable as he was reported ; “ for though his 
 j enemies ” — here Wingfield glanced at Pace — would gladly 
 he were more largely defamed, yet amongst good and in- 
 different judges, if they wot well of what mind and courage he 
 j I is, they would rather marvel at his diligence and dexterity.” 
 J Another article touching the Emperor’s underhand negocia- 
 j tions with the Duke of Savoy, Wingfield took the liberty of 
 J omitting entirely; “because I perceived at the beginning it 
 was not meet to touch him nigh the quick ; ” and as for the 
 jlj statement that the King’s money had been spent upon Brescia 
 I and Verona, “ verily, my most loved and dread sovereign lord 
 J j and only master,” says Wingfield most pathetically, “ I would 
 J that such as hath informed your Highness were in your most 
 I gracious presence, and I also ; and I doubt not but he should 
 have red cheeks, and he be not past shame, for his unjust 
 I saying. For your Highness may be sure that no man knoweth 
 I more in that matter than I, though I write not so much as 
 I other men do ; and sure I am that, and your Grace hath 
 I caused such letters of the Cardinal Sedunensis to be well 
 j| looked upon and examined, as I have sent to your Highness 
 I at divers times, which is one [of] the most virtuous and faith- 
 || ful men that ever I was acquainted with, it shall well appear 
 I when and how your money hath been rather cast away than 
 1| well spent; except such sums as hath comen to the Emperor’s 
 i hands : ” and he asserts that this war had cost Maximilian 
 I above 200,009 florins.^ 
 
 !; When Wingfield had finished, the Emperor “ made a long 
 
 ( pause after his custom,” and then said : “I cannot perceive 
 by the credence that ye have declared that my brother, the 
 king your master, hath restored to Leonard Friscobald the 
 60,000 florins that were borrowed of him, or that he intendeth 
 
 ^ Sir Robert of course believed bis sion to spend. The author of the 
 own assertion; but the difficulty which “ History of the League of Cambray’* 
 will occur to most readers, who know pretends that Ferdinand, a little before 
 anything of Maximilian and his he died, lent the Emperor 120,000 gold 
 finances, will be to account for 200,000 crowns. (“ Hist, de la Ligue.” II. 306.) 
 florins being in the Emperor’s posses- That is even more incredible. 
 
144 
 
 THE REIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 to provide the 100,000 florins that I desired him to prepare ; ; 
 but he rather willeth me to prepare repayments of the said , 
 60,000 florins to Friscobald. Verily I esteemed well in the ! 
 beginning that your credence should not be so pleasant to me 
 as I trusted it should have been ; but I do perceive well that 
 all things hath diminished the affection and love that my 
 brother hath had to me, whereof I am sorry, and know no ; 
 remedy but patience ; and, as I told you in the beginning, I : 
 perceived the same by the subscription of m.y brother’s letters; 
 for in former letters he named me brother and father, whereas ; 
 the name of father is now changed into cousin ; wherefore I ; 
 wish you to be treasurer of this letter, for I will not that any 
 man should be privy he is so changed to me-ward.” 
 
 So meek a reply, no doubt, sank deeply into the heart of the ^ 
 reporter, who, after a fling at Galeazzo, then proceeds to notice 
 that part of the King’s letter which alluded to the bad under- 
 standing “betwixt Master Pace, now your secretary, and me,” 
 and the King’s injunction “ that nother indignation or dis- 
 pleasure be taken against him through Wingfield’s procure- j 
 ment for his plain dealing.” He expressed regret that the ' 
 King should think him capable so “to demean himself against - 
 the said Master Pace or any other, but as an honest poor i 
 gentleman should.” He asserted that he had treated Pace as i 
 a brother, but Pace could not bear to hear the Emperor s 
 praised, nor would Wingfield hear him dispraised. Then, 
 dilating, after his fashion, upon the confidence to be shown to 
 old and experienced ministers,^ “which on my conceit (he 
 says) is a religion not to be annulled for any new sect,” he 
 adds, “I know not the foundation; and to say the sooth, though 
 I have none envy that in so little time and for so poor service, 
 he (Master Pace) hath attained to so high a room as that of 
 your principal secretary ; yet in some things me seemeth and 
 also know well that he hath largely offended in that art : for 
 the name of secretary hath the foundation upon the knowledge 
 of such things as ought to be kept secret ; in which I know 
 well that he hath greatly erred ; for when I made him privy 
 to such secret things as the Emperor had ordained me to write 
 unto your Highness to the intent he might be the more wary 
 how he should order himself concerning the said secrets 
 betwixt the Emperor and you, he went forthwith and showed 
 the same to the Duke of Bari,^ advising him that it was the 
 
 ^ Here tl?e letter is mutilated. 
 
 ^ Francis Maria Sforza, brother of Maximilian Sforza, Duke of Milan. 
 
WINGFIELD’S PRESUMPTION. 
 
 145 
 
 Cardinal Sedunensis’ procurement and mine ; which the said 
 duke would not keep secret, but laid the same to the said 
 Cardinal’s charge : of which, as I esteem, he (Sion) hath 
 advertized your Highness by his letters, which are not of such 
 levity as those of Galias, whose malice, fraud, and iniquity 
 hath not only abused Master Pace, hut hath caused Master 
 Pace to abuse many others. And in all such abuses as I may 
 know that your Highness taketh either loss or dishonour, 
 there is no power that shall may only stop my mouth, but 
 only your Highness’s commandment. And one thing I assure 
 your Grace of, that he is known over all at this day so 
 perverse towards the Emperor that, considering the authority 
 he hath, and his notable remuneration for so small and inutil 
 service that he hath done, it is verily judged that your affection 
 towards the Emperor is now sore refrigerate.” 
 
 It was not to be expected that a letter so rash, indiscreet, 
 and boastful, so full of unjust insinuations against others — 
 for, be it observed, insinuations were made as much against 
 i Wolsey’s honesty as against Pace — v^ould be allowed to pass 
 
 I without rebuke. Sir Eobert might have gone on for some time 
 
 i| longer, buzzing about the Emperor, occasionally starting into 
 I harmless acts of impertinence ; but on this occasion he had 
 I ventured far beyond the bounds of reasonable indulgence, and 
 I his vagaries were becoming mischievous. The following com- 
 munication from England brought him speedily to his senses. 
 
 Henry VIII. to Sir Robert Wingpield.i 
 
 “ Trusty and right well beloved . . . , — It is right well known how 
 long the fraternal [love and amity], with paternal and filial kindness, 
 j hath been rooted, est[ablished and] continued betwixt the Emperor, 
 whom we have always [taken and] reputed as our good father, and us, . . . 
 I' For the entertainment [and] continuance whereof, ye by our commission 
 a[nd authority] have had the room and office of a mediator, to the intent 
 || that no occasion sounding to the hy[ndering and] diminishing thereof might 
 
 ;i be given, to enge[nder any] scruple of unkindness or diffidence betwixt 
 
 !j hy[m and us], Howbeit we and our council, upon probable g[rounds 
 
 !| and] sundry vehement presumptions and conject[ures, perceive h]ow that 
 
 ij by occasion of the advancement of such money, as by your means and 
 
 acquittance was by Leonard Friscobalde made to the Emperor, without 
 any authority or commission by us to you given, and the repetition 
 thereof now demanded, for satisfaction and reimbursement thereof to the 
 creditors, to be contented and paid by the said Emperor, there is some 
 hindrance in appearance of the mutual kindness betwixt the said Emperor 
 and us, which should never have chanced if this money had not been 
 advanced to him without our commission ; considering that as well by 
 such our sundry gifts of large sums of [money] as we have made unto 
 him, as by the entertainment of the Swisses to our right great cost and 
 charge [from their country] to Milan, for his honour, and conservation of 
 
 'MI. 2177. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 L 
 
146 
 
 THE REIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 his cities and countries in those parts, he had not only good cause to give 
 unto us singular tha[nks, but also] rather thereby to augment than 
 diminish the amity rooted and established between him and us. Whe[re- 
 of we] thought right expedient to advertise you, to the [intent that, by] 
 all the means and politic ways ye can, ye [exert your]self, not only to 
 entertain and firmly to establish [the] love and amity that ever hath been 
 betwixt him [and us], but also to remove all scruples, sounding to [the] 
 derogation thereof, by mean of the occasion and cause before written ; 
 for in case any alteration of the Emperor’s mind towards us shall now be 
 apparent, otherwise than it hath been heretofore, we cannot ascribe ne 
 arrect it to any other thing or deed, but only to the advancement of the 
 said money, without our commandment, and the repetition of the same 
 now made ; whereunto expedient it is ye take substantial regard in 
 avoiding the danger that may thereof to you ensue. 
 
 “ For, to be plain with you, we now evidently perceive, more by 
 your own writings [than] by the relation of any other, that ye, having 
 better opinion in [yourself than] your wisdom or qualities can attain to, 
 not only by elation of a glorious mind, moved by the instigation of envy 
 and malice against our secretary, Mr. Pace, have mo[re considered] your 
 sensual appetites than regarded our commandments, weal, profit, or 
 surety ; as it appeareth evidently, as we[ll by] the advancement and 
 laying out of our money [without] commandment, as in continual 
 practices, by you daily made and driven, to put the Emperor in comfort 
 [to expect] the advancement of more money, to our intolerab[le costs and] 
 charges. And whereas ye advaunt yourself [to be a medi]ator for the 
 perseverant continuance of paternal and [fi]lial love and amity betwixt 
 the Emperor and us, your deeds be clearly repugnant to your words ; for 
 by these your drifts inducing the Emperor continually to demand money 
 of us, and the not accomplishing of his desires, which is importable for us 
 to sustain or do, ye have not only hindered the mutual intelligence 
 betwixt the said Emperor and us, but also put him in such jealousy 
 against our said secretary, Mr. Pace, by contrived surmises of seditious 
 writing against the Emperor, that he hath banished him his court and 
 countries ; and rather than these inconvenients should ensue betwixt the 
 Emperor and us by your vainglorious ways, more studying to get thanks 
 than regarding our honor, profit, or surety, better it were y[ou had] 
 never been born. 
 
 “ When we consider your undiscreet writing, expressing the disdainous 
 and envious mind that ye be of the advancement and promotion of our 
 said [secretary], Mr. Pace, whom in your said writing ye dispraise [and] 
 slander, with the fantastical argument that ye make, to conclude our 
 affection to be refrigerate towards the Emperor, by cause we have 
 rewarded our said secretary with so notable a remuneration for so inutill 
 service, he being of so perverse mind towards the Emperor, and the 
 protestation and requisition [by] you made, that in case his merits shall 
 fortune to lead him to any inconvenient or danger in those parts, we 
 should not impute or arrect the occasion thereof to you ; it causeth us and 
 our council to think, that either malicious fumes hath blinded your 
 intelligence so that ye little regard what ye write, or else ye suppose and 
 think that we and our council have no capacity to discern your notorious 
 folly. For as touching the promotion of our said secretary, whom ye 
 dispraise, inasmuch as he hath better followed our commandments and 
 commissions than ye have done, we think he hath well deserved this 
 advancement and better. And though he had never done unto us any 
 service in those parts, yet in consideration of his learning, wisdom, and 
 activeness, our mind was to prefer him to that room before his departing, 
 so that your ^ophistical argument before written is a great fallacy and 
 folious invention [which] cannot proceed. And well assured may ye be, 
 that in case any danger or inconvenient shall chance unto hmi in those 
 
1516 .] 
 
 WINGFIELD SEVEEELY CENSURED. 
 
 147 
 
 parts, we must and will arrect it precisely to you, and in such wise punish 
 you therefor, as all other shall take terrible example thereby. For what- 
 soever ye or any other have surmised to the Emperor for his hindrance, 
 we have now expressly declared to the said Emperor by our letters, that 
 our said secretary never wrote anything unto us but good and honourable 
 of him, as much commending his valiantness, wisdom, and other his 
 notable acquitayles, as could be devised, making also true and plain 
 certificate unto us of all things occurrant there from time to time, rather 
 deserving thereby the Emperor’s thanks than his indignation, which we 
 believe verily had not fortuned to him unless the Emperor had been by 
 your seditious reports provoked thereunto. 
 
 “ And as touching the Cardinal Sedunensis, whom ye much praise, 
 and the count Galeas by you greatly dispraised, they be personages to us 
 unknown. Nevertheless, for the laudable reports that we have heard of 
 them, and that they were the persons most meet to further and [promote] 
 this enterprise of the Swisses against the Frenchmen, we were the rather 
 induced to practice with them, minding always not only the honor and 
 surety of the Emperor, but also the advancement of the same, and 
 conservation of his estate in those parts. For which purpose we have 
 laid out and expended right great and large sums of money ; and if for 
 this our kindness we should be finally rewarded by sinister reports with 
 distrust, suspicion, and displeasure, we may say our kindness hath been 
 evil employed. Wherefore we will and straitly charge you that, all 
 dissemblance put apart, ye endeavor yourself to entertain the amity and 
 intelligence betwixt the Emperor and us, wherein we shall stedfastly 
 and perseverantly continue without alteration for our part ; assuring you 
 that in case we may perceive any alienation of his mind therein, we must 
 ascribe it unto you for such causes and considerations as be above 
 specified, whereunto we will ye take special regard in avoiding our 
 indignation to your uttermost peril. And as touching the request 
 heretofore made by the Emperor to our said secretary, for the advance- 
 ment of more money, inasmuch as the letters of exchange were revoked, 
 it was not possible to be done ; wherefore the Emperor hath no cause of 
 displeasure against him. The reasons moving us to revoke our letters of 
 exchange were these : First, because we supposed the expedition against 
 the Frenchmen to be clearly extinct and done by the returning of the 
 Swisses to their countries. Secondly, forasmuch as the Emperor by his 
 letters to us had so efiectually commended Friscobald for his diligent 
 towardness and faithful acquittal, we minded by the revocation thereof to 
 take the commission from the Fokers, and to have caused the money to 
 be paid by the hands of Friscobald and his factors when the case should 
 require ; and in such wise we will ye show to the said Emperor.” 
 
148 
 
 THE REIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 CHAPTEK V. 
 
 THE TREATY OF NOYON. 
 
 In more than one of Wingfield’s “vainglorious” letters the 
 King had been urged by the Emperor — wjether in sincerity or 
 not remains to be shown — to assist him in punishing the 
 ministers of his grandson Charles, who had sided throughout 
 with the French. To their machinations he imputed the 
 success of the French arms and the dangers now menacing the 
 whole of Italy. In Wingfield’s fantastic language, it was they 
 who had sold Naples : ^ “ Blessed be those honorable coun- 
 cillors of the young king ^ which have brewed the beverage to 
 the ruin of the Emperor, of which ruin the said young king is 
 like to be very heavy to the damage of all Christendom.” To 
 understand these allusions and how far Sir Eohert was justified 
 in his opinion of the Emperor’s honour and integrity, we must 
 look back a little. 
 
 From the first moment that Francis ascended the throne 
 Charles and his ministers had courted a French alliance with 
 unceasing assiduity. In their treatment of England they had 
 exhibited not only indifference but studied contempt and dis- 
 like. The leaders of the young Prince’s councils, Chievres 
 and the Chancellor (Sauvage), prompted mainly by a desire 
 to retain their supremacy, threw the weight of their influence 
 into the scale of France — tempted also, if the report be true, 
 by the pecuniary rewards which Francis offered so liberally 
 for their favours. It may be thought that Charles w^as too 
 young to be responsible for the acts of his ministers, and too 
 indifferent to the charms of the Princess Mary to have con- 
 ceived either grief or indignation at seeing her consigned to 
 the arms of another. But all writers agree in his precocity ; not 
 a single act in the after period of his life indicates the least 
 dissatisfaction with these his earliest advisers ; nor so long as 
 
 ^ IT. 1937. Netherlands, had-just become King of 
 
 2 Charles, still residing in the Spain by the death of Ferdinand. 
 
1516.] PRINCE CHARLES SEEKS A FRENCH ALLIANCE. 149 
 
 they lived did he ever withdraw his confidence and favour from 
 them. Quite the reverse. As for his alliance with Mary, 
 Philip Dalles, the envoy sent to congratulate Francis on his 
 accession, has preserved the following anecdote which seems 
 to indicate that the loss of Mary caused a deeper dissatisfac- 
 tion than has been generally supposed. On one occasion 
 Charles was told in a company of young people, that he was a 
 cuckold (coqu), and had lost his wife, and ought to take 
 another : one proposed this lady, another that ; some Madame 
 Eenee, others the daughter of Portugal or of Hungary. “ I 
 (said Dalles) replied that the Prince preferred Madam Eenee.” 
 ‘‘He is quite right,” answered Charles promptly, “she is 
 much the best prize ; for if my wife chanced to die before me 
 I should then be Duke of Brittany.” The mind which at such 
 an age, and on such an occasion, could travel to such a con- 
 tingency, was worthy of the discipline in which it had been 
 trained. As I have said in the first chapter of this work, 
 there was no careless betrayal of youthful indiscretion in 
 Charles whether as Archduke, King, or Emperor. Over all 
 appetites, but one, he had perfect control from childhood 
 upwards. 
 
 In the instructions which he gave to his ambassadors ^ 
 announcing that he was out of his tutelage, and condoling with 
 Francis on the death of the late King Lewis, the same 
 decorous resignation to the will of Providence, the same keen 
 regard to his own interests, may be traced, though blurred 
 with the formalities of a State paper. They are directed to 
 inform the new monarch that Charles is his own master ; and 
 though great is his grief at the death of the late King of 
 France, yet, remembering that all mankind, great and small, 
 are subject to mortality, and that the “late king was an 
 ancient man,^ infirm, and sickly, and that in the concerns of 
 this life the will of the Lord must be done, — all things con- 
 sidered, the aforesaid Charles feels himself mightily comforted 
 by the accession of the new sovereign.” But the main drift 
 of this mission was to negociate, in the first place, a marriage 
 with Madame Eenee, then four years old ; and in the next, to 
 excuse the alliance which had hitherto existed between England 
 and Flanders, as passed in the Archduke’s minority, and for 
 which he ought not to be held responsible. The terms he 
 demanded were so exorbitant, the aim to extort money from a 
 
 ^ Jan. 19, 1515. Le Glay, Negoc. ^ He was only in his fifty-third 
 
 i. 2. year when he died. 
 
150 
 
 THE REIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 King, liberal and young like Francis, so apparent, that more I 
 than once the negociation was near coming to an abrupt : 
 termination. Even when completed it was one of the condi- 
 tions insisted on by Charles that his future Queen, young as 
 she was, should be taken from her family, and delivered to his I 
 care, with a certain amount of money, jewels, and property 
 settled upon her, of which he was to become the possessor in I 
 the event of her death. | 
 
 This union with France had more than one advantage to | 
 recommend it : — it settled the disputes between the two | 
 countries in relation to the future possession of Naples ; it | 
 gave peace to Flanders, then greatly impoverished; and it 1 
 enabled Charles and his ministers to sit aloof, unconcerned, J 
 wKilst the other great powers of Europe proceeded to arbitrate ’ 
 their differences by the sword. Whether, on a broad view of !i 
 history, countries in the long run prosper by this policy of 
 non-interference, is a question not to be determined here. 
 Between running like famished mastiffs to take part in a street 
 brawl, and the armed interposition of reason and charity, j- 
 there is a wide difference. The sternest neutrality may be as 
 selfish, and as destructive of true magnanimity, as hot and ' j 
 precipitate anger. No nation ever became great by either I;! 
 course alone, — certainly not at the time of which I am !|j 
 speaking. '|l 
 
 It could not be expected that during the predominance of j 
 such feelings and principles English negociations would prosper I 
 in Flanders. Attempts were made, but with little success, to | 
 renew the amity and free commercial intercourse between the j 
 two peoples. The negociators were Tunstal and More, after- 
 wards the celebrated chancellor, then for the first time com- 
 mitted, to the great regret of Erasmus, to a life of politics 
 instead of letters. More was mainly employed, no doubt, for 
 his high character and legal attainments ; he possessed, above 
 all men of his age, the qualifications required for the temperate 
 and successful adjustment of disputes between the English and 
 Flemish merchants, complicated by the anxiety of the latter 
 to force English trade back again to Bruges, then rapidly 
 waning before the increasing popularity of Antwerp.^ Unfor- 
 tunately we have none of More’s correspondence for this 
 period, when he first gathered those impressions of the Low 
 Countries and of the political state of the times which he 
 afterwards 'produced in his Utopia. For our knowledge of 
 
 ^ II. 581. 
 
CHAKLES BECOMES KING OF SPAIN. 
 
 151 
 
 i 1516.] 
 
 what passed, we are mainly indebted to Sir Thomas Spinelly, 
 whose gossip is amusing enough, but rests often on no better 
 j foundation than hearsay. He was evidently not initiated into 
 
 I the secrets of either party, and was frequently imposed upon 
 
 j by both. His English prejudices made him a convenient 
 
 instrument for Margaret of Savoy, or the Emperor through 
 I her, whenever it was desirable to draw off the English 
 
 i negociators on a false scent. Months elapsed, but the English 
 
 I commissioners could make no impression on Charles or his 
 
 ! court until the close of 1515. Even then it is probable that 
 
 ' the desire of Chievres to obtain a loan from this country was 
 
 a much stronger inducement to moderation than any real 
 change of sentiment.^ 
 
 j The death of Ferdinand the Catholic in February, 1516, 
 
 I threw the destinies of Europe into the hands of three young 
 sovereigns, nearly of the same age, and for this and other 
 reasons jealous and suspicious of each other’s glory and 
 achievements. This is the date of Charles’s emancipation 
 , from tutelage. From that time to the death of Flenry VHI. 
 
 ’ the political history of Europe is little more than the combina- 
 
 ' tions and intrigues of these monarchs to prevent any one of 
 
 their number from rising to a dangerous superiority. With 
 this period commences the system of modern political adjust- 
 ments which continues to this day to be the basis of European 
 ‘ diplomacy. By the death of Ferdinand, the relations between 
 ^ Charles and Francis were altered ; hitherto he had been a 
 
 vassal of France, and at the first interview of his envoys with 
 I Francis they had been reminded of this subservience, in terms 
 not agreeable to the inferior. Now the vassal in the extent of 
 his kingdoms exceeded his suzerain ; and in the prospect of the 
 imperial succession stood far above him.^ His interests, 
 present and future, brought Charles more directly and more 
 frequently into collision with Francis than they could do with 
 Henry. Yet with this vast extent of territory, with the old 
 and new world tied, as it were to his girdle, Charles was so 
 miserably poor that he could not raise so mean a sum as 
 
 ^ II. 1291. 
 
 ^ At the interview of Dalles with 
 Francis, three days after the death of 
 Lewis XII., the former told Francis 
 that the Archduke was very young, 
 and desired to live on good terms with 
 him. The king said, in his reply, that 
 he would be a good friend to Charles, 
 ‘‘ because he is mon vassal:” but he 
 would not be managed or over-reached 
 
 by him or any one. The envoy fired 
 up at the insult, but did not venture 
 to object to the offensive expression ; 
 “ Sire,” he said, “ it will be your fault 
 if Monsieur the Prince of Castile does 
 not live on as good terms with you as 
 the king his father did : and I would 
 have you know, no friend or vassal 
 can do you more harm than he.” Le 
 Glay, Negoc. i. 595. 
 
152 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENRY VIIL 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 300,000 crowns to take his journey into Spain.^ The wealth 
 of Henr}^, his facility in parting with it, seemed to point him 
 out as the Sovereign to whom Charles should ally himself ; 
 hut, for reasons not well known — and which never can he 
 thoroughly known until foreign archives have been thrown 
 open to examination — no efforts of the English ambassadors, 
 not even the interests of Charles himself, could induce him to 
 abandon the French alliance, or treat this country otherwise 
 than with haughtiness and neglect. The successes of Francis 
 in Italy, the mismanagement of the Emperor, seemed only to 
 serve as additional inducements for strengthening the French 
 alliance, and imperilling his succession to Spain and the 
 Empire. A policy so suicidal, and which, if eventually suc- 
 cessful, must have ended in making Francis Emperor of the 
 West, can only be attributed to the dread entertained by 
 Chievres and his fellow-ministers of Maximilian and Henry. 
 Their alliance would have given a deadly blow to that party 
 which had hitherto governed the Archduke exclusively ; and, 
 rather than incur that danger, any sacrifice was to be pre- | 
 ferred. 
 
 The French, on their side, watched these negociations with 
 their habitual keenness. The least indication of an English 
 tendency in the court of the King Catholic, as he was now 
 styled,^ was instantly punished by some act of aggression on 
 the part of the Duke of G-ueldres, the hereditary enemy of 
 Charles, the restless invader of his dominions, who needed no 
 instigation from France to satisfy his desire of vengeance or 
 aggression. What Scotland was to England, Gueldres was to 
 Charles; and the latter could not move a step towards his 
 Spanish dominions without exposing his frontier on the side 
 of Gelderland to fire and sword. Aware of this perplexity, 
 and probably the secret instigators of it, the French now 
 proposed a closer amity. A more cheerful face was exhibited 
 to England ; its envoys were received with greater courtesy ; 
 the Venetian ambassador even wrote to say that the friendship 
 of the two courts looked ominous, for Castile “ was quite 
 hand-in-glove with Henry.” ^ But their energies in reality 
 were bent on a closer intimacy with France, in which they 
 hoped to include the Emperor, now more than ever inclined 
 to listen to such proposals since his inglorious retreat from 
 the Italian expedition. 
 
 Charles now became the object of the intrigues of both 
 
 ' II. 1511. 
 
 2 II. 1668. 
 
 3 II. 1845. 
 
1516.] 
 
 THE TREATY OF NOYON. 
 
 153 
 
 courts. On one side England offered him a loan of 20,000 
 marks to bear his charges into Spain/ hinting at the same 
 time that he should take England on his way, “ to avoid sea- 
 sickness, and keep clear of the French coast.” Pensions were 
 privately promised to Chievres and the Chancellor. Nothing 
 could be more plausible than the conduct of these ministers ; 
 they professed themselves ‘'weary of the French and their 
 dissimulation.” An excuse was never wanting. When they 
 were taxed with suhmissiveness to France ; — it was done 
 merely to prevent the French from hindering the journey to 
 Spain ; once there the King would show himself in his true 
 colours.^ While these negociations were pending, a secretary 
 of the French King, named De Neufville, had arrived at 
 Brussels. He was frequently closeted with Chievres, but his 
 communications were innocent ; they had no higher object 
 than the discussion of some unsettled points relating to the 
 marriage treaty of the Queen of Arragon ; — this, and no 
 more.^ The utmost candour and openness were exhibited on 
 both sides. True, the French had offered another marriage 
 alliance to Charles ; but these negociations had only been 
 entertained on their part to gain time till Charles should be 
 peaceably settled in his new dominions. The journey into 
 Spain was a wide and convenient pretext. If the English 
 desired to bind them in a united effort against the French in 
 Italy, the expenses to be incurred and the charges against 
 Gueldres prevented their contributing to so worthy an object.^ 
 Were they taxed with playing a double game ? They must 
 keep on good terms with France, and condescend apparently 
 to its demands, or have France for their enemy, and their 
 master’s voyage prevented.^ On the 13th of July came another 
 great personage from Paris, the Grand Master of France. 
 Tunstal urged Chievres and the chancellor to beware of French 
 practices and take heed of a French marriage.® Suddenly 
 Charles, like his grandfather Maximilian, was taken with a 
 passion for hunting ; he was not to be seen."^ The Emperor 
 about the same time had become invisible, even to his faithful 
 admirer Sir Eobert.® Why pursue the progress of dissimu- 
 lation any further? By the 13th of August the treaty of 
 Noyon was completed. Its discussions had been kept a pro- 
 found secret ; so profound that three days after it had been 
 
 ^ In June. See II. 2006. ® II. 2165. 
 
 2 II. 2075, 2079. « II. 2206. 
 
 2 June : 2099. ^ II. 2219. 
 
 ^ II. 2132. 8 n. 2224, 2248. 
 
154 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 signed Maximilian was trying to amuse Henry with a proposal 
 to descend into the Low Countries and assist him “in pulling 
 up the tares from the wheat; or rather, in pulling down 
 the potent ministers of his grandson. On the faith of this 
 promise he had induced the King to reimburse Friscobald the 
 60,000 florins for which Pace had been dragged out of his 
 sick bed.^ 
 
 But the end had not yet come. With real or well assumed 
 repugnance Maximilian, as if loth to face the English ambas- 
 sador, desired his secretary Maraton to inform Wingfield of 
 the secret terms concluded at Noyon. In its arrangements 
 England had been passed over without notice. Charles had 
 consented to take Anne, the French King’s infant daughter, in 
 the place of Renee ; and France in return had waived all 
 claims to Naples. The Venetians were to be called on to pay 
 the Emperor 200,000 florins for Brescia and Verona. Sir 
 Robert was thunderstruck. Could this be that Maximilian 
 who had vowed eternal vengeance against the French, and 
 persuaded Wingfield they were worse than Judas ? On the 
 faith of such protestations Wingfield had pawned his honour, 
 and would have staked his life. He had assured his master 
 of Maximilian’s desire to repair the blunders of the last 
 campaign. On his own responsibility he had advanced the 
 Emperor 60,000 florins. In contradiction to the advice of 
 Pace he had been a party to the gross device of the Emperor 
 for making Henry Duke of Milan, and placing on his head the 
 Imperial crown. Now Empire, Dukedom, money, all were lost. 
 The million and a half spent by Henry on the war^ had 
 evaporated in smoke. The invasion of France was a ridiculous 
 dream ; its supremacy had been established, and all the efforts 
 to counteract that supremacy were dashed by the cunning 
 contrivances of two men (Chievres and the Chancellor), the 
 Emperor’s own nominees. Sir Robert was abashed, and could 
 make no answer. He wrote, in reply to Maraton’s communi- 
 cation,^ “that hitherto the Emperor’s Majesty had peculiarly 
 suffered his bounty and goodness to vanquish his great wisdom 
 and experience ; ” — (in less courtly phrase, he had allowed 
 himself to be duped by others of less intelligence than himself ;) 
 — now Sir Robert hoped his goodness would give way before 
 his experience ; that he would take vengeance on those who 
 had endeavoured to separate him from his tried friends, and 
 
 ' II. 2286. 2 II 2291. 
 
 2 Yet Wolsey sets it down at 80,000Z. only. No, 2404. 
 
 II. 2310. 
 
/ar:^/eyyyy < 2 ^ 
 
1516.] 
 
 WAS THE EMPEROK A PARTY? 
 
 155 
 
 strike his enemies with fear and confusion.” There was 
 one hope left : Maraton had solemnly assured him that the 
 Emperor was no party to these arrangements.^ Sir Kohert 
 was comforted ; his letter was read to Maximilian. The 
 Emperor would follow his suggestion : he had never thought 
 of abandoning England ; if the King would remain firm, 
 nothing should separate their friendship,^ His heart had 
 been tom by one apprehension, that Henry would not help 
 him ; but now that he was assured of the contrary he would 
 arm and straight set forward. Once more Sir Eobert was 
 delighted ; it was needless, he said, “ to stimul the Emperor 
 very busily,” ^ for no man could be better disposed. When 
 he found himself strong and united with the Catholic King he 
 would not fail to punish the traitors. In the abundance of 
 his hope and charity, Wingfield had not only forgiven Pace, 
 but had even induced the Emperor to take Pace into favour, 
 on the assurance that his ‘^proterve conduct ” should not be 
 repeated. Two days after Maraton wrote to him again : ‘‘ The 
 Emperor is continually urged to accept this foul peace with 
 France.” Wingfield must come and counteract those intrigues ; 
 but unless he could muster 6,000 gold florins, his success 
 would be questionable.^ The Emperor desired 10,000 crowns ; 
 then he would leave for Namur. Wolsey offered 5,000 if he 
 would come to Calais, and 5,000 more when there. The 
 Emperor (writes his daughter Margaret to the imperial ambas- 
 sadors in England) is very poor ; the least they can do is to 
 allow him 10,000 florins a month while he is away; ® — he is 
 very much pressed by the French ; but nothing except his 
 urgent poverty will induce him to listen to their proposals. 
 
 The measures now adopted were of Henry’s minting. He 
 proposed to meet the Emperor in the Low Countries, and join 
 with him in removing those corrupt councillors ” of Charles,® 
 who had attempted to break the old friendship between England 
 and Burgundy. The King of Castile was bound by the treaty 
 of Noyon to marry the daughter of the French King, provided 
 that in the event of her death he should marry another not 
 yet born. This is the most slanderous alliance,” exclaimed 
 Plenry, ^Mhat ever was heard of; and the disparity of ages 
 great ; for the King of Castile is seventeen years old ; the 
 French King’s daughter not one year,” The Emperor cun- 
 
 1 II. p. '712. 4 Sept. 1, 1516. II. 2335, 2339. 
 
 2 II. Z315. s II. 2357. 
 
 3 II. 2319. 6 II. 2387. 
 
156 
 
 THE REIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 ningly lamented that he had never been implicitly trusted ; 
 was sorry his advice had not borne the fruit desired by both. 
 He had done his uttermost, and was so extremely driven “he 
 knew no remedy but to accept this detestable peace.” ^ The 
 Venetian offer of 200,000 ducats was tempting ; with the aid 
 of it he should be able to help the King and assist himself 
 against France. Could such arguments be resisted ? Was 
 he to abandon Verona, to which he had sent that day 40,000 
 florins and 10,000 florins’ worth of cloth (as he told Wingfield), 
 only for the want of a small sum from England, which should 
 be punctually repaid? To urge his request with greater 
 cogency, Cardinal Sion was sent into this country — a man of 
 great vigour and no less plausibility.^ He had a long colloquy 
 with the King and Wolsey at Greenwich, and the same day 
 the two Cardinals dined together. On his return Wolsey was 
 observed to be angry and excited.^ Since he had been at the 
 helm, men said, they had never seen him in such a state of 
 perturbation. Sebastian, who narrates the interview, was at 
 a loss to guess the cause. He thought it might arise from 
 “ the insolence of this Cardinal of Sion,” or the receipt of 
 fresh intelligence at variance with the asseverations of the 
 imperial ambassador, “ who tells lies by the dozen.” We, 
 who know much more than he did of Cardinal Sion’s letters, 
 may with much better reason infer, that the anger of Wolsey 
 was roused by the Emperor’s unblushing effrontery in im- 
 puting the failure of the late expedition to the Cardinal’s 
 noncompliance with his ceaseless demands for money ; or else 
 to the unscrupulous calumnies of Sion, who slandered Pace 
 and Galeazzo,^ taxing them with spending the sums entrusted 
 to them to gratify their own inclinations, without regard to 
 the common interests of the confederates. More probably, 
 Wolsey refused to lend himself to the wild projects and bound- 
 less expenditure that found no limits in the overweening 
 ambition and desires of Sion. The projects he had conceived 
 may be guessed from the draft of a proposal in his own hand, 
 submitted to the King and Wolsey.^ To prevent Verona from 
 falling into the hands of the French, he required that the 
 King of England should advance the Emperor 40,000 crowns ; 
 then by the next Christmas the Emperor should visit Brabant, 
 
 ^ II. 2441. of the money destined for the Swiss. 
 
 ^ Oct. II. 2449. (II. 2500.) The charge was purely 
 
 ^ II. 2464. ■' malicious. 
 
 ^ II. 2473. He accused Galeazzo ® Oct, II. 2463. 
 of having appropriated 100,000 crowns 
 
1516.] PKOPOSAL TO REMOVE CHARLES’ COUNCILLORS. 157 
 
 and depose those wicked governors ” of Charles — Chievres 
 and the Chancellor. Here he was to be joined by Henry, who 
 should be pressed to receive the imperial crown ; and thus the 
 King should become the champion of Christendom, the Emperor 
 his lieutenant to fight under his banner, and the Dukedom 
 of Milan his fief. Could Wolsey be a party to such wild 
 schemes ? ^ 
 
 The Emperor’s treasurer, Fillinger, notoriously addicted to 
 the French interests, wrote to Sion, congratulating him on 
 his dexterous negociation in procuring from England 40,000 
 crowns,^ which he trusted was only an earnest of good things 
 to come. All parties — a rare thing on such occasions — seemed 
 equally pleased ; those who were paid, and those who had to 
 pay. Sion left on the 8th of November with presents from 
 the King and Wolsey to the value of 4,000 ducats ; ^ and he 
 dropped a modest memorial for Wolsey, requesting an annual 
 pension for his services to England until the next vacant 
 bishopric.^ The Swiss were promised 30,000 crowns annually. 
 Wingfield was beside himself with this last loving and liberal 
 act of his master. The Emperor dilated on it in such pathetic 
 terms, that Sir Eobert, as he tells us himself, “ could scantly 
 abstain from tears.” So much happiness for 40,000 crowns ! 
 What might not come of it? The Swissers would ‘‘dance 
 after his pipe.” The Emperor’s descent so suddenly in harness 
 would “ put water on the fire ” kindled by the French and their 
 “ fautors.” Even Charles had kissed the rod, and expressed 
 his “ contrition ” if anything had been done by him or his, 
 prejudicial to their common interests (so at least the Emperor 
 told Wingfield) ; and as for his grandson’s councillors, “they 
 were so besotted and blinded with promises and crowns of 
 France that they cared nothing about their master or him, so 
 they might carry the whole of Christendom into the French 
 hands to his peril and that of Henry ” ^ The Emperor was 
 therefore “ determined to descend into the Low Countries, 
 and provide such a remedy there as God will.” On the 21st 
 of November he pressed for payment of 10,000 crowns for the 
 first month, as without them his visit must be abandoned. 
 
 ^ See Henry’s remarkable letter to 
 Wolsey (11. 2218), on receiving the im- 
 perial ambassadors. “Touching the 
 resignation of the imperial crown, the 
 ambassadors spoke generally, but they 
 thought the Emperor would resign it : 
 and we think they mean nothing.’’ The 
 
 same letter shows that it was the King, 
 and not Wolsey, who was anxious for 
 the Emperor to visit the Low Countries. 
 2 II. 2508. 
 
 2 II. 2543. 
 
 " II. 2528. 
 
 = II. 2536. 
 
158 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENKY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 By the 24th, with the help of 6,000 florins advanced by Wing- | 
 field, he had proceeded four hundred miles on his journey j 
 Arrived at Hagenau in the Nether Alsace, and the money 
 duly paid, the qualms of Maximilian began to return. He I 
 was afraid after all he should be compelled to follow the | 
 wishes of his council, of which “ some been either blinded, 
 abused, or corrupted by the French and their adherents.” ^ 
 Wingfield insisted on the faithfulness of his master, as proved 
 by all his actions ; urged how he had put himself to great j 
 business and huge charge and cost for the weal of Christendom, 
 the defence of the Emperor and his nephew. It might he 
 nothing more than the old, stale trick of the Emperor, to , 
 practise on Wingfield’s fears, and extract money more rapidly 
 from England ; or it might be one mode of preparing the 
 unsuspecting ambassador for that revelation, which could not ^ 
 long be delayed. One incident must be told as illustrating 
 the relations and characters of the two men. On riding to 
 church, I upon his left hand,” says Wingfield,^ “ being ^ 
 approached nigh to the church door, there came a hen, being j 
 right fair and diverse of colour, which peaceably did light 
 upon my bridle hand, as she had been a hawk, and there ^ 
 remained without moving.” When one of the ushers pro- ^ 
 ceeded to remove it, the Emperor seemed to be greatly taken ^ 
 with it ; and, says Wingfield, “ he esteemed verily the same 
 to presage some good fortune, and at the least he esteemed j 
 that before the end of the year the Lady of France^ should j 
 come unto my hand.” Out of such stuff did Sir Kobert weave i | 
 comfort for himself. 
 
 ■ T 
 
 By the 3rd of December the Emperor’s doubts had thickened. • 
 He did not question Henry’s liberality ; yet, unless he were i 
 assured of some monthly provision, he was certain his council * ^ 
 would never consent to his making this descent.^ On the 5th, * 
 Sir Eobert, in conjunction with Sion, agreed to pay the'j , 
 Emperor 30,000 florins ; influenced by the assertion of ; J 
 Fillinger, that if he went to Flanders there would be no ' , 
 money, and he must submit to the dictation of Chievres and 
 the Chancellor.® On the 8th, Margaret of Savoy wrote to = 
 Hesdin, her ambassador in England, that he must do his best I , 
 to procure the 10,000 florins from Henry; — the Emperor , 
 
 ' II. 2589. 
 
 2 II. 2605. 
 
 3 II. 2605. 
 
 Gallus, a Frenchman ; Gallina, a 
 
 hen. 
 
 ® II. 2626 ; and compare with this 
 2627. 
 
 6 II. 2636. 
 
1516.] 
 
 THE EMPEROR’S DOUBLE DEALING. 
 
 159 
 
 would certainly come, and nothing more w^as required than 
 for the money to be lodged at Treves. “Fail not,” she tells 
 him, “ for God’s sake, as all the good and ill of our affairs 
 turns upon it.” As the King of England had already 
 advanced so much, 10,000 florins more were but a trifle. 
 Hesdin must contradict the rumour in circulation that the 
 Emperor had made terms with France. She knows the 
 contrary from his letters and those of Maraton. He is to 
 assure the King of England there is not a word of truth in 
 the scandal; the Emperor would never have thought of such 
 a thing without first consulting his brother of England. Pos- 
 sibly he shows an outward complaisance, but that is only 
 assumed to further the designs of Wolsey and Sion. But, she 
 adds with increasing earnestness, if Hesdin ever in his life 
 wished to serve her and the Emperor, he must at all hazards 
 obtain the 10,000 florins.^ 
 
 It was a little too gross. Four days before that letter was 
 sent, the chivalrous Maximilian, the candidate for the honours 
 of saintship, and the representative of the Holy Koman 
 Empire, had secretly taken his oath to the treaty of Noyon, 
 and resigned all claim upon Italy for 200,000 ducats ; — and 
 that Margaret knew.^ There was no remedy. “ I am told,” 
 says Tunstal, who communicated the intelligence, “by your 
 Grace’s friends, that it is taken for a surety that the lord 
 Chievres hath turned the Lady Margaret as well as the 
 Emperor, and that she, seeing the great inclination that the 
 King of Castile hath to the said lord Chievres, and thinking 
 that it cannot be removed, has yielded. For which cause 
 your Grace should show no more to her servants than as 
 much as ye cared not that the lord Chievres knew ” (she 
 had been implicitly trusted in England under the impression 
 that she was inalienably attached to English interests) ; “ for 
 whatsoever she knoweth it cometh out by one means or other. 
 And the same your friends do think it shall be meet for your 
 Grace so to use lihei'ality to your Grace’s friends, that your 
 Grace keep always yourself strong enough in your coffers to with- 
 stand the malice of the French king.”^ 
 
 The King and Wolsey were incredulous. It was impossible. 
 The news could not be true. The latter wrote to Tunstal to 
 tell him^ that Henry thought he must have been deceived, 
 and the report had been devised by Chievres and the Chan- 
 cellor to make the King mistrust the Emperor and my Lady, 
 
 1 II. 2652. 2 IX. 2633. ^ n, 2640. II. 2700. 
 
160 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENKY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 secure their own power, and counteract the practices of Henry | 
 and Maximilian. Tunstal was to use every effort to discover | 
 the truth. ‘Mt may be,” wrote Wolsey, “that the Emperor | 
 doth play on both hands, using the nature of a participle, I 
 which taketh partem a nomine et partem a verho.’' If either | 
 the Emperor or my Lady have any honour they will not fall I. 
 in with France without the King’s consent, having bound |l 
 themselves by letters under their own hands. By letters from j 
 Sion, the Emperor, and the Lady Margaret, of as late date as | 
 Tunstal’s, the King had been assured that the Emperor would |! 
 keep his promise, — that he was going to the Low Countries to ;■ 
 break the amity between the Kings of Castile and France, and il 
 remove Chievres and the Chancellor from office ; though |i 
 meanwhile, to avert their suspicions, he pretended to be in- 
 dined to peace. The King sent the 10,000 florins demanded |i 
 by the Emperor for that purpose ; and if Tunstal could be j 
 sure that the Emperor had not made peace with France, he ; 
 was empowered to deliver the money to my Lady, “ binding | 
 her by her honour not to dissemble.” : 
 
 The cold and cautious character of this minister, destined 
 afterwards to take a prominent part in advancing the Eefor- ! 
 mation, much to his own regret, is discernible in this negocia- ! 
 tion. He was one of those whose first thoughts were more | 
 trustworthy than his second. His habitual caution and 1 
 timidity foiled his first and better judgment. Wolsey’s letter i| 
 threw him into great perplexity. It was left to his own || 
 responsibility whether he should pay or withhold the money ; ii 
 and no man liked responsibility less than Tunstal. His | 
 answer is a model of prudent diplomacy.^ He began by re- 
 hearsing all the points of Wolsey’s instructions ; — hadread them 
 over very oft, “ to comprise well the king’s mind by the same. 
 And after I had more fully apperceived the contents of them, J 
 I was as greatly perplexed in my mind as ever I was in my | 
 life, considering the present state of this court,^ which is, that j 
 such as do favour the King’s Grace and the Emperor dare | 
 not now of long time come at me, nor yet send to me, for fear 
 of falling into the displeasure of these governors, which here 
 do all, and no man dare offend them, they be so great with 
 the king of Castile their master.” He proceeds to say, that 
 in order to obviate the suspicions of these ministers, he had 
 received a message from the Lady Margaret desiring him to 
 forbear all, personal interviews. Therefore he had no alter- 
 
 ' II. 2702. 
 
 * Of Brussels. 
 
1516 .] 
 
 TUNSTAL DEMANDS AN EXPLANATION. 
 
 161 
 
 native except to communicate with her by Eichmond herald. 
 Eichmond demanded of her, “whether this peace late made 
 betwixt the Emperor and the French king was made hy the 
 consentment of the Emperor or not, and how it fortuned that 
 he, contrary to his promise and hers made by their letters, 
 should consent to any such appointment. She said it was 
 done for to abuse those governors for the time, to the intent 
 the Emperor might more easily achieve his purpose ; but for 
 all that, she said, she had sure and late words, both from the 
 Emperor and the Cardinal of Sion, that whatsoever thing he 
 doth outwardly for abusing of these men she should not 
 regard it ; for surely he was fixed in his mind not to vary 
 from the appointment taken with the king of England and 
 her, for no offer that could be made him.” In confirmation 
 of this statement she took care to show the herald letters from 
 the Emperor’s court, expressing his unalterable resolution. 
 The Emperor, it is true, had put Verona into the hands of the 
 King of Castile because Charles could keep it better than he, 
 but the Emperor had no intention of abandoning it to the 
 French ; no heed must be given to such things as Tunstal 
 heard or saw, for there should soon come a physician “who 
 should heal all these sores,” In such a combination of 
 treachery it was hard to decide. If Tunstal refused the money 
 he knew full well that the Emperor with his usual trickiness 
 would plead that refusal as his excuse for joining France 
 openly ; if he paid it, he had to incur the anger of his sovereign 
 for his blunder. He chose the latter alternative. But before 
 doing so he sent Eichmond to Lady Margaret to tell her that 
 “ whereas at her request the king had supplied the Emperor 
 with money, and not failed him in his need, he trusted that 
 now she, regarding her honour and virtue, would not abuse 
 the king’s most trusted friend ” (Wolsey), but if she really 
 thought that the Emperor had joined the treaty of Noyon, she 
 would plainly tell him so. “ It were long to write,” continues 
 Tunstal, “the words which she answered again as Eichmond 
 showed me ; but the effect was, that rather than she would 
 consent to any such fraud and so distain her honour, she had 
 liever enter into some religion, never to come abroad nor to 
 look man in the face again ; that all the world if she were 
 such a one would speak dishonour of her.” On this assurance 
 Tunstal paid the 10,000 golden florins. What else could 
 he do ? 
 
 The affair looked far from satisfactory, least of all for 
 
 VOL. I. M 
 
162 
 
 THE EBIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 Wolsey. He had now become the prime and almost sole i 
 adviser of the King. Archbishop Warham had permanently | 
 withdrawn from the council ; Fox was seldom there ; Suffolk ! 
 was either in disgrace or offended ; Euthal, bishop of Durham, il 
 never uttered a single word in opposition to the great Cardinal ; ; 
 
 the others were mostly men of inferior talents and birth, j' 
 
 Kightly or wrongly, Wolsey was considered as exclusively | 
 
 responsible for the policy now pursued. He wrote to Wing- | 
 field,^ The king is marvellously perplexed and anguished to | 
 understand by letters from his ambassador, Mr. Tunstal, in ; 
 
 the court of the king of Arragon, that, contrary to all such | 
 
 promises as the Emperor hath made to the king, yet without ii 
 his consent and knowledge he hath taken and made a truce | 
 with the French king ; not only, if it be so, to the ruin of all • 
 Christendom, but also to his perpetual shame.” He added | 
 that the King trusted the Emperor’s honour, and hoped the | 
 report was not true, ‘‘ but the contrived drifts of M. de Chievres | 
 to induce the king to mistrust the Emperor.” Wingfield was : 
 commissioned to show this letter to the Emperor, and tell him | 
 that if the report were not true the king would at their meet- ‘ 
 ing pay him 20,000 florins, in addition to the 10,000 sent ! 
 already to Tunstal ; if otherwise, “ the king was not minded to t 
 give him one florin, but should have cause never to trust him | 
 or speak honour of him again.” To this letter Sion replied^ : 
 that the Emperor, in consequence of his necessities, had been I 
 compelled to give up Verona to Charles, and the messengers i 
 sent for that purpose had been seduced by the regents. Had i 
 he tried to remove them abruptly it would have been worse ; j 
 as it was, he should gain his end by this apparent compliance 
 with their wishes. He did not deny that Maximilian had 
 sent his mandate for accepting the treaty of Noyon, but this , 
 would only give him an opportunity of visiting his nephew, 
 and explaining to him in person the ingloriousness of the 
 compact, and bringing him over to Henry’s views. The King 
 need not fear the Emperor w^ould deceive him, for he was too 
 w^ell acquainted with the subtlety and deceitfulness of the 
 French. ‘‘ There was not a drop of French blood in his veins, 
 nor a French hair in his head.” He hated all Frenchmen to 
 the backbone. It is to be regretted that Wingfield did not 
 write on this occasion, but referred the king to Sion’s letter ; 
 for which he incurred a reprimand, and was ordered to be 
 more atten,tive in future.^ 
 
 ' II. 2678. 
 
 2 II. 2707. 
 
 * II. 2714. 
 
1517 .] 
 
 WOLSEY PURSUES THE SAME COURSE. 
 
 163 
 
 If Sion’s excuses indicate a rooted belief in the unlimited 
 credulity of Englishmen, he held that belief in common with 
 most foreigners and all members of the imperial court. He 
 had been fortified in that impression by his late munificent 
 reception here ; he had seen more wealth and abundance than 
 had ever entered the imagination of a poor mountaineer 
 Bishop and a needy follower of the penniless Maximilian. Like 
 strangers then, and since, he had drawn a hasty inference that 
 Englishmen were careless of money because they were bounti- 
 ful in spending it, and that it needed only the flimsiest pretence, 
 or the boldest asseveration, to induce them to part with it. 
 There was, as I have stated before, a sort of insular inex- 
 perience in diplomatic chicanery, traceable to our natural 
 position ; and, partly perhaps as a consequence of it, a disin- 
 clination to trickery and intrigue, which made English 
 diplomatists fair game to the wily and unscrupulous. But it 
 must be reckoned something worse than a want of ordinary 
 political sagacity if Wolsey allowed himself to be deceived by 
 these absurd and transparent excuses of Sion, Maximilian, and 
 Margaret. Affecting ostensibly to accept the Emperor’s 
 excuses as genuine, he made no alteration in his measures ; 
 he continued to look forward with anxiety to the time when 
 the Emperor should descend to the Low Countries, and, 
 executing signal chastisement on the perfidious ministers of 
 Charles, should by a grand coufp de main exonerate himself 
 from those suspicions which for the last nine months had 
 gathered round his intentions. If such a dream crossed the 
 imagination of Sir Bobert Wingfield, and buoyed up the mild 
 enthusiasm of a mind which no experience could disenchant, 
 it was no more than might have been expected. But that 
 Wolsey should be misled is as incredible as it is inconsistent 
 with the popular conception of his character. It was but the 
 venture of 40,000 crowns, of which 10,000 only had yet been 
 paid. Bid he, like a bold gamester, stake his luck upon the 
 chance, knowing the whole time that the cards were against 
 him ? Or, conscious of his mistake, did he continue the same 
 line of policy, though outwitted by the Emperor, that he might 
 not seem to confess himself mistaken? Or whilst ostensibly — 
 and to every minister and ambassador — he appeared bent upon 
 carrying this point, was he in fact, secretly and unknown to all, 
 carrying out another design which no one suspected ? Which 
 of these surmises is the most correct will appear in the sequel. 
 
 For the present he exhibited no change of conduct towards 
 
164 
 
 THE KEI€}N OF HENKY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 the Emperor. He listened without impatience to the details | 
 
 of the Emperor’s advance to the Netherlands, and to Sir | 
 
 Eohert’s repeated assurances of his constancy.^ Sir Eobert, | 
 
 for one, had no doubt, in his own quaint phraseology, that the | 
 
 Emperor adopted this course, which seemed so “ apparent to | 
 
 the enemies’ purpose, to the intent he might the more surely i, 
 
 convey himself to execute the desired obviation (to meet j 
 
 Charles) and to lead everything pertinent to the same by such j; 
 
 paths as might least appear to the enemies.” He did not i 
 
 pretend to fathom the deeps of so profound a mind as Maxi- | 
 
 milian’s ; nor did he in his humility expect so great a revela- [ 
 
 tion. For that the time had not yet come. The Emperor i 
 would conserve the same till it might come into the forge, | 
 where it shall may not only take the convenient heat that may f 
 proceed of personal heat and ventilation, but also take the 
 right and desired form which the good Prince hath sought a 
 long season, as who saith, through fire and water, with such 
 a perseverance as hath not been oft seen in other princes.” ! 
 
 As for Maximilian himself it was a happy thing, when he had | 
 
 received the 10,000 florins, that no French “ wolf ” ^ crossed 1 
 
 his path, and so gave him an opportunity of signalizing his ! 
 
 fraternal affection “ for his brother and son, the King of [ 
 
 England.” I have not given any cause to suspect or mis- [ 
 
 trust me, nor will,” he exclaimed in the fervour of his grati- [ 
 
 tude : “for though by means of the king my nephew^ the j 
 
 French do esteem to have great hold on me, and that by virtue ? 
 
 of my seal, yet I doubt not but my brother doth esteem to have 
 greater hold by my solemn oath, which I will never break. [ 
 And, besides that, I am bound by this order which I bear ; ” ^ 
 
 —and he put his hand to his collar of the Garter, and with | 
 
 the other opened his gown, and set forth his leg with the Garter, , 
 
 and over that said : “ It is not best ye tempt me any more in i 
 
 that matter of diffidence ; for to you I have showed so largely ■ 
 
 my heart and mind, both by word and deed, that further I 
 may not, but gif (unless) I would open mine heart, and cause 
 you to read what is written in it.” ^ That, of course, was a 
 test which Sir Eobert, to whom these words were addressed, 
 could not think of demanding. : 
 
 So matters went on. Maximilian came down to the neigh- 
 bourhood of Brussels ; and the English agents looked forward 
 with the deepest anxiety to the time when he should appear 
 
 ^ January, 1517. No. 2791. “nephew,” like the. Latin nepos, was ' 
 
 ^ II. 2775 . used for both relations. 
 
 * His grandson Charles. The word * 11.2790. 
 
■1517.] 
 
 DISHONESTY OP MAXIMILIAN. 
 
 165 
 
 as an avenging Jupiter among the corrupt and conscience- 
 stricken ministers of his grandson. But Maximilian was not 
 the man to do anything in haste ; besides, he had spent the 
 last 10,000 florins advanced him from England, and there 
 were yet more florins to be had, if he could make it appear 
 that he intended to keep his promise. The Bishop of Paris 
 was waiting for him at Louvain ; the English ambassadors at 
 Brussels : Charles, inconsolable for the loss of the old Queen 
 of Naples, was not to be seen.^ So the Emperor’s visit to his 
 grandson was delayed ; and still longer his vengeance on those 
 perfidious governors. The French held his bond for the 
 surrender of Verona ; he had no interest, therefore, in 
 deceiving them ; but he might still make his market with the 
 English by continuing their delusion. We need much the 
 French version of these transactions, in order to see them in 
 their true light. It cannot be doubted that Maximilian had 
 long since ^ arranged his plans, and never really intended to 
 depose the ministers of Charles. It is more than probable 
 that he was in their pay all the time he was pretending to the 
 English court that he hated them for their perfidy. It is 
 certain that his daughter Margaret was a party to this dis- 
 simulation; that she made use of her assumed regard for 
 England to abuse the English ministers, and betray their 
 secrets to Chievres and the Chancellor, whom she seemed to 
 detest and fear. Her professions of honesty were so many 
 deliberate falsehoods calculated to serve her own interests and 
 those of her father ; the more monstrous because they were 
 always attended with such earnest professions of veracity. 
 Her interests as much as Maximilian’s were secured by the 
 treaty of Noyon. 
 
 The deceit could be maintained no longer. It was im- 
 possible for Tunstal and the English ministers to shut their 
 eyes to the fact that Maximilian had no. intention to fulfil his 
 promises ; equally impossible was it for them to continue in 
 ignorance of that which all the world knew — how Maximilian 
 had sworn to the treaty of Noyon, and was on the best possible 
 terms with Chievres and the French. Margaret had played 
 out her last manoeuvre ; the Emperor the last of his smiling 
 speeches. As it is the last we shall hear of, it may be worth 
 while to repeat it here. When the Earl of Worcester called 
 upon him to know his intentions,^ the Emperor said to him, 
 
 » as both wore the Order of the Garter, ‘‘ that they were com- 
 
 ^ II. 2821. 2 J 21 December, 1516. ® February 3. No. 2866. 
 
166 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENRY Till. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 I 
 
 panions for that day; and, furthermore, that the Duke of i 
 Brunswick, who supped with him the night before, had said I 
 unto him, that because his Majesty had so late given hearing | 
 to the French he seemed to feel a great savour of the same ; 
 wherefore his Majesty had put roses about his neck that 
 morning to the intent that by their sweet savour the French 
 odour might be taken away.” The narrator of this small 
 witticism is Sir Eobert Wingfield, as my readers will have | 
 anticipated. 
 
 The English court had been grossly deceived. It had paid 
 Maximilian’s expenses to the Low Countries under the impres- 
 sion that he would put down the ministers of Charles, and | 
 that money had been employed by the Emperor to defeat this i 
 purpose, and promote his own interests, to the detriment of 
 his ally. ‘‘Our simple advice to your Grace is,” wrote the 
 English ambassadors to Henry,^ “ that shutting your purse in 
 time to come, by all good means possible to be with words 
 devised, to entertain the Emperor and my Lady (Margaret of 
 Savoy) ^ as they do your Grace. We think verily the Emperor 
 will, if he can, cast a figure to come by the 20,000 florins 
 promised at the meeting (in case he enter not further intelli- 
 gence with France), excusing the breaking of his promise by 
 one means or other.” Apprehensive of Henry’s anger, and 
 what rash measures he might insist upon when the deceit of ! 
 the Emperor should come to his hearing, Tunstal wrote very 
 earnestly to Wolsey : ^ ' 
 
 Please it your Grace to understand, that at this time, for to under- i 
 stand the king’s matters perfectly, ye must first read the letter subscr[ibed] 
 by us all, and after the other subscribed by my lord Chamberlain and me, ^ 
 and thirdly the king may read the letter sent at this time to his Grace | 
 by me, whereunto I am sure he will make your Gr[ace] privy ; whereof , 
 the efiect is that such offer as hath been made to th[e] king to resign him I 
 the empire cannot be performed, by reason [s] in the same contained.^ i 
 Here we find great dissimulation and f[air] words, but no promises to be 
 kept, if they were such as we do take th[em]. My lord Cardinal 
 Sedunensis saith he hath done his best. My Lady letteth as she took 
 our part fastly, but I am feard she dissim[uleth], and have also done 
 awhile ; her words be good to us and w[e] let as we both believed them, i 
 and put all our confidence in her ; but we cannot perceive but that all in i 
 deeds sings in 'one acco[rd]. Since I have seen the progress of our ^ 
 affairs, and have considered t[he] tales of Don John de la Nucha, with i 
 whom yet my Lady remaineth miscontent, I have thought that he was 
 driven out of the cou[ncil] chiefly by her because she thought he knew 
 too much of the Emp[eror’s] dealing, which among the Spaniards he 
 kept not counsel. I wrote that the coming of the Emperor should declare 
 
 ^ II. 2910. pretends, for the. treaty of Noyon is 
 
 ^ They state in the same letter beneficial to her lands.” 
 that Margaret was not candid : “ She ® II. 2923. . 
 
 does not dislike the governors, as she ^ See II. 2911. ■ 
 
1517.] 
 
 TUNSTAL’S ADVICE. 
 
 167 
 
 whether h[is] tale of my Lady, or my Lady[’s] tale of him, were more 
 true, for each accused other on one point of uttering of secrets. I am 
 afraid all his tale was not untrue. My Lord, at the revere[nce] of God, 
 move the king to make good counsel at this time, and refrain his first 
 passions, in which doing ye shall do his Grace marvel[lous] great service. 
 
 I think verily all these fair promises were made to get money of the 
 king ; wherefore best is to dissemble wisely this past, and to shut the 
 king’s purse in time coming, but in any wise to entertain such amity as is 
 already betwixt the Emperor, the King our master, and also betwixt our 
 master and the king of Castile, lest in other ways doing the king should 
 remain destitute of friends ; surely I trust for all this to see the day that 
 they shall be glad to seek in our master. In my mind our importune 
 seeking so much of this new amity hath made more hindrance than 
 furtherance, and maketh them believe they may lead our master (which 
 cannot lack them as they think), as they list. . . . When I call to my 
 remembrance all these matters ; — how the Emperor hath sent divers 
 ambassadors to his nephew, which for this confirmation have spoken 
 great words openly, and also outward a[ss]urance which the Emperor 
 made that he would not speak wuth the F[rench] ambassadors, I have 
 thought all this was to abuse us and to g[et] our master’s money, seeing 
 after his coming in person contrary effects do follow in both. . . . 
 
 “ Wherefore, after such sober manner, help so to order all things at 
 this time that our master cast not utterly away these his ancient friends 
 upon this new displeasure. I tru[st] in the end the repentance shall be 
 theirs, if our master will take a little patience, whereunto I beseech your 
 Gra[ce] to help. And thus Almighty Jesus preserve your Grace to his 
 pleasure, with the accomplishment of your desires. Arm y[our] Grace 
 with patience, which here we do learn and have not shewed us to any to 
 perceive so far as we do. From Mechlin, the 13th day of February. 
 
 ‘ ‘ By your most humble beadman, 
 
 “Cuthbee,[t] Tunstal.” 
 
 This letter from Tunstal was followed by two others, 
 denouncing the Emperor’s conduct in terms of natural but 
 not misplaced indignation. The first is to Wolsey from Dr. 
 William Knight,^ an able and sagacious minister, whose 
 correspondence exhibits on this and other occasions a sound- 
 ness of judgment and extraordinary moderation, notwithstand- 
 ing his feelings of resentment at the trick played by the 
 Emperor. 
 
 “Pleaseth it your Grace to understand that sith the coming of the 
 Emperor into these parts, it hath appeared daily more and more evidently, 
 that such things as he hath offered and promised in time past unto the 
 king our sovereign be but abuses and dissimuled colours, and all to the 
 intent to bring his matters better to his purpose, both with France, and 
 also with these governors here, whose authority appeareth greatly 
 augmented by the descent of the Emperor into these parts. For where 
 divers and especially Spaniards disdained greatly the governance, trusting 
 that the coming of the Emperor should a’ redressed right great enormities 
 committed by them, and for this consideration neither did them honour 
 nor made suit unto them, now seeing the inclination of the Emperor unto 
 corruption, which for money selleth not only his honour, but in manner 
 is persuaded for the same to all inconveniences that France and these 
 governers will, they follow the time ; but undoubtedly they speak great 
 
 * II. 2930. 
 
168 
 
 THE REIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 dishonour of the Emperor. This augmentation of authority and con- 
 tinuance in the same must follow necessarily, and that with increase ; 
 for they at the king’s charge, their master, doth satisfy at this time both 
 the Emperor’s covetous mind, and those that be about him also ; and 
 that so largely, that all other princes’ liberality sha[ll] be greatly 
 extenuate thereby. They be the cause of yielding up of Verona ; for 
 over and above that great sum that the French king giveth unto the^ 
 Emperor, they promised to gratify unto the Emperor also on the king’s 
 behalf ; and furthermore he shall have a yearly pension of Spain. And 
 over this, these governors, as it is privily spoken, hath concluded a 
 marriage for a great sum of money between Madame Alienor, the eldest 
 daughter of this house, and the prince of Portugal ; and of the said sum 
 the Emperor shall have his part. 
 
 Thinketh your Grace that the Emperor being always prodigal and 
 consequently continually in necessity and need, which selleth his blood 
 and honour in this manner for money, will keep any promise that either 
 he hath or shall make unto the King ? At Yillefort, where he did give 
 audience unto the French ambassadors, he said to the king at his depart- 
 ing, ‘ Mons filz, vous ales trumper les Frarugoiz, et moy je va trumper les 
 Angloise ; ’ and immediately revoked his word and said ; ^ Nonne, je va 
 voire ce que je puis faire avecque les Angloise.’’ Such like reasons that 
 should give right conjecture, or rather very proofs, that all the Emperor’s 
 promises to the King’s highness be but illusions founded upon dissimula- 
 tion, I must write, and so many, that it should be tedious for your Grace 
 to read ; and specially I write the less, because my lord Chamberlain ^ 
 write th [a] part, and Sir Thomas Spinelly abundantly. If I had been of 
 counsel with my lord Chamberlain, in my poor mind, I should [have] 
 advised his lordship to have made none overture touching the governance 
 here, considered that he might see evidently that their authority increased 
 after their first communication with the Emperor, and might be right well 
 assured, that whatsoever was declared should immediately after be signified 
 to the governors ; which I understand was done the next day ensuing ; et 
 frustra niti et nihil prceter odium quoerere, etc. 
 
 ‘‘ Your Grace showed me that ye would break the marriage between 
 the kings of Spain and France. I think it might be easily done ; but 
 peradventure, under your Grace’s correction, it were not best that such 
 occasion should come of us; for there is an article in the treaty of Noyon, 
 whereby the king of Spain renounceth all his title and right that he hath 
 unto the kingdom of Neapolis for ever, in case he do not perform the said 
 marriage ; and also the king bindeth him, and all his subjects, and all 
 their goods, wherever they may be taken, to be as prize lawful, in case 
 the king observe not the said article ; and though this bond be unlawful 
 and contrary to right, yet it should be [a] colour for the Frenchmen to do 
 great displeasure, and in conclusion should redound to our great slander 
 to be of so great inconvenie[nce]. And as for breaking of the marriage 
 your Grace may be assured it will not hold, for the lord Chievres hath 
 begun to satisfy the king’s pleasure, and sufiered him to enter in ludum 
 Veneris, and therefore I cannot think that he will abide the time of the 
 young princess of France ; so that with little sufferance of time your Grace 
 shall see that he that was first cause of the said marriage shall be like 
 cause of breach of the same and loss of Neapolis also. 
 
 The coming of the king through England, though he would be con- 
 tent, yet should nothing ensue but expenses of your goods in vain : for if 
 he come your Grace may think that all his council shall be of the sect of 
 Chievres, and all the liberality that ye should use towards them should be 
 lost. Treaty ye should make none that the king would confirm ; for they 
 shall say when tli^ey be once at liberty, as was said by the treaty concluded 
 at Windsor by king^ Philip this king’s father, that if they had been at 
 
 ^ The earl of Worcester. 
 
1517 .] 
 
 KNIGHT’S SCHEME. 
 
 169 
 
 iberty they would not a’ made any like treaty ; and therefore when king 
 Philip was required to confirm, he refused it. And as for meeting of the 
 Emperor with the king’s Grace, nothing can follow but importable charges, 
 both loss of time and goods, and putting in hazard the king’s reputation 
 and your Grace’s also ; without your Grace could study how to do the 
 king’s matters profitably with the Emperor by some such means as the 
 jlmperator useth, which I think would break your Grace’s mind too much, 
 r (ere) ye should bring it to good effect, considered that the Emperor 
 ath neither money nor ware for any prince to thrive by, that meddleth 
 uch with him. Such money as should be wasted by the aforesaid ways 
 ay be well employed for victualling of the city of Tournay in season, or 
 or some enterprise to be made upon the Scots, or elsewhere, more necessary. 
 Et quantum ad resignacionem,^ etc., merce sunt nugoe. 
 
 ‘ I see nothing more convenient at this time to disturb part of these 
 overnors’ enterprises than (for because the duke of Alva, the duke del 
 nfantazo, the Constable of Castile, with other the chiefs of Spain, be 
 marvellously miscontent both with the governe of the Cardinal of Toledo ^ 
 |in Spain, and with these that governeth here ; and were minded to 
 assemble at Burgos, and from thence by ambassade to signify unto the 
 king that the realm of Castile was not wont to be governed in such manner 
 as it is now ; wherefore they would beseech his Grace to come into his 
 realm, for they would not be commaunded by any other than by his 
 Highness) — than that the king should send to his ambassador, there 
 resident, that might show on his behalf unto the said lords, or secretly to 
 such as it should be thought best, what inconveniences hath ensued by the 
 misgovernment here, and what is like to follow ; and so to show that where 
 the late king, of most noble memory, did leave the kingdom of Neapolis 
 clear and free unto the crown of Castile, the governors here had made the 
 said realm bond and tributary unto France ; and not only so, but hath 
 bound their king in such case, which is marvellous hard to keep and none 
 j of the noble estates of Spain would advise or counsel his grace to keep ; 
 
 I which if he do not, that then the right and title of Neapolis by their 
 means is renounced for ever ; reciting also other articles of the treaty of 
 Noyon, which sheweth to be done by the only subjects of France and 
 not by any of the king’s true subjects ; declaring more apertely the 
 affection that these governors hath to France, as appeareth by giving of 
 the noble promotions, which can not stand with the weal of their master ; 
 and that the king, for the singular love that he beareth unto the king of 
 Castile, as he is naturally bound to do, is of the opinion, that he heareth 
 say that the lords of Spain be ; that is to say, that or ever further 
 inconvenience be imagined by these governors, which by prodigal largition 
 and promises of the king’s goods maintain their inordinate authority, 
 impoverishing the king, regarding neither his profit nor honor, the said 
 king be instantly desired by the noble estates to repair unto his realm of 
 Castile ; and what shall be thought good and expedient by the said lords 
 for the weal, profit, and honor, of their king and master, the king’s 
 ambassador may promise, on the king’s behalf, that he shall with his 
 puissant aid, assist and maintain them to the best of his power. The 
 |l estates of Spain which be fierce of nature, and now accended against these 
 men, if they find assistance and favour of some great personage, I think 
 they would follow their opinion more obstinately. And if by this means 
 the king might win the lords of Spain, as by mine opinion he should, then 
 might he be assured of this king, and consequently enter such amity with 
 Spain as he would. If this be thought good counsel by the king and your 
 grace, and afterwards be wisely handled, many purposes shall be altered, 
 and specially this governance, which hateth the king and your Grace 
 mortally ; and the Emperor shall not have so great advantage by his 
 
 ^ The resignation of the empire to Henry. 
 
 2 Ximenes. 
 
170 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENKY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 dissimulation as he looketh for. It is said undoubtedly that these j 
 governors and the Cardinal of Toledo, governor of Spain, be reconciled ; j 
 therefore if there be anything to be done in Spain the rather the i 
 better. ... 
 
 Finally, I think there is no ways more convenient than that the king I 
 do call home his ambassadors, and it cannot be long or his Grace shall be | 
 desired ; for this time is clean contrary to all that we desire, and that by ! 
 reason of corruption. The Pope is good French, and all the rest, that | 
 may do anything, from Rome to Calais ; therefore without that, that I ; 
 have mentioned before, do help, I can study for nothing. Your Grace j 
 pardon me that I am so plain. I think if I were not I should both de- 
 ceive the king and your Grace also, which I shall never do during my life ; 
 beseeching your Grace to be favorable and gracious unto me. These long 
 pains, true service, and importable charges would somewhat be remem- 
 bered if your Grace would help. And thus the Holy Ghost preserve you. ] 
 
 ‘‘ At Brussels, the 16*^ day of February. j 
 
 ‘‘Your most bound and assured headman, j 
 
 “William Knighte.” ! 
 
 The other ^ is from the Earl of Worcester and Dr. Tunstal, i 
 and was, like the foregoing, addressed to the Cardinal : | 
 
 “My Lord, — Please it your Grace to understand, that the 14th day of 
 this month the Emperor a[t] Brussels did^Wear solemnly the amity and 
 treaty of Noyon at the great church, th[ere] being present the king of 
 Castile also with many noblemen of both courts ; and this day the lord 
 Chievres and the Chancellor, as we be informed from Bruxe[lles], do go 
 to Cambray, but wherefore we know not ; but we hear say that it is to 
 confclude] a marriage betwixt Madame d’Angouleme^ and the Emperor, 
 with whom, as it [is] said, he shall have 500,000 crowns ; what other 
 treating they shall have we know not, peradventure for a meeting of all 
 the princes, or for going by Fra[nce] of the king of Castile, or some like I 
 matter. Lewis Maraton, in whom we have no fantasy of fidelity to our ' 
 master’s afiairs, for all his painted words, doeth say that the Emperor will ; 
 come hither and treat with us of diver[s] our secret matters shortly, by 
 which time he trusteth we shall have word ou[t] of England touching our i 
 letters of the 12th day of this present ; so that w[e] perceive he hearkeneth | 
 all of that matter to know how our master will take th[e] entering of tliis , 
 new amity, to look if our master would put more in the Emperor’s trust, 
 which now late hath deceived him in making this peace. 
 
 ‘ ‘ What our mind is touching that matter, ye know by our letters of ; 
 the 12th, sen[t] to the king ; which is, that the king should never consent ; 
 thereto, but by good word[s] to entertain such amity as ye have already ' 
 with both the princes ; and as for this breaking of promises, pass it over 
 with dissimulation, and trust nom[ore] in your outward afiairs to promises 
 of any persons, but to trust to your own self ; for here we see nothing but 
 abusion by fair words to suck money from our master, and to deceive him 
 in the end. I, the lord Chamberlain, spake to the Emperor at my first 
 coming, desiring that I might come unto him familiarly as one of his 
 servants at all time, as I reputed me to be ; but after he sent me word by 
 Lewis Maraton, that we should not come to hi[m] until he sent for us, 
 and when he would have, us he would send for us ; for else his business 
 was so great he might not attend us ; which, 1 pray you, show the king 
 our master. 
 
 “The Cardinal Sedunensis giveth us good words, but we perceive he 
 hath no such stroke with the Emperor as ye went (weened), and whether 
 he knew loilg before of this peace of !Noyon indeed, before he advertised 
 
 » II. 2940, 
 
 ® Mother of Francis I. 
 
1517.] 
 
 THE KING FULLY PKEPARED, 
 
 171 
 
 your Grace, we know not ; but by many appearance we believe verily yea, 
 and so of my Lady likewise. VVe perceive by the framing of all things 
 here that the king of Castile is not like to be at the meeting, 5 the Emperor 
 and the king should meet. Wherefore, touching that matter, with all 
 other, we beseech your Grace to help we may know the king’s pleasure. 
 
 “In the beginning the Emperor let as he would not speak with the 
 French ambassadors, to amuse us ; but the Emperor and they have met 
 at a close, and they have all their purpose, and be departed from 
 Brussels, as we understand ; whereby ye may perceive that all those 
 remonstrances which were made, that he should not speak with them, were 
 but colors to blind us withal, as the effects manifestly do show. . . . 
 
 ‘ ‘ Wherefore, to repeat all our mind in few words, our advice is, as we 
 wrote in our last letters more largely, that by good words entertaining 
 both the Emperor and the king of Castile in such amity as is already with 
 them made, our master should not compromise this matter to the Emperor, 
 nor to suffer neither my Lady, nor the Cardinal Sedunensis, nor no 
 stranger, to lead the bridle of his affairs no longer ; which if they do, it 
 will be to the Emperor’s great gain, and to our master’s disadvantage no 
 little. And in the end ye shall find them but delusions, as we think ; 
 howbeit we think best that our master do withdraw his foot out of these 
 matters, as [if] he perceived not so far as he doth ; and to give good words 
 for good words, which yet they give us, thinking our heads to be so gross 
 that we perceive not their abuses, which we dissimule to perceive, because 
 we know not how the king our master will take these matters or order us 
 in them. 
 
 “ And albeit that the Emperor hath had the king’s money to pay his 
 costs to come down to swear this peace of Noyon indeed, and no such 
 effects do follow as the king looked for at his coming, yet we think it well 
 spent, both because our master hath kept all promises to his honour, 
 and also because this small expense and charge shall avoid a greater, 
 which the Emperor v*^as about, as it seemeth, to bring him unto. And 
 thus Almighty Jesus preserve your Grace to his pleasure. 
 
 “ From Mechlin, the 18th day of February. 
 
 “ Yours assured to our powers, 
 
 “ C. Woecestbu. 
 
 “ CUTHBEET TuNSTAL.” 
 
 But the King had long been prepared for these revelations « 
 Already on the 12th of February, even Wingfield, never inclined 
 to despair, had written to Wolsey that the secret negociations 
 against Charles’s ministers, and a stricter alliance with Eng- 
 land, could never take effect and two days before, Giustinian 
 in his amusing despatches thus describes his interview^ with 
 Henry, on going to announce to him the surrender of Verona 
 to the Venetians : ^ “ Though I could not go to Greenwich by 
 water, owing to the very thick ice, the journey by land like- 
 wise being difficult on account of the frozen and dangerous 
 roads, I however rode thither ; and after I heard mass with 
 the King, I acquainted him with the news in such language as 
 I deemed apt, adding many expressions calculated to produce 
 a favourable impression. His Majesty thanked me, and 
 remained in the greatest astonishment, repeating several 
 
 1 II. 2912. 
 
 2 IL 2896, 
 
172 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENEY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 times, ^ How can that be ? ’ — as by advices he bad received it 
 was impossible. On being assured the intelligence was true 
 be seemed to believe it, and said, ‘ Verily the Emperor has 
 been deceived by the king of France, and I know bow.’ ” 
 The next day Giustinian communicated the same news to 
 Wolsey ; and, if he is to be believed, the Cardinal “ was sur- 
 prised and astonished to the utmost. To make sure of the 
 fact, he demanded to see the letters ; and was very cold in his 
 congratulations to Giustinian’s secretary on an event so 
 fortunate to Venice.^ Sebastian exults at the thought that 
 the news was received with the greatest possible vexation. 
 Unfortunately for Giustinian’s discernment as a negociator, 
 the King and Wolsey had long since forestalled his intelligence. 
 As early as the 4th of February, Cardinal Sion wrote to say, 
 “ On the 8th, Verona belonged to the Emperor ; on the 9th, to 
 the King Catholic ; on the 15th, to the French ; on the 17th, 
 to the Venetians.” ^ 
 
 The news took neither the King nor his minister by sur- 
 prise. They had been fully prepared for it. But not a word 
 of reproach escaped from the lips of either. In his reply to 
 the letters of Tunstal, Worcester, and his other ambassadors, 
 the King states, in the calmest manner, that although he had 
 in the first instance written to them to express very sharply 
 his dissatisfaction with the Emperor’s conduct, yet, as Sion 
 had assured Wolsey that the Emperor, notwithstanding all 
 appearances, would perform all his promises, the King would 
 refrain and wait.^ They were commissioned to tell Maximilian, 
 that though the King was somewhat pensive at the deliverance 
 of Verona and the Emperor’s acceptance of the treaty of 
 Noyon, yet, considering his wisdom, the King was willing to 
 think all was done for the best. At the same time he let 
 them know that he was not deceived by the Emperor’s 
 brittleness and sudden mutations,” or that levity and incon- 
 stancy which made him seek “other occasions upon light 
 displeasures to color his unconstant dealings, and so cause- 
 less depart from a friend.” However, it was better “ to 
 
 ^ I do Dot wish to impeach Gius- 
 tinian’s veracity, though I have no 
 great opinion of his political sagacity. 
 It seems never to have occimred to 
 liim how improbable it was that the 
 King should have kept such important 
 tidings from t]^e Cardinal for a day 
 and night, especially as the two were 
 at no greater distance from each other 
 
 than Greenwich and London. But, as 
 I have said, the delivery of Verona was 
 known to Wolsey and the King long 
 before it was known to Giustinian. It 
 was part of the policy of both to affect 
 the utmost surprise that the Emperor 
 could have been guilty of falsehood. 
 
 2 II. 2869. See also 2862, 2863. 
 
 3 II. 2958. 
 
1517 .] 
 
 THE DECEIVERS OUTWITTED. 
 
 173 
 
 dissemble for a season until they should see the end.” They 
 were to continue their negociations on the same footing and 
 for the same purposes as if nothing had happened. 
 
 The policy was sound and ingenious ; it was calculated to 
 take the deceivers in their own craftiness, better than the 
 loudest denunciations of deceit. Some men are eventually 
 victorious because they never know when they are beaten ; 
 the retaliation of others on their deceivers is tenfold more 
 ample and more terrible, because, till their opportunity has 
 come, they never betray by word, look, or gesture, any con- 
 sciousness of the injury received. By the expenditure of 
 10,000 florins, an inconsiderable sum, Wolsey had tested the 
 full value of all Maximilian’s promises ; by betraying no dis- 
 trust he fathomed all his designs. By pretending to believe 
 his professions of attachments, after all that had taken place, 
 he gave others the strongest reason for supposing that that 
 attachment was not without foundation ; and thus was Maxi- 
 milian brought under the suspicions of his new friends. 
 Aware of the Emperor’s inconstancy, no less than Wolsey 
 himself; quite as convinced as he that Maximilian’s friend- 
 ship was more costly than his enmity ; Francis knew that 
 when the money, the price of his acquiescence in the treaty 
 of Noyon, was spent, more must be provided, or, as Henry 
 said, Francis must expect that Maximilian would abandon 
 him on the most frivolous pretext and take part with his 
 enemies. Suspected by France, not trusted by England, 
 despised by Charles and his ministers for his vacillation and 
 deceit, Maximilian had totally disqualified himself by this 
 last act from taking any further part in European politics. 
 From this time he sank into insignificance. 
 
 As for Charles and his ministers, the treaty of Noyon and 
 the perfidy of Maximilian had exempted them from all dread 
 of foreign interference. If Charles really believed, as he was 
 taught, that the Emperor wished to bring him under tutelage 
 and make a child of him again, that belief had now vanished ; 
 and with it any feeling of coldness and displeasure he might 
 have conceived against England for supporting Maximilian. 
 Chievres and the Chancellor no longer dreaded the less of 
 their influence, or the predominance of English or Imperial 
 interests. As they had nothing to dread from England they 
 were inclined to conciliation. Perhaps Chievres was not 
 altogether insincere when he remarked to Lady Margaret, 
 after this denouement, “ that he hoped in six months to be as 
 
174 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENRY YIIL 
 
 [a.d| 
 
 high in Henry’s favour as those who reckoned themselves the 
 best English.” ^ Perhaps, too, he was not sorry to have an 
 opportunity of showing Henry, at the cost of Maximilian, the 
 mistake he had made in preferring the Emperor’s friendship 
 to theirs ; and in supposing that he could gain, by the | 
 Emperor’s influence over Charles, advantages which his | 
 ministers were determined to refuse. For, as might be ex-j 
 pected, notwithstanding Maximilian’s and Margaret’s ostenta- 
 tion of mystery, Chievres and the Chancellor had been perfectly 
 well acquainted with all that had been passing. They knew 
 the meaning of Maximilian’s vapouring ; the promises he had 
 made to take the King of Castile into his own keeping, and to j 
 punish his ministers ; the sums he had extorted from England | 
 under these pretences. The Emperor soon became a burthen l 
 to his new friends. ‘‘The Emperor,” writes Spinelly,^ “is 
 again without money ; and if he tarry here (at Brussels) the 
 Lady Margaret will have to provide it for him,” — a hopeless 
 effort. “ The Vice-chancellor of Arragon tells me that ChievreS: 
 will be glad of the amity of England, but dares not let it bet 
 known or give any cause of suspicion to the French until thet 
 king reaches Spain.” 
 
 In fact the journey of Charles into Spain was now the 
 great question which occupied his exclusive attention. A yean 
 and three months had elapsed, and as yet he had made no 
 preparation for taking possession of the kingdom left him byt 
 Ferdinand. Urgent entreaties came from day to day, and 
 hints of disaffection which, if not speedily suppressed by his| 
 presence, might prove fatal to his rights. This part of his«j 
 life, and especially his treatment of the celebrated Ximenes,' 
 is little known, and from want of authentic materials has beenj 
 treated very meagrely by modern historians. I hasten, there- 
 fore, to point out briefly what help may be obtained from Stated* 
 papers for a clearer insight into this portion of modern history. 
 Our only agent in the Spanish court at the time was John 
 Stile, whose letters are not the least interesting of those which 
 I have noticed in a previous chapter. A man of no great 
 genius or political insight, he never indulged in theories orii 
 guesses; — he contented himself with narrating what he saw, 
 and sometimes what he heard talked about, in an unaffected, 
 artless style, which makes his description of passing events 
 invaluable, especially when compared with the ambitious and 
 glowing narratives of the Spanish chroniclers. Stile was at 
 
 ^ II. 2992. March 6, 1517. March 30 : 3076. | 
 
1517.] 
 
 NEED OF CHARLES’ PRESENCE IN SPAIN. 
 
 175 
 
 Madrid when Ferdinand died/ and, as in duty bound, sent 
 immediate notice of the event to his royal master. His first 
 letter has been lost, but the contents are briefly recapitulated 
 in the second, dated the 1st of March.^ He states that Ferdinand 
 died in the “ village of Madrygalegeo,” on his way to Seville, 
 eight leagues from Our Lady of Guadalupe. ‘‘ Few estates or 
 men of honor were present at the decease of the king, your 
 said father. The queen, his wife,^ was there, and was the day 
 before come from the parts of Arragon. The king, your said 
 father, wilfully shortened the days of his life, always in fair 
 weather or foul labouring in hawking and hunting, following 
 more the counsel of his falconers than of his physicians.” 
 Stile then proceeds to detail the chief provisions in the late 
 King’s will : — the sums left to his Queen and his nephews ; 
 the number and names of his executors ; the sale of his 
 jewels; ^‘that no man should wear for him sackcloth nor 
 long beard,” etc. He then continues : “ It is to be marvelled, 
 and it please your Grace, that the late king, your father, of 
 Arragon, had no manner of treasure ; and after that he was 
 deceased there would never a nobleman, spiritual nor temporal, 
 go with the corpse to Granada, except the marquis of Denya. 
 Nor here hath been no great obsequies done for the said king, 
 nor mourning made ; never less seen for any prince. For 
 those that he most loved and trusted first repaired to the 
 Prince’s ambassador with flatterings.^ And the queen of 
 Arragon (Germaine) returned to Our Lady of Guadalupe, and 
 it please your Grace, on the last day of January.” The 
 Cardinal of Toledo (Ximenes) and the Dean of Louvaine had 
 the exclusive management : notwithstanding, and it please 
 
 your Grace, there is little love or stedfastness among the 
 states of these parts one with another, yet they dare not 
 move in word or deed against their prince or his deputies of 
 Andalusia ; ” where, as Stile says, dissension had already 
 begun to show itself between the Duke of Medina Sidonia 
 and Don Pedro Jeron. He then tells an anecdote of the poor, 
 incapable Johanna, which is, I believe, unknown.^ ''Also, 
 
 ^ The news of Ferdinand’s death 
 was concealed from Katharine, then 
 in labour with the princess Mary. 
 
 2 II. 1610. 
 
 3 Germaine de Foix, his second 
 wife. 
 
 ^ The Dean of Louvain, afterwards 
 Adrian VI. 
 
 “ This princess was possessed 
 
 with a cruel melancholike humour, so 
 as she led a most lamentable life in 
 the Castle of Tordesillas, wherein King 
 Ferdinand, her father, had lodged 
 her, a pleasant and commodious place. 
 Lewis Terrier, of Valencia, had charge 
 of her, being also captain of the castle 
 of Tordesillas ; but he was unfit for 
 such a business ; for whether by his 
 
176 
 
 THE REIGN OF HENRY Till. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 and it please your Grace, the queen of Castile is as yet as 
 that she was in the life of the late King her father ; and, as 
 reason is, her subjects would be glad that she was amended 
 of her disease. And for that intent, upon a three or four days 
 passed, hither is come certain persons to the Cardinal and to 
 the Lords and Council from the town of Tordesillas, where 
 the said queen is ; and these said persons have brought testi- 
 monials and writings that there be certain persons, priests, 
 physicians, and other, amongst the which one is the Doctor 
 Soto, the said queen’s physician, the which he and the other 
 priests, with clergy and physic, upon pain of their lives, having 
 licence, will undertake for to remedy the queen of her disease 
 within the space of three months, saying that she is cumbered 
 with sprites by witchcraft.” 
 
 By his next letter,^ dated the 3rd of April, we learn that 
 Charles had sent a message toXimenes and the council in Spain, 
 desiring them to have him proclaimed King, as he had been 
 in Flanders ; a request to which they declined to accede whilst 
 Johanna was alive, unless Charles was there in person. The 
 proclamation in Flanders, made without the assent of the 
 states of Castile, had produced great irritation. So Stile adds, 
 that in case Charles come not hither in the summer, “ many 
 inconveniences and troubles will arise, for the treasurers say 
 they have no money belonging to the crown. The Cardinal 
 (Ximenes) is rich, having above 400,000 ducats in treasure, 
 and is a covetous Grey Friar, and will not depart with any 
 part of his said treasure, for the defence and weal of this 
 land, without good surety of the Prince.” Such was Stile’s 
 estimate of the great Cardinal. 
 
 Charles was in great straits, and his difficulties were 
 increased by the jealousy and suspicion of his ministers. 
 
 slowness growing by reason of his age, 
 or through ignorance, he could never 
 get her to lodge in any pleasant and 
 well-aired chamber of the castle ; but 
 she would always lurk in dark and 
 obscure places near the ground, fit to 
 entertain and augment her melancho- 
 like humour. , She did abhor soft and 
 delicate beds, and would lie upon the 
 ground ; and if she did lay herself upon 
 a board covered with a carpet, it was 
 by great importunity. It was not 
 possible to make her wear a furred 
 gown in winter, nor anything that 
 was rich. She was often three days 
 together without eating ; neither could 
 the prayers nor persuasions of her ser- 
 
 vants prevail anything with her. She 
 often complained that slie was kept 
 like a prisoner, and that they withheld 
 her from the government of affairs, 
 like a private person.” — “ Mayeme’s 
 Hist, of Spain,” by Grimeston, p. 935. 
 
 Among other fancies, she had a 
 humour “ to make them leave the 
 dishes full of meat in her chamber, 
 not suffering them to carry any one 
 away ; so as the meat corrupting made 
 a stinking savor.” 
 
 ^ II. 1732. Many of Stile’s letters 
 have been unfortunately lost ; and 
 even if they found their way into 
 foreign libraries, being written in 
 cipher, they would be as good as lost. 
 
1518.] 
 
 OPPOSITION TO CHARLES IN SPAIN. 
 
 177 
 
 They were doubtful of their reception in Spain ; doubtful also 
 if they should be able to retain their authority with such a 
 rival as Ximenes, and such nobles as the Duke of Alva and 
 the Constable of Castile. Maximilian still lingered in the Low 
 Countries, much to their annoyance, and Margaret was not to 
 be trusted. On the other hand, every successive post brought 
 news of the disputes between Ximenes and other members of 
 the council. “ The king,” writes Spinelly, ‘‘ must go this 
 summer, or his realm will be in great peril; for since the 
 Constable of ^ Castile has resisted the Cardinal, many lords 
 and towns have followed his example, and their number 
 increases.” ^ The health of Ximenes himself was giving way. 
 In the autumn of 1516 he was reported to be dying ; the same 
 report was repeated in the spring of the next year.^ Evidently 
 he was the only person on whom Charles could thoroughly 
 rely. In fact, but for the ability and loyalty of Ximenes, 
 Charles would never have enjoyed the kingdom of Spain. The 
 coldness and ingratitude he displayed to this minister are well 
 known, and need not be described here ; but, dark as that in- 
 gratitude is known to be, history has yet failed to record its full 
 enormity. It is more than probable that Charles would have 
 lingered out another year in his Flemish dominions, but for the 
 discovery of a plot hinted at in these pages, and fully confirmed 
 by his own correspondence. Whether Francis, his ally, was 
 concerned in the plot, cannot be determined at present. We 
 must wait for fuller explanations from the French archives. 
 
 It is well known that the inclinations of Ferdinand, his 
 grandfather, had been fixed on his other grandson Don 
 Ferdinand, who had been constantly brought up at the 
 Spanish court, nor was it until the last moment that the old 
 King could be persuaded to alter the disposal of his kingdom 
 in favour of the elder brother. The hatred of the Spaniards 
 for Charles’s Flemish favourites, the delay he made in visiting 
 Spain, the coldness with which he treated the Spaniards who 
 visited him, turned the affections of more than one powerful 
 nobleman and prelate towards his brother. As early as the 
 2nd of April, 1516, Spinelly mentions^ that the captain of 
 Perpignan had intercepted a letter, in French, from the Arch- 
 bishop of Arles ‘‘ to the Infant of Fortune,” offering the assist- 
 ance of France to procure for him the crown. The rumour 
 was repeated next year^ by the Cardinal of Sion, who told 
 Tunstal and others that trouble was likely to arise, from the 
 * April 11, 1517. - II. 3300. ^ n.l831. April 19, 1517 : 3143. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 N 
 
178 
 
 THE REIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A I), 
 
 Spaniards refusing to obey the council of Flanders, and the 
 Flemings that of Spain ; and he added that if Charles did not 
 go shortly to Spain, his brother would be crowned in his i 
 stead. The rumour grew stronger as time advanced. Yet it i 
 might have been set down for an idle tale, or as one of the 
 numerous fictions invented to suit a political purpose, had j 
 we not the King’s own letter, dated from Middleburgh, 7th of i 
 September,^ the day before he started, addressed to Ximenes, | 
 and detailing the whole conspiracy. In that letter he tells | 
 Ximenes how he had heard that certain treasonable proposals ; 
 had been made to the Infant Ferdinand, and that he had been j 
 urged to declare himself governor of Castile in the name of ! 
 his mother. To anticipate the danger, Gonsalvo de Guzman ; 
 had been commanded to avoid the court. Ximenes is directed | 
 to seek a private interview with Ferdinand. He is to make | 
 known to the Prince, in the softest and most insinuating | 
 manner, his brother’s resolution of removing the officers of , 
 his household, and substituting others in their place. A | 
 minister in the interest of Charles was to sleep in Ferdinand’s | 
 chamber, in order that ivhen the prince is awake he may have J 
 some one to talk to. Ximenes is further to assure the prince 
 that these measures have been ordered by Charles solely out 
 of regard to his brother’s interest ; that the sole motive he 
 now has in visiting Castile is to provide for the comfort of 
 Ferdinand, for whom he is ready to sacrifice life itself. The 
 King added that the unfavourable reports about Chievres and 
 the Chancellor were wholly untrue. No two lords could be 
 more devoted to him. He was now with the fleet, ready to 
 sail on the morrow. The Cardinal was further instructed 
 to employ every species of argument to induce Ferdinand to 
 take these arrangements in good part. He was to send the 
 Comendador and the Bishop of Astorga, with whom Charles 
 was greatly displeased, out of the way, to banish them from 
 the court, without permitting them to take leave of Ferdinand. 
 Should it so happen that in fulfilling these injunctions Ximenes 
 encountered opposition, he was ordered to employ force. These 
 instructions were to be carried out to the letter, and kept pro- 
 foundly secret. 
 
 It is not known what reply Ximenes made to this com- 
 munication. We infer from the answer of Charles that it 
 was perfectly satisfactory.^ Never profuse in his gratitude, 
 he thanked the Cardinal in the warmest terms for the ability 
 
 ^ In Cranvella. ^ Sept. 27. Granvele. 
 
1517.] 
 
 HENRY AIDS CHARLES. 
 
 179 
 
 he had shown in fulfilling his injunctions, and regretted to 
 hear of his ill health. How he repaid him when he arrived in 
 Spain is well known ; perhaps Maximilian was not far from 
 the truth when he exclaimed, in the bitterness of his heart, 
 that his grandson Charles '' was as cold and immovable as 
 an idol ” (statue). • 
 
 But important as was this voyage into Spain — more im- 
 portant than even those who urged it most were aware of — it 
 could not be accomplished without the aid of England ; and 
 to counteract the policy of England, to ply Maximilian with 
 every inducement to betray it, had employed the industry of 
 Charles and his ministers for the last two years and a half. 
 On the side of Friesland, the Duke of Gueldres, his irreconcil- 
 able enemy, backed by the influence, probably by the money, 
 of France,^ was making continual inroads. “ Aspre has been 
 taken,” Tunstal writes,^ “ and the inhabitants cruelly slain. 
 The town of the Hay (Hague), because it is open, is left desolate, 
 and the people fled for fear. This business delays the King’s 
 preparations.” In terms still more precise, Charles wrote to 
 his ambassadors in England,^ that it was not possible for him 
 to provide against the disturbances caused by the Duke of 
 Gueldres, without assistance from Henry. ' No other course 
 then remained, except to court the favour of England as 
 eagerly as he had formerly rejected it. The conduct of 
 Chievres and the Chancellor became as conciliating as 
 formerly it had been cold and insolent.^ The praises lavished 
 by Chievres on the Cardinal knew no bounds : — without his 
 aid the cordiality between Charles and Henry could never 
 have been established ; his master knows right well that the 
 chief security of his dominions is in the good will of England. 
 And the English court deserved these expressions of gratitude. 
 In his utmost need, when Charles could scarcely keep Flanders, 
 much less take possession of Spain, Henry had advanced him 
 100,000 florins. He wished that Charles should visit England 
 on his way — a request afterwards abandoned on the plea of 
 the King’s infirmity. Spinelly, now taken into confidence, 
 wrote to say there was no hope “ that the Catholico at his 
 going into Spain should pass by England with a small com- 
 pany, sending his army to Falmouth; for many the which 
 know his feeble complexion doth continually persuade the 
 same ” (urge that plea). The sweating sickness, then raging 
 
 ^ II. 3108, 3300, 3536. Francis, ^ July 6. Monumenta Halisbur- 
 however, denied it (3508). gica, Abtheil II. Bd. I. 45. 
 
 * July 13, 1517. “ n. 3337. 
 
180 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENEY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 in England, would have furnished a valid excuse, had the 
 feebleness of Charles’s complexion been a mere fiction.^ One 
 other condition was insisted on : that in repaying the loan he 
 should also repay 35,000 crowns expended during his minority 
 by England for the reduction of Gueldres and Venloo. This 
 condition he would have avoided like the former,^ but his 
 necessities were too urgent. “ If Henry will not consent,” he 
 writes to his ambassadors, “ to lend the 100,000 florins, with- 
 out including the 35,000 gold crowns in the arrangement, you 
 are to agree to it, but not readily.” The sum must be had 
 under any circumstances, for delay jeopardized his chances in 
 Spain, and Gueldres continued his ravages. 
 
 The court of England was not inclined to remember old 
 grudges, or seize an ungenerous advantage. His ambassadors 
 were magnificently received ; partly,” says Sebastian, not 
 very well pleased at the turn affairs were now taking, to 
 cajole the Catholic King, partly because one of the ambassa- 
 dors, a youth of about 20 years old and extremely handsome, 
 is of a most illustrious family descended from three Emperors.^ 
 His father is governor of Flanders, his father-in-law is He 
 Chievres. He is, moreover, the boon companion of the 
 Catholic king, sharing all his secrets as familiarly as if he were 
 his brother.” Nothing could exceed the sumptuousness of 
 their entertainment^ or that of the jousts which followed. The 
 jousts ended, preparations were made for a banquet. At the 
 head of the hall sate his Majesty, with the Queen on his right, 
 and next her the Cardinal, and Mary late Queen of France on 
 his left. The feast was regal, the display of gold and silver 
 plate enormous. The banquet over, the King and his guests 
 repaired to another hall, where the Queen’s ladies were, and 
 dancing went on for two hours: “ the King,” says the narrator, 
 doing marvellous things both in dancing and jumping^ 
 proving himself, as he in truth is, indefatigable.” The French 
 ambassadors were not present. Their conduct seemed 
 mysterious to Sebastian, and well it might. Nor were his 
 doubts at all better satisfied when he told them it was reported 
 they were negociating a league with England. They smiled. 
 
 ^ Charles had “ greedy eyes” (avari 
 ocelli), says the Venetian envoy, — 
 was a gross feeder, and subject to 
 dyspepsia. Hence ill-health and his 
 fluctuation of spirits, enhanced by 
 hereditary melancholy. Allied also 
 to this physical and psychological un- 
 soundness there was a tinge of senti- 
 mentalism in Charles not found in his 
 
 contemporaries. These qualities have 
 made him unconsciously attractive to 
 modern historians. 
 
 2 II. 3442. 
 
 3 The sieur d’Aussy. 
 
 4 See Nos. 3455, 3462; and for the 
 plan and arrangement of the banquet 
 the curious paper, 3446. 
 
1517.1 
 
 CHARLES’ VOYAGE TO SPAIN. 
 
 181 
 
 and said nothing. Eeally this reserve of one’s friends is very 
 strange, thought Sebastian ; and so it was. 
 
 But for the present one thing only was talked of ; and that 
 was the journey into Spain, and when it should take place. 
 July was beginning to wane, and the King’s preparations 
 seemed scarcely more advanced than they were a year ago. 
 From the 5th of June to the 7th of September he loitered 
 at Middleburg. On the 27th of August, Tunstal, who was 
 with him, wrote to Wolsey ^ to say that he did not think the 
 King would leave as the moon was waning ; though Charles 
 asserted he would go, even if it were winter. On the 7th of 
 September, “ he was shriven once again, for he was houselled 
 at the last opposition of the moon,” ^ started the same evening 
 for Flushing, and set sail the next morning. The weather 
 was fair, but the voyage not without accidents. Off the coast 
 of Winchelsea a ship containing the King’s horses was burnt 
 to the water’s edge, and all hands perished. A strong wind 
 from the S.E. drove the ships into Plymouth roads not many 
 hours after they were becalmed. On the 19th they found 
 themselves off the coast of Asturias, by the mismanagement 
 of the pilot. Charles and his sister Eleanor, for whom the 
 greatest apprehension was felt, endured the distresses and 
 fatigues of the voyage with greater magnanimity than practised 
 sailors. At four o’clock in the afternoon Charles landed at 
 a rocky and desolate spot, some miles distant from Villa 
 Yiciosa, and was compelled to proceed with his sister and 
 all his company on foot toward the nearest village, without 
 refreshment or change of apparel. No preparations had 
 been made for their landing. They were in a poor country, 
 without horses or other necessaries.^ The village did not 
 contain, says Spinelly, more than forty houses ; — such houses 
 as may at this time be seen in Spanish villages, utterly 
 destitute of the comforts and even ordinary necessaries 
 of life. To increase their misfortunes, the wind changed 
 suddenly to the N.N.W., drove the fleet to St. Ander, and with 
 it all their bedding, clothes, and furniture. For the first time, 
 adds Spinelly, Lord Chievres, and others of the noblemen 
 attending on the King, had nothing more than trusses of straw 
 or the bare earth to sleep on. But the loss of their horses was 
 a greater inconvenience than sleeping in the open air. No 
 carriages, no means of travelling were to be had ; not even the 
 ordinary bullock waggon, the horror of Spanish travellers ; 
 
 ^ II. 3641. 2 n. 3666. ® II. 3692. * II. 3705. 
 
182 
 
 THE REIGN OF HENRY VIIL 
 
 . [A.D. 
 
 for,” says Spinelly, in that mountainous country the 
 principals go afoot,” and the prevalence of sickness in the 
 chief towns had cut off all intercourse on pain of death. The 
 shortness of provisions compelled the King to set forward on 
 the third day. By this time they had mustered about forty 
 horses and a few bullock waggons, the company consisting of 
 200 persons. Charles mounted a hobby lent him by Spinelly ; 
 the ladies were packed in the waggons ; the cavaliers, by twos 
 and threes en croupier on pack-horses ; the majority trudged 
 on foot. And in this shabby array, after four days’ hard 
 travelling, the King arrived at St. Vincent, 60 miles distant 
 from Villa Viciosa. They who know what travelling is in the 
 north of Spain with the ordinary fare and conveyance of the 
 country, will readily apprehend the fatigue of such a journey, 
 especially to ladies accustomed all their lives to the luxuries 
 of a court, and whose excursions from Brussels had never 
 extended further than Mechlin or Ghent. “Nevertheless,” 
 says Spinelly, who accompanied the cavalcade on foot, “ con- 
 sidering the surety and sweetness of the land, every one 
 suffered it joyously in patience.” If anything could render 
 such a mode of travelling pleasant, it was the remembrance 
 of the alternate becalming and hurricane of a late autumnal 
 voyage in the Bay of Biscay. 
 
 To the royal party, compelled thus unexpectedly to rough 
 it, and accustomed only to the rich manufacturing towns of 
 the Low Countries, everything seemed as strange, wild, and 
 entertaining as it does to the modern traveller. The peculiari- 
 ties which struck Spinelly have remained unaltered after the 
 lapse of three centuries. “ The country,” he says, “ is very 
 mountainous, and abounds in chestones (chesnuts), on which 
 most of the inhabitants live instead of corn. They have also 
 a kind of oats to make bread of for the nobles and gentlemen, 
 though that the worst of them reckon to be the best born ; 
 and marvellously they be grounded upon the nobleness of 
 blood, seeing that they have been those that have conquered 
 Castile out of the hands of the Infidels ; having, by reason of 
 such opinion, proudness enough in comparison of their goods 
 and riches. 'Their arrayments be small jackets of coarse light 
 cloth, with bare legs and feet ; and commonly they wear long 
 beards and hair, being well made persons and wonderly light 
 (lissome) ; and, as far as I may conject upon good informa- 
 tion, they may be compared unto Irishmen.” A comparison 
 evidently referring to the Basques ; the exactness of which no 
 one who knows the two people will venture to dispute. 
 
.lii IS c: s IS I H 
 
1517.] 
 
 CHAELES’ AREIVAL IN SPAIN. 
 
 183 
 
 The King was well received. If during the voyage he still 
 entertained any fears of his brother Ferdinand, they were 
 allayed by the rumours which met him at his landing. 
 Ximenes had removed the Comendador of Calatrava and the 
 Bishop of Astorga, and given the charge of Don Ferdinand to 
 the Marquis of Aguilar ; with the king’s consent,” said the 
 rumour, “because they had endeavoured to make Don 
 Ferdinand king of Arragon against reason and the will of the 
 Catholic king deceased.” ^ It was no concern of Charles to 
 set that rumour right. 
 
 Letters from Spain came very irregularly; and we lose 
 much of Spinelly’s gossiping and amusing correspondence at 
 the time when it would have been most interesting and 
 important. Consequently, of the subsequent movements of 
 Charles, and the death of Ximenes, nothing is told us. On 
 the 31st of October Charles was at BezzarrylD with Chievres 
 and the Chancellor. These pov^erful favourites are accused of 
 keeping their master away from the great minister, and 
 poisoning his ear against Ximenes. On the 8th of November 
 the Cardinal died ; and the popular tradition of Charles’s 
 ingratitude receives full confirmation by his treatment of the 
 Cardinal’s memory. Stile writes on the 11th of February, to say 
 that the King had appropriated to his own use the money left 
 b}^ Ximenes in legacies to his servants and charitable bequests, 
 to the amount of 212,000 ducats of gold, alleging that he had 
 done more damage in casting down the walls of Navarre than 
 all his wealth amounted to ! The Flemish ministers were still 
 supreme ; no Spaniard had a voice in the council, with the 
 exception of the bishop of Badajoz and Don Garcia de Padilla.^ 
 The archbishopric, estimated at 100,000 ducats per annum, 
 was given to Chievres’ nephew, Cardinal de Croy, fettered, 
 however, with certain pensions.^ 
 
 And here we leave Charles for a time. Charles in Spain, 
 Maximilian hors de combat, the two ancient rivals remained 
 face to face- — England and France ; France crippled in its 
 finances by the war in Italy and by the large sums advanced 
 to different statesmen in the courts of Europe ; England, 
 under the administration of Wolsey, husbanding its resources, 
 and less prodigal in its expenditure from year to year. 
 
 ^ II. p. 1169. and many Spaniards were glad thereof, 
 
 2 II. 3764. 3 3937. thinking he should follow the young 
 
 * 11.3874. “ There was a rumour,” council (the Spanish party). Howbeit, 
 says Spinelly, “ that the king was they have been deceived ; for his 
 amorous of a goodly gentlewoman of amours be succeeded very cold.” 
 the queen of Arragon’s (Johanna) j 
 
184 
 
 THE REIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 CHAPTEE VI. 
 
 ENGLAND AND FRANCE. 
 
 Hitherto it had been Wolsey’s ostensible policy to raise up j 
 some counteracting influence to the overgrown power of | 
 France. Whether he ever contemplated an invasion of that j 
 country by Henry in person, may, I think, he very reasonably j 
 doubted. At least I find no serious preparations for such an I 
 event. It was his object rather to subsidize the continental 
 powers, to keep Francis well employed in Italy, by advancing | 
 money to Maximilian and the Swiss, and by supporting the 
 imperial claims. If Charles could not be induced to league | 
 
 with England, any aid he might lend to France was to be | 
 
 neutralized, at least for a time. With a league consisting of j 
 
 the Pope, Ferdinand, England, the Emperor, and the Swiss, 
 Wolsey might reasonably expect that the efforts of Francis | 
 
 towards aggrandizement in Europe would he effectually re- ® 
 
 pressed. But Ferdinand, never hearty in any scheme that i 
 
 did not promote his own immediate interests, lent no assist- | 
 
 ance. Of Maximilian enough has been said already. Leo X., I 
 
 fearing and hating the Emperor and Francis alike, and rightly . 
 
 jealous of the proximity and influence of both, oscillated i 
 
 dubiously between the two, alternately flattering and betray- | 
 
 ing both.^ So far from the policy of Wolsey meeting with the : 
 
 success he had anticipated, or replacing England in the 
 position it held at the death of Lewis XII., no other effect had ! 
 been gained, at the close of the year 1516 and the treaty of 
 Noyon, than that of tying ail the great powers to the chariot 
 wheels of France, and rendering her the sovereign and dictator 
 of Europe. i The result was mortifying enough, to the vanity a 
 of Henry VIII., who watched with any other feeling than that P 
 
 of complacency the progress of his brilliant and successful S:, 
 
 rival. ^ : 
 
 If the language of the Venetian ambassador may be trusted, . 
 
 ^ Of his meeting with Francis at descriptions by eye-witnesses in II. | 
 
 Bologna, see two very interesting 1281, 1284. i 
 
1517.] 
 
 UNCERTAIN RUMORS. 
 
 185 
 
 France was the great object of hatred and suspicion, and 
 Wolsey was only biding his time to wreak vengeance upon it 
 for its repeated perfidies. What these perfidies were no one 
 exactly knew, though every English minister. Pace, Wingfield, 
 Spinelly, and even Tunstal fully believed them. Piumours, 
 indeed, had been in circulation as early as January, 1517,^ 
 that a better understanding existed between the two courts 
 than warranted this belief. Francis, with the exception of his 
 expedition into Italy, had studiously avoided giving any 
 offence to England. His conduct, with one exception, had 
 been uniformly conciliatory. He was fully aware of the efforts 
 secretly made by Henry, and his virtual transgression of the 
 alliance existing between them. But he gave vent to no 
 expressions of anger or resentment. Even the help he is 
 . supposed to have afforded Albany was exaggerated ; and this 
 help was granted in conformity with the treaties existing 
 between France and Scotland ; had been openly avowed to the 
 English ambassadors from the first ; was expressly understood, 
 and therefore could constitute no just cause of complaint. 
 But whilst he and his agents wrote from time to time, that 
 France was desirous of a closer alliance, it was believed in 
 England, that this was a mere invention to throw England off 
 its guard : — ‘‘ All things are full of deceit, et Judas non dormit,'' 
 was Pace’s comment on the news. By the 4th of April, 1517? 
 a rumour had found its way into the court at Brussels, “ that 
 Henry was intriguing with France against the Emperor and 
 the king of Castile.” A few days later the report assumed 
 a more definite shape. “ Your Grace,” writes Spinelly on the 
 8th, ‘Gs said to be in great practice to restore Tournay to the 
 French and make a new treaty.” On the 15th we learn from 
 Worcester that the French ambassador with the King of Castile 
 was spreading the report, “ that England was soliciting a 
 stronger amity with France, but without sending regular 
 ambassadors.” V The whole proceeding was enveloped in 
 mystery ; the rumour rose and fell ; it was variously asserted 
 and denied ; how it had arisen no one could tell ; and no one 
 seemed to have any certainty about it. The regular diplomatic 
 relations between the two countries had been interrupted since 
 the return of Suffolk, and had never been regularly renewed. 
 Nothing could be more tantalizing to those who were concerned 
 in discovering such secrets ; no bribe and no intrigue were of 
 the least help in unveiling the mystery. Wolsey and the King 
 
 1 II. p. 902. 
 
186 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. ! 
 
 betrayed no change in their words or actions. For months I 
 the Venetian ambassador continued to write to his Senate and | 
 the Doge of Wolsey’s inveterate hatred to France ; for months j 
 he congratulated himself on the effects which his arguments | 
 had produced in mollifying the Cardinal’s resentment. It | 
 was France, the Cardinal repeated to the unsuspecting | 
 Venetian, that was at the bottom of all the troubles of I 
 Christendom ; it was France that had invited the Turk — • ! 
 worse than the Turk himself. It was the restless ambition of | 
 France, her incessant military preparations, her warlike dis- i 
 position, that involved England in continual expense, and ; 
 disturbed the peace of the world. His master was a mag- j 
 nanimous sovereign inclined to peace, and most reluctantly j 
 compelled to abandon peace and tranquillity, and adopt j 
 aggressive measures against France and you Venetians its | 
 allies, “ because he has heard of the determination of France j 
 to molest him.” ^ Giustinian assured him that Francis had | 
 no such intentions ; if he had, the Venetians would do what j 
 they could to prevent it. Wolsey desired no more. He wished | 
 to divine the true intentions of France without appearing to I 
 suspect them ; and he obtained the assurance he desired, from 
 time to time, by pretending to the Venetian ambassador that the ' 
 republic was helping Francis to embroil Europe and disturb 
 Christendom ; — they, of all nations, the most averse to war ! ' 
 
 Meanwhile very obscure and mysterious letters had been 
 passing between De Crequy, Dean of Tournay, Dr. Sampson, ^ 
 Wolsey’s commissary, and Charles Somerset, Earl of ; 
 Worcester. How long this correspondence had been going i 
 on, and whether the whole series has been preserved, cannot 
 be determined. The first letter which has reached us, though 
 evidently not the first in the negociation, is dated 11th of March, 
 1517,^ at the very time when Charles, Maximilian, and their 
 ministers were congratulating themselves on their excellent ■ 
 understanding with France, and were signing the treaty of 
 Cambray. The negociator on the French side was no less 
 a person than the Duke of Orleans. From the Duke’s letter 
 it appears that the proposal had been broken to him by the 
 Dean of Tourna.y ; ^ whether or not on the Dean’s own sugges- 
 tion, does not appear. A hint dropped in a letter of Worcester’s 
 of the same date would lead us to infer thnt Henry was privy 
 to this proposal, if he was not the author of it.^ Before the 
 
 1 Feb. 2, 1518. 
 8 II. 3006. 
 
 3 II. 3007. 
 ^ II. 3005. 
 
1517.] 
 
 SECEET NEGOCIATIONS. 
 
 187 
 
 24th of March the Grand Master of France (Boissi) had been 
 sounded, and Worcester was then waiting for further instruc- 
 tions to see how the project would be accepted^ Both parties 
 were cautious of committing themselves ; each was suspicious 
 of the other’s intentions. By the 13th of April the matter 
 brightens ; then Sampson wrote to Wolsey, that it had been 
 suggested to him by the Dean of Tournay of what advantage 
 it would be if peace could be made between France and 
 England. Sampson expressed his concurrence in the wish, 
 but stated that he could not undertake to communicate that 
 wish to his employer. The Dean, he added, has twice made 
 peace between the two realms, and will be glad to do so again. 
 Long before that letter Wolsey had been in communication 
 with Worcester on the same subject,^ and Sampson’s remarks 
 were intended to disengage the Cardinal from all personal 
 risk or responsibility in this intricate and delicate negociation, 
 which now, notwithstanding all these extraordinary pre- 
 cautions, was beginning to transpire.^ The negociation lingered 
 
 1 II. 3048. 
 
 2 II. 3127. 
 
 ® Pace writes to Wolsey on the 
 letli of May (No. 3247) : 
 
 “ Please it your Grace, — The 10th 
 day of this present month, Mr. Anchises 
 Vicecomes returned out of France into 
 Swissland in haste, sent only, as he 
 saith, for to speak with me from the 
 French king”. And because he durst 
 not arrive unto this city for fear of 
 trouble by some of the Emperor’s ser- 
 vants, he hath advertised me largely 
 of these things following ; viz. that 
 the said French king himself did ex- 
 amine him of his going into England, 
 and abiding there, and did make great 
 inquisition of the king’s grace’s man. 
 ners and yours ; whereunto (as he 
 saith) he made as discreet and honor- 
 able answer as he could devise : so 
 that the said French king (si ipse vera 
 refert) did both say and swear that he 
 doth love the king above all other 
 princes Christian, and therefore he 
 doth marvel that his Grace is alway 
 contrary and adversary unto him, and 
 that he intendeth never to offend his 
 Grace in any manner of cause, but 
 provoked by pure necessity ; adding 
 unto that these words, viz. that his 
 cousin of England cannot desire that 
 thing of him that he would deny. 
 
 “As touching your Grace, he did 
 ask the said Mr. Anchises whether it 
 were possible for him by any mean to 
 
 obtain your Grace’s favours ; where- 
 unto he made (as he saith) this 
 answer — that it were impossible to 
 induce your Grace by any means to 
 do that that should be contrary to the 
 king’s honour or profit. This done, he 
 made wonderful inquisition of my per- 
 son, not only of my qualities, but also 
 of the stature of my body, and said 
 that I had caused him to expend two 
 millions of gold ; but, notwithstand- 
 ing that, if I would help that your 
 Grace would move the king to make 
 a perfect amity with him, he would 
 give unto me monies auri ; and as for 
 your Grace, you should not only have 
 peaceable possession of the bishopric 
 of Tournay by resignation, but also 
 any other thing as good as that. And 
 to the intent that this thing might 
 come to a good and short effect, he 
 would grant unto me his safe conduct 
 to come surely to Milan, and from 
 thence to be conveyed in like manner 
 into France to his person, and from 
 thence to be brought, as honorably as 
 I would desire myself, to Calais gates. 
 
 “ My Lord, these premises the said 
 Mr. Anchises hath signified to me, by 
 the French king’s express command- 
 ment, as he saith; but whether all 
 these things, or part, or nothing, be 
 true, I will not judge (but remit the 
 matter to your Grace’s wisdom), know- 
 ing that the said Mr. Anchises hath 
 sworn fidelity to the said French king. 
 
188 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENEY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 on, but we have no further means of tracing it in this state. ; 
 In June ^ the sieur de la Guiche, a favourite with both courts, ; 
 who had been in England before, made his appearance in| 
 London. Sebastian thought it mysterious, — endeavoured to; 
 learn the cause of his coming, but settled down in the con-! 
 viction that it had no higher purpose than to arrange certain ! 
 ^private differences ! A month after Giustinian began to suspect • 
 there might be something more in it.^ The reserve of these! 
 Frenchmen was very strange ! But it looked harmless, espe- ^ 
 daily when on the 26th of the same month ^ an indenture ! 
 appeared, regularly drawn and signed by the two commis-! 
 sioners, the earl of Worcester and De la Guiche, professing to 
 devise means for the redress of grievances, and providing that ; 
 suitable commissioners should be sent from both sides to sit 
 at Calais on the 1st of September, make compensations, receive [ 
 complaints, and save the merchants the expenses of the Law ; 
 Courts. Sebastian thought it was all right ; the same round ' 
 of visits, — the same round of denunciations against France. I 
 On the 26th of August, formal commissioners were appointed ; ; 
 among them Sir Thomas More, just then famous for his ; 
 Utopia. 
 
 By this time it had oozed out that Francis had offered; 
 400,000 crowns for the surrender of Tournay, and England 
 was not supposed to be adverse to the bargain.^ The ministers ■ 
 of Charles were becoming uneasy at the prospect of a more 
 kindly intercourse between the two nations. They had hitherto 
 done their utmost to keep both asunder. On the 14th of ! 
 September the report reached the ears of the Pope. The 
 treaty was now pushed on with greater vigour and openness. 
 Stephen Poncher, Bishop of Paris, arrived at Boulogne, and 
 only waited for advices from the Cardinal to cross over. 
 
 But th-is, I think, undoubtedly be true 
 — that the French king would gladly 
 agree with the king’s Grace. And this 
 I do perfectly know — that the said Mr. 
 Anchises, the Count Galiace, with all 
 that sect, doth labour that this thing 
 may come to pass, some of them being 
 mediators therein, knowing right well 
 that they shall obtain great things 
 thereby if it come to pass. Over and 
 above the premises, the French king 
 said, that if the king were aggrieved 
 with any his practices in Scotland, 
 that he was not author or cause thereof, 
 but his predecessor. 
 
 “ My Lord, we have now here 
 strange tidings — that the Emperor 
 
 and the king of Castile hath made one 
 new peace with the French king, con- 
 cluded at Cambray the 11th day of ^ 
 April : quod si estverum non putofidem , 
 ah iis emendam, qui nullam hahent. 
 Be rehus Italicis nihil certius haheo illis 
 qu(B proxime scripsi. I did give none 
 answer unto Anchises but this only — 
 that I durst not meddle with a matter 
 of so great importance without the 
 king’s commandment. 
 
 “ V^aleat felicissime E“® D. v., cui 
 me humillime commendo et trade. Ex ■ 
 Constantia, 16 Maij 1517.” 
 
 1 II. 3415. 3 II. 3520. 
 
 2 II. 3445. ^ II. 3666. 
 
1.1 
 
 1517.] 
 
 UNPOPULARITY OF FRANCIS. 
 
 189 
 
 Ij Meanwhile, true or not, rumours got into circulation of the 
 ij unpopularity of the French King and his exactions. '' A fat 
 ii Cordelier ” had declared in his sermon, that the King was 
 ji worse than Nero. The avocats were in a state of great com- 
 u motion. The university of Paris, disgusted with the concordat, 
 ,ji had displayed their disaffection by defamatory libels, and their 
 officers were thrown into prison. The students took the 
 matter into their own hands, and displayed their hostility in 
 
 ! their own peculiar fashion. A farce of more than usual 
 audacity was written and acted, in which the dramatis personw 
 were personified representations of the vices and abuses of the 
 court ; Le Medecin, Dame Rapinne, Lehon Gensdarme, Le 
 Tout, La Poidette. This last personage was the daughter of 
 president Le Cocq, and wife of an avocat, a lady of whom 
 Francis was supposed to be enamoured. On a subsequent 
 (,/ii occasion,^ a trumpeter, sent by the King to read a proclama- 
 |i!! tion, was surrounded by the angry students. They cut off his 
 j;|l horse’s ears, broke his trumpet as he descended from the 
 , 1 stage, and compelled him to seek safety in flight. Next day 
 j ^ the mayor with 400 men-at-arms came down to apprehend the 
 : ringleaders, but was driven back. The day after the proctor 
 ] j of the university marched down to the parliament house with 
 ji 4,000 scholars in armour, and demanded by what authority 
 I j these measures had been taken. The cause of the students 
 , ! was supported by the Constable Bourbon, no longer on good 
 1 1 terms with Francis ; the Duke of Lorraine had retired in dis- 
 ' i content because he had been asked to stand godfather to the 
 i Dauphin in company with the Duke of Urhino.^ Nassau had 
 followed his example. These reports may have been exag- 
 ' gerated, hut they are too numerous, and come from too many 
 quarters, to he entirely destitute of foundation. 
 
 I These and other causes made Francis anxious for peace. 
 I The assurance's given by Wolsey to De la Guiche at his 
 I departure, that England would prefer the alliance of France 
 ! to all others, were cordially received ; ^ and from this period 
 jj the negociation fell exclusively into the hands of De la Guiche 
 ' and the Bishop of Paris on the French part, of Euthal, Bishop 
 “ of Durham, and the Earl of Worcester, on the English.^ At 
 I Henry’s wish the French commissioners crossed over to 
 England in October. The sweating sickness was then making 
 I its appearance ; the King moved from place to place to avoid 
 ’ it, and Wolsey himself was in ill health. Sebastian writes on 
 
 ^ II. 4154. 2 3314, 3 n 3714. 4 n. 3723 , 3739 . 
 
190 
 
 THE REIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 the 11th of November:^ Two ambassadors have arrived! 
 here from the Most Christian king, the bishop of Paris, and 
 Monseigneur de la Guiche. It is said they are come about. ' 
 certain reprisals ; but I do not believe that envoys of such 
 dignity would have been sent on so trivial a mission. The 
 king is abroad, and keeps moving from one place to another, | 
 on account of the plague, which has made great ravages in ! 
 the king’s household; some of the pages who slept in his, . 
 Majesty’s chamber have died, so he has dismissed the whole | 
 court, both his own and that of the most serene queen; and! [ 
 only three of his favorite gentlemen, with Dionysius Memo the 
 musician, are with him, and accompany the king and queen * 
 through every peril. Neither his Majesty nor the Cardinal ^ 
 will return until after the Christmas holidays, and then only j 
 provided the plague cease.” If Wolsey’s expressions of dis- 
 satisfaction with France, openly made and repeated, especially/ ' 
 to Giustinian, the Venetian ambassador, were sincere, we mustt I 
 infer that the negociation now lingered, and was near going , 
 off altogether. ‘ 
 
 When Charles and his ministers heard the news of it in^ ' 
 Spain they were naturally anxious to prevent it, and, iff ‘ 
 possible, get Tournay into their own hands. But Charles had | | 
 no money; he was already indebted in 100,000 crowns to I 
 Henry YIII., and could not or would not offer any equivalent ini 
 exchange.^ The English court did not wish to offend him ; — i i 
 it would have experienced the utmost mortification had Charles ! 
 once more thrown himself into the arms of France, as he or ! ’ 
 at least his ministers felt great inclination to do. So the real! | 
 state of the negociation in regard to Tournay was carefully! ' 
 concealed or sedulously misrepresented. The Archbishop ofj* 
 Armagh and John Lord Berners, the celebrated translator off 
 Froissart, were sent into Spain ^ to Charles to express their j 
 master’s delight at his safe arrival, to proffer mutual com- ; 
 munication of all secrets between them, and explain away the 1 
 new negociations with France. England, they were told to | 
 say, had sent to Francis to desire redress for injuries at sea, | 
 apd the latter had taken this opportunity of sending over the ! 
 
 ^ II. 3788. in it. If tliis expedient fail, and the i 
 
 2 The King of Spain, says Spinelly King my master he determined to get | 
 (3872), is anxious to have Tommay in rid of Tournay, they propose to take j 
 his hands, hut fears the indignation of it hy way of gift, and the King Catholic i 
 the French ; and if they may have the to acknowledge himself debtor to the ; 
 French King’s consent hy the means King my master, for a sum of money, i 
 of the grand master, according to the hy antedated bonds ! \ 
 
 devices at Cambray. they will speak ^ II. 4135. ^ 
 
1517.] 
 
 AKTIFICES TO DELUDE CHAELES. 
 
 191 
 
 Bishop of Paris and M. de la Giiiche, ostensibly with the view 
 of repressing piracy, really to urge the surrender of Tournay, 
 and offer for it a large sum. When the King expressed his 
 unwillingness to accede to the proposal without consulting 
 Charles, the French had assured him there would be no need 
 of such a step, as they were on excellent terms with the King 
 Catholic, but now that Francis had not been able to obtain 
 his wishes, he was seeking to recover Tournay by force. The 
 King of England rejoiced at the determination of Charles to 
 observe his oath inviolably, and his virtuous inclination to 
 true and faithful dealing.” In return for so much confidence 
 and cordiality he was moved to send the Catholic King warn- 
 ing of the artifices of France. When the ambassadors have 
 an opportunity of speaking with the king alone they shall tell 
 him that Francis is not much attached to his queen (Claude), 
 
 I who is small of stature, and far from beautiful ; and as she is 
 now with child there may be some danger in her delivery.” 
 They shall further urge that Francis, “ who has heard of the 
 rare beauty of the lady Eleanor the king’s eldest sister, and 
 ! considers her prospects for the succession in Spain, is en- 
 ! deavouring to prevent her marriage with the king of Portugal ; 
 
 I intending, in the event of his own queen dying, to marry 
 ■ Eleanor himself.^ It is true that this might seem an honorable 
 
 ^ This lady’s history forms a little 
 romance. She was eldest sister to 
 Charles, and attached to one of his 
 favourites, Lewis Count Palatine. 
 Whilst the King was at Middleburgh, 
 waiting to start for Spain, he snatched 
 a letter out of her bosom, which 
 proved to be a declaration of love 
 from the Palatine. The Count was 
 immediately dismissed in disgrace, 
 Charles obstinately refusing to listen to 
 any intercession in his favour (II. 3641, 
 3646). When she arrived in Spain a 
 negooiation was sfet on foot to marry 
 her to Emmanuel the Fortunate, King 
 of Portugal, an old man with a large 
 family. It had been intended in the 
 first instance that she should have been 
 married to his son, the Prince, and 
 Lady Margaret be given to the father ; 
 but, this project failing, she was sacri- 
 ficed to the heartless intrigues of 
 Chievres and the Chancellor. “ I 
 signify to your Highness ” (writes 
 Spinelly to Henry VIII., 2nd of April, 
 1518), “ that this afternoon the Chan- 
 cellor showed me a secret, how they 
 had been in great practices with the 
 
 king of Portugal for the marriage of 
 the lady Eleanor, saying she was 
 infortunate, being of so noble and 
 virtuous a condition, and for lack of 
 youth ” (she was then not more than 
 twenty) “ almost compelled to take 
 a husband of 48 years, with eight 
 children, the which, before those that 
 God might send her, unto the crown 
 and all other things shall be preferred ; 
 and though the Chancellor speaks but 
 {qu. not ?) of the conclusion I suppose it 
 is very nigh, and that in such case the 
 young sister (Katharine) shall be mar- 
 ried to the prince of Portugal. . . . The 
 lady Eleanor, by the testament of her 
 father, and by the ancient custom of 
 the crown of Castile, should have for 
 her marriage 200,000 ducats; howbeit, 
 the king of Portugal demands nothing 
 but the apparel for her body, and is 
 content to make her a fair dower npon 
 sure land and rent.” On the death of 
 Emmanuel in 1521, she seems to have 
 returned to Madrid, and remained 
 there when Francis I. was taken 
 prisoner at the battle of Pavia. Accord- 
 ing to the common historians, she 
 
192 
 
 THE KEIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 match ; but if it were carried into effect, the lives of Charles 
 and his brother Ferdinand would never be safe from the 
 artifices of France.” 
 
 Similar precautions were used towards Sebastian ; to a , 
 degree so far beyond the apparent importance of the Venetian, 
 as would almost lead the reader to suspect that the King and 
 the Cardinal took delight in mystifying this worthy envoy of ' 
 the republic of fishermen.^ On one occasion, when he hurried ■ 
 into Wolsey’s presence with a budget of French news, the I 
 Cardinal with unusual graciousness ^ took the envoy’s arm, ; 
 and carried him to the King. On his assuring Henry that 
 Francis did not intend to attack any one unless provoked by 
 manifold injuries, the King laughed and replied : “ If he bore 
 me any good will, he would not esteem me so lightly as he 
 does, by wronging my subjects and refusing redress. I per- 
 ceive that though his ambassadors, who came here, used 
 language as agreeable as could be desired, and were not I 
 ashamed to ask peace in their master’s name, yet on their ; 
 return no justice was done to my subjects. I am not going to I 
 make war upon him, if he shows me proper respect, and I | 
 would fain distinguish myself against the Infidel ; not by mere ‘ 
 words and boasting, or levying money for a crusade, and then | 
 
 showed so much commiseration in her 
 adversity for the royal captive, and 
 contributed by her attention so much 
 to the re-establishment of his health, 
 that Francis, out of gratitude, married 
 her, on his release from captivity, 
 alleging that he had been better tended 
 by her at Madrid than ever he was at 
 Paris by Louise his mother, or Claude 
 his wife. He told Wolsey, however, 
 that he was moved to his union “ more 
 for necessity than any private favor 
 to my lady Eleanor ; ” and said still 
 more plainly to the Earl of Rochford 
 (Boleyn) that “ she was one of the 
 great number he had the least desire 
 unto.” (State Papers, vii. 181). And 
 probably there was as much sincerity 
 in one assertion as in the other. 
 
 Her life was far from happy. 
 Henry VIII. and his ministers did all 
 they could to sow ill will and distrust 
 between her and her faithless husband, 
 through dread of her influence being 
 exerted in iJehalf of the Emperor. 
 The Queen-mother disliked her lest 
 she should undermine her authority, 
 — “ The Spanish ladies and the French 
 ladies (says Bryan) be at a jar; the 
 French ladies mock them every day, 
 and that the Spanish ladies spy very 
 
 well” (Ibid. 249) ; — Margaret of 
 Navarre, for a less legitimate reason j 
 (Ibid. 291). When Suffolk was sent 
 into France on Anne Boleyn’s behalf ' 
 he held a conversation with Margaret, 
 respecting the Queen, which he re- 
 peats to Henry VIII., so gross and i 
 indelicate, that if the revelations she 
 then made to him were true, the 
 correspondence between Francis and 
 his sister goes far to justify the 
 imputations that have since been pro- ■ 
 pagated against Margaret’s purity. 
 Whether what she said was true or 
 not, nothing could show a more flagrant 
 disregard to decency than such a con- 
 versation with a comparative stranger. ■ 
 
 ^ The Venetians were in very bad 
 repute in England, and were regarded 
 in the light of half regular traders 
 and half pirates. It is possible that 
 their opposition to the Pope, and their 
 alliance with the Turk, added to their 
 known friendship for France, con- 
 tributed to this unfair estimate of the 
 republic in the minds of our country- 
 men during this century. 
 
 2 Sometimes, in his more con- 
 descending moods, Wolsey allowed the 
 ambassador to kiss his hand. 
 
DENUNCIATIONS OF FEANCE. 
 
 193 
 
 1518.] 
 
 doing nothing.” On another occasion he rode over to Eich- 
 mond with an alarming story of the invasion of the Turk, to 
 which the King replied with a sarcasm that must have made 
 Giustinian’s ears tingle : ‘‘ His Excellency the Doge is on such 
 good terms with the Turk, he has nothing to fear.” Sebastian 
 made a long and lame apology for this renegade act of the 
 great republic, insisting upon the necessity of conciliating the 
 Sultan in their unprotected condition. “Write to your Signory, 
 sir ambassador,” replied the King, “to be more apprehensive 
 of a certain person, that shall be nameless, than of the Great 
 Turk ; one who is plotting worse things for Christendom than 
 Sultan Selim. As for me, I am anxious for peace, hut I am 
 so prepared that, should the king of France attack me, he 
 will find himself deceived.” And he added this expression, 
 Incidet in foveam quam fecit ; the pit he made for others he 
 shall fall into himself. After a wdiile the King said: “Let 
 me ask you this one question. If the king of France acts 
 sincerely by us, why does he not have justice done to our 
 subjects ? Then, again, how can I put up with his sending 
 the duke of Albany into Scotland, where my nephew is king ? 
 The king of France sends this duke into Scotland, who will 
 perhaps put the king to death, in like manner as his brother 
 died, which I never intend to suffer. I am king of this island, 
 and am perfectly satisfied,^ and yet it seems to me I do not 
 do my duty thoroughly, nor govern my subjects well; and if 
 I could have greater dominion, nay, upon my oath, if I could 
 be Lord of the world, I would not ; as I know I could not do 
 my duty, and that for my omissions God will call me into 
 judgment. Whereas, this king is a greater lord than I ; he 
 has a larger kingdom and more territory ; and yet he is not 
 content, but chooses to meddle in matters which appertain to 
 me. But I have more than he has, and shall have more troops 
 whenever I please,” 
 
 Candid and magnanimous as this avowal appears, with 
 the exception of the last sentence, it is certain that at this 
 very time the King and Wolsey were on a very good under- 
 standing with France. Even Sebastian was only half deceived. 
 He could scarcely trust his senses, when he heard the King 
 talk so glibly of his preparations against France, and yet 
 when he looked abroad observed no bustle or note of them. 
 Only three days after this harangue, Clarencieux returned 
 from the French court, wdiere he had been sent by Henry, in 
 
 ^ Intended as a hint to him whom it concerned, that Henry did not intend 
 to compete for the Empire. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 0 
 
194 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 company with a French herald, bringing letters from Francis 
 announcing the birth of the Dauphin, much to the King’s 
 satisfaction.^ Yet long after this, when the terms of the | 
 negociation were known and almost settled on both sides, ; 
 Wolsey and the King continued to hold the same language to 
 the bewildered Venetian.^ On one occasion when Sebastian’s i 
 companion, the Spanish ambassador, employed his choicest ; 
 rhetoric in urging the crusade, Wolsey cut him short with the i 
 rejoinder, that this was no time to make preparations. Then | 
 turning to the Venetian, “ You are in a perilous position, but ' 
 more from the Christian than the true Turk.” Sebastian, j 
 however, began to guess that the whole was a scene enacted ; 
 for the behoof of the Spaniard. Nor was he far wrong in his ; 
 conjecture ; for when the Spaniard had left the room, Wolsey | 
 spoke of the French King in more decorous terms, saying, 'i 
 “ If I perceive the king of France means well to his Majesty, I 
 and will do justice, I will conclude this union. The king of | 
 France has now got a son, and the king of England a daughter. ! 
 I will unite them by these means.” Yet even after this he j 
 had not dropped the disguise entirely, for when Sebastian told | 
 him in the course of a subsequent interview, that Francis had I 
 always displayed great affection to Venice, Don’t be taken ; 
 by surprise,” replied Wolsey ; “ you Venetians have often been : 
 deceived by the kings of France.” Sebastian retorted : '‘Alius 
 fuit Ludovicus, alius Franciscus.” " Galli sunt oinnes ” (rogues 
 all), rejoined Wolsey. 
 
 Hitherto the negociations had only embraced the surrender 
 of Tournay, and the terms of a stricter alliance. The birth of | 
 the Dauphin, Feb. 28, 1518, seemed to open, as Wolsey had I 
 hinted, the prospect of a closer union between the two crowns. 
 The proceedings were inaugurated by a letter from Stephen 
 Poncher, the aged Bishop of Paris, expressing his anxiety to 
 further peace, as he had done in the days of Lewis XII., and , 
 reminding the Cardinal of a conversation which had j)assed ■ 
 between them at the arrangements for Tournay.^ He sent at I 
 the same time his secretary, John Gobelin,^ — a name since , 
 famous throughout the world, — to remind the Cardinal that 
 the Bishop had not forgotten the desire expressed by Wolsey, 
 when he ^ and De la Guiche were ambassadors in England; 
 
 ^ II. 4014. relation between them, if any, I have 
 
 2 II. 4047. not been able to discover. As artificers 
 
 ® April 8, 1518 : 4063. of this kind were highly favoured by 
 
 ^ Giles Gobelin, the celebrated the great ecclesiastics of the age, I 
 manufacturer, was contemporaneous have little doubt that both belonged 
 with this John j but what was the to the same family. 
 
1518.] 
 
 NEGOCIATIONS WITH FKANCE. 
 
 195 
 
 that if the Queen of France who was then pregnant, should 
 have a son, a marriage might be contracted between him and 
 the Princess Mary. The King his master was aware of 
 Wolsey’s desire to further the amity between the two crowns, 
 and hoped for his good offices in the matter. If agreeable to 
 the Cardinal, he requested the negociation might be secret 
 and speedy, and carried on under the pretext of an arrange- 
 ment for Tournay. Wolsey’s answer has not been preserved 
 in the English archives ; it may probably be found in France. 
 We learn, however, from a letter of the Bishop’s dated the 14th 
 of May,^ that he considered it so important as to submit it at 
 once to Francis ; and both concurred in the Cardinal’s sugges- 
 tion that the negociations should be carried on through some 
 trusty messenger, in preference to a more ostentatious 
 embassy. The management of the whole affair fell into the 
 hands of Wolsey. The King was of course privy to it ; but 
 when Dr. Clerk was despatched from the Cardinal to the 
 Court, then residing at Woodstock in consequence of the 
 plague, the King took him apart, and strictly enjoined him 
 that “in no wise should he make mention of London 
 matters ” (that is, the French treaty then negociated by 
 Wolsey alone in London) “before his lords.” These lords 
 were the Dukes of Buckingham and Suffolk, Lovell, and 
 Marny,^ all members of the Privy Council. It is probable that 
 Lovell was aware of these proceedings ; ^ — that Suffolk, who 
 always favoured the French interests, and had apparently 
 retired from court when its measures were hostile to Francis, 
 more than guessed what was going on, can scarcely be 
 doubted. For some reasons, not clearly explained, disagree- 
 ments had arisen between Suffolk and Wolsey,^ to which I 
 shall refer at greater length hereafter, occasioned apparently 
 by the fact that the Duke had employed his influence with the 
 French ambassadors to learn the secrets of their mission. At 
 least, it is not easy to put any other interpretation on Pace’s 
 words. He states ^ that after Suffolk received the sacrament, 
 on Easter day, he desired Pace to hear him speak, and said, 
 “ he had been accused as untrue to the king’s Grace, as well 
 in the accepting of a protection offered unto him by the French 
 king, as in putting the French orators, at their late being here 
 or afore their coming, in comfort of the restitution of Tourna^n” 
 This Suffolk denied. In a subsequent conversation with 
 
 ^ II. 1248, 1256, 1257, 1258, 1278, 
 1289, 1331, 4346. 
 
 5 April 7. No. 4061. 
 
 ^ II. 4166. 
 2 II. 4124. 
 ^ See ibid. 
 
196 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.H. 
 
 Pace/ he spoke strongly of his desire for reconciliation with 
 Wolsey, confirming with solemn oaths, in most humble 
 manner, the most faithful love and servitude that he intendeth 
 to use towards your Grace, during his life, in all manner of 
 things touching your honor.” 
 
 As both Kings were equally anxious for the match, it pro- 
 ceeded without further impediment.^ By the 9th of July,^ the 
 articles were drawn and concluded, and nothing now remained 
 but the formal acceptance of them by the high contracting 
 parties. Bonnivet, the admiral, was sent into England on a 
 more splendid mission than any which had yet left the shores 
 of France. He was attended by the Bishop of Paris, and a 
 numerous train ; thirty gentlemen, and fifty archers, with 
 wrestlers, musicians, and tennis players.^ The largeness of 
 the company occasioned some irregularity in its arrival. On 
 the 28th of August, the Bishop landed at Sandwich, and was 
 directed to wait at Gravesend, where a barge would be ready 
 for his reception. The rest of the embassy had not yet 
 started from Calais.^ The weather was stormy, and it was 
 not thought consistent with the King’s dignity to receive one 
 party without the other. Even then, if we may credit Gius- 
 tinian, all difficulties had not disappeared. He found the 
 Cardinal and the Bishop in close conclave. High words had 
 passed between them. The arrival of the Bishop unattended 
 had awakened the dormant suspicions of the English, that 
 after all Francis intended to deceive them ; and the extreme 
 secrecy observed even now byWolsey shows how cautiously he 
 guarded himself against such a contingency. The real points 
 in debate may be seen in Wolsey’s letter to the King.® It was 
 he who insisted on having the best of the bargain ; even then, at 
 the eleventh hour, he wrung additional concessions from the 
 French. One of these concessions had reference to Scotland ; 
 Albany should not be permitted to return thither ; a stipulation 
 which occasioned the King of France the greatest annoyance. 
 
 Sebastian was anxious to penetrate the mystery, and dis- 
 cover in what state the matter stood. He only half relished 
 
 1 July 11. No. 4308. 
 
 2 Whilst it was proceeding, Pace 
 mentions a curious argument he had 
 held with thte King, whether the 
 marriage of princes was regulated by 
 the same laws as that of private per- 
 sons ; the King holding the negative. 
 (4275.) It is worth observing how the 
 whole history of Henry VIII. con. 
 stantly impinges on this topic. 
 
 3 II. 4303. 
 
 * II. 4356. Their names are given 
 in No. 4409. 
 
 ^ II. App. p. 1540. 
 
 ® Ibid. See also the French re- 
 port, No. 4479. It appears that they 
 had taken alarm at the offer of Charles 
 to prevent the marriage and the sur- 
 render of Tournay. 
 
1518.] 
 
 THE FRENCH EMBASSY. 
 
 197 
 
 this close intimacy between France and England, which he 
 had formerly urged with vehemency when he saw there was 
 no hope of it ; now it was near its accomplishment, it seemed 
 to have no other effect than that of throwing himself and the 
 republic into the shade. He rode over to Eltham on the 18th 
 of September, under the plausible pretext of offering the King 
 his warmest congratulations on the peace and union between 
 the two crowns — (he could always succeed better with the King 
 than the Cardinal), — hoping in reality, at some unguarded 
 interval, to make himself “ master of the situation.” Unfor- 
 tunately for him, the King was going out for an airing, and 
 he learnt no more than that peace had not yet been concluded, 
 with a hint that many details still remained for discussion. 
 By no means baffled by this disappointment, the envoy hurried 
 away to Sir Thomas More, the newly made councillor, then 
 attending on the King as one of his secretaries. “1 adroitly 
 turned the conversation — (they are his own words) — to those 
 negociations concerning peace and marriage ; but More did not 
 open, and pretended not to know in what the difficulties con- 
 sisted, declaring that the Cardinal of York ‘ most solely,’ to use 
 his own expression, transacted this matter with the French 
 ambassadors, and when he has concluded then he calls in the 
 councillors, so that the king himself scarcely knows in what 
 state matters are.” ^ 
 
 All difficulties were arranged at last ; — the voice of dispute, 
 and the sharp dialectics of diplomatists striving to outwit each 
 other, were silent before the public rejoicings, as the gay trains 
 of ambassadors in strange and picturesque array passed along 
 the streets. On the 23rd of September the Lord Admiral made 
 his appearance with an enormous cavalcade, exceeding 600 
 horsemen, in splendid equipages, attended by 70 mules and 
 7 waggons loaded with baggage, to the immense delight of the 
 good citizens of London.^ Such an embassy had never been 
 seen within its walls before. They were met by the Lord 
 
 1 II. 4438. 
 
 ^ Hall, wlio is not to be exclusively 
 trusted, for his strong English anti- 
 pathies to everything foreign often 
 perverted his judgment, states that 
 the embassy was “ accompanied with 
 many noblemen and young fresh 
 gallants of the court of France to the 
 number of 80 and more ; and with 
 them came a great number of rascal 
 and pedlars and jewellers, and brought 
 over hats and caps and divers mer- 
 chandize uncustomed, aU under the 
 
 color of truss ery (baggage) of the 
 ambassadors.” Chron. p. 593. And. 
 again, after the ambassadors had been 
 lodged in the Tailors’ Hall, he adds : 
 “ When these lords were in their 
 lodgings, then the French hardware 
 men opened their wares, and made the 
 Tailors’ Hall like to the paunde of a 
 mart. At this doing many an English- 
 man grudged, but it availed not ” 
 (p. 594). Evil May Day was not yet out 
 of their thoughts, nor the hatred they 
 felt for foreign merchants and artificers. 
 
198 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENRY Till. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 Surrey, High Admiral, with 160 lords and gentlemen, on the 
 part of England, resolved not to he outdone by their French 
 rivals. The mounted procession numbered 1,400, half French 
 and half English, 30 of them being the Scotch guards of the 
 French King, accompanied by the same number of English 
 guards. On the 26th the King, attended by the legates, gave 
 them a public audience at Greenwich in a magnificent 
 assembly of all the nobles of the realm.^ The Bishop of Paris 
 delivered the oration. He enlarged on the blessings of peace, 
 and the happy prospects which now dawned upon Christendom 
 by the union of its two most powerful Sovereigns, concluding 
 his speech by demanding the hand of Princess Mary for the 
 Dauphin. The reply was delivered by Nicholas West, Bishop 
 of Ely, in much the same strain, and of course with the 
 expected conclusion. This done, the King “ got upon his legs, 
 and calling all the French gentlemen one by one, embraced 
 them very graciously.” Then he led the French ambassador 
 and Wolsey into an inner chamber, leaving the legate Cam- 
 peggio, who happened to be present with other ambassadors, 
 standing at the door. Sebastian is very much scandalized at 
 the little respect paid by England to the Holy See.^ 
 
 On the 3rd of October (Sunday) the King, with a train of 
 1,000 mounted gentlemen richly dressed, attended by the 
 legates and all the foreign ambassadors, went in procession to 
 St.. Paul’s. The mass was sung -by Wolsey, assisted by the 
 Bishops and mitred abbots. Pace preached the sermon. The 
 service ended, the King took his oath. “ The ceremonial,” 
 says Bonnivet, writing to Francis, and familiar with such 
 displays, ‘‘ was too magnificent for description. To-morrow 
 (the 5th of Oct.) they go to Greenwich ; and I,” he adds, 
 ‘‘ shall be in great glory for that day, as they desire me to 
 personate Mons. the Dauphin as fiance to Madame the Prin- 
 cess.” All were in high glee : feasting and rejoicing prevailed 
 everywhere. The same day the King dined with the Bishop 
 of London, returning afterwards to Durham House in the 
 Strand, from which he had started in the morning. 
 
 “ After dinner the Cardinal of York was followed by the 
 entire company to his own house (at Westminster), where 
 they sate down to a most sumptuous supper, the like of which, 
 
 ^ The Admiral (Bonnivet) was in — Hall, 
 a gown of cloth of silver raised, furred ^ heads of the treaty will be 
 
 with rich sables, and all his company found in II. 4468. The marriage was 
 almost were in a new-fashioned gar- to take place as soon as the Dauphin 
 naent called a shemew(chemay), which attained his 14th year. Mary would 
 W'as in effect a gown cut in the middle. then be 16. 
 
•I' 
 
 
rx.v.uIGri. A CALS A 
 
1518.] 
 
 BANQUET TO THE AMBASSADORS. 
 
 199 
 
 I fancy (says Giustinian), was never given by Cleopatra or 
 Caligula ; the whole banqueting hall being so decorated with 
 huge vases of gold and silver, that I fancied myself in the 
 tower of Chosroes, where that monarch caused divine honors 
 to be paid him. After supper a mummery, consisting of twelve 
 male and twelve female dancers, made their appearance in 
 the richest and most sumptuous array possible, being all 
 dressed alike. After performing certain dances in their own 
 fashion, they took off their visors. The two leaders were the 
 king and Queen Dowager of France,^ and all the others were 
 lords and ladies, who seated themselves apart from the tables, 
 and were served with countless dishes of confections and other 
 delicacies. After gratifying their palates, they gratified their 
 eyes and hands ; large bowls, filled with ducats and dice, were 
 placed on the tables for such as liked to gamble : shortly after 
 which the supper-tables were removed, when dancing recom- 
 menced, and lasted until midnight. 
 
 ‘'When the banquet was done, in came six minstrels 
 disguised, and after them followed three gentlemen in wide 
 and long gowns oQ crimson satin, every one having a cup of 
 gold in his hands ; the first cup was full of angels and royals, 
 the second had divers bales of dice, and the third had certain 
 pairs of cards. These gentlemen offered to play at mum- 
 chance, and when they had played the length of the first 
 board, then the minstrels blew up, and then entered into the 
 chamber twelve ladies disguised ; the first was the king him- 
 self and the French queen ; [the 2nd,] the duke of Suffolk and 
 the lady Daubney ; [3rd,] the lord Admiral and the lady 
 Guilford; [4th,] Sir Edw. Neville and Lady St. Leger ; [5th,] 
 Sir Henry Guilford and Mrs. (Miss) Walden ; [6th,] Captain 
 Emery and Mrs. Anne Carew; [7th,] Sir Giles Capel and lady 
 Elizabeth Carew ; [8th,] Nicholas Carew and Anne Browne ; 
 [9th,] Francis Brian and Elizabeth Blount ; [10th,] Henry 
 Norris and Anne Wotton ; [11th,] Francis Poyntz and Mary 
 Fyennes ; [12th,] Arthur Pole and Margaret Bruges. 
 
 “ On this company twelve knights attended in disguise, 
 and bearing torches. All these thirty-six persons were dis- 
 guised in one suit of fine green satin all over covered with 
 cloth of gold, under-tied together with laces of gold, and had 
 
 ^ Katharine was near her confine- the qneen dowager of France at the 
 ment at the time, and took no part admiral’s lodging ” (4544) ; — a dis- 
 iu these festivities. Envious people torted report of the supper mentioned 
 abroad reported that “ the king went in the text, 
 privily a mumming and dancing with. 
 
200 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. I 
 
 masking hoods on their heads : the ladies had tires made of , 
 braids of damask gold, with long hairs of white gold. All 
 these maskers danced at one time, and after they had danced , 
 
 they put off their visors, and then they were all known. The I 
 
 admiral and lords of France heartily thanked the king that it | 
 pleased him to visit them with such disport.”^ ■ 
 
 On the 5th of October the bridal ceremonies were celebrated | 
 at Greenwich. The King took his station in front of the | 
 throne ; on one side stood Mary of France and Queen | 
 Katharine ; in front of her mother was the Princess Mary, 
 just two years old, dressed in cloth of gold with a cajD of black 
 velvet on her head blazing with jewels. On the other side ■ 
 stood the two legates, Wolsey and Campeggio. After a speech 
 by Dr. Tunstal,^ the Princess was taken in arms ; the consent 
 of the King and Queen was demanded and granted; and i 
 Wolsey approached with a diminutive gold ring fitted to the ; 
 young lady’s finger, in which was a diamond of great value. | 
 The Lord Admiral, as proxy for the bridegroom, passed it over ^ 
 the second joint ; the bride was blessed, and mass performed i 
 by Wolsey, the King and the whole court attending it. These ' 
 ceremonials were followed by a series of entertainments of the tj 
 most costly description. The bill of fare for one day, the 7th ^ 
 of October, is preserved,^ and enables us to form some con- 
 ception of their magnificence. Among the solid viands were 
 3,000 loaves of bread, 3 tuns and 2 pipes of wine, 6 tuns and 
 7 hogsheads of ale, 10| carcases of beeves, 56 of muttons, 
 
 3 porkers, 4 fat hogs, 10 pigs, 2 doz. fat capons, 5 doz. and : 
 
 7 Kentish capons, 7 doz. cf a coarser kind, 27 doz. of 
 chickens, 2J doz. of pullets, 15 swans, 6 cranes, 32 doz. 
 pigeons, 54 doz. of larks, 5 doz. and 8 geese, 4 peacocks, 
 
 18 peachicks, 35 lbs. of dates, 26 lbs. of prunes, 31 lbs. of 
 small raisins, 32 lbs. of almonds, 4 lbs. of green ginger, 4 lbs. 
 of marmalade, 3,000 pears, 1,300 apples, 220 quinces, 5J lbs. 
 of long comfits, 28 lbs. of small, 164 gallons of cream, 16 
 gallons of milk, 6 gallons of frumenty, 7 gallons of curds, 
 
 367 dishes of butter. Among other items set down in the 
 King’s Book of Payments for the occasion is the sum of 
 
 ^ II. 4481. These details suggested person declared the meaning of the 
 to Shakspeare his scene of the masqiied pageant. 
 
 ball in Romeo and Juliet. At the next ^ Hall says that mass had been 
 
 page, in describing another pageant previously sung by Euthal, Bishop of 
 Hall (p. 595) says : “ Then entered Durham. Probably before that part 
 Report (Rumour), apparelled in crim- of the ceremonial took place at which 
 son satin full of tongues, sitting on a Mary was present, 
 flying horse with wings,” etc. This ^ pp_ 1514-5. 
 
1518.] 
 
 THE MAREIAGE CEREMONIES. 
 
 201 
 
 ! 1,000L advanced to the King for playing-money,” gambling ; 
 
 I 800Z. at one time in rewards to the French King’s gentlemen, 
 i l,829h 14s. in plate at another. The sum paid for an hall 
 I place ” Qiaut ijas ?) in St. Paul’s Church^ for the marriage of 
 I the Princess was 211. ; for ‘‘ the mummery held at my lord 
 j Cardinal’s place at Westminster, and for the disguising at 
 Greenwich, 230h 4s. 4ch” ^ The personal expenses of the King 
 I for that month were 9,606h 2s. M. as against 3,085Z. 6s. 10th 
 j of the previous year. The whole court during the celebration 
 1 was engrossed with one unvarying round of festivities. In 
 I the memory of the oldest inhabitant no occasion like it had 
 :j ever happened in England. When Mary was married to 
 Lewis XII. the rejoicings were confined exclusively to France. 
 
 ‘ This match, on the other hand, afforded Wolsey an oppor- 
 ! tunity for displaying his genius in splendid pomp and 
 ceremonial ; and his genius was as conspicuous in these 
 I minor things as in negociating a treaty for managing a 
 nation. To the King, still a young man, ardently fond of 
 personal display, and more fitted for it than any one of his 
 time by his strength, stature, and agility, his good looks and 
 : love of activity, such an occasion as this was not unwelcome. 
 Nothing more was needed to complete his happiness than a 
 personal interview with Francis. A few solemn triflers might 
 shake their heads at the thought of England being once more 
 tied up in reversion to a foreign crown, or complain with 
 grave faces that ‘‘these gentlemen of France were very 
 fresh ; ” ^ hut Katharine was still a young woman, the nation 
 was anxiously expecting the birth of a prince, and the solid 
 advantages of the union could not be denied. 
 
 The old councillors, who had hitherto stood aloof from the 
 German policy of Wolsey, openly applauded the match. Fox, 
 who is reported (on no better authority than that of Polydore 
 Vergil) to have withdrawn from the Council in disgust, wrote 
 a letter in terms unusually warm for so cold and reserved a 
 prelate : “It was the best deed,” he tells Wolsey, “ that ever 
 was done for England, and next to the king the praise of it is 
 due to you.” ^ How Katharine herself accepted this alliance 
 for her daughter, so contrary in all appearance to her family 
 predilections, to her stern Spanish piety and asceticism, we 
 have no evidence to show; hut if Wolsey stood high in the 
 
 ^ Although the marriage was cele- celebration of it at St. Paul’s. — Ed. 
 bratecl by proxy “in the Queen’s great ^ II. p. 1479. 
 chamber at Greenwich” (II. 4480), it ® Hall, 
 
 would appear that there was a public ^ II. 4540. 
 
202 
 
 THE REIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 opinion of his royal master before, this last stroke of policy 
 raised him higher still. No subject had ever been exalted to [ 
 such a dazzling height ; omnipotent with his own King, he j 
 had in effect the whole sovereignty of Europe at his beck. [ 
 Francis professed to be entirely guided by his councils ; [ 
 Charles, more distant and haughty, owed to his good offices [ 
 the safe possession of Spain, and his projects of the Imperial [ 
 crown depended on the continuance of Wolsey’s favour. As ! 
 for Leo X., Giustinian did not exceed the truth when he [ 
 stated that Wolsey “was seven times more in repute than if 
 he had been the Pope himself.” ^ In fact, whilst Leo by ! 
 turns trembled before Charles and Francis, and intrigued | 
 against both to deliver himself from their oppressive patronage, | 
 Wolsey, independent of either, had it in his power to make | 
 both feel keenly the consequences of his friendship or resent- i 
 ment. The independence of the Sovereign Pontiff was but a 
 shadow ; if he got rid of one 'dictator, it was only to fall under 
 the more galling tyranny of another. The two rivals for 
 supremacy in Italy were as the upper and the nether mill- 
 stone, grinding themselves when they ceased to grind the Pope. 
 
 The embassy from France was followed by an embassy i 
 from England in return. It consisted of the Earl of Worcester, ; 
 West, Bishop of Ely, Dokwra, Prior of St. John’s, and Sir i 
 Nicholas Vaux.^ They reached Dover on the 13th of November, 
 crossed to Calais the next day (Sunday), but, owing to a : 
 storm, had the misfortune to leave part of their train and 
 their horses behind. On the 27th they left for Boulogne, 
 where they were received “in great triumph with shooting of 
 guns,” ^ and were lodged in the castle. On the 29th they were 
 attended by La Fayette to Montreuil ; thence to Abbeville on 
 the 1st of December.^ Here the mayor and merchants of the 
 town, after a solemn reception, presented them with three 
 puncheons of wine. The Bishop entertained them at his 
 father’s house ; “ where the old father, a very impotent old 
 man, having no more use of reason than a child, met them in 
 his gallery, and made them a right good supper.” On the 
 3rd to Amiens ; where, being Friday, the burgesses offered 
 them “ great carps, great pikes, trouts, barbels, crevisses, 
 great eels,^ and four puncheons of wine.” On Sunday they 
 divided their company for straitness of lodging, agreeing to 
 meet at Senlis on Tuesday.^ They reached St. Denys on the 
 
 ^ Brown’s Four Tears at the Court ^ II. 4163. 
 of Henry VIIL, ii. 314. ^ II. 4638. 
 
 ® 11.4593. ^ At this place theywrote to Wolsey 
 
par 3Ia(^’'ot 
 

 '#1 
 
1518.] 
 
 ENGLISH EMBASSY TO FRANCE. 
 
 203 
 
 9th ; ^ here the abbot sent them right good plenty of wine ; ” 
 and next day made them '' a right good feast ; ” — for their 
 new continental friends and allies seem to have been quite 
 alive to the national infirmity. A league from Paris they 
 were met by the Bishop, and 100 gentlemen of the King’s 
 house. Then came the provost with “the merchants,” and 
 the courtiers in the faubourgs. As they passed along they 
 were met by “ divers gentlemen masked, some of whom rode 
 amongst us, and looked upon every man as they rode, amongst 
 whom we surely suppose the king himself was.” Their 
 audience was appointed on Sunday the 12th, at the palace ; 
 “where, in a very great chamber, appointed with blue 
 hangings full of fleurs-de-lis, with the floor covered with the 
 same,^ and seats prepared round for the noblemen, as it was 
 within your realm,^ closed round about with rails, the king 
 himself sate in a chair raised four steps from the ground, 
 under a rich cloth of estate, with a pall of cloth of gold, and a 
 cushion of the same under his feet.”^ The steps of the dais 
 were covered with violet-coloured velvet powdered with fleurs- 
 de-lis. Francis was dressed in a robe of cloth of silver, 
 embroidered with flowers, and lined with herons’ feathers. 
 His doublet was cloth of gold. But on his head he wore only 
 his ordinary cloth cap. On his right was the Eoman legate, 
 seated under a gold canopy, then the King of Navarre, with 
 the Dukes of Alen^on, Bourbon, and others ; on the left, four 
 Cardinals, the pajpal nuncio, and ambassadors, the Chevalier 
 Duprat, and a crowd of Bishops, 
 
 After all were duly seated, the English ambassadors made 
 their appearance. They wwe conducted through the press by 
 200 gentlemen armed with battle-axes.^ Worcester was 
 dressed in a vest of crimson satin lined with sables, Vaux in 
 
 to inquire whether the gentlemen that 
 be not appointed to go with my Lord 
 of Ely to see the Dauphin are to wait 
 upon my Lord Chamberlain (Wor= 
 cester), or take the straight way home. 
 They had already written on the 28th 
 of November to say, ‘‘ that the Dauphin 
 was at Blois in good health.” This is 
 explained by a story in Hall, ex- 
 aggerated, no doubt, and coloured by 
 his peculiar prejudices : “ After divers 
 feasts, jousts, and banquets made to 
 the English ambassadors, the Bishop 
 of Ely, with Sir Thomas Boleyn and 
 Sir Richard Weston, were sent by the 
 French king to Coniac to see the 
 Dolphyn, where they were well re- 
 
 ceived, and to them was showed a fair 
 young child ; and when they had seen 
 him they deiDarted. The fame went 
 that the French king at this time had 
 no son, but that this was but a color 
 of the French king.” — Chron. p. 596. 
 
 1 II. 4652, 4661. 
 
 2 Blue tiles, such as are now seen 
 in the palace at Blois. 
 
 3 The oversight is curious, for the 
 letter was addressed to Wolsey. 
 
 4 II. 4661. 
 
 5 The readers of Shakspeare’s 
 Henry VIII. will remember the hubbub 
 at the christening of the princess 
 Elizabeth, and the rough usage of the 
 crowd. 
 
204 THE REIGN OF HENRY YIII. [A.D. I 
 
 i 
 
 cloth of gold lined with the same, the Bishop of Ely in his | 
 rochet, the Lord of St. John in black satin. Then came i 
 twenty English gentlemen, superbly dressed in cloth of gold, j 
 with pendants in their bonnets, and massive gold chains | 
 round their necks and waists, studded with jewels. As they j 
 arrived at the middle of the platform, Francis descended from | 
 his seat, embraced them, and ordered them to be seated. [ 
 Then West rose to speak, of course in Latin, the sole medium | 
 of communication on these occasions, and delivered himself ! 
 not merely “with good emphasis and discretion,” but, if Hall ! 
 may be trusted, “with such a bold spirit that the Frenchmen | 
 much praised his audacity.”^ At the conclusion of the i 
 ceremony, the King rose, descended from his throne, and j 
 embraced all the English gentlemen, an acknowledgment of | 
 a similar compliment paid to the French gentlemen at Green- i 
 wich. That done, he withdrew to another chamber, accom- 
 panied by Worcester. To the Earl he expressed his great j 
 satisfaction at the peace ; — declared that “ from henceforth he i 
 would repute himself and his subjects as Englishmen, and | 
 the king’s Grace, our master and his subjects, as Frenchmen; | 
 and that it might so appear, he would endeavour himself to , 
 learn English.” When Worcester presented his letters, partly ■ 
 written with the King’s hand, Francis raised them to his lips 
 with becoming reverence, read them, and put them in his 
 bosom, saying “ that he had all the letters that ever his j 
 Grace had sent him in his own custody and keeping, and he 
 would in like manner keep these.” France had some right to 
 be proud of the best-bred gentleman in Europe. 
 
 On Tuesday, the 14th, the embassy proceeded to Notre 
 Dame, where the Scotch guard “ kept the room.” Mass 
 done, the legate advanced to the high altar, and gave a 
 solemn benediction with plenary indulgence. Then the King 
 advanced from his traverse, followed by the English commis- 
 sioners. A cardinal held the book, the legate standing 
 before him ; whilst Francis signed the oath with his own 
 hand. “ Sire, ye have done a noble act to-day,” said the 
 legate. ‘‘By my faith,” replied the King, “I have done it 
 with a good heart and good will.” Then all went to dinner 
 with the Bishop of Paris, “ who gave them a . stately banquet 
 
 ^ What occasion there could be for mastery of the Latin tongue, to speak 
 “ audacity,” except that of delivering before men, some of whom, like the 
 a Latin oration before a critical Cardinal Legate, Bibiena, then present, 
 audience, I do not perceive. If that were the correspondents of Bembo, 
 is whab Hall meant, it did require and gloried in the coveted title of 
 not only considerable confidence, but Ciceroniani, 
 
1518.] 
 
 ENGLISH EMBASSY TO FRANCE. 
 
 205 
 
 served solely on gold plate ; ” after dinner to the Duke of 
 Bourbon’s to a supper, equally costly. The whole was con- 
 cluded with an entertainment on the 22nd, at the Bastille, ‘‘ a 
 3 ] small fortress surrounded by very high walls, turrets, and a 
 moat, constructed of yore as a bulwark to the city.” It was 
 now near mid-winter, and the weather stormy and rainy. But 
 the French, never at a loss where taste and ingenuity are 
 required, were as distinguished in displays of this kind then 
 as they are now.^ The inner courtyard of the Bastille was 
 carefully laid over with smooth timber, and covered with an 
 awning of blue canvas, setting weather and rain at defiance. 
 The canvas was painted blue, to represent the heavens, and 
 powdered with gilt stars and planets ; the galleries were 
 festooned with alternate strips of white and tawny, the royal 
 colours. The floor was carpeted in the same manner. From 
 the centre hung an immense chandelier, throwing such a 
 marvellous blaze of light on the starry ceiling as to rival the 
 sun.” A raised platform ran along the whole length of the 
 apartment, carpeted like the hall, with benches all round, 
 covered with gold brocade. Over-arching the platform was a 
 latticed bower of box, ivy, and evergreens, from which roses 
 and other flowers trailed. The King took his seat at the 
 table on a high dais, covered with cloth of gold, placing the 
 Duchess of Alencon on his left, and next her the Bishop of 
 Ely. On his right was the papal legate, with the beautiful 
 Countess of Borromeo, daughter of Galeazzo Visconti ; next 
 her the Earl of Worcester, with noblemen and ladies 
 alternately. The gentlemen of the embassy dined at tables 
 on the floor below the platform. Dancing commenced to the 
 sound of trumpets and fifes, and lasted until nine, when 
 supper was served on gold and silver dishes, each course 
 being announced by a flourish of trumpets. The supper 
 ended, different companies of maskers successively appeared 
 in quaint costume ; and last of all the King, dressed in a long 
 close-fitting vest of white satin, embroidered with gold, in- 
 tended to represent Christ’s robe, with compasses and dials, 
 the meaning of which puzzled the spectators. Then dancing 
 recommenced, and the whole was finished by ladies handing 
 round to all the company confections and bon-bons on silver 
 dishes. The entertainment is said to have cost the King of 
 France more than 450,000 crowns.^ 
 
 ^ II. 4674. Rawdon Brown’s curious Appendix to 
 
 ^ Those who wish to pursue these the despatches of Giustinian. 
 details any further may consult Mr. 
 
206 
 
 THE KEIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 1518. 
 
 The embassy returned. France was now the ally of 
 England, but for that alliance it had made great concessions 
 and sacrifices. It had purchased its own property from 
 England at a heavy cost. It had paid dearly for a possession 
 which England would not have retained at any price. It had 
 agreed to desist from all interference in the affairs of Scotland, 
 its most steady and ancient ally. The wings of its ambition 
 were clipped. So bitter, and apparently so unpopular, had 
 the military career of Francis proved to many of his subjects, 
 that they welcomed the friendship of England with every 
 demonstration of delight. The wheel had turned round, and 
 Wolsey had fulfilled his promise. He had united the two 
 nations. Once more England stood arbiter among the 
 sovereigns of Europe ; — without a blow ; by the mere force 
 of Wolsey ’s policy. His triumph was complete ; his enemies 
 had not a word to say. 
 
( 207 ) 
 
 CHAPTEE VIL 
 
 SCOTCH AFFAIRSe 
 
 In the last four chapters we have traced at some length the 
 story of our diplomatic relations with foreign Powers at a 
 period of special interest in continental history. The internal 
 1 1 policy of our own country during the same period is, with one 
 exception, of much less interest and importance. That excep- 
 tion relates to the flight of Queen Margaret from Scotland, 
 and her refuge in England, told in the State papers with a 
 minuteness that forms a striking contrast to the meagre and 
 unsatisfactory narrative of Scotch historians in general. To 
 follow the documents it will be necessary for the reader to 
 bear in mind the following events. 
 
 By the death of the accomplished Alexander Stuart ^ on 
 the field of Flodden, the metropolitan see of St. Andrew’s fell 
 vacant. Three competitors started up for the vacancy: 
 Gawin Douglas, the translator of Virgil, supported by the 
 influence of England ; John Hepburn, Prior of St. Andrew’s ; 
 and Andrew Forman, Bishop of Murray, whose name is of 
 frequent occurrence in the Scotch diplomatic correspondence. 
 The Bishop of Murray was higher in favour than either of his 
 rivals at the Papal and the French courts. Julius II. had 
 promised him a cardinalate.^ Lewis XII. had created him 
 Archbishop of Bourges, and employed him as his mediator 
 with the Pope, The claims of Hepburn were, in the first 
 instance, espoused by Alexander Hume, Chamberlain of 
 Scotland: subsequently Hume took part with Forman, and 
 thus drew down upon himself the resentment of Hepburn. 
 Even before the death of James IV. fierce dissensions had 
 broken out among the hierarchy of that country ; now, after 
 their preponderance had been greatly augmented by the fatal 
 
 ^ He was tlie pupil of Erasmus, read without holding his book to the 
 who has embalmed his memory in very end of his nose. What other 
 some of the most charming j^assages fate could he expect in such a melee 
 of his Adagia. Erasmus tells us he as that at Flodden ? 
 was so near-sighted that he could not ^ II. V76, 
 
208 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENEY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. I 
 
 destruction of the nobility at Flodden and the minority of ■ 
 James V., the power and rights of the Crown were set at : 
 defiance. The Church presented a scene of rapine and dis- 
 order darker even than the rest of that dark kingdom. ; 
 ‘‘Every man takes up abbacies that may. . . . They tarry! 
 not quhilk benefices be vacant ; they take them or {i.e. before) S 
 they fall ; for they tyne (lose) the virtue if they touch ground ” — ' 
 is the quaint and sarcastic remark of Inglis, Margaret’s | 
 secretary.^ i 
 
 Such was the state of things when Margaret, four months i 
 after the birth of her posthumous son,^ and within a year of ' 
 the death of James IV., ^ married her second husband, Archi- ' 
 bald Douglas, Earl of Angus, a handsome young man, — I 
 “ vehementi quodam animi impetu concitata,” remarks Leslie, 
 — a remark which characterized the whole family in these ; 
 affairs. She lost by her marriage the little remains of authority 
 she had nominally retained over her proud and impetuous I 
 subjects ; — a result to which she herself contributed by ad- 
 vancing the interests of her husband’s relatives. James Beton, ^ 
 Archbishop of Glasgow, exasperated at the loss of the chancel- :: 
 lorship, threw himself immediately into opposition, and marched I 
 upon Edinburgh. Margaret fled with Angus to Stirling. ' 
 She was in great distress, — she had pawned her jewels, and i 
 lost her friends. Whether Henry ever contemplated making 
 an offer of her hand during her widowhood to Lewis XII., as 
 Dacre proposed, we have no means of deciding. It is not 
 unlikely. When she was in England Wolsey was heard to 
 
 1 II. 50. 
 
 ^ This son was born April 30, 1514. 
 Her troubles had already begun, and 
 were not entirely consequent upon her 
 second marriage, as some have repre- 
 sented. This is clear from Lord 
 D acre’s letter to Henry VIII. (1. 4951.) 
 He writes that in the parliament held 
 in April, it had been enacted, that all 
 fortresses in Scotland should be de- 
 livered to the three estates, — a blow 
 apparently aimed at Stirling ; — that a 
 bill for Albany’s recall had been read, 
 but was not concluded. The Scotch 
 had already been in correspondence 
 with the Duke. Then, adds Dacre, in 
 the cold, grim, and granite policy of 
 the times : “ The queen has taken her 
 chamber in Stirling Castle ; if the 
 French king (Lewis XII.) please to 
 marry her he can have her.” The 
 letter is dated April 8. Anne of 
 Brittany died January 9 before. Yet 
 
 this hard man, who burnt villages on 
 the borders by the score, and reckoned 
 up the death or imprisonment of 
 hundreds of poor inhabitants with as 
 little compunction as if they had been 
 so many sheep or oxen, had a soft and 
 romantic spot in his heart. In a letter 
 to Wolsey about a certain Lady 
 Pickering, whom he wished to marry, 
 he says : “ She has only 40L a year, 
 her goods are of little value, her 
 father’s lands will descend to her 
 children” (she was a widow). “The 
 letter I wrote unto your Grace con- : 
 cerning her was more for love than 
 any profit ; and that she is young, | 
 and that I have but one son, and j 
 am desirous to have more, so it will 
 stand with the pleasure of God.” II. I 
 4541. I 
 
 ® She married Angus, August 6, 
 1514. 
 
! 
 
 j 1514-15.] QUEEN MAEGAEET’S DIFFICULTIES. 209 
 
 ] 
 
 j say “ that he would have resigned the Cardinal’s hat, or lost 
 I a finger of his right hand, to have married her to the Emperor 
 ' Maximilian.” ^ Some sort of argument was in fact set up 
 for that purpose. Scotland, it was pretended, was under an 
 I interdict at the time of her marriage, and so her union with 
 Angus was null and void.^ But in Margaret, as in Mary, 
 i Henry found a will as imperious as his own in matters of the 
 ; heart. Where these Tudors set their affections there they 
 I gave their hands, regardless of all considerations but one ; 
 il and from their resolutions, once taken, nothing could divert 
 them. In this state of uncertainty she received a letter from 
 Henry on the 22nd of November.^ She was then at war with 
 j her refractory subjects. Hepburn had laid siege to the castle 
 |i of St. Andrew’s ; she herself was daily expecting to be attacked 
 ' ' in Stirling castle. Hume, the Chamberlain, 'Hhe post of this 
 j conspiration,” usurped all authority, and treated her and her 
 adherents as rebels. She desired Henry to send an army into 
 ' Scotland, and keep him well employed; from the rest she 
 n could defend herself till aid came from England. She begs 
 |f to hear from her brother every month: “and gif my party 
 adversary counterfeits ony letters in my name, or gif they 
 
 I j compel me to write to you for concord, the subscription shall 
 j be but thus : Margaret R., na mare.” ^ That would show she 
 ;i had written under compulsion. 
 
 iii The expected aid did not come ; she was taken a few days 
 after from Stirling to Edinburgh by her enemies, Arran and 
 Il the Chamberlain ; escaped with Angus on the 21st of Novem- 
 l her ; ^ threw herself again into Stirling, and was closely 
 1; besieged by the Prior of St. Andrew’s. So matters stood at 
 j;' the commencement of 1515. Both parties were now anxiously 
 3 expecting the arrival of Albany. It had been part of the 
 ]' purpose of Suffolk and his fellows, in their embassy of con- 
 : gratulation, to prevent, if possible, the Duke from receiving 
 
 I aid from France. In this they were unsuccessful. The design 
 I of Suffolk to marry the French Queen placed him at once in 
 I' a false position at the French court, and tied his hands, 
 l’ Francis and his ministers professed utter ignorance of any 
 [ I design upon the part of Albany to cross the sea.® There was 
 r no means of meeting such an allegation. The English am- 
 . bassadors, however well convinced of the fact, had only 
 : | uncertain rumours to oppose. The Duke’s stej)s were carefully 
 
 ^ II. 1863. * Instead of, Your loving sister, 
 
 II. 1845. Margaret R. 
 
 i 3 5014. 5 II. 5041. 
 
 1 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 « II. 105. 
 P 
 
210 
 
 THE KEIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 dogged by English spies ; the port from which he was to sail 
 well known ; and English vessels hovered about the passage 
 to intercej)t him.^ Francis himself, more young and confident 
 than his ministers, made no concealment of his intentions. 
 When Suffolk and the rest proposed to conclude the peace 
 between the two crowns on condition that Francis should 
 agree by a secret article not to send Albany to Scotland, he 
 proudly refused. The altercation (it was little less) lasted 
 two hours, but the King’s resolution remained unshaken. He 
 had promised the Scots to send Albany, and he could not now 
 retract his promise with honour. They urged, ‘‘ he was the 
 most suspect person that could be sent, for he not only pre- 
 tended to the crown of Scotland, but had been invited by their 
 master’s enemies.” The only satisfaction they could obtain 
 was a promise that Francis would undertake that the Duke 
 should do no injury to England ; and if he failed to appease 
 the disturbances in three or four months, he should be recalled. 
 The promise to send Albany, the King urged, had been made 
 to the Scots by Lewis XII., and therefore his successor was 
 bound to perform it.^ 
 
 His ministers, more wary, and conscious of the fact that 
 Henry was already actively interposing in the affairs of 
 Scotland, offered to stop Albany for three months, if Henry 
 in the meantime would engage to give no aid to his sister, but 
 allow both parties in Scotland to settle their differences by 
 themselves. The English replied : They had no authority to 
 make such an agreement, and would not make it if they had ; 
 but if Francis sent the Duke to aid one party, their master 
 ‘‘would send another as big as he” to help his sister. The 
 French said : England has already prepared ships which are 
 now cruising on the coast ; and as they cannot be intended 
 against France, whose alliance England is now seeking, they 
 must be intended against Scotland. The ambassadors replied, 
 about that matter they knew nothing.^ 
 
 These remarks will explain a number of difficulties which 
 have hitherto puzzled English and Scotch historians. It has 
 appeared strange that in so critical a period Henry should 
 have rendered such ineffectual aid to Margaret. Her mes- 
 sengers were all this time in England urging, in the strongest 
 terms, a speedy and effective demonstration. That seemed 
 the wisest policy. If it were only known that' England was 
 making preparations to advance to Margaret’s relief, it would 
 1 II. 287. II. 296. 3 II. 304. 
 
ARRIVAL OF ALBANY. 
 
 211 
 
 1 
 
 I 
 
 j 1515.] 
 
 inspire her friends with confidence, and intimidate her foes. 
 Neither the Queen’s life nor her husband’s was safe in a 
 country abandoned to furious civil strife, and never nice in 
 shedding royal blood. In January, Hamilton set an ambush 
 of 600 men to slay Angus as he was coming from Glasgow. 
 Lennox had pounced upon Dumbarton. Every day the Queen 
 expected to be deprived of her children. She was surrounded 
 by spies on all sides. “ God send,” she Avrites to her brother, 
 j “I w^ere such a woman as might go with my bairns in mine 
 
 arm, I trow I should not be long fra you.” It was the same 
 
 with all classes, high or low. As might be expected, when 
 I the chiefs quarrelled, every Scotchman, as a matter of course, 
 j with his keen appetite and canine sagacity for strife, was only 
 
 I too ready to share in the fray. Ye know the use (fashion) 
 
 j of this country,” says Sir James Inglis^ more than three 
 
 I hundred years ago ; ‘‘ every man speaks of what he will with- 
 
 , out blame. There is na slander punished ■; the man hath ma 
 1 words na (than) the master, and will not be content except he 
 j ken his master’s counsel. There is na order among us.” 
 '! Yet no help came. 
 
 : Equally, on the other side, Albany’s inexplicable delay 
 
 I filled his followers with fear and perplexity. He did not 
 
 I leave St. Malo, where he had been hovering about for a 
 
 I month, watching the white sails of the English cruisers, until 
 the 18th of May. The exact day of his disembarkation is not 
 i known ; it Avas sedulously concealed. His first letter AA^as 
 ! addressed to Francis I., from Glasgow, May 22nd, ^ doubtless 
 
 ; from the house of his great ally the Archbishop there. But 
 
 i by that time Francis was out of ear-shot of English remon- 
 
 I strances. He had started on his expedition for Milan, and 
 
 I cared not to have his whereabouts knoAvn. Albany, at his 
 
 arrival, threw himself into the arms of Hepburn, Margaret’s 
 I most implacable enemy. The fiery pride of Hume w-as 
 offended at this injudicious preference of his rival. He 
 veered round to the Queen’s party ; and Murray ]'ecame 
 indifferent. 
 
 By the comprehension of Scotland in the treaty wdth 
 France, Henry was precluded from all overt acts of aggression 
 on the kingdom of his nephew. Whatever was to be done, 
 
 I especially against Albany, could only be done by intrigues 
 
 I with Margaret, or continual raids upon the borders. For the 
 
 I latter some pretext was never long wanting. A hard, stern 
 I 1 n. 50. ^ n- 494. 
 
 ;l 
 
212 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 people, reckless of life — for property they had none, — 
 familiarized from their cradles with bloodshed and robbery, 
 nurtured among burning homesteads and smoking ricks — ■ 
 accustomed to look out on every bright moonlit night in the 
 summer for the rapid moss-trooper swooping down with his 
 black gangs on any spot recovered by a greener vegetation 
 from the dreary waste — from sire to son inheriting blood 
 which cried aloud for vengeance and throbbed in their veins 
 for the wrongs of country and kinsmen, — they never waited 
 to consider how far they might be violating the laws of 
 treaties, or what amount of provocation justified retaliation. 
 The implacable feuds of the two people had drawn a band of 
 desolation of many miles in extent, from Berwick to Carlisle 
 — so dreary, so desolate, that centuries of peaceful occupation 
 have not yet sutficed entirely to obliterate its traces. Chief of 
 the English Marches was Thomas Lord Dacre, sometimes 
 called Lord Dacre of the North ; fierce, imperious, and in- 
 defatigable ; not so fiery as Hotspur, but one to whom might 
 he applied, more truly than to Hotspur himself, the ex- 
 aggerated expression of Prince Henry, — one that “would kill 
 some six or seven dozen of Scots at a breakfast, wash his 
 hands, and say to his wife : ^ Fie upon this quiet life, I want 
 work.’ ” But Dacre, unlike Hotspur, was a man of great 
 policy, habituated to all those arts of disguise and surprise 
 which had been fostered by his border life. He was the 
 person now appointed to carry out the designs of Henry 
 against Scotland ; — an everlasting thorn to prick the sides of 
 Albany, and keep him in perpetual alarm. 
 
 His first move was to disengage Hume, the Chamberlain, 
 still further from his ancient friends, and set him up as a 
 rival to the duke.^ This was not difficult. Albany had been 
 received at Edinburgh with acclamations. No better proof 
 can be given of his great popularity than the unusual efforts 
 made by Henry to detain him in France. At the meeting of 
 the Scotch Parliament on the 12th of July, the sword was 
 borne before him by the Earl of Arran, without any regard to 
 Margaret ; a coronet was set upon his head by Angus and 
 Argyle, and he was nominated Protector until the King 
 reached the age of eighteen. Dacre had taken the precaution 
 to despatch his brother Sir Christopher, like another invisible 
 Ate, to stir the blood of the disaffected lords, and prompt the 
 neutrals to disaffection. It required very little art to crush 
 
 1 II. 779. 
 
1515.] MAEGAKET BESIEGED IN STIRLING. 213 
 
 the clusters of "‘riiie hate, like a wine;” or to note the 
 way — 
 
 ‘ ‘ It worked while each grew drunk : ’ 
 
 but one art — and that w^as, not to seem to work in behalf of 
 England, which the Scotch feared, hated, and suspected. 
 Albany, who had little capacity for ruling, began unwisely by 
 revenging past injuries, and striking at the adherents of 
 Margaret. Lord Drummond, the grandfather of Angus, was 
 sent to Blackness for maltreating a herald of Albany’s a year 
 before. Gawin Douglas was committed to the sea tower of 
 St. Andrew’s, for his English predilections. Eight lords were 
 appointed to have the supervision of the young King, and 
 four of them were sent to Margaret with an intimation to 
 select three. Margaret was then at Stirling. On hearing of 
 their approach she took the young King by the hand, then a 
 child of two years old, and with her nurse carrying the other 
 Prince in her arms, posted herself in the gateway of the castle 
 attended by Angus, and resolutely waited the coming of the 
 lords. The moment they wwe seen approaching within three 
 yards of the gate, she commanded them to stand and deliver 
 their message. They replied they had brought her a com- 
 mission to deliver into their hands the King and his brother. 
 At the instant the portcullis dropped ; and Margaret refused 
 all further parley, declaring that the castle was her own, and 
 that by the will of her husband she was the guardian of his 
 children. On the fifth day she offered to commit them to the 
 care of three lords of her own nomination ; but her proposition 
 was refused, and Albany resolved to make himself master of 
 the fortress. For this purpose he employed the services of 
 her husband, Angus ! ^ 
 
 The possession of the two Princes was of the utmost 
 importance ; and Albany was determined not to be baffled. 
 Stirling was strictly besieged by Lennox, Borthwick, Bothwell, 
 and others, hereditary enemies of the Douglas, Angus, who 
 had withdrawn from Stirling, was commanded on his allegiance 
 to return, and assist in “ keeping victuals from the Queen and 
 her party.” This gratuitous cruelty and impolitic measure of 
 the Duke gave Dacre the opportunity he desired. He arranged 
 for Angus and the Chamberlain to ride to Stirling wdth 60 horse 
 and carry off the two Princes. They managed to speak with 
 Margaret, and smuggle in George Douglas, the Earl’s brother. 
 Unfortunately sixteen of the part}^ w^ere lost as they en- 
 
 1 II. 779, 783. 
 
214 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 deavoured to steal away unperceived. But Bacre had accom- 
 plished one part of his purpose : — an irreconcilable feud 
 sprung up between Albany and the Chamberlain. 
 
 On Saturday, 4th of August, Albany appeared before 
 Stirling, accompanied with 7,000 men and a park of artillery : 
 among the number was the celebrated Mons Meg, now laid up 
 in honourable inactivity in the castle at Edinburgh. It had 
 been arranged by Margaret and her husband, that in the 
 event of the Duke assaulting the castle, Margaret should take 
 the young King, and, placing him on the ramparts^ in sight 
 of the invaders, with a crown on his head and a sceptre in his 
 hand, testify by this act that the war was directed against the 
 King’s own person. The formidable nature of Albany’s 
 preparation drove this and all thoughts of resistance out of 
 the heads of the besieged. George Douglas with the rest 
 fled, leaving Margaret and the young Princes to their fate. 
 In her distress she had no alternative except to surrender. 
 She put the keys of the fortress into the young King’s hands, 
 and, descending with him to the gate, delivered them to the 
 keeping of the Duke; beseeching the regent, at the same 
 time, to show favour to her children and her husband.^ She 
 was remanded to the castle, and closely watched by Albany’s 
 adherents. 
 
 So far Dacre had succeeded above his expectations in 
 exasperating Margaret against the regent, and rendering all 
 sincere reconciliation between them impossible. But the two 
 Princes had escaped the snare. His next device was to entice 
 Albany to invade England, and thus by breaking the com- 
 prehension give Henry a just pretext for sending an army 
 into Scotland. This was not easy; it might, however, be 
 accomplished. By sheltering the disaffected nobles in the 
 English marches, Albany might be provoked to make a 
 sudden attempt to cross the borders and secure their persons,^ 
 No device seemed more available for that purpose than the 
 feud between Albany and the Chamberlain; and as Plume 
 had been warden of the marches for Scotland, this plan 
 seemed the most feasible. If attacked by Albany he could 
 
 ^ II. 783. 2 II. 788. that policy ; and how unscrupulonsly 
 
 ® This is only one specimen of the they pursued it — goaded on, as Dacre 
 systematic policy pursued by the was, by dread of being thought to do 
 Tudors towards Scotland and its rulers. his work incompletely, and not un- 
 The conduct of Dacre is but one in- frequently stimulated by personal and 
 stance of many which might be pro- national hatred of the Scotch. Of 
 duced to show how thoroughly such that hatred this age happily can form 
 ministers entered into the spirit of no conception. 
 
1515.] 
 
 DACEE’S INTEIGUES. 
 
 215 
 
 readily retreat into the English borders; if he required 
 ammunition, nothing was easier than to send it him from 
 Berwick, or allow him to take it by a feint. Such was Caere’s 
 suggestion ; and it seems to have been acted on ; ^ although it 
 sometimes happened that those who had to carry out these 
 plans did not understand them, and thought that Caere was 
 intriguing with Albany. Hume had a stronghold on the 
 borders, named Fast Castle, which appeared admirably 
 adapted to the plot. It was victualled by Hume at the 
 suggestion of Caere, meaning to do the Cuke all the 
 annoyance he could, and take refuge in England when he 
 could hold it no longer.”^ Alarmed at these intentions, 
 Albany commanded Arran and Lennox to dislodge him. At 
 the suggestion, doubtless, of Caere, Hume made a show of 
 submission, and offered it to Albany if he would come and 
 take it with a small band. On his appearing before the walls 
 I Lady Hume refused to deliver it,^ By Caere’s advice it was 
 
 ! delivered at last to Lord Fleming, but in so ruinous a con- 
 
 I dition as to render its possession worthless.^ Hume had set 
 
 j it on fire, taken away the iron gates, unroofed all the houses 
 
 j and chambers, left ‘‘no thakke ” or covering over any part, 
 
 |; except only a vault,^ where Fleming lay with a small company, 
 
 j Cissatisfied even with this destruction, Hume retook the 
 || castle, drove out Fleming, levelled the walls to the ground, 
 
 j and, in the expressive language of the day,® “ dammed up the 
 
 j well for evermore.” Caere might well boast he had got the 
 
 i Chamberlain into his power, and there was no probability of 
 
 j his reconciliation with the Cuke. “It is the interest of the 
 
 j Chamberlain to be true,” he wrote to Sir Anthony Ughtred, 
 
 i captain of Berwick, who was mystified with this crooked 
 
 j policy; “I am aware of his movements, and cannot be 
 
 3 beguiled.”'^ In his desire for revenge, Hume, like the horse 
 
 i in the fable, had taken a new and rougher rider on his back. 
 
 Six months before he was the most powerful noble in Scotland, 
 
 ; now a houseless man and an exile. The arts of Caere were 
 prospering. He had prepared a bed of thorns for Albany. 
 
 ■ He was trailing round the regent an inextricable web of 
 ' intrigue and faction, and was enchanted at the prospect. 
 
 I return to Margaret, whom, we left a prisoner, strictly 
 
 i ^ II. 218. evident that tlie English narrators 
 
 ;i ^ Aug. 7. II. 788. meant one and the same place. 
 
 ii ® Aug. 14, * II. 850. 
 
 I ^ Though spoken of as “ Home ® II. 861. 
 
 jl castle ” in Nos. 850 and 861, and ^ II. p. 219. 
 
 “ Fast castle ” elsewhere, I think it is 
 
216 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 watched, in Stirling castle. She had desired her brother to 
 send her aid in the shape of an army; in his inability to 
 comply with this request Henry invited her to take refuge in 
 England.^ Dacre was instructed to convey her safely into 
 her brother’s dominions from Douglas castle, or any other 
 place within ten miles this side of Stirling. Margaret alleged, 
 in answer to this proposal, that she would rather follow it 
 than be the greatest lady in the world; but neither she, 
 her husband, nor his uncle Gawin Douglas, could see how it 
 was to he executed ; for she was surrounded on all sides by 
 spies, and all her communications were intercepted. She 
 added a significant hint that in the event of no succours 
 coming she should he compelled to submit to the Duke, as she 
 had no means of defending herself.^ It is probable that 
 neither Margaret nor her advisers approved of a flight to 
 England, except as a desperate remedy. So long as they had 
 hopes of maintaining themselves in Scotland, that was better 
 than refuge in England, however honourable ; refuge there 
 involved the destruction of her party, and all her expectations 
 as Queen. In vain Henry’s agents endeavoured to combat 
 these objections.^ The capture of her two sons, and her own 
 imprisonment at Stirling, had destroyed her hopes; and if 
 Albany’s letters and her own may he trusted, she had learned 
 to acquiesce in her fate ; or at least pretended so to do. She 
 returned to Edinburgh in token of her satisfaction at the 
 regent’s conduct ; ^ she had even written to her brother, 
 expressing a wish that she and Albany should continue in 
 such a course that j)eace might be preserved between them ; 
 she expressed her approbation of the course taken by parlia- 
 ment in reference to the royal children ; and as this letter 
 was signed in the way she had arranged with Henry when he 
 was to consider her writing as spontaneous, we must believe 
 that these professions at the time were sincere.® She added 
 at the close of the letter a very suspicious clause, that as she 
 had not more than eight weeks to her time, she intended to 
 lie in at Linlithgow in twelve days."^ The letter was dated 
 from Edinburgh, August 20th. Apparently this w^as a pre- 
 concerted signal between herself and Dacre, to whom she 
 
 ^ II. 62. had compelled Margaret to write and 
 
 ^ II. 47. express her satisfaction to her brother 
 
 ® II. 48. I against her will; and that he had 
 
 ^ II. 66. receiyed a secret message from her to 
 
 ^ See Angnst 10. II. 795. that effect, to be communicated to 
 
 ® Yet Alexander Hume wrote to Dacre (No. 846). 
 
 Dacre on the 24th to say that Albany '' II. 832. 
 
1515.] MAEGAKET ESCAPES TO ENGLAND. 217 
 
 wrote at the same time. By some contrivance tlie letter was 
 not despatched until the end of the month. 
 
 On the 1st September/ Bacre requested her to change 
 Linlithgow for Blacater, near Berwick, when he promised to 
 wait upon her. She wrote in reply by Sir Kobert Carr, that 
 Dacre did not comprehend her real position ; she was kept in 
 strict watch by Albany in Edinburgh, her friends were in 
 ward,” her revenues withheld. Escape was not easy. To 
 follow Bacre’s advice, and reach Blacater, she would feign 
 sickness, go to Linlithgow with the earl her husband, and 
 there take her chamber. She proposed to leave on the first 
 or second night, accompanied only by her husband and four 
 or five servants ; the Chamberlain was to meet her with 
 “40 hardy and well striking fellows,” two or three miles from 
 the town. It was suggested that in the event of failure, he 
 should set fire to some village, as if his intentions had been 
 nothing more than a border raid, and then wait for a better 
 opportunity. It was now the 7th of September, and Bacre 
 was at Etall. The plot could not apparently be carried out 
 so soon as was expected. Nearly a month slipped away, but 
 on Sunday, September 30th, Margaret arrived at Harbottle ; 
 and the Sunday after, in the words of Bacre, was immediately 
 “ delivered of a fair young lady,” christened the next day with 
 such conveniences as they could muster.^ This was the 
 celebrated Margaret Bouglas, afterwards married to the Earl 
 of Lennox. When her escape became known to Albany, he 
 wrote to her the most urgent entreaties to return to Scotland, 
 apologized for the part he had taken in reference to her 
 children, and attributed the act entirely to the States.^ If she 
 would return to Scotland “to her gesine ” (her lying-in) he 
 promised to restore eveiything in seven days, and take Angus 
 into favour. It is needless to say that these offers were rejected 
 with scorn. On the 10th she notified to him her delivery “ of 
 a Christian soul, being a young lady,”^ and demanded the 
 governance of her children. The answer of the Council of 
 Scotland to this demand w^as extraordinary ; still more as it 
 was manifestly dictated by Albany. They told her that the 
 governance of the realm expired with the death of her husband, 
 and devolved upon the States ; that Albany had been appointed 
 by her consent; that she had forfeited the guardianship of 
 her children by her second marriage; that in all temporal 
 
 1 IT. 885. 
 
 2 II. 1044, 1672. 
 
 3 II. 879, 1027, 
 
 4 II. 1011. 
 
218 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENEY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 matters the realm of Scotland has been hnmecliately subject 
 to Almighty God, not recognizing the Pope or any superior upon 
 earth P 
 
 It was in vain that Albany employed threats and blandish- 
 ments alternately. He wrote to Queen Mary/ whom he had 
 personally known in France, to her husband the Duke of 
 Suffolk, to Henry, and to Wolsey ; ^ his intentions, he said, 
 were studiously misrepresented, and Dacre — without mention- 
 ing his name — had kept the truth from the King’s ears. 
 Truth was not the thing wanted, least of all peace. It was 
 Dacre’s object to keep Albany in perpetual alarm ; to throw 
 over the borders the lawless troopers of Northumberland, 
 Kiddesdale, Tynedale, and Gillesland, and withdraw them the 
 moment Albany appeared in force. By all the means his 
 fertile brains could devise, he fomented the animosities of 
 the nobles, especially of the Humes ; he held out to them 
 promises of munificent rewards from his master on condition 
 that they should never make terms with Albany ; and he took 
 care, in his private correspondence with the Duke, that Albany 
 should be in no temper or condition to make advances. 
 
 They are resolved,” he says, in a letter to the King,^ “to 
 annoy the Duke, who is well weary from the continued spoil- 
 ing, burning, and slaughter in Scotland.” Dacre was inde- 
 fatigable in these devices ; an inimitable agent of mischief 
 and destruction. In his hands the passions, the selfishness, 
 the treachery of men were more desolating instruments than 
 fire and sword, for turning a fruitful land into a wilderness. 
 
 Henry was desirous that Margaret should spend her 
 Christmas in London, and take part in the xDageantry of that 
 season,^ into which no one entered with greater zest than 
 himself. But her delivery had been followed by a severe and 
 protracted illness. From Harbottle she had been removed 
 to Morpeth, to Dacre’s intolerable expense, and was some 
 days in accomj)lishing the journey. She was too feeble to 
 bear the jolting of horses in the litter, and was carried the 
 whole distance on the shoulders of Dacre’s servants. Sir 
 Christopher Garneys, whom Skelton the poet has made the 
 subject of his bitterest invectives, was sent to visit her in 
 December, and carry her the King’s presents. He gives an 
 affecting pibtiire of the Queen and the woman, racked by 
 excruciating j)ains, which could not extinguish the delight she 
 took in the new dresses just arrived from London. “ I think 
 
 2 II. 1024, 1030. 
 
 ^ II. 1223. 
 
 * II. 1025. 
 
 3 II. 1044. 
 
1515-16.] 
 
 MAEGAEET IN ENGLAND. 
 
 219 
 
 her,” he says,^ “one of the lowest-brought ladies with her 
 great pain of sickness that I have seen, and escape. Her 
 Grace hath such a pain in her right leg that these three weeks 
 she may not endure to sit up while her bed is a-making ; and 
 when her Grace is removed, it would pity any man’s heart to 
 hear the shrieks and cries that her Grace giveth.” ^ Imme- 
 diately she heard of the presents, she had herself borne in 
 a chair out of her bedroom into the great chamber, to feast 
 her eyes on the rich stuffs her brother had sent her. “ When 
 she had seen everything,” continues Garneys, “ she bid the 
 lord chamberlain (Hume, who had followed her to Morpeth) 
 and the other gentlemen come in and look at them ; exclaim- 
 ing, with an air of triumph, ^ So, my Lords, here ye may see 
 that the King my brother hath not forgotten me, and that he 
 would not I should die for lack of clothes ! ’ ” Garneys adds 
 that she had a wonderful love of apparel, and had caused the 
 gowns of cloth of gold and tinsen (tinsel) to be made against 
 this term of Christmas, “ and likes the fashion so well she 
 will send for them and have them held before her once or 
 twice a day to look at.” She had already in the castle twenty- 
 two gowns of cloth of silk and gold, and had sent to Edinburgh 
 for .more. 
 
 In this flutter of delight she was unconscious of the great 
 loss which had befallen her. The Duke of Eothesay, her 
 favourite child, had died a few days before, on the 18th of 
 December. The news was known to Dacre, but no one dared 
 break it to Margaret. She herself was too much occupied 
 with her clothes to notice the anxious looks of her attendants. 
 The Duke, by all accounts, was a beautiful and v/inning boy ; 
 and Margaret, who had not seen him since she left Edinburgh, 
 was never tired of talking about him, “If it comes to her 
 knowledge,” says Garneys, “ it will be fatal to her. These 
 four or five days of her own mind it hath pleased her grace to 
 show unto me how goodly a child her younger son is, and her 
 grace praiseth him more than she doth the king her eldest 
 son.” ^ In such unobserved corners nature peeps out. ISlo 
 amount of brocade, no mountain heaps of political intrigue, 
 could smother it entirely. 
 
 ^ II. 1350. 
 
 ^ It was a disease in the hip- joint : 
 according to Dacre and Magnus, pro- 
 bably sciatica. She was a very un- 
 manageable patient. “ Her long con- 
 finement,” says Dacre, ‘‘has destroyed 
 her appetite, nor at any time hereto- 
 
 fore would she take coleses, morterons, 
 almond milk, good broths, pottages, or 
 boiled meats, but only roast meat with 
 jellies, and that very scantily.” (II, 
 1387.) 
 
 3 II. 1759, 1829, 
 
220 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 In April the Queen’s health was re-established, and she 
 started southward on her progress. The journey was not : 
 pressed upon her solely from motives of affection. Dacre was i 
 afraid that the resort of the Scotch nobles to Morpeth might i 
 produce some change in the Queen’s inclinations, and possibly ! 
 tempt her to an accommodation with Albany, who wrote I 
 frequently and made many professions. Dacre dictated her | 
 letters, and under such management there was no fear of | 
 their being too conciliatory.^ On the 3rd of May the King met 
 her at Tottenham, and ‘Mhe same day her Grace did ride ; 
 behind Sir Thomas Parr through Cheapside, about six o’clock, ! 
 to Bayard’s castle.” ^ She remained in England until June, ; 
 1517, taking part in the court pageantry, and adding lustre I 
 by her presence to those masks and ceremonials, on which, in ! 
 the absence of more serious occupations, so much attention was 
 then bestowed. Her necessities were pressing ; from Henry 
 she had no regular allowance, and no remittances came from | 
 Scotland.^ We find her urgently demanding of Wolsey 2001. ; 
 
 for her own and her servants’ Vv^ants at Christmas.^ I pray : 
 you heartily, my lord, put me off no longer, for the time is ; 
 short ; and if you will do so much for me at this time I pray ! 
 send me word, for I will trouble you no more with my sending, 
 for then I will speak to the king my brother, for I trust his : 
 grace will do so much for me.” The King, her son, was in ■ 
 Scotland. Angus, her husband, and Hume, had left her on 
 hearing her resolution to proceed southward.^ Judging by 
 the cautious terms of Dacre’s letter, there had been a quarrel 
 between them on this subject. They had no appetite for an 
 honourable captivity in England, and from that moment were 
 reconciled to Albany. No wonder Margaret was anxious to 
 return and join her child and her husband. The prejDarations 
 for a war with France facilitated her wishes. Ostensibly 
 Albany was tired of Scotland, and desirous to leave. He pro- 
 
 ^ II. 1671. 
 
 2 II. 1861. 
 
 ^ Yet I find the following sums ad- 
 vanced for her use in the King’s Book 
 of Payments (see Calendar, II. pp. 1471 
 seq.) : — In April, 1516, lOOL ; in May, 
 2001., by Magnus; in July, lOOL, by 
 Sir Thos. Par; in September, 140L in 
 two payments^ in November, lOOh ; 
 and the same in December. In 1517, 
 in February, 140h ; and when she was 
 returning to Scotland in May, the 
 following sums were appointed for 
 herself and her attendants : — expenses 
 
 in London, etc., 170/. ; till her coming 
 to York, 200/. ; for the Queen herself, 
 first 180/., and afterwards 666/. 13s. 
 4d. ; to Magnus going with her, 40/. ; 
 to Sir Edw. Benstead attending on her 
 40 days, 10/. ; Sir Thomas Boleyn, her 
 carver, 10/. ; Master Hall, her chap- 
 lain, 66s. 8d . ; two gentlemen ushers, 
 3s. 4d. a day ; and two grooms of her 
 chamber, 20d. a day each; Jamy Dogge, 
 100s. The plate given her is estimated 
 at 125/. Is. 9d. 
 
 ^ II. 2729. 
 
 5 II. 1759. 
 

 
 |. ■■ 
 
 I 
 
 
 I 
 
Engr-aiTCcL by Th.ofV’&iglLt. 
 
 carl:)Ixa^l bea.toit:n 
 
 OB. 15 16. 
 
 n.^oM; THE OKXG-rN:AL , nsr the coelectioi<i at 
 
 llOLYR O Ol) BAB AC B , El )mB. m GIT . 
 
 Jjond4?7i.J^ubiisJj.€d ds/^ovS h\' TJjiJ'dinq S.' X,cj?ard.^a.ll Jkfall ^ast. 
 
1517.] 
 
 MAEGARET RETUR>TS TO SCOTLAND. 
 
 221 
 
 fessecl the strongest wish for the two kingdoms to remain at 
 ^ peace, and even offered to visit Henry in England, provided 
 ^ he might have sufficient security^ This arrangement never 
 took effect. The estates of Scotland refused to let Albany 
 Sj leave until their King was of age.^ When Clarencieux urged 
 him to give some proof of his sincerity, he took the herald’s 
 “ hand betwixt his two hands, and swore by the faith he 
 
 0 owed unto God and by the faith of a gentleman ” — a 
 
 ^ phrase he had aiiparently picked up from his familiarity with 
 
 ‘i Francis I. — ‘‘that he would put himself in his most effectual 
 *1 devoir to have his leave of the Scots to go to England ; and 
 
 1 were he not as well minded as any one, in condition he were 
 1, ready to depart, to go on foot from Edinburgh to London, he 
 
 would forsake his part in paradise, and give him, body and 
 i soul, to all the devils of hell ; and further sware in like 
 
 ' I manner, upon a piece of the Holy Cross, and on divers other 
 I relics, which be in a tablet of gold hanging about his neck.” 
 
 In March, 1517, when by the treaty of Noyon all the 
 f European powers were in league with France, a truce was 
 - concluded betv/een England and Scotland, and Margaret was 
 allowed to return, on condition that she took no part in the 
 administration.^ She commenced her journey in May. ^ At her 
 i entry into York she was received by the Earl of Northumber- 
 I land.^ On Whitsunday, 81st of May, she dined at St. Mary’s 
 Abbey. On the 15th of the next month she entered Scotland.*^ 
 Albany in the interval had crossed to France on the 8th, 
 
 I leaving as governors in his place the Archbishops of St. 
 
 : Andrews and Glasgow, with the Earls of Huntley, Angus, 
 j Argyle, and Arran. Magnus, who attended her and noticed 
 her dejection, thought that she would rather have remained 
 I in England. He did the best to comfort and advise her ; but 
 she loitered on the borders, naturally reluctant when the time 
 > I came to trust herself again to the stormy sea from which she 
 had escaped so recently. “Her Grace,” he adds,'^ “con- 
 i 1 sidereth now the honour of England, and the poverty and 
 i I wretchedness of Scotland, which she did not afore, but in her 
 j opinion esteemed Scotland equal to England.” 
 
 She was well received, but her authority was not restored, 
 
 I and her influence was less substantial than it was before. 
 
 ' What could a woman do among such restless and imj)erious 
 
 1 II. 2234-5, 
 
 2 II. 2610. 
 
 3 II. 3119. 
 
 4 II. 3209. 
 
 5 II. 3336. 
 « II. 3365. 
 ' Ibid. 
 
222 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. I 
 
 spirits, proud and defiant under all rule, still more under that ' 
 of an English Princess ? The romantic chivalry towards ^ 
 women, sometimes carried to excess in the South, was scarcely : 
 known in Scotland. The Scotch nobility, uneducated as a I 
 body, and despising all arts and polite acquirements, spent | 
 their lives in endless feuds, devoting the little intellects they | 
 had to interminable quarrels, transmitted from sire to son I 
 with fatal and unimpaired fidelity. Never engaged in one 
 common enterprize or continental war, no sense of unity as a 
 nation, no national spirit existed among them. There was f 
 no centre, as in England, round which the restless and jarring I 
 elements might eventually concentrate and find harmony and 
 rejDose at last ; sovereigns to them were but mockery kings 
 and queens of snow. One bond of union they had, and but | 
 one, the worst a people could have, and that was hatred; [ 
 hatred the most intense for England, and, next to that, for 
 one another. Happily the former continued strong enough 
 and long enough to prevent the latter from running out into 
 its fullest latitude of excess ; and their border warfare, perhaps 
 the most sanguinary that ever stained the annals of any people, 
 had this one advantage, that it gave the Scotch aristocracy 
 and their followers a common enemy, and something of a ] 
 common interest, and so preserved the nation from utter i 
 desolation, I must conclude this portion of my narrative with j; 
 some remarks on the fate and conduct of the Humes, whose | 
 exploits have been so frequently mentioned in these pages. ? 
 
 When Margaret took her journey to London, Angus and . 
 Hume had left her in displeasure, to the extreme disgust of 
 Hacre. Both returned to Scotland, and were reconciled to 
 Albany.^ From that moment the Chamberlain’s fate is in- i 
 volved in obscurity. His mother. Lady Hume (according to 
 the partial statement of Margaret, which was in truth only a 
 j)olitical manifesto drawn by Hacre), had been taken from 
 Coldstream by He la Bastie, placed “on a trotting horse in 
 spite of her age,” and carried to Hunbar castle, where she 
 was kept “ six weeks on brown store-bread and water.” ^ > 
 
 The Chamberlain had been attainted in Parliament for the ^ 
 part he had taken in furthering Margaret’s escape, and urging ' 
 an invasion by England. But rumour reported that he had ^ 
 made his ^eace with the Huke, through the mediation of the 
 Archbishop of St. Andrew’s ^ (Forman, late Bishop of Murray). 
 Hacre writes to Wolsey on the 26th of October,^ but without j 
 
 ^ II. 1759. 2 n. 407^ 3 II. 1938. 4 n. 2481. 
 
1517.] EXECUTION OF HUME AND HIS BROTHER. 223 
 
 a passing expression of regret, that the Master of Graystock 
 would explain to him the order for the execution of Lord Hume 
 and his brother. They had already been executed some day 
 before this communication,^ and their heads had been set on 
 ‘‘the town house at Edinburgh.” ^ That the reconciliation 
 with Albany was sincere on his part is obvious from Spinelly’s 
 letters. At the Duke’s recommendation Francis I. granted 
 pensions to six of the Scotch noblemen who had hitherto been 
 inclined to England, and the Chamberlain was one of that 
 number.^ As late as on the 29th of August, we find from a 
 letter of Clarencieux^ to Wolsey that Angus, Hume, and their 
 party, still hung together, and were outwardly submissive to 
 the Duke. Hume’s relative, David Hume of Wedderburn,^ 
 states positively that the Chamberlain was slain by Albany 
 under trust ; ” — an assertion not to be accepted without 
 hesitation, considering the quarter from which it emanates. 
 Whatever might be the cause, Hume was condemned by Parlia- 
 ment. A traitor apparently on both sides, and studious only 
 of revenge at any sacrifice, his fate was not regretted or con- 
 demned by his own peojiie or by Englishmen. Neither Dacre 
 nor his Sovereign made any effort to save him. 
 
 The clan of the Humes studied revenge. David Hume in 
 despair seized the person of the French ambassador,® but at 
 the bidding of Dacre reluctantly consented to let him go. 
 George Hume took a more ample and speedy revenge. At the 
 death of the Chamberlain, De la Bastie, the bravest and most 
 accomplished knight in Scotland, had been appointed warden 
 of the East Marches. On the 15th of April, 1517, he was 
 desired by Albany to visit Dacre, then at Naward, and demand 
 the surrender of George Hume and others, according to the 
 agreement lately made between the two nations, Dacre stated, 
 in reply to this demand, that he did not know where George 
 Hume and his brother were to be found. He thought they 
 were in Scotland, but if they w^ere in his borders he would do 
 his best to take them,® On the 16th of June, La Bastie was 
 one of those who met Margaret on the borders, and welcomed 
 her to Scotland, Towards the end of July ® he was again with 
 Dacre on the subject of these border disputes. This is the 
 last time we hear of him alive. The Humes had been watch- 
 ing for an oi 3 portunity of revenge ; at length, they contrived 
 
 ^ II. October 8. 
 
 2 II. 2484 
 
 3 July. II. 2136, 
 
 4 11.2314. 
 
 5 II. 4338. 
 
 6 II. 4338. 
 
 7 II. 3124. 
 
 8 II. 3139. 
 
 ^ II. p. 1083, 
 
224 THE REIGN OF HENRY VIII. [A.D. 
 
 by a feint to draw out La Bastie, accompanied with a few ; 
 followers, from the castle of Dunbar, attacked him in full i 
 force, and as his horse got entangled in a morass,^ in his ^ 
 
 attempt to escape, slew him with great cruelty, cut off his ' 
 
 head, which George Hume slung at his saddle-bow, and fixed i 
 it upon a pole in the town of Dunse. The Scotch historians 
 date this murder on the 19th or 20th of September. I think I 
 it must have been earlier for the following reasons. Margaret ^ 
 had written to Dacre, desiring him, at the request of the laird 
 of Wedderburn, to send her the prior of Coldingham and his 
 brother George Hume, for now was the time for them to take 
 her part. She was resolved, she told him, to have “ all the 
 rule, or there will be some trouble.” It appears that either 
 on her own behalf, or at the suggestion of Angus, she thought 
 it possible, in the confusion which arose on the death of La ^ 
 Bastie, Albany’s most important adherent, that she might *■ 
 make a dash at the crown, and regain her authority. It is i 
 clear too that she believed the two Humes, notwithstanding ' 
 this murder, were sheltered and supported by Dacre, who 
 naturally laid himself open to suspicion from the encourage- 
 ment he had given to the Humes and his adoption of an ille- 
 gitimate son of the late Chamberlain. His reply indicates I 
 considerable annoyance, and is barely respectful.^ He began ’ 
 by expressing his astonishment that she should write to him ; 
 at the request of the laird of Wedderburn ; — he knew nothing 
 of the Humes, nor where they were. Then referring to the 
 murder of La Bastie, which strangely enough had not been ' 
 openly mentioned in Margaret’s letter, he expressed his belief 
 that it was “of a sodendy.” He warns Angus “not to lose ' 
 
 himself in the taking of a light way with the said laird of I 
 
 Wedderburn,” and to do nothing without the advice of his 1 
 
 friends in Scotland ; — expressions which can hardly bear any 
 other construction than that Angus had meditated, with the | 
 
 help of the Humes to obtain the government during Albany’s I 
 
 absence, and in common with Margaret had imagined that | 
 
 the slaughter of La Bastie had been planned with a view to j 
 
 their interests, not without Dacre’s cognizance. I 
 
 The cause of the Humes was ruined for ever. Francis I. 
 was then in secret communication with Wolsey for a stricter 
 union between the two crowns ; and on hearing of the death | 
 of his ambassador, he dictated an energetic remonstrance to j 
 the States of Scotland.^ The States wrote word that nothing 
 
 ^ In a place called to this day, in memory of the deed, Batty’s Bog. 
 
 - II. 3713. 3 n. 4048. 
 
1517 .] 
 
 EUIN OF THE HUMES. 
 
 225 
 
 had ever grieved them more since the death of their late King. 
 They had already taken measures for punishing the offenders 
 before the receipt of his letters, and had summoned a Parlia- 
 ment for that purpose : — all the Humes had been declared 
 traitors ; their lands and goods forfeited ; one had been caught, 
 hung, drawn, and quartered ; the rest had fled to England, and 
 were sheltered there in violation of the truce. A demand had 
 been made for their surrender, which Henry had refused. 
 Naturally Hacre was anxious to free himself from all suspicion 
 of harbouring such delinquents. 
 
 VOL. 3. 
 
 Q 
 
226 
 
 THE KEIGN OF HENRY VIIL 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 CHAPTEE VIII. 
 
 DOMESTIC HISTORY. 
 
 Great was the contrast which England offered in this respect 
 to the sister kingdom, and Margaret might well return to 
 Scotland with a sigh. In England there was no trouble or 
 dissension ; there she was accustomed to behold a wealthy 
 and obedient people, a submissive clergy, a court where 
 nothing seemed to rule except an unbroken round of pleasure ; 
 splendid amusements, masques, decorations, jewellery, inlaid 
 armour ; cards and dice, ducats and crowns in great silver 
 howls, luxuries for which money was always forthcoming 
 when needed. All these delights must have appeared to her 
 bewildered imagination, in contrast to her own poverty as 
 Queen of Scotland, like the realization of Aladdin’s wonderful 
 lamp. I have stated before^ that the King had the entire 
 and exclusive control of the money paid into the Exchequer. 
 He had nothing to do except sign a warrant to John Heron, 
 the treasurer of the Chamber, and whatever sums were in the 
 hands of the receivers of the revenue were instantly paid over 
 to the King’s use. There was no Admiralty to control the 
 navy or regulate its expenses ; no commander-in- chief or pay- 
 master-general of the army. All such offices, or their modern 
 substitutes, were combined in the King’s person, and he 
 regulated at his own will the finances connected with them. 
 If ships were to be built, he built them out of his privy purse ; 
 if armies were to he raised, they were raised by the same 
 means. The country was called upon for loans and subsidies, 
 and the Parliament determined on the amount ; but it never 
 presumed to regulate the expenditure of the money so 
 collected, or even dictate how it should be applied. If the 
 reader will turn to the remarkable document, entitled The 
 King’s Book of Payments,”^ he will see this subject more 
 clearly at a glance than it could be explained to him by the 
 
 * See p. 69. ^ See II. pp. 1441-80. 
 
1509-16.] 
 
 THE KING’S EXPENDITUEE. 
 
 227 
 
 most laborious description. On comparing the two years of 
 war, 1512, 1513, followed by 1514, with three years of peace 
 and subsidizing of foreign powers, like Maximilian and the 
 Swiss, the account will be found to stand as follows Sum 
 total of all expenditure in 1512 was 286,269Z. ; in 1513 it rose 
 to 699,714L ; in 1514 it declined to 155, 757^. ; in 1515 to 
 74,007^. ; ^ in 1516 it rose again, from circumstances stated in 
 the note, to 130,779L ; ^ but sunk in 1517 to 78,887/.^ This 
 extraordinary reduction of expenditure from the moment that 
 Wolsey came into power is one of the most remarkable feats 
 of his administration, and shows how entirely it has been 
 misunderstood by modern historians. It must be remembered 
 also that all the expenses of Tournay are included in these 
 latter years, with the loans to Queen Margaret, presents to 
 ambassadors, and the establishment for Princess Mary, The 
 King too had acquired in the latter years a habit of helping 
 himself to heavy sums, for his own use, without accounting 
 for the mode of their expenditure. In May, 1515, he took 
 3,000L, in August 3,000Z., and again in December 6,000L ; in 
 June, 1516, 2,000?., and again in October 3,000?. ; in March, 
 1517, 3,000?. ; in December, 1518, 2,000.^ How these sums 
 were employed it would be useless to speculate. They were 
 received by Sir William Compton, the chief gentleman of the 
 King’s bedchamber, ‘‘for the King’s use,” and formed no part 
 of the regular expenses for the household, the entertainment 
 of ambassadors, secret or public service-money, all of which 
 are entered at full. The sums disbursed for alms, jew^ellery, 
 j)late, arms, horses, saddlery, the tilt-yard, Christmas boxes, 
 and new year’s gifts, are also accounted for. In 1515 the 
 money paid for silks and velvets, not including minor items, 
 exceeded 5,000?., for plate and jewellery 1,500?. ; in January, 
 1515, for pearls, 566?. ; in December, 1516, for j)earls and 
 diamonds, 596?. ; in October, 1518, for sables, 290?. I can 
 only infer, therefore, that the large sums mentioned above 
 were laid out in personal luxuries or expenditure, of which 
 the King and his attendants chose to give no detailed account. 
 His presents to ambassadors were on a most magnificent scale. 
 To the Duke of Longueville, he gave in August, 1514, 
 
 ^ From tills sum 6,000^. are to be at Tournay, 11,5391 for ordnance and 
 deducted for war expenses in the similar items. 
 
 previous years, and 4,0001 as a loan ^ From this sum 13,3331 to be 
 
 to Cavallary. deducted as a loan to Charles of Spain. 
 
 ^ Including 6,0001 lent to Suffolk, In October this year he spent 
 
 26,0001 for Pace and Wingfield, 5,0001 1,0001 at play, and 201 the month 
 
 for war expenses, 10,0001 for citadel before. 
 
228 
 
 THE REIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 2,083L ; ^ to the Prince of Castile’s ambassadors in July, 1517, 
 200Z., and 560Z. in plate in the September following ; to the 
 French King’s gentlemen in October, 8001., and 1,829L in 
 plate ; to the Cardinal of Sion, in NoTember, 1518, 333?. 6s. 8c?. 
 There was the same love of splendour, and the same disregard 
 of economy, shown in his amusements.^ New year’s gifts, ! 
 revels at court, tournaments, masques, balls, and interludes 
 form a considerable item in the royal expenditure. Of these 
 many curious accounts will be found in the Calendar of ' 
 Henry VIII. at the close of the seeond volume. I can only 
 afford space for two, and must apologize to my readers for 
 entering into these minute details. 
 
 The first is a Christmas festivity held at Westminster in 
 1511. The writer makes no distinction between the antelope 
 and the olyvant (elephant), as one of the supporters of the 
 royal arms.^ 
 
 On the 12 and 13 Feb., 2 Hen. VIII. , a jonst of honor was held by the 
 King, with three aids, at Westminster. A forest was constructed within 
 the house of Black Friars, Ludgate, 26 ft. long, 16 ft. broad, 9 ft . high, 
 garnished with artificial “ hawthorns, oaks, maples, hazels, birches, fern, 
 broom, and furze, with beasts and birds embossed of sundry fashion, with 
 foresters sitting and going on the top of the same, and a castle in the said 
 forest, with a maiden sitting thereby with a garland, and a lion of great 
 stature and bigness, with an antelope of like proportion, after his kind, 
 drawing the said pageant or forest, conducted with men in woodwoos’ ^ 
 apparel, and two maidens sitting on the said two beasts. In the which 
 forest were four men of arms, riding, that issued out at times appointed ; 
 and on every of the four quarters of the forest were the arms of the four 
 knights challengers. And for the second day were provided and made four 
 rich pavilions, one crowned, the other three with balls of burnished gold.” 
 
 For this pageant the following articles were required ; 27 ft. of fine 
 oak for mules and other beasts. 78 alder poles for the body of the forest 
 and great beasts, and the closures of the hall door at Westminster. 10 
 bundles of crown paper for moulding beasts, the faces of the lion and 
 antelojDe, &c. ; 7 reams of white Geen paper, for lining the sarcenet that 
 the leaves were made of, and for covering the rocks. 6 fir trees. 4 masts 
 for enclosing the hall door. 1 lb. of Spanish brown for coloring the 
 beasts. 1 lb. of orpiment. 2 doz. green “schyng” paper, for mixing with 
 the ivy and the woodwos’ heads and staves. 5 doz. of gold paper for the 
 castle, and the body and legs of the lion. 1 lb. of vermilion for the 
 mouths of the lion and antelope, &c. Canvas of Normandy, 16 ells for 
 the lion and olyvant ; 9 ells for lining the woodwos’ apparel. 5 bushels of 
 wheat flour, for paste. 4 st. neat’s tallow. 56 doz. silver paper. 2 doz. 
 embossed birds. 2,400 turned acorns and hazelnuts, 118 lbs. orsade for 
 flossing and casing the lion, etc. Holly boughs, fennel stalks, broom 
 stalks, &c. planted with sarcenet flowers and leaves. 6 doz. silk roses, 
 wrought by tl^e maiden into a garland, and delivered to the queen when 
 
 ^ Not including 500L to John 
 Clerke, who took him prisoner. 
 
 ^ Various references occur to the 
 King’s stud and his deer ; some to a 
 tame leopard : but none to dogs or 
 falcons, so far as I can remember. 
 
 ^ The extracts which follow are 
 from the Calendar. Only where quota- 
 tion marks are used is the precise 
 language of the original documents 
 followed. 
 
 * Wild men of the woods ; savages. 
 
1516.] 
 
 PAGEANTS. 
 
 229 
 
 the jousts began. 4 lbs. of iron wire for the lions and olyvant’s tails. 
 
 6 backs of tanned leather for the chains that the lion and the antelope 
 drew the forest with. Gold for gilding the antelope’s horns, crowns, &c. 
 
 3 coifs of Yenice gold, for the maiden in the forest, and those that rode 
 on the lion and the olyvant. 4 oz. Yenice ribbon for girdles and the 
 garland presented to the queen. Ivy for the woodwos’ heads, belts, and 
 staves. 4 vizors for the woodwos who conducted the forest. 3 lbs. of 
 booellarmanyake (bole Armeniac). Green sarcenet, for the boughs of the 
 forest, 26 ft. long, 16 ft, broad, and 9 ft. high, 153 yds. ; lining a pavilion 
 for the King, 42 yds.; for 12 hawthorns, 44 yds.; 12 oaks, 44 yds.; 
 10 maples, 36 yds. ; 12 hazels, 32 yds, ; 10 birches, 32 yds. ; 16 doz. fern 
 roots and branches, 64 yds. ; 50 broom stalks, 58 yds. ; 16 furze bushes, 
 33 yds. ; lining the maiden’s sleeves, 2f yds, ; total, 542 yds. Yellow 
 sarcenet for broom and furze flowers, 22 yds. Russet sarcenet for the 4 
 woodwos’ garments, shred like locks of hair or wool, 48 yds. Russet 
 damask, spent by Edmund Skill, tailor, for kirtles of the maiden in the 
 forest, and on the lion and “ olyvant,” 10 yds. Yellow damask for the 
 maidens on the lion and “ antlope,” 10 yds. Blue velvet for a pavilion for 
 the king, 36 yds. Blue and crimson damask for pavilions. 1 yd. of blue 
 sarcenet for a banner in the forest. Spent and employed on the said 
 four pavilions for points to stay the hoops, which points were spent, 
 stolen and wasted at the siege of Terouenne, at the receiving of the 
 Emperor, for the said pavilions did the king royal service to his honor. ” 
 To Edmund Skill, for making the apparel for the maiden in the forest, 
 those on the lion and the antelope ^ and the woodwos, 42s. lOd. 
 
 ‘‘Thys forrest or pageant after the usance had into Westmester gret 
 Hall, and by the kynges gard and other gentyllmen rent, brokyn, and by 
 fors karryed away, and the poor men that wer set to kep, theyr heds 
 brokyn two of them, and the remnant put ther from with foors, so that 
 noon ther of byt the baar tymbyr cum near to the kynges ews nor stoor. 
 
 ^ ‘ The second day the 4 pavelyuns wer savyd to the kynges ews and 
 profyd with meche payn. 
 
 ‘ ‘ Memorandum, That the kynges graas at hysTown of Kales cummandyd 
 me Rechard Gybson to kut oon of the sayd pavelyuns, and so yt was and 
 maad an hangyng for an hows of tymbyr of Flandyrs werke. And at the 
 seege of Tyrwyen the sayd hows was geyvn by the kynges graas to my Lord 
 of Wynchester, with the saam hangyng so mad of the saam pavelyun. 
 
 The other belongs to 1516, and is as follows : — 
 
 The king being at Eltliam, Christmas, 7 Hen. YIII. , instructions were 
 issued to Richarcl Gibson, by Mr. Wm. Cornish and the master of the 
 revels, to prepare a castle of timber in the King’s hall, garnished after such 
 devises as shall ensue. Cornish and the children of the chapel also per- 
 formed ‘ ‘ the story of Troylous and Pandor richly apparelled, also Kallkas 
 and Kryssyd apparelled like a widow of honour, in black sarcenet and 
 other habiliments for such matter ; Dyomed and the Greeks apparelled 
 like men of war, according to the intent or purpose. After whicii com^y 
 played and done, a herald cried and made an oy that three strange knights 
 were come to do battle with [those] of the said castle ; out [of] which 
 issued three men of arms with punching spears, ready to do feats at the 
 barriers, apparelled in white satin and green satin of Bruges, lined with 
 green sarcenet and white sarcenet, and the satin cut thereon. To the said 
 three men of arms entered other three men of arms with like weapons, 
 and apparelled in slops of red sarcenet and yellow sarcenet, and with spears 
 made certain strokes ; and after that done, with naked swords fougli a 
 fair battle of twelve strokes, and so departed of force. ^ 
 
 eastle issued a queen, and with her six ladies, with speeches alter tne 
 
 ^ Correction from “ Olyvant.” 
 
230 
 
 THE REIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 device of Mr. Cornish ; and after this done, seven minstrels apparelled in 
 long garments, and bonnets to the same, of satin of Bruges, white and 
 green,i on the walls and towers of the said castle played a melodious song. 
 Then came out of the castle six lords and gentlemen apparelled in garments 
 of white satin of Bruges and green, broidered with counterfeit stuff of 
 Flanders making, as brooches, ouches, spangs, and such ; and also six 
 ladies apparelled in six garments of rich satin, white and green, set with 
 H and K of yellow satin, pointed together with points of Kolen gold. 
 These six garments for ladies were of the King’s store, newly repaired. 
 All the said ladies heads apparelled with loose gold of damask, as well as 
 with woven flat gold of damask, &c.” The garments were prepared and 
 brought to Eltham for Epiphany night and New Year’s night. 
 
 Bought of Wm. Botre and Mr. Thorstoon, 265f yds. white and green 
 satin, for garments for ladies, a doublet for one of the chapel children 
 who played Eulyxes. 5 yds. red satin. 27 yds. yellow satin for Cornish 
 and the ladies of the castle. 51f yds. red and yellow sarcenet for three 
 Greek robes, a double cloak for Troylous, a mantle and bishop’s surcoat 
 for Cornish to play Killkass in. 27J yds. white and green sarcenet. 
 Black sarcenet for a surcoat, mantle and widow’s hood for Kressyd, and a 
 garment for Cornish when he played the herald, &c. 2 pieces Florence 
 
 cotton for Kressyd. 12 pieces Cyprus for the lady who played Faith. 7 
 ells Holland cloth for short wide sleeves for Dyomed and his fellows. 
 10 oz. copper ribbon and 12 doz. silk points for binding 7 ladies’ collars, 
 coats for minstrels, and for Troylous, Pandor, Dyomed, Eulyxes, and 
 others. 1 qu. 1 nail velvet for shoes for Troylous. 10 hand staves for 
 barriers. 6 morions. 6 swords for “the men of arms that battled in 
 presence as for the departers with 4 odd staves.” To Cornish, for a 
 feather for Troylous, Spanish girdles, &c., 13s. 4d. For a barber “ for 
 there heer trimming and washing of their heads,” 4d. To the tailor, 
 61. 9s. lOd. For a cart to carry the stuff to Eltham, and “ hys abod,” 
 3 days and nights, 8s. 4d. 
 
 Expenses of garments. — To Cornish, a mantle, a surcoat of yellow 
 sarcenet, a coat armour, a garment of black sarcenet, and a bonnet. To 
 the two children, Troylous and Pandor, 9 satin doublets, 2 jackets of the 
 old store, a double cloak of sarcenet. To Kryssyd, a mantle, a surcoat, 
 and cottons and wimple. To gentlemen, 6 crimson satin bonnets. 
 3 bases and Greek robes to men at arms. 7 coats and bonnets of satin to 
 minstrels. A gown of white green and satin to Mr. Harry of the chapel. 
 To the seven ladies of the castle, seven gowns of satin of Bruges, with 
 their headdresses. To the six ladies of the court who disguised, their 
 headdresses and stomachers of crimson satin. The feather that Troylous 
 wore. All the girdles, spears, swords, and targets. To the taborets, 
 2 jackets of the store. 
 
 Number of persons for the play. — 15 for the castle ; 7 ladies ; 
 7 minstrels ; 6 lords and gentlemen and 6 ladies disguised ; 6 men at 
 arms ; 3 tamboreens. 
 
 This is admirable fooling. 
 
 Hitherto Henry’s reign had been one of uninterrupted 
 prosperity. He was the most popular, the most wealthy, the 
 most envied of monarchs. His ambassadors boasted with 
 reason, that^no king was more beloved by his subjects or 
 more readily obeyed than he. Possessed of vast royal 
 demesnes, he could gratify his love of pleasure, his taste, his 
 magnificence, without stint. Never engaged but once in a 
 
 ^ White and green were the Tudor hveries. 
 
1516.] 
 
 PEIVATE LIFE OF THE KINO. 
 
 231 
 
 continental war, and that at no great distance, still less in 
 that ruinous game of ambition on which Francis I. expended 
 his energies and his treasures, Henry VIII. had no occasion 
 ‘‘ to pill and poll his subjects ; ” and his rule formed a striking 
 contrast to that of the impoverished Maximilian, and the 
 famished and grasping policy of Charles. Whatever vices or 
 mistakes may have clouded his latter years, they had not yet 
 made their appearance. Compared with the licentiousness of 
 Francis I., his life was a pattern of temperance and purity. 
 Constant he was not to his marriage vow ; hut his departures 
 from it were neither frequent nor notorious. The French 
 ambassador wrote home, that ‘‘ he was a youngster who 
 cared for nothing but girls and hunting, and wasted his 
 father’s patrimony.” ^ Such scandals are not to be received 
 implicitly ; ambassadors wrote home what they thought would 
 please their own courts, without much concern for the 
 accuracy of their information. Often ignorant of the real 
 feelings of the court and the nation to which they were 
 accredited, generally ignorant of its language, exposed more 
 than others to imposition, and fed with tales by those who 
 knew their humour, or were purposely set on to mislead 
 them, — solitary and unsupported anecdotes repeated in their 
 despatches must not be implicitly accepted, unless they are 
 crossed and supported by other and independent lines of 
 evidence. Not frequently in the absence of better news, they 
 were authorized retailers of gossip, intended quite as much to 
 amuse as to instruct their respective courts. In this instance, 
 the scandal of the French ambassador receives no support 
 from the Venetian or the private correspondence of the times. 
 Notwithstanding his frequent disappointments, the King is 
 represented as treating Katharine uniformly with kindness 
 and respect. If he felt any dissatisfaction, he took care not 
 to express it by word or sign. And her affectionate solicitude 
 for him, especially in the time of the “ sweating sickness,” is 
 a satisfactory proof that hitherto the love between them had 
 continued unimpaired. 
 
 The birth of the Princess Mary^ threw the Queen into the 
 shade,— I am inclined to think not unwillingly on her part. 
 Her happiness at this, the most joyous event in her ill-starred 
 life, was clouded by the death of her father Ferdinand; of him, 
 who, next to herself, would have been most interested in the 
 event. The news of his death was studiously concealed from 
 
 2 Feb. 18, 1516. 
 
 1 II. 1105. 
 
232 
 
 THE REIGN OF HENRY YIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 her/ in dread of the ill effect it might produce ; and if any- 
 thing could have tended to augment her melancholy, it must 
 have been the thought that the only child which survived of 
 all her offspring was ushered into the world in a season of 
 mourning. As for Henry himself, though he would fain have 
 had a boy, he solaced himself in his usual buoyant style : 
 ‘‘Domine orator,” he said to the Venetian ambassador, who 
 had come to congratulate him on the occasion, and express 
 regret that it had not been a Prince, we are both young ; if 
 it be a girl this time, by the grace of God, boys will follow.” 
 Mary was christened three days after her birth, on Wednesday, 
 20th of February, 1516, and had for her godfather Cardinal 
 Wolsey.^ The silver font was brought from the cathedral of 
 Canterbury to Greenwich, for the ceremony.^ Henry, always 
 fond of children, was fond and proud of his daughter to 
 excess. When she was not more than two years old,^ he 
 carried her about in his arms in the presence chamber, before 
 the lords and ladies of the court and the foreign ambassadors. 
 Even at this early period of her life, Mary displayed that love 
 of music in which she was afterwards so great a proficient ; — 
 the passion of her whole family.^ The Venetian ambassador, 
 who had introduced an Italian friar, named Memo, to the 
 King, for his great musical talents, gives a charming account 
 of his interview with the little Princess at one of the court 
 receptions. 
 
 “ After this conversation, his Majesty caused the princess, 
 his daughter, who is two years old, to be brought into the 
 apartment where we were; whereupon the right reverend 
 Cardinal (Wolsey) and I, and all the other lords, kissed her 
 hand, pro more ; — the greatest marks of honor being paid her 
 universally, more than to the queen herself. The moment 
 she cast her eyes on the reverend Dionysius Memo, who was 
 there, she commenced calling but in English, Priest, priest : 
 and he was obliged to go and play for her ; after which the 
 king with the princess in his arms, came to me and said : 
 ‘ Per Deu 77 i iste (Memo) est lionestissimus vir et U7ius carissimus ; 
 7iullus U7iq7Jia77fi servivit mihi 7nelius isto.’ 
 
 ‘ II. 1563. 
 
 2 II. 1573. 
 
 3 II. p. 1470. 
 
 * Henry’s conVt must not be judged 
 by courts and reception-rooms now. 
 It was far more easy, gracious, and 
 domestic. 
 
 3 At the close of volume II. of the 
 Calendar, the reader will find numerous 
 
 references to musical instruments and 
 books purchased by the King. 
 
 ® II. 3976. Her New Year’s gifts 
 in 1518 were, a gold cup from Wolsey, 
 a gold pomander from Mary the 
 French Queen, a gold spoon from Lady 
 Devonshire, and two smocks from 
 Lady Mount joy (p. 1476). 
 
1516 - 18 .] 
 
 PATRONAGE OF ART AND LETTERS. 
 
 233 
 
 These brilliant and halcyon days seemed the more brilliant 
 f from the contrast they presented to the troubled rule of other 
 ' sovereigns. So the years ran smoothly on. The amusements 
 ! at court were diversified by hunting and out-door exercises in 
 ^ the morning ; in the afternoon by Memo’s music, by the con- 
 i secration and distribution of cramp-rings, or the inventing of 
 ! plasters and compounding of medicines — an occupation in 
 ! which the King took unusual pleasure. A manuscript ^ is pre- 
 3j served in the British Museum, entitled Dr. Butts’ Diary, 
 1 containing a variety of liniments and cataplasms devised by 
 , his Majesty; — chiefly for excoriations or ulcers in the legs, 
 
 . a disease common in those days, and from which the King 
 j himself suffered, and eventually died. Had these complaints 
 H been confined to laymen, they might have been attributed to 
 ; gross feeding and the chafing of armour ; but notices of them 
 I occur repeatedly, in all classes, without distinction.^ 
 
 i Erasmus describes in glowing terms the court of Henry as 
 a Musseum of letters and learning, — a polite academy, where 
 arts and sciences flourished under liberal patronage. Queen 
 Katharine was a miracle of learning and piety; the King 
 took more delight in reading good books than any prince of 
 his age. The eulogy, though perhaps highly coloured, was 
 i! not wholly undeserved. The advancement of men of learning 
 ) and genius to posts about the King and to high offices in the 
 I state, justified in a great measure the praises of Erasmus, 
 1 Among the favourite preachers were Dean Colet and Grocyn 
 j (More’s friend) ; Linacre was physician. More privy councillor, 
 j Pace secretary, Tunstal Master of the Bolls. 
 
 As we proceed, notices occur of more serious employments 
 I than gambling at cards or devising masques. On the 24th of 
 
 * MS. Sloane, 1047. Among tlie 
 contents are : — ‘‘ The king’s Majesty’s 
 own plaster. — A plaster devised by 
 the king to heal nlcers without pain, 
 made with pearl and lignum guaiacum. 
 - — Plaster devised by the king at 
 Greenwich, and made at Westminster, 
 to heal excoriations. At Westminster, 
 by the same, to heal swellings in the 
 ancles.” 
 
 It is observable in these medica- 
 ments, how many apply to various 
 kinds of excoriation and ulcers in the 
 legs. One is exceedingly curious (f. 
 32 b.) : — “ A plaster for my lady Anne 
 of Cleves, to mollify and resolve, 
 comfort and cease pain of cold and 
 windy causes.” Another is, “ an oint- 
 ment devised by his Majesty at Green- 
 
 wich, to cool and let inflammations, 
 and take away itch,” Besides the 
 king’s recipes, there are others by 
 John de Vigo, Dr. Buttes, Dr. Chamber, 
 Dr. Augustine, and Dr. Cromer. Most 
 of them are dated at Greenwich, 
 Westminster, St. James’s, Ampthill, 
 Fotheringay, Cawoode, Hampton 
 Court, Petworth, Dover, Canterbury, 
 Knolles, and the More. I do not find 
 that Henry ever dabbled in alchemy, 
 the royal amusement of the Scotch 
 kings. The difference of the national 
 tastes and characters may be seen in 
 the different employments of the two 
 sovereigns. 
 
 2 E.g. West, Bishop of Ely, Comp- 
 ton (II. 138), Jerningham (2584), 
 Wingfield (3604), Pace (1909). 
 
234 
 
 THE REIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 June, 1518, Pace writes to Wolsey that the King was pleased 
 with the commendations given to his hook by the Cardinal ; and 
 though he does not think it worthy such praise as it had from 
 him and all other great learned men, yet he is very glad to 
 have noted in your Grace’s letters that his reasons he called 
 inevitable, considering that your Grace ivas some time his 
 adversary herein, and of contrary opinion ; ” — a passage well 
 worth observing. The same statement is repeated by Pace 
 four days afterwards. Now, though the word hook is used 
 frequently to imply a paper of political instructions or a 
 written agreement,^ in its connection here with the praises of 
 learned men, it seems to me impossible that it can he employed 
 in any other than in its modern meaning. If so, the book to 
 which Pace refers must be the draft of the King’s hook against 
 Luther, which appeared in 1521. The letters of Erasmus 
 show the rapid progress of Lutheran opinions, even at this 
 early date ; and ‘‘ swarms of books ” were now pouring from 
 the press on the great questions soon destined to engross the 
 minds of men exclusively. Though little or no reference is 
 made to Luther in the English correspondence at this early 
 date, and Lutheranism appears to have been then almost 
 unknown in England, Erasmus thought it necessary to dis- 
 avow to Wolsey^ not only all friendship for the German 
 reformer, hut all personal acquaintance with him. That 
 letter ought to be studied ; for it shows that the King’s hook 
 grappled with those points especially on which the minds of 
 people were most disturbed. The correspondence of Pace 
 invalidates the supposition that he or More, or both conjointly, 
 w^ere the real authors of the book. They may have assisted 
 in its composition, especially in correcting the Latin style, but 
 had they been the authors of it Pace would scarcely have held 
 the language he did to Wolsey. 
 
 But the cloud was no bigger than a man’s hand — if a 
 cloud at all. Erasmus might be alarmed at the new tone and 
 noisy scurrility which hurst upon his ears, so foreign to his 
 notions of dignified scholarship and literary refinement. He 
 might think it would have been better to have left the friars 
 in undisturbed possession of the pulpit, and for the canonists 
 to bemuse themselves in extravagant admiration of the 
 Decretals.^ ^ But to the majority of the world, and to our own 
 
 ^ So Shakspeare uses it : “ Our ^ q seraphic Sextus, contiuued 
 
 hook is drawn ; we’ll but seal.” 1 Homenas, how necessary are you to 
 Henry IV.act iii. 1. the salvation of poor mortals ! O 
 
 ® II, 41 63. cherubic Clementines ! how perfectly 
 
1518.] 
 
 INDULGENCES. 
 
 235 
 
 nation at that time, it seemed no more than a passing brawl 
 between two friars — brawls to which the world had been 
 accustomed, and which wise men had ceased to notice. In- 
 dulgences were not new to Europe. They were not even the 
 exclusive invention of the papal court for raising money ; at 
 all events, the temporal Sovereigns of Europe joined in the 
 plot and shared the spoils. On the 8th of December, 1515, 
 Mountjoy wrote from Tournay to Wolsey to tell him, “that 
 a commissary had come from the Pope with great indulgences 
 for the helping to the building of St. Peter’s.” As nothing of 
 the sort might be published without the sanction of the King, 
 Mountjoy had informed the commissary that he would not be 
 allowed to publish his brief, “ but such alms as should be 
 given were to be put in a box with two keys, of which he was 
 to have the one, and Mountjoy the other.” The Bishop of 
 Worcester, ambassador for England at the papal court, writes 
 to say,^ that the Pope intended sending commissioners to 
 England with indulgences for the same purpose, as he had done 
 to France, Germany, and Spain. The Bishop told his Holiness 
 that such a practice had never been allowed unless the King 
 gave his consent and shared the profits. The Pope offered 
 a fourth. Worcester says, if Wolsey approve, he will en- 
 deavour to obtain a third. In Spain Charles had managed 
 to obtain a loan of 175,000 ducats from the commissioners, in 
 anticipation of the amount to be realized. “ The Pope,” says 
 Spinelly,^ “ has granted the realms of Castile indulgence for 
 three years, which will amount to more than 800,000 ducats 
 of gold, net.” “ For here the common people, whether they 
 will or not, be compelled to take it for a certain sum of 
 money, and the commissioners appointed in this business 
 
 the perfect institution of a true 
 Christian is contained and described 
 in you ! 0 angelical Extravagantes ! 
 
 how many poor souls that wander up 
 and down in mortal bodies through 
 this vale of misery would perish were 
 it not for you ! When, ah when, shall 
 this special gift of grace be bestowed 
 on mankind as to lay aside all other 
 studies and concerns, to use you, to 
 peruse you, to understand you, to 
 know you by heart, to digest you, to 
 incorporate you, to turn you into blood, 
 and incentre you in the deepest ven- 
 tricles of their brains, the inmost 
 marrow of their bones, and most 
 intricate labyrinth of their arteries ? 
 Then, ah then, and no sooner than then, 
 
 and no otherwise than then, shall the 
 world be universally happy ! * * * 
 
 “ Oh how wonderfully if you read 
 but a demi-canon, short paragraph, or 
 single observation of these sacro-sanct 
 Decretals ; — how wonderfully, 1 say, 
 do you perceive yourself to kindle in 
 your hearts a furnace of divine love, 
 charity to your neighbour — provided 
 he be not a heretic — bold contempt 
 of all carnal and earthly things, un- 
 shaken contentment in all your affec- 
 tions, and exstatic elevation of soul 
 even to the third heaven 1 ” — Rabelais, 
 iv. 51. 
 
 1 April, 1517 ; Calendar, vol. II. 
 Appendix. 
 
 2 January 7, 1518. 
 
236 THE EEIGN OF HENRY VIII. [A.D. j 
 
 have advanced unto the King by manner of lent (loan) a 
 175,000 ducats ; whose (which) commissioners shall have for 
 their right and labour a penny Flemish for every bull, and i 
 the King two royals of silver for every man; that is, upon | 
 tenpence English. The Pope hath had in ready money for ! 
 such grant 27,000 ducats, and 10,000 restored again that he | 
 had lent for the payment of the footmen in Spain.” It was [ 
 the same in France, where a great and bitter feud raged 
 between the King and the Parliament. The necessities of 
 Francis compelled him, like Charles, to encourage the sale of ! 
 indulgences. It was the readiest and the least obnoxious i 
 means of raising money. The king of France,” writes one,^ , 
 ^‘has gained more money by pardons of the crusade than by I 
 all his exactions. People are compelled to listen to these i 
 heretic pj^eachers — the phrase is remarkable — and murmur ’ 
 everywhere. They preach that whoever puts 10 sous Tournois 
 into the money-box will go to Paradise; for 10 sous apiece 
 sins shall be forgiven, and souls escape purgatory. They are 
 opposed by the University and doctors of theology ; but too 
 late, as the money has been collected. These indulgences are 
 ruinous to princes and their poor subjects.” Such passages 
 as these throw a new light on that event which led to such 
 momentous consequences. The sale of indulgences was a 
 project devised between the temporal and spiritual rulers of 
 Europe for collecting subsidies from the poor and the labour- 
 ing classes. It was levelled to their capacities and their 
 means.^ By the old and established system of trentals and 
 private masses the delivery of souls out of purgatory and 
 remission of sins were accessible only to the rich ; now when 
 the same could be accomplished at 10 sous a head, that was 
 the same as bringing within the reach of the poorest a 
 privilege hitherto exclusively confined to their more fortunate 
 brethren. In the former case the privilege was limited to 
 a class whose growing intelligence and gradual emancipation 
 from credulity, added to other causes, had brought the 
 practice within much narrower limits. Now there was to be 
 no restriction : the sale of pardons was to descend to a much 
 wider circle ; to be sanctioned by the highest authority secular 
 and national ; to be engrafted without stint into the Church’s 
 
 ^ December 1, 1517. ihus dentur gratis pvopter Deum. When, 
 
 ^ Tetzel, in his notices af&xed to however, application was made to him 
 the church doors, had given out that by a poor scholar on the faith of this 
 the price of these indulgences should clause, Tetzel refused him, and re- 
 be relaxed ; and at the bottom of the quired a small fee — however small, 
 notice this clause was added : pauper. See Loscher, i. 306. 
 
! 
 
 H.Tio6rosoH- 
 
 
1 
 
 
 
 vJ 
 
1516-17.] 
 
 THE SWEATING SICKNESS. 
 
 237 
 
 system ; to become a great State engine, against which resist- 
 ance would he ineffectual. So the preachers of indulgences 
 were opposed by two parties for their novel and pernicious 
 doctrines ; — they were condemned for illegal exactions by the 
 one, and denounced as heretics by the other. They were 
 everywhere opposed by the regular clergy; and it is as 
 heretics and novel preachers transgressing the teaching of the 
 Church that Luther wrote to the Archbishop of Mayence to 
 interpose his authority and put them down.^ 
 
 Just at this time two scourges were beginning to threaten 
 Christendom, and brought men to more serious thoughts. I 
 refer to the plague and the sweating sickness. With the former 
 I am not concerned at present. For centuries no infection 
 had visited England, which in fearful rapidity and malignancy 
 could be compared with the sudor Anglicus, as it was at first 
 called, from the notion that its attacks w^ere confined to 
 Englishmen. People sitting at dinner, in the full enjoyment 
 of health and spirits, were seized with it, and died before the 
 next morning. An open window, accidental contact in the 
 streets, children playing before the door, a beggar knocking 
 at the rich man’s gate, might disseminate the infection, and 
 a whole family would be decimated in a few hours without 
 hope or remedy. Houses and villages were deserted. Where 
 the sickness once appeared, precaution was unavailing ; and 
 flight afforded the only chance of security. 
 
 Dr. Caius, a physician who had studied the disease under 
 its various aspects, gives the following account of its appear- 
 ance : — 
 
 “ In the year of our Lord God 1485, shortly after the 7th day of 
 August, at which time king Henry VII. arrived at Milford in Wales out 
 of France, and in the first year of his reign, there chanced a disease 
 
 ^ “ Papal indulgences are hawked 
 about, under the sanction of your noble 
 name, for the building of St. Peter’s. 
 I do not complain so much of the 
 preachers’ declamations, which I have 
 not heard, but I regret the utterly 
 mistaken notions of the populace about 
 these indulgences. It is said every- 
 where that whoever has purchased 
 these letters of indulgence shall be 
 sure of salvation. . . . 
 
 “ Why do these preachers by their 
 fabulous pardons render the people 
 careless and indifferent ? Indulgences 
 contribute nothing to salvation of 
 souls. They only remove the external 
 penalties formerly imposed canonically 
 (oUm canonice imponi solitam ).” — 
 
 Luther to the Abp. of Mayence, 
 October 31, 1517. 
 
 For what sins should these poor, 
 thrifty, temperate, German- Saxons 
 require indulgences ? The oratory of 
 Tetzel was not levelled so much at the 
 rich and luxurious, nor were his lettere 
 purchased by the educated. The sin 
 of sins was, trading upon the new and 
 rising religious earnestness of the 
 people, who, equally with Luther, were 
 asking how men in their sins could be 
 saved ? By faith, replies Luther ; by 
 indulgences, said Tetzel. It was a 
 cry, not from the moral but the 
 spiritual nature of man. And as such 
 Luther answered it. 
 
238 
 
 THE REIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.H. 
 
 among the people, lasting the rest of that month and all September, 
 which for the sudden sharpness and unwont cruelness passed the 
 pestilence. For this commonly giveth in four, often sex^en, sometime 
 nine, sometime eleven, and sometime fourteen days, respite to whom, it 
 vexeth. But that immediately killed some in opening their windows, 
 some in playing with children in their street doors ; some in one hour, 
 many in two, it destroyed ; and at the longest to them that merrily dined, 
 it gave a sorrowful supper. As it found them, so it took them ; some in 
 sleep, some in wake, some in mirth, some in care, some fasting and some 
 full, some busy and some idle ; and in one house sometime three, some- 
 time five, sometime more, sometime all ; of the which if the half in every 
 town escaped, it was thought a great favor. This disease, because it most 
 did stand in sweating from the beginning until the ending, was called 
 here The Sweating Sickness ; and because it first began in England, it was 
 named in other countries ^ The English Sweat. ’ ” ^ 
 
 From the same authority we learn that it appeared in 
 1506, again in 1517 from July to the middle of December, 
 then in 1528. It commenced with a fever, followed by strong 
 internal struggles of nature, causing sweat. If the constitu- 
 tion proved sufficiently strong to expel the poison, the patient 
 escaped. It was attended with sharp pains in the hack, 
 shoulders, and extremities, and then attacked the liver ; pains 
 in the head were succeeded by oppressions of the heart, 
 followed by drowsiness, the whole body becoming inactive 
 and lumpish. It had these further peculiarities that men of 
 middle age and sanguine complexion were most liable to its 
 ravages. Labouring and thin dieted ” men generally 
 escaped it.^ 
 
 It is stated by Gains, in other parts of his work, that the 
 disease was almost peculiar to Englishmen, following them as 
 the shadow does the body in all countries, albeit not at all 
 times. ^ Others it haunted not at all, or else very seldom or 
 once in an age.” ^ It never entered Scotland. In Calais, 
 Antwerp, and Brabant it generally singled out English 
 residents and visitors, whilst the native population were 
 unaffected. In despair of escape, and the absence of any 
 sufficient or certain remedies, men gave up all hope of 
 recovery, and yielded to it without a struggle ; seeing how it 
 began fearfully to invade them, furiously handle them, 
 speedily oppress them, unmercifully choke them, and that in 
 no small numbers, and such persons so notably noble in 
 birth, goodly conditions, grave sobriety, singular wisdom, and 
 great learning.” 
 
 In consequence of the peculiarity of the disease in thus 
 singling out Englishmen, and those of a richer diet and more 
 
 ^ A Boke or Counseill against the Sweate, f. 9. 
 
 2 f. 18, 19. " f. 7. ^ f. 18. 
 
1516 - 17 .] 
 
 UNHEALTHY HOUSES. 
 
 239 
 
 sanguine temperament, various speculations were set afloat 
 as to its origin and its best mode of cure. Erasmus attributed 
 it to bad bouses and bad ventilation, to the clay floors, the 
 unchanged and festering rushes with which the rooms were 
 strewn, and the putrid offal, bones, and filth which reeked 
 and rotted together in the unswept and unwashed dining-halls 
 and chambers. He urged greater moderation at meals, less 
 use of salt food, the employment of proper scavengers to clear 
 the streets of the various abominations which defiled them.’- 
 Possibly Erasmus was as correct in his surmise as others 
 who possessed and professed no knowledge of physic. Failing 
 of more specific information, the disease may be attributed to 
 a variety of causes growing out of a great alteration in the 
 habits and dietary of the population. Change of place, fresh 
 air, moderate diet, seem to have been the only sure specifics ; 
 and these were pointed out as much by natural instinct as 
 observation : — the meagre suffered less than the gross ; poor 
 agricultural labourers escaped when the rich citizen and the 
 noble perished. During the last century the population of 
 the towns had increased rapidly, without any proportionate 
 
 ^ “I am frequently astonished and 
 grieved to think ho-w it is that England 
 has been now for so many years 
 troubled by a continual pestilence, 
 especially by a deadly sweat, which 
 appears in a great measure to be 
 peculiar to your country. I have read 
 how a city was once delivered from a 
 plague by a change in the houses, 
 made at the suggestion of a philosopher. 
 I am inclined to think that this also 
 must be the deliverance for England. 
 
 “ First of all, Englishmen never 
 consider the aspect of their doors or 
 windows ; — next, their chambers are 
 built in such a way as to admit of no 
 ventilation. Then a great part of the 
 walls of the house is occupied with 
 glass casements, which admit light, 
 but exclude the air, and yet they let 
 in the draft through holes and corners, 
 which is often pestilential and stag- 
 nates there. The floors are in general 
 laid with white clay, and are covered 
 with rushes, occasionally removed, but 
 so imperfectly that the bottom layer 
 is left undisturbed, sometimes for 
 twenty years, harbouring expectora- 
 tions, vomitings, the leakage of dogs 
 and men, ale-droppings, scraps of flsh, 
 and other abominations not fit to be 
 mentioned. Whenever the weather 
 changes, a vapour is exhaled, which I 
 
 consider very detrimental to health. 
 I may add that England is not only 
 everywhere surrounded by sea, but is 
 in many places swamjDy and marshy 
 — (Erasmus no doubt meant Essex), — ^ 
 intersected by salt rivers, to say 
 nothing of salt provisions, in which 
 the common people take so much 
 delight. I am confident the island 
 would be much more salubrious if the 
 use of rushes were abandoned, and if 
 the rooms were built in such a way as 
 to be exposed to the sky on two or 
 three sides, and all the windows so 
 built as to be opened or closed at 
 once ; and so completely closed as not 
 to admit the foul air through chinks ; 
 for as it is beneficial to health to 
 admit the air, so is it equally beneficial 
 at times to exclude it. The common 
 people laugh at you if you complain 
 of a cloudy or foggy day. Thirty 
 years ago if ever I entered a room 
 which had not been occupied for 
 some months, I was sure to take a 
 fever. More moderation in diet, and 
 especially in the use of salt meats, 
 might be of service ; more particularly 
 were public aediles appointed to see 
 the streets cleaned from mud and 
 urine, and the suburbs kept in better 
 order.” * ^ — Erasmus to [^John ?] 
 
 Francis, Wolsey’s physician. 
 
240 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENKY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 increase in their sanitary condition or means of accommoda- 
 tion. The same filthy, open, and stagnant sewers rolled 
 lazily their tribute to the Thames, or left their abominations 
 to breed pestilence in the muddy and unpaved streets, where 
 rank and sickly vegetation crawled and rotted, and fever and 
 death were exhaled from numerous holes and pits. The 
 fresh-water springs had been gradually diminished, or were 
 monopolized by brewers; the narrow conduits spouted from 
 their pea-shooters exactly the same quantity of pure liquid to 
 supply the wants of thousands as for a century and more had 
 scantily served for tens. Add to these, the old religious 
 observances of the town populations had rapidly declined; 
 and the discipline of the Church had fallen into desuetude. 
 Lenten fasts and Advent were treated with contempt in the 
 growing puritanism of the age, which regarded these things 
 as indifferent or superstitious, and overlooked their social and 
 sanitary importance when their religious obligation was dis- 
 puted. Pilgrimages to St. Thomas of Canterbury, in April 
 and May, a month or six weeks’ ride on horseback over the 
 fresh fields and salt downs, change of diet and change of air, 
 worked wonders for exhausted frames and overcharged diges- 
 tions ; and ‘‘the blissful martyr,” St. Thomas, had the credit, 
 and richly he deserved it, “of helping them that were sick” 
 more effectually than the best leech in all the shires of broad 
 England.^ 
 
 In the reign of Henry VIII. the sickness first made its 
 appearance in April, 1516.^ Its violence abated as usual at 
 the approach of cold weather. It reappeared again in the 
 spring of 1517 with alarming fury, and continuing all through 
 the summer into November without interruption, scarcely 
 ceased in the winter, and raged more violently than ever in 
 1518. In that year it was accompanied with the measles and 
 the smallpox.^ Not only amusements but business ceased in 
 a great measure ; crowds and places of public resort were 
 carefully avoided ; noblemen broke up their establishments, 
 and every one in dread of the infection hastened, as best he 
 could, to isolate himself from his neighbours. “Tell your 
 master,” said Wolsey to the Earl of Shrewsbury’s chaplain, 
 “ to get him into clean air, and divide his household in 
 sundry places.” No lord, except during his necessary attend- 
 
 ^ As a specimen of the different British Museum are given in the 
 modes of treatment adopted for the Appendix to this volume, 
 sweating sickness, certain extracts ^ II. 1815, 1832. 
 
 from the Additional MSS. in the ^ II. 4320. 
 
1516 - 17 .] 
 
 WOLSEY LORD CHANCELLOR. 
 
 241 
 
 ance at court, was suffered to keep servant or stuff in his 
 chamber, “considering the misorder that is used by their 
 servants whereby infection ensued.” ^ Fairs were put down; 
 and in Oxford, so long as the court resided at Abingdon,' 
 orders were given by Sir Thomas More in the King’s name 
 that the inhabitants of infected houses should keep in, hang 
 out wisps of straw, and carry white rods, in the same way as 
 the King had ordered the Londoners.^ The King moved from 
 place to place, alarmed at every report of the sickness, whether 
 well or ill founded ; ^ his fears were increased by those of 
 Katharine, not for herself but for him, and by her natural 
 solicitude for the welfare of Princess Mary. The apprehen- 
 sions of the court were not without reason ; the plague fell 
 upon the royal household, and carried off the pages that slept 
 in the King’s chamber.^ Every superfluous attendant was 
 dismissed ; and only three favourite gentlemen were retained. 
 But even this precaution proved unavailing ; in the spring 
 three more of the pages died of the plague in the King’s 
 palace at Kichmond.^ Ammonius, the Latin secretary, the 
 friend of Erasmus, was dining one day with an acquaintance ; 
 they had arranged to meet the next day,® and ride to Merton 
 to escape the infection. The next morning, before his friend 
 had time to get out of bed and dress himself, a messenger 
 arrived to announce the death of Ammonius. He was carried 
 off in eight hours.'^ As if to show that foreigners enjoyed no 
 special immunity, Giustinian, the Venetian ambassador, was 
 twice attacked by it in the same week, and two of his servants 
 died in his house.^ Foreign ambassadors feared to set foot in 
 England, or were urgent to get away. 
 
 The only man who remained at his post during this 
 general consternation and alarm was Wolsey, In addition to 
 his duties as chief minister, he was now Lord Chancellor. His 
 administration of this great legal office was characterized by 
 the same energy and fearlessness as distinguished his conduct 
 in all other departments. For his zeal and ability as a judge 
 we have the best testimony that could be had ; the testimony 
 of Sir Thomas More. His regularity, decision, and dispatch 
 cannot be questioned ; his impartiality to all classes was never 
 disputed. These formed the topics of satire and complaint. 
 The lawyers hated him for his strict adherence to justice, his 
 
 ' II. 4331. 
 
 2 II. 4125. 
 
 3 II. 4057, sq. 
 
 * Nov., 1517. No. 3788. 
 
 ® II. 4009. 
 s II. 3603. 
 7 11.3645. 
 ® II. 4332. 
 
 YOL. I. 
 
 E 
 
242 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 discouragement of petty legal artifices, endless forms, and 
 interminable verbosity; the nobles hated him still more, 
 because riches and nobility were no recommendation to 
 partiality or favour, as they had been in the days of his 
 predecessors. His own assertion may be accepted when he 
 says, in a letter to Henry VIII., that the realm was never in 
 greater peace or tranquillity. “All this summer,”^ he adds, 
 “ I have had neither riot, felony, nor forcible entry, but your 
 laws be in every place indifferently ministered, without leaning 
 of any manner.” He then mentions a fray between the re- 
 tainers of Serjeant Pigot and Sir Andrew Wyndsor, both high 
 in the royal favour, and his intention to bring both parties 
 into the Star Chamber, “ that they shall beware how from 
 henceforth they redress their matters with their own hands.” 
 In the performance of these arduous and accumulated duties 
 he was attacked by the sweating sickness, to the undisguised 
 delight of all whom he had compelled to pay their just debts 
 to the Crown and submit to the impartial administration of 
 the laws. In June, 1517, he had been so seriously ill that his 
 life was despaired of; “ and for many days,” says Giustinian, 
 “ neither the nobles, nor other members of the privy council, 
 who are w^ont to be so assiduous, went near him.” ^ In July 
 he was suffering from quinsy : in August he was attacked by 
 the prevailing sickness, and many of his household died ; 
 “ this is the fourth time,” says Giustinian,^ who hated him 
 for his firmness ; and the complaint told heavily on his 
 personal appearance. He now proposed a pilgrimage to 
 Walsingham, and then to Our Lady of Grace, to take air and 
 exercise and correct the weakness of his stomach, as he 
 informed his royal master. He performed his vow and 
 returned, but not to escape from a repetition of the attacks 
 the next year.^ Henry had not yet learned to be ungrateful. 
 He sent various messages to Wolsey expressive of his satis- 
 faction ; praised the CardinaPs wisdom and diligence ; went 
 so far even as to say before Pace,^ “ he was no less contented 
 
 ^ August, 1517. II. App. No. 38. 
 
 2 II. 3372. 
 
 3 II. 3638, 3655. 
 
 ^ The precautions adopted by 
 Wolsey in consequence of these re- 
 peated attacks were misrepresented 
 by his satirists and disappointed 
 suitors. Allen, a chaplain to the Earl 
 of Shrewsbury, comiDlains that when 
 the Cardinal walked in the park at 
 Hampton Court he would suffer no 
 
 suitor to come near him within bow- 
 shot. (Nov. 25, 1517.) Skelton 
 
 ridicules him for indulging in light 
 and nutritious diets, such as pheasants 
 and partridges. 
 
 While on this visit to Walsingham, 
 it seems that Wolsey went on to Nor- 
 wich, and arranged a dispute between 
 the citizens and the monks, relative to 
 a piece of ground called Tombland. 
 
 ^ II. 4071. 
 
1517 .] 
 
 HENRY’S SOLICITUDE FOR WOLSEY. 
 
 243 
 
 with the Cardinal’s contentation than though he had been his 
 own father ; ” asserted before the lords ^ ‘‘that there was no 
 man living who pondered more the surety of his person and 
 the common wealth of his realm.” He desired Wolsey, as 
 soon as business would allow, to repair to Woodstock ; “ for 
 here,” writes Hr. Clerk, through whom the communication 
 was made, “ is clear air, which his Grace thinketh ye will like 
 very well.” 
 
 It was during the progress of the sickness, probably a few 
 days before Wolsey started on his pilgrimage to Walsingham, 
 that the King addressed to him the following letter in his own 
 hand : — 
 
 Myne awne good Cardinall, I recomande me unto yow with all my 
 hart, and thanke yow for the grette payne and labour that yow do dayly 
 take in my bysynes and maters, desyryng yow (that wen yow have well 
 establysshyd them) to take summe pastyme and comfort, to the intente 
 yow may the lenger endure to serve us ; for allways payne can iiott be 
 induryd. Surly yow have so substancyally orderyd oure maters, bothe off 
 thys syde the see and byonde, that in myne oppynion lityll or no thyng 
 can be addyd. Nevertheles, accordyng to your desyre, I do send yow 
 myne oppynyon by thys berar, the refformation whereoff I do remyte to 
 yow and the remnante off our trusty counsellors, whyche I am sure wyli 
 substanically loke on hyt. As tochyng the mater that Sir Wyllyam 
 Sandys broght answar off, I am well contentyd with what order so ever 
 yow do take in itt. The Quene my wj^fF hathe desyryd me to make liar 
 most harty recommendations to yow, as to hym that she lovethe very 
 well, and bothe she and I wolde knowe fayne when yow wyll repayer 
 to us. 
 
 ‘‘No more to yow att thys tyme, but that with God’s helpe I trust we 
 shall dysapoynte oure enymys off theyre intendyd purpose. Wryttyn with 
 the hand off your lovyng master, 
 
 “Henry R.” 
 
 So whilst the King, in compliance with his royal instincts 
 and the solicitations of his subjects, took care of his own 
 health — of all considerations the most precious — the Cardinal 
 took care of the State. The court shifted from Eichmond to 
 Heading, from Beading to Abingdon, thence to Woodstock, or 
 Wallingford, or Karnham, as fear or sickness prevailed. 
 Masks and tournaments were at an end for a time ; dice, 
 card-playing, and divinity took their place. ^ 
 
 But whatever might be the effect on the court and the 
 courtiers, the sweating sickness had not passed over the land 
 without leaving its mark on the doors and sideposts of the 
 lower population. Then, even more than now, any long 
 
 ^ II. 4124. in tke hall!” — Pace to Wolsey, from 
 
 ^ “ Carding and dicing, for this Abingdon, where the court was then 
 Holy Week, is turned into picking off staying. 
 
 (pitching of ?) arrows over the screen 
 
244 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENKY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 absence of the court from London was fraught with evil 
 consequences. It was disastrous to the good order as well as 
 the prosperity of the metropolis. The King had nothing to 
 fear from any competitor to the crown : the only relict of the 
 betrampled De la Poles, the last of the White Koses, was a 
 wretched exile at Metz in Lorraine, beset with spies and 
 scoundrels, and starving on a wretched pittance from the 
 King of France. The State papers of the time are full of the 
 mean and unscrupulous efforts employed to betray him to 
 England and his brother’s fate by two emissaries, Hans 
 Nagel and Alamire, who played the traitors’ part, and took 
 money from both sides. But London apprentices were a 
 restless and ignorant mob ; the municipality of the city 
 inadequate to the preservation of order upon extraordinary 
 occasions, and accustomed to look to the court for help. The 
 late sickness had been disastrous to business ; the city was 
 unguarded ; foreign merchants had swarmed into London 
 in unusual numbers; and foreign fashions, hitherto dis- 
 countenanced, were growing popular at court in consequence 
 of the increasing communication with the Continent. The 
 general dissatisfaction found vent at a time when it was least 
 expected. Indications of it appeared as early as the spring of 
 1516. On the 28th of April in that year Thomas Allen writes 
 to the Earl of Shrewsbury that a bill had been set upon the 
 door of St. Paul’s, reflecting on the King and his Council. It 
 insinuated that strangers obtained much money from the 
 King, “ and bought wools to the undoing of Englishmen.” 
 The reflection was evidently aimed at the Venetian and 
 Florentine merchants, the Campucci, Cavalcanti, and Fresco- 
 baldi, but especially the first, who obtained large concessions 
 about this time. This incendiary handbill occasioned great 
 displeasure, “insomuch that in every ward one of the king’s 
 council, with the alderman of the same, was commanded to 
 see every man write that could ; and further took every man’s 
 books and sealed them, and brought them to Guildhall there 
 to examine them.” The examination apparently produced 
 few results ; at least no further notice occurs of it in the 
 papers of this year. But the Are still smouldered and soon 
 after burst into a flame. Hall, in his Chronicle, attributes 
 the disturbance to the boastfulness of the Genoese and the 
 French; but most of “the strangers were so proud that they 
 disdained, mocked, and oppressed ” the poor English artificer, 
 “who could scarce get a living.” These and other stories 
 
1517 .] 
 
 DISLIKE OF FOEEIGNERS. 
 
 245 
 
 must not be too easily credited : the citizens were actuated by 
 jealousy of rival tradesmen and intense hatred of the least 
 apparent invasion of their monopoly. In the Easter of 1517 
 a broker named John Lincoln called upon Dr. Henry 
 Standish/ warden of the Mendicant Friars, the most popular 
 preacher of the day, and begged him in the sermon which he 
 was to preach on Easter Monday at St. Mary’s Spittle to 
 move the mayor and aldermen “to take part with the com- 
 monalty against the strangers.” Standish wisely refused. 
 Beaten, but not baffled, Lincoln applied to one Dr. Beale, a 
 canon of the same hospital. He enlarged on the misery of 
 the poor artificers, whose living was taken away by strangers ; 
 “ and also how the English merchants could have no utter- 
 ance ; for the merchant strangers brought in all silks, cloth 
 of gold, wine, oil, iron, and such other merchandize, that no 
 man almost buyeth of an Englishman. And also outward 
 they carry so much English wool, tin, and lead, that English- 
 men that aventure outward can have no living ; which things ” 
 (said Lincoln) “have been shewed to the council and cannot 
 be heard. Wherefore ” (said Lincoln), “ Master Doctor, syth 
 you were born in London, and see the oppression of the 
 strangers, and the great misery of your own native country, 
 exhort all the citizens to join in one against the strangers, 
 raveners, and destroyers of your country.” Master Doctor, 
 on hearing this, much lamented their case. “ Yea,” said 
 Lincoln, “ for the Dutchmen (Germans) bring over iron, 
 timber, leather, and wainscot, ready wrought; nails, locks, 
 baskets, cupboards, stools, tables, chests, girdles with points, 
 saddles, and painted (embroidered) cloths ; so that if they 
 were wrought here Englishmen might get something by it. 
 And beside this they grow into such a multitude that it is to 
 be looked upon ; for I saw on a Sunday this Lent 600 strangers 
 shooting at the popynjay with crossbows, and they make such 
 a gathering to their common box that every botcher will hold 
 plea (go to law) with the city of London.” Then taking his 
 leave, he put a paper of grievances into Beale’s hand, which 
 Beale promised to study. 
 
 On the Tuesday, after Dr. Standish, Beale preached to a 
 crowded and excited audience, taking for his text, “ The 
 heaven is the Lord’s, and the fulness thereof ; but the earth 
 
 ^ Immortalized for his quarrel him. His name occurs frequently 
 with Erasmus. He was afterwards with Colet’s and Grocyn’s among the 
 Bishop of St. Asaph, St. Asse, or De court preachers. 
 
 Asino, as Pace and Erasmus called 
 
246 
 
 THE REIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 he has given to the children of men ; ” — ccelum coeli Domino, 
 terra7ii autem dedit Jiliis hominum. He argued with no little 
 eloquence and ingenuity, that when God appointed their 
 proper boundaries and habitations to all nations, he gave the 
 land his audience stood upon as an inheritance to Englishmen 
 for ever ; and as birds would defend their nests, so (he urged) 
 ought Englishmen to fight for their country and defend it 
 against aliens. A popular topic, so enforced and so illustrated, 
 was not likely to lose any of its effect. May-Day, the popular 
 festival, was at hand ; and the court, in dread of the sickness, 
 had retired to Eichmond. Two days before, a rumour sprung 
 up, no man could tell from what beginning, that the city 
 would rise, and all strangers be massacred without discrimi- 
 nation. Wolsey sent for the chief members of the corporation, 
 and demanded of the Mayor how the city stood. “ Well, and 
 in good quiet,” answered the Mayor, as mayors are apt to do. 
 
 Nay,” said the Cardinal, “we are mformed that your young 
 and riotous people will rise and distress the strangers. Hear 
 ye of no such thing? ” “ No, surely,” said the Mayor, “ and 
 
 I trust so to govern them that the king’s peace shall not be 
 broken, and that I dare undertake, if I and my brethren the 
 aldermen may be suffered.” Wolsey dismissed them with a 
 caution to look well to this matter. The aldermen talked the 
 subject over, differed in their opinions, and no effectual pre- 
 cautions were adopted. According to Hall (whose antipathy 
 to foreigners leads him to extenuate the insurrection in a 
 manner inconsistent with the efforts afterwards used to punish 
 and suppress it), the whole affair was a trifle. Sir John 
 Munday, one of the aldermen, found two apprentices in his 
 ward playing at bucklers, and a great company looking on. 
 As they refused to disperse, he took one of them by the arm, 
 who was immediately rescued. Instantly the cry of Clubs! 
 Prentices I was raised; and in a moment the streets were 
 thronged with a motley crowd of watermen, serving-men, and 
 apprentices, swaying hither and thither, bent on mischief, but 
 not yet resolved what course to take. Some fell to rifling the 
 houses, others ran to Leadenhall, the residence of Peter 
 Meautis, the King’s secretary, others to the strangers’ 
 quarters, plundering and destroying all that fell in their way. 
 Hall accused Sir Thomas Parr of exaggerating the report of 
 the disturbance to the King, and greatly underrates the 
 number of the rioters. He condemns Sir Eichard Cholmeley, 
 lieutenant of the Towxr, for needlessly battering the city 
 
1517 .] 
 
 EVIL MAY DAY. 
 
 247 
 
 gates, a frantic fury,” with certain pieces of ordnance, 
 ‘‘which did little harm, howbeit his good will appeared.” 
 The serving-men and priests engaged in the riot escaped, says 
 Hall, “ but the poor prentices were taken ! ” The whole 
 narrative, however, is so much coloured by the writer’s 
 peculiar prejudices and his anxiety to exculpate the rioters, 
 that he assumes as grave facts the rhetorical exaggerations of 
 the preacher, and is unjust to the alien merchants. He 
 accuses them of showing open contempt for the citizens, 
 depriving them of their industry and emoluments, and dis- 
 honouring their wives and daughters ; — an accusation of no 
 probability, considering the paucity of their number, and the 
 dangers to which they were exposed from the multitude and 
 irritation of the citizens. “ From that day,” says Giustinian, 
 referring to the day of Beale’s sermon, “ they commenced 
 threatening the strangers that on the 1st of May they would cut 
 them to pieces and sack their houses.” Sebastian gave Wolsey 
 notice of the danger, and, apprehensive of the consequences, 
 withdrew to Eichmond. The rioters rose in the night of the 
 80th of April, to the number of 2,000, sacked the houses of the 
 French and Flemish artificers, and then proceeded to the resi- 
 dence of Peter Meautis, who escaped death by hiding himself in 
 the belfry of the adjoining church. Their next object of attack 
 was the Italian quarter, but the merchants there had provided 
 themselves with men, arms, and artillery, and defied the mob, 
 who drew off to attack the less resolute and the defenceless. 
 Much greater mischief would have arisen but for the precau- 
 tionary measures of the Cardinal, who had ordered troops to 
 advance by several roads to the city, “where they found the 
 gates closed by these seditious ribalds, who had overpowered 
 the forces of the lord mayor and aldermen, and compelled 
 them to open the gaols and release the prisoners.” The gates 
 were forced in different directions ; the preacher, with twelve 
 of the ringleaders, and seventy of their adherents taken. 
 
 On the 4th of May, the prisoners were brought through 
 the streets to trial, tied with ropes, two and two ; “ some men, 
 some lads, some children of xiii. years.” ^ They were tried 
 on the statute of high treason; thirteen were found guilty, 
 and condemned to be hanged, drawn, and quartered. Gallows 
 were erected in different parts of the city, and the executions 
 entrusted to Lord Surrey, the admiral, son of the Duke of 
 Norfolk, as knight marshal, who showed the unfortunate 
 
 ^ Hall. 
 
248 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENEY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 prisoners no mercy. The armed retainers of the Duke and 
 other noblemen appointed to keep order, regarded the citizens 
 with hatred and disdain, and made no scruple of expressing 
 their feelings in opprobrious words and gestures. On Thurs- 
 day, the 7th, Lincoln and the ringleaders were ordered for 
 execution ; but Lincoln alone suffered ; the rest were respited 
 at the foot of the gallows.^ These severities did not all at 
 once produce the effects that had been anticipated. Great 
 murmuring and disaffection rose among the people, especially 
 among the women. Strangers were not safe in the city ; 
 blows were struck, foreigners were eyed with angry glances, 
 though no serious riots ensued. Great as was their fear, 
 their ill will was greater than ever. Numbers still remained 
 in prison, uncertain of their fate. On the 11th the King 
 removed to Greenwich, and received a deputation of the 
 recorder and aldermen, dressed in black, who had come to 
 excuse themselves and beg mercy for the offenders. Henry 
 declined to grant their petition, and referred them to the 
 Chancellor. Eleven days after, attended by the Cardinal, the 
 Council, and the lords spiritual and temporal, the King took 
 his seat on a lofty dais, with great ceremony, in Westminster 
 Hall : the mayor, aldermen, and chief citizens were in 
 attendance. “The king commanded that all the prisoners 
 should be brought forth. Then came in the poor younglings 
 and old false knaves, bound in ropes, all along one after 
 another, in their shirts, and every one with a halter about his 
 neck, to the number of 400 men and eleven women. The 
 Cardinal as they presented themselves before the King en- 
 treated his Majesty to pardon them. The King refused. 
 Turning to the delinquents, the Cardinal announced the royal 
 determination. On hearing it the cul]3rits fell upon their 
 knees, crying aloud, Mercy, Mercy! Then the Cardinal, 
 falling on his knees, besought his Majesty’s compassion, and 
 at length obtained their pardon, which he announced to them 
 with tears in his eyes,^ urging them in a long discourse to be 
 
 * stow a dels a circumstance omitted 
 by Hall, whose account he follows in 
 other respects. “ It is to be noted 
 that three queens, sc., Ka.tharine 
 queen of England, and hy her w.eans 
 Mary the French queen, and Margaret 
 queen of Scots, tne king’s sisters, then 
 resident in England, long time on 
 their knees before the king, had begged 
 their pardon, which by persuasion of 
 the cardinal Wolsey (without whose 
 
 counsel he would then do nothing) 
 the king granted unto them.” — Chron. 
 p. 506. Five days after Margaret 
 returned to Scotland. 
 
 2 Hall. 
 
 3 Hall, who hated Wolsey, has 
 omitted many little circumstances in 
 his account of this affair, which he 
 thought might be creditable to the 
 Cardinal. The best account of it will 
 be found in Giustinian’s despatches. 
 

1517.] 
 
 ILL FEELING IN THE CITY. 
 
 249 
 
 obedient subjects, and not oppose the will of their Prince, 
 who had resolved that all strangers should be well treated in 
 his dominions. “And when the Cardinal told them this,” 
 says Sagudino,^ “it was a fine sight to see each man take the 
 1, halter from his neck, and fling it in the air ; and how they 
 jumped for joy, making such signs of rejoicing as became 
 people who had escaped from extreme peril.” ^ 
 
 The city was apparently quieted ; and Hall, its apologist, 
 
 I says no more of this disastrous affair, which had ended with 
 much less mischief than might have been anticipated. But 
 the punishment of the ringleaders sunk deep into the minds 
 of the citizens: nothing could shake their conviction that 
 undue partiality had been shown to the strangers, and a 
 disproportionate severity to those who had only risen in 
 defence of their inalienable rights as Englishmen. The ill 
 feeling was fostered by the sight of the mutilated remains of 
 those who had suffered for the part they had taken in the late 
 insurrection. “ At the city gates,” says an ej^e-witness,^ 
 “ one sees nothing but gibbets and the quarters of these 
 wretches, so that it is horrible to pass near them.” The 
 memory of what Surrey and other noblemen had done, in 
 their hour of triumph, was treasured up with feelings of 
 resentment by the inhabitants of London. Their time for 
 vengeance had not yet arrived ; but hatred of the nobility 
 became henceforth a strong element in the loyalty of London 
 I citizens, and no inconsiderable motive power in the Ee- 
 
 I formation. The rebellion burst forth again five months 
 after, when the King and the Cardinal were away. Three of 
 the ringleaders were apprehended, but previous experience 
 had made the mayor and aldermen watchful, and nothing 
 came of it.^ 
 
 The part taken by the religious orders in this dispute, and 
 :i the identification of the Minorite friars and Hr. Standish with 
 ' the popular cause, are deserving of notice. It is another 
 proof, overlooked by the historians of the Eeformation, of the 
 ! favour borne to these orders by the town population. Then, 
 i as now, the secular clergy and bishops constituted an eccle- 
 I siastical aristocracy, and sympathized with the nobility. They 
 
 1 II. 3259. 
 
 2 By this, “the King might per- 
 ceive they were none of the discretest 
 sort,” is Hall’s frigid comment on this 
 demonstration. He adds, more a23pro- 
 priately, that the gallows were taken 
 
 down, and from that time the citizens 
 looked more carefully after their 
 apjn'entices and servants. 
 
 3 II. 3259. 
 
 " II. 3697. 
 
250 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENRY YIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 joined with Erasmus in his ridicule of the friars; and this 
 feeling of contempt for the preaching friar of the lower classes > 
 was not inconsistent with the conservatism exhibited by them 
 at a later stage of the Reformation. It must be considered as 
 still more strange that Dr. Standish, the warden of the Friars, 
 should have stood up in defence of the royal supremacy against 
 the whole power of Convocation ; — an act which neither the 
 clergy nor the King ever forgot.^ When the see of St. Asaph 
 fell vacant in 1518, Wolsey, then at the very height of his 
 credit, desired it for the Prior of St. Bartholomew’s, but in 
 vain ; and Pace writes to the Cardinal,^ “ the king will give 
 St. Asse to friar Standish ; whereof I would be right sorry for 
 the good service he was like to do to the Church. Erit tamen 
 difficile huic rei ohstare {ut milii videtur) quia majestas regia 
 ilium milii jampr idem laudavit ex doetrina et omnes isti domini ■. 
 aidici eidem favent de singulari quam navavit opera ad ecclesiam 
 Anglicam suhvertendamd’ The favour thus borne to Standish 
 by the King for his defence of the royal supremacy is not ; 
 easily reconciled with the popular notions entertained of the I 
 Mendicant friars, and the part taken by them in the religious 
 movements of that age. More remarkable is the testimony of 
 Pace that Standish stood high in the good graces of the 
 courtiers, because like them, he was supposed to be no well- 
 wisher to the Church. The readers of Burnet will remember 
 a remarkable document, printed by that historian, containing ^ 
 a most graphic account of the part taken by Standish in the 
 Convocation of 1515.^ I must crave my readers’ indulgence 
 for referring to this subject with some minuteness, not merely 
 for its great importance, but because, in the recent arrange- 
 ment of the State papers under the order of the Master of 
 the Rolls, the answer made by the Convocation to the King, 
 when summoned to defend itself for its treatment of Standish, 
 was for the first time brought to light. 
 
 Whilst the Parliament was sitting in 1515, Richard 
 Kidderminster, Abbot of Winchcombe, preached a sermon at 
 Paul’s Cross, wherein he maintained that the Act passed 
 three years before for depriving murderers and other male- 
 factors of the benefit of clergy, was contrary to the law of God 
 and the liberties of the Church. At a council of divines and i 
 temporal lords summoned by the King to examine an assertion | 
 so derogatory to the laws of their realm, Standish spoke in ! 
 favour of the Act. The argument employed by him in defence i 
 
 * II. 1312-14. 2 40^4, 3 See H. 1313. | 
 
r 
 
 1515 .] 
 
 DE. STANDISH. 
 
 251 
 
 of it was remarkable: was not,” he said, ‘^against the 
 
 liberty of the Church, because it was passed for the weal of 
 the whole realm.” Upon this a divine, whose name has not 
 
 i been preserved, remarked that the exemption of the clergy 
 from temporal penalties had been asserted by the canons, and 
 by Christ Himself ; and, in defence of this assertion, he 
 alleged the words Nolite tang ere Christos meos. Standish 
 replied, that these were not the words of Christ, but of David 
 a thousand years before, and were spoken by the psalmist 
 because the greater number of men were unbelievers in those 
 days, and they were forbidden by David to molest those of the 
 true faith, whom he called Christos. After some further 
 discussion, the temporal lords demanded that the Bishops 
 should compel the Abbot to make an apology for what he had 
 said. The Bishops not only refused, but shortly after sum- 
 ; moned Standish to answer before Convocation to certain 
 articles involving the points in dispute. On perceiving their 
 j drift, Standish appealed for protection to the King. The two 
 jl parties were immediately brought into collision : the clergy 
 t urged the King to maintain his coronation oath and defend 
 the rights of the Church ; the temporal lords appealed to the 
 same oath in maintenance of the rights of the subject, and of 
 I Standish in particular. A commission, consisting of the 
 I judges, the privy council, certain spiritual and temporal lords, 
 
 I and a few members from the Parliament, was ordered by the 
 
 I King to assemble at Blackfriars, and try the question. The 
 arguments employed on both sides are worthy of notice ; and 
 even if the report of them — preserved by a lawyer — was 
 favourable to Standish, the line of defence which he adopted 
 was marked with so much ability as ought to modify the 
 : unfavourable judgment left us by Erasmus of the friar’s 
 
 ignorance and bigotry. Ultimately the judges determined 
 ij that Convocation by its proceedings against Standish had 
 I incurred the guilt of prcemunire ; and to this judgment they 
 jl appended a clause more in accordance with the 17th than the 
 
 ii 16th century, that the King, if he pleased, could hold a 
 
 j Parliament by himself and the temporal lords and commons, 
 
 |j without the assistance of the spirituality, who had no place 
 !! there except by virtue of their temporal possessions. On this 
 i Wolsey, then Archbishop of York, kneeled down before the 
 Ij King, and assured him that the clergy had no intention of 
 : doing anything prejudicial to the Crown ; and he for one, 
 
 I who owed his advancement solely to his Majesty, would never 
 
252 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENRY YHI. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 assent to anything in derogation of the royal authority. The | 
 
 clergy, he urged, had acted in good faith in this matter, and i 
 
 conformably to the duty, as they believed, imposed upon them | 
 
 by their oaths in defence of the liberties of the Church, and 
 he prayed the King to allow the matter to be referred to the | 
 
 Pope and his council at Kome. The King answered, “We | 
 
 think Dr. Standish has replied to you sufficiently on all i 
 
 points.” Fox, Bishop of Winchester, said, “ Sir, I warrant 
 you Dr. Standish will not abide by his opinion at his peril.” 
 Standish rejoined, “What should one poor friar do alone j 
 against all the bishops and clergy of England ? ” Then said 
 the Archbishop of Canterbury : in former days many holy 
 fathers resisted the law of the land on this point, and some ; 
 
 suffered martyrdom in the quarrel. Fineux, Chief Justice, I 
 
 answered, that the conventing of clerks before the lay judges 
 had been practised by many holy kings, and many fathers of i 
 
 the Church had agreed to it ; adding, “ If a clerk be arrested ? 
 
 by the secular authority for murder or felony, and is com- | 
 
 mitted to the clergy by the temporal judge, you of the clergy | 
 
 have no authority by your laws to try him.” Hereupon the ; 
 
 King said, “We are by the sufferance of God king of England, ; 
 
 and the kings of England in times past never had any I 
 
 superior but God ; know, therefore, that we will maintain the 
 rights of the crown in this matter like our progenitors ; and 
 as for your decrees, we are satisfied that even you of the ‘ 
 spiritualty act expressly against the words of several of them, j 
 as has been well shown you by some of our spiritual council. ' i 
 
 You interpret your decrees at your pleasure ; but as for me, I : 
 will never consent to your desire, any more than my pro- j 
 
 genitors have done.” The Convocation, in their answer, j 
 
 disavowed in humble and earnest terms any wish to interfere 
 with the prerogative, but they claimed the right of discussing 
 questions affecting the Church with the same unrestricted 
 liberty as questions touching the clergy were discussed in the 
 Parliament. They said: “at sundry times divers of the 
 parliament speak divers and many things, not only against 
 men of the Church and against the laws of the Church, 
 but also sometimes against the king’s laws, for the which 
 neither the king nor the prelates of the Church have 
 punished them, nor yet desireth any punishment for their 
 so speaking'.” ^ 
 
 A little study of these two remarkable documents will be 
 1 IL 1313, 1314. 
 
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1515.] THE EOYAL SUPREMACY NO NEW THING. 253 
 
 sufficient to dissipate many popular misconceptions of the 
 progress, purpose, and character of the Beformation in Eng- 
 land, if those misconceptions have not been shaken already. 
 The notions that the royal supremacy leapt full-armed from 
 the brains of Henry YIII., that the clergy were irresponsible 
 even in spiritual matters, or that the Pope could dictate from 
 Borne to the Sovereigns of this country, at least to Henry VIII. 
 or Henry VII., beyond what those princes were willing to 
 allow, — still more, that on the papal fiat depended the abstract 
 right or wrong of any question in the minds of the people — 
 are idle phantoms. The canon law had grown up side by side 
 with the laws of the realm. In the weakness and imperfection 
 of other laws, it seemed no more than fitting that the clergy, 
 as a spiritual body, should he governed by spiritual laws : — 
 the encroachments of those laws, and the difficulty of adjust- 
 ing them with the temporal laws, provoked frequent disputes ; 
 but then it remained with the King to decide how far those 
 spiritual laws should be operative. Convocation could pass no 
 canons without the King’s consent ; no bull or ecclesiastical 
 constitution could be published in this country without his 
 sanction; no bishop, no abbot, no prior could assume their 
 several offices without the royal permission. As a right, 
 though not always as a fact, the supremacy of the King had 
 continued from time immemorial : the usurpations upon that 
 right were resisted and modified by the energy and will of the 
 Sovereign. But in the reign of Henry VHI. the papal 
 authority in England had ceased to be anything more than a 
 form — a decorum to be observed — a concession to the opinions 
 and usages of the age, which no orthodox son of the Church 
 would wilfully or pointedly disregard, and so put himself out- 
 side the pale of Christendom, and excommunicate himself 
 from what was then considered as decent society.” And 
 here, the question discussed between Standish and his oppo- 
 nents, supposed to have been settled for ever by the blood of 
 St. Thomas, is just as rife in men’s minds, and as far from 
 adjustment, as it was three centuries and a half before. The 
 King’s supremacy is as vital and energetic a principle in the 
 minds of lawyers and divines, the peril of prcemunire as real, 
 as when at the fall of Wolsey the King exerted that authority 
 which here he was satisfied merely with asserting. 
 
 And what, perhaps, is no less curious, the part taken by 
 Standish presents him and the friars, of whom he was the 
 representative, in a very different light from that in which the 
 
254 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 religious orders appear in popular histories/ or in the 
 sarcastic anecdotes of Erasmus. In giving due weight to the 
 testimony of Erasmus it should be remembered that it is the 
 hatred of the scholar and the wit, the man of refinement, of 
 somewhat epicurean tastes and habits, for the vulgar, coarse, 
 and popular preacher of the day. It was the judgment of the 
 exquisite critic, of the favoured visitant at the marble palaces 
 of bishops and cardinals, upon the half-educated priest, very 
 little removed from the low and uneducated classes amongst 
 whom he laboured, and over whom he exercised unbounded 
 control. Atheism, talking Greek in high places, and armed 
 with correct Latinity, was a less disagreeable sight to Erasmus 
 than piety in bad Latin, violating the rules of Lily’s grammar. 
 The friars were the assertors of the popular cause against the 
 aristocracy and the hierarchy ; at one time, they supported 
 Kings against both orders, braved them at another when their 
 authority was oppressive; — but coarse, energetic, and turbulent 
 in whatever they undertook. 
 
 In fact the sixteenth century was not a mass of moral 
 corruption out of which life emerged by some process unknown 
 to art or nature ; it was not an addled egg cradling a living 
 bird ; quite the reverse. Fervet totus mundus in justitia sua con- 
 stituenda, is the repeated cry of Luther ; ^ and an age busied 
 with the great questions of righteousness, whether of faith or 
 works, is not a demoralized or degenerate age, at all events, 
 however roughly and rudely the discussion may be carried on. 
 These are not the thoughts which trouble the hearts of men 
 buried in sensuality. It was an age instinct with vast animal 
 life, robust health, and muscular energy, terrible in its rude 
 and unrefined appetites, its fiery virtues, and fierce passions. 
 It had risen from the sleep of the last century ‘Gike a giant 
 refreshed with wine.” It was this new vigour and strength 
 which alarmed those who had hitherto deemed its old guides 
 sufficient, and were tempted to draw closer the ancient bonds, 
 and knit them more firmly together. State super vias antiquas 
 was the cry of those who, unwilling to look forward, saw with 
 reluctance the scaffolding giving way under which the building 
 
 ^ Unfortnnately, in all our popular 
 histories the Reformation has been 
 presented from the Elizabethan point 
 of view, when men’s impressions and 
 notions about it had undergone great 
 changes from a variety of causes. 
 
 ^ Luther’s most earnest remon- 
 strances were directed, not against bad, 
 
 but against “good works,” and the 
 stress laid upon them by the advocates 
 of the old religion. If that religion 
 had been in its practice so generally 
 corrupt, as it is represented to have 
 been by modern writers, such denun- 
 ciations were idle. 
 

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 1515.] CONSERVATISM AND THE REFORMATION. 255 
 
 had risen to such grand and majestic proportions. Under 
 that old system England had emerged from barbarism to 
 civilization ; from wandering hordes of broken tribes to the 
 unity of a great nation ; from hovels of clay to cathedrals and 
 palaces ; from the outscourings of Saxons, Danes, and 
 Normans, to a great, strong, and independent people. It was 
 the admiration of the world for its material wealth and pros- 
 perity; it was not given to lying, as historians nowadays 
 tell us, but manly, candid, and trustworthy ; too honest and 
 straightforward to believe in deceit, and therefore, as State 
 papers show, too easy to be deceived. State super vias antiquas, 
 cried men who looked back upon the goodly deeds of their 
 forefathers, as Englishmen will every now and then cry out 
 by reason of their conservative instincts ; as all men naturally 
 will cry out who have a past upon which they can and they 
 dare look back. So the stronger went forward, and the timid 
 stayed behind ; not necessarily less earnest or less morally 
 pure than the bolder and more advanced ; for among laymen 
 Sir Thomas More was surely as honest as Cromwell or Eich, and 
 among churchmen Fisher was as conscientious as Cranmer.^ 
 
 1 “ Whereupon Gargantua, fearful 
 lest the child should hurt himself, 
 caused four great chains of iron to he 
 made to bind him, and so many strong 
 wooden arches unto his cradle most 
 firmly stacked and morticed in huge 
 frames. . . . Thus continued Panta- 
 gruel [the genius of the Reformation] 
 for a while, very calm and quiet, for 
 he was not able so easily to break 
 those chains, especially having no 
 room in the cradle to give a swing 
 with his arms. But see what hap- 
 pened once on a great holiday that his 
 father Gargantua made a sumptuous 
 banquet to all the princes of his court. 
 Hark what he did, good people ! He 
 strove and essayed to break the chains 
 of the cradle with his arms, but could 
 not, for they were too strong for him. 
 Then did he keep with his feet [i.e. 
 the masses] such a stamping, and so 
 long, that at last he beat out the 
 lower end of his cradle, which not- 
 withstanding was made of a great 
 post five feet square ; and as soon as 
 he had gotten out his feet, he slid 
 down as well as he could till he had 
 got his soles to the ground, and then 
 
 with a mighty force he rose up carry- 
 ing his cradle upon his back bound to 
 him, like a tortoise that crawls up 
 against a wall. In this manner he 
 entered into the great hall where they 
 were banqueting, and that very boldly, 
 and did much affright the company ; 
 yet, because his arms were tied in, he 
 could not reach anything to eat, but 
 with great pain stooped now and then 
 a little to take with the whole flat of 
 his tongue some good lick, good bit or 
 morsel [be. popular liberties, at first, 
 after the Reformation more slowly 
 and grudgingly conceded]. Which 
 when his father saw, he saw well 
 enough that they had left him without 
 giving him anything to eat, and there- 
 fore commanded that he should be 
 loosed from the said chains. . . . When 
 he was unchained they made him sit 
 down, where after he had fed very 
 well [the increase of science and 
 education], he took his cradle and 
 broke it into more than five hundred 
 thousand pieces, with one blow of his 
 fist, swearing he would never come 
 into it again.” — Rabelais, ii. 4. 
 
256 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 WOLSEY, CARDINAL AND LEGATE. 
 
 It was during the period of which we have just been treating 
 that Wolsey’s fortunes reached their culminating point. The 
 marriage of Mary with Lewis XII. had greatly advanced his 
 influence. It established him in the confidence of the royal 
 family as no minister in his own time or before him, had ever 
 been ; not even Suffolk, the King’s brother-in-law. The terms 
 in which he addresses Mary and Margaret, and even Katharine 
 of Arragon, indicate the familiar footing on which he was 
 received by the different branches of the royal family. His 
 first letter to Mary,^ then a widow and a Queen, is conceived 
 more in the tone of a personal friend than of a prime minister. 
 He begs her, ^‘for the old service he has done her,” to make 
 no rash engagements ; and for my part,” he concludes, ^'to 
 the effusion of my blood and spending of my goods I shall 
 never forsake nor leave you.” Strange language this to come 
 from the lips of a minister to a Queen in the time of the 
 Tudors ! And both Queens, though neither loved him, were 
 accustomed to this somewhat magisterial tone, and replied to 
 him in terms of respect and submission. Of the light in 
 which he was regarded by the King evidence has been given 
 already. To the Pope he addressed himself in the canonized 
 terms of humility, such as no Sovereign, much less a Bishop 
 of those times, whatever his power or however bitter his 
 resentment, would for a moment think of neglecting ; but if 
 Leo X. ever dreamed of temporizing with Wolsey, or putting 
 him off with promises and apologies, he was quickly made to 
 feel who was the real pontiff of the West. His enemies 
 accounted him haughty and imperious ; and much more 
 humility or moderation than Wolsey possessed could scarcely 
 have escaped the imputation. Such a sight as this Cardinal 
 presented was not common to the eyes of Christendom. The 
 
 ' II. 15. 
 
1515-18.] 
 
 WOLSEY S POWER. 
 
 257 
 
 great nobles could obtain no audience of him until after four 
 or five applications ; foreign ambassadors not even then. 
 “ He is omnipotent,” says Erasmus, writing to Cardinal 
 Grimani.^ ‘‘All the power of the state is centred in him,” is 
 the observation of Giustinian;^ “he is in fact ipse rex,'' 
 “ Whether it be by necromancy, witchcraft, or policy, no man 
 knoweth,”^ murmured the people in taverns and highways. 
 Yet undisputed as was the supremacy of this great minister, it 
 was surely no more than might have been expected. In genius, 
 in penetration, in aptitude for business, and indefatigable 
 labour, he had no equal. All despatches addressed to am- 
 bassadors abroad or at home passed through his hands ; — the 
 entire political correspondence of the times was submitted to 
 his perusal, and waited for his decision. Before a single 
 measure was submitted to the Privy Council, it was shaped 
 by Wolsey’s hands ; he managed it unaided and alone when it 
 had passed their approval. Fox, the only minister of any 
 experience, seldom attended ; Suffolk dared not offer opposi- 
 tion. Norfolk, who had endeavoured and once had partly 
 succeeded in thwarting Wolsey’s authority, had been defeated 
 and yielded. He was too haughty to conceal a temper not 
 less imperious than the Cardinal’s, and wanted the flexibility 
 and courtesy of manner required in a successful courtier. Of 
 the rest, Kuthal was “the treble to Wolsey’s bass;” Lovell 
 and Sir Henry Marney without influence. Serious disputes 
 had arisen more than once, and endangered the Cardinal’s 
 position. “Here is a great snarling in the Privy Council,” 
 writes Thomas Allen to the Earl of Shrewsbury, “ insomuch 
 that my lord Cardinal said to Sir Henry Marney, that the 
 same Sir Henry had doue more displeasure unto the king’s 
 grace, by reason of his cruelty against the great estates of this 
 realm than any man living. . . . The Cardinal and Sir William 
 Compton are marvellous great. . . . The lord Marquis 
 (Dorset), the earl of Surrey (afterwards duke of Norfolk), and 
 the Lord Abergavenny were put out of the Council chamber 
 within these four days, whatever that did mean.”^ The same 
 writer, a few weeks after, advises the earl not to come up to 
 London; “for there are some things come not so well to 
 pass” — alluding to the ill success of Wolsey’s polic}^ vith 
 Maximilian — “ wherein feiv were of counsel, as the begiuneis 
 of the same thought they would have done. I hear some 
 
 * March 31, 1515. 
 2 II. 1086, 1380. 
 
 ^ II. 2733. 
 
 ^ May 31, 1516. 1959. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 s 
 
258 
 
 THE REIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 things which are not to be written.” ^ These obscure remarks 
 receive further illustration from a letter of Giustinian : ^ “ For 
 many days and months past the Bishop of Winchester (Fox) 
 and the Archbishop of Canterbury (Warham), who were 
 principal members of the government, have withdrawn them- 
 selves, on account, it is said, of the succour given to the 
 Emperor against the King of France.^ Canterbury was Lord 
 Chancellor, and Winchester Privy Seal, both which offices are 
 of extreme importance, and have been resigned by them. The 
 Chancellorship has been conferred on the Cardinal, the Privy 
 Seal on the Bishop of Durham. The Duke of Suffolk, who 
 married the queen-widow of France, has also absented him- 
 self ; it is said he is not so much in favour with the king as 
 before. Sir Thomas Lovel, an old servant of the late and the 
 present king, a person of great authority, seems also to have 
 withdrawn himself, and interferes little in the government. 
 So the whole direction of affairs rests, to the dissatisfaction of 
 everybody, with the right reverend Cardinal, the bishop of 
 Durham and the lord Treasurer (Norfolk).” 
 
 Wolsey's position was not a bed of roses. Exposed by his 
 monopoly of the King’s favour to the envy of the nobility in 
 general ; to the odium of one class for his cardinalate, of 
 another for his impartial justice or his rigid economy; what- 
 ever line of policy he found it necessary to adopt he was 
 opposed by one party or more in the nation. To the people 
 in general an alliance with France was as distasteful as ever ; 
 to the nobility it was otherwise. The statesmen of the old 
 school believed that union with France implied peace in 
 Christendom, with plenty and economy at home. To them a 
 German alliance seemed but a shadow, or a bottomless waste. 
 Yet popular wilfulness compelled the wiser not unfrequently 
 to abandon their better convictions, and sacrifice the real 
 interests of England to popular clamour. On the other hand, 
 the German was identified even then, and still more in the 
 sequel, with opposition to the Pope. So disputes sprang up 
 in the Council upon the questions of its foreign policy ; Fox, 
 Warham, and Suffolk, who supported French interests, with- 
 drew, but only for a time, — not out of hatred to Wolsey, as 
 Polydore Vergil represents, for all were present at the cere- 
 monies when Wolsey received the cardinal’s hat,^ and Suffolk 
 
 ^ II. 2018. the French and the German. Norfolk 
 
 2 July 17, 151^. sided with the latter throughout. 
 
 ® There were two parties in the * II. 1158. 
 
 cabinet, as in the nation at large — 
 
1515-18.] 
 
 WOLSEFS DIFFICULTIES. 
 
 259 
 
 was always desirous of reconciliation. Fox appeared at the 
 Council in November, 1515, again in November, 1516,^ after 
 he is represented as having laid down his office and per- 
 manently retired ; again in December interceding for the papal 
 nuncio, Chieregato ; ^ and again in January, 1517 ; facts 
 inconsistent with Polydore’s account. Opposed to Wolsey’s 
 imperial policy, on the marriage of Mary with Lewis x'll. 
 Fox wrote to the Cardinal “ that was the best deed ever done 
 for England,”^ 
 
 In further illustration of this obscure subject, so important 
 for a clear understanding of the times, we have a remarkable 
 letter of Wolsey, addressed to De Giglis, Bishop of Worcester, 
 the English agent at the Vatican. The Bishop had reported 
 to Wolsey certain rumours then current at Borne, of a con- 
 spiracy formed by some parties in England to work his 
 destruction by the aid of France ; and of this the Pope had 
 desired him to take warning.® Wolsey replied ® that it was 
 impossible to describe the King’s gratitude for the information 
 communicated by the Pope not that he was really appre- 
 hensive of any danger, for there was no king in the world 
 more ardently beloved or more respected by his subjects. His 
 very looks, he added, strike terror into evil-doers. As for 
 himself and his administration, the kingdom was never in 
 greater unity or repose than at present, '' tanti eniin justitiam 
 et cequitatem facia, ahsit jactantiw crimen ; and were I to offer 
 to resign I am sure neither the king nor his nobles would 
 permit it.” 
 
 Possibly he might overrate his popularity with the nobles, 
 but his confidence in his own administration of justice 
 was well founded. His worst enemies, his most incessant 
 maligners, were reluctantly compelled to admit that in his 
 functions as Chancellor he behaved admirably."^ To that post 
 
 1 IL 2559. 
 
 2 II. 2643. 
 
 » II. 2839. 
 
 " II. 4540. 
 
 ^ The French faction were the 
 chief authors of VVolsey’s fall in after 
 life, and Suffolk the instrument then, 
 as he seems to he alluded to now ; 
 whether set on by others or his own 
 suggestion is uncertain. He was 
 signally insincere and ungrateful. 
 The reader will do well to peruse, in 
 reference to this topic, Pace’s remark- 
 able letters. 
 
 « II. 3973. 
 
 ^ II. 1335. j 1552. “ He is pensive 
 
 and has the reputation of being ex- 
 tremely just ; he favors the people 
 exceedingly, and especially the poor, 
 hearing their suits and seeking to 
 despatch them instantly. He also 
 makes the lawyers plead gratis for all 
 paupers.” This is the testimony of 
 Giustinian, who assuredly was not 
 partial to Wolsey. “ In matters of 
 judicature he behaved himself cora- 
 mendably. I hear no widows’ sighs 
 nor see orphans’ tears in our chronicles 
 caused by him. Sure in such cases 
 wherein his private ends made him 
 not a party, he was an excellent 
 justicier.” — Fuller’s Holy State, iv. 3. 
 
260 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 he had been appointed on the resignation of Warham, 22nd of 
 December, 1515 ; not as Polydore Vergil represents, in con- 
 sequence of a successful intrigue, but at the earnest request 
 of the KingP More’s commendation of him is well known. ^ 
 ‘‘ The archbishop,” he says, has succeeded at last in getting- 
 quit of the chancellorship, which he has been laboring to do 
 for some years. The king has nominated Wolsey in his 
 room, who acquits himself so well as to outdo all men’s 
 expectations ; — and, what must be admitted to be very difficult, 
 even after so excellent a predecessor he gives the greatest 
 satisfaction.” The testimony of Fox is to the same effect. 
 At the time when the Bishop is represented as withdrawing 
 from the council table in disgust, he wrote from his retreat to 
 Wolsey, who was anxious to bring him to court, that if he 
 had not the most satisfactory reason for his absence in his 
 anxiety to visit his diocese after twenty-eight years of neglect, 
 he should be very ungrateful and forgetful, considering 
 W^olsey’s goodness to him in times past. He professed that 
 no one had ever greater will to serve the King than he, espe- 
 cially since Wolsey’ s great charge (of the Chancellorship) ; — 
 “ perceiving better, straighter, and speedier ways of justice, 
 and more diligence and labor for the king’s rights, duties, and 
 profits to be in you, than ever I see in times past in any other.'" 
 And he adds a remark, which will seem strange to those who 
 are accustomed to draw their notions of these times from 
 popular histories, — that his absence was not to hunt or hawk, 
 nor yet for quietness of his mind, which is troubled night and 
 day with other men’s iniquities more than he dare write ; of 
 whieh Wolsey told him he had some knowledge when he was 
 bishop of Lincoln." ^ 
 
 In the same letter Fox urges him to lay aside all business 
 from six o’clock in the evening forward,” thus showing the 
 Cardinal’s indefatigable labours. He rose at an early hour of 
 the morning and regularly heard mass ; then mounting his 
 mule he proceeded to Westminster Hall ; ^ was engaged in 
 
 1 II. 1551. 
 
 2 More, in a letter addressed, to 
 Warham, after his resignation, speaks 
 of the difficulty the Archbishop had to 
 encounter in prevailing upon the King 
 to allow him to resign. — II. Appendix, 
 36. 
 
 ® II. 1814., This passage shows 
 how keenly Shakspeare, under all 
 disadvantages, had penetrated into 
 the under-current of Wolsey’s feel- 
 
 ings. “ If I had served my God with 
 half the zeal I had served my king,” 
 was not a temporary regret wrung 
 from him in the moment of disap- 
 pointment, but a thought and some- 
 thing more that had flashed ever and 
 anon across his mind through his long 
 and arduous administration. — See also 
 Cavendish, by Singer, p. 105. 
 
 ^ Cavendish speaks of his being 
 attended on his way to Westminster 
 
1515-18.] 
 
 WOLSEY’S INCESSANT LABOUES. 
 
 261 
 
 court until eleven, and when business required it passed from 
 the court of Chancery to the Star Chamber. Every Sunday 
 whilst the court was at Greenwich, which generally happened 
 during the winter months, he visited the King. What remained 
 of the day after these duties were over, was spent in drawing 
 despatches, giving audience to ambassadors, attending to the 
 political news and correspondence of the times, introducing 
 a more regular and economical system into the different 
 branches of the administration — of finance and customs espe- 
 cially. Before his time the accounts had been kept very 
 irregularly : long arrears of debts were allowed to accumulate ; 
 large sums had been advanced by the Crown to noblemen and 
 parasites with no expectation of repayment ; its rights and 
 sources of revenue had been clogged and straitened in various 
 ways ; — all these it was Wolsey’s province to bring into a 
 state of efficiency.^ As might be expected, these reforms 
 drew down great odium upon him, and the charge of penurious- 
 ness. To one naturally profuse like Henry YIII., surrounded 
 by extravagant young men, who wasted large sums of money 
 at play and upon the absurd and fantastic fashions of the 
 times, the Cardinal’s conduct in this respect was easily mis- 
 represented. To these temporal duties were added his eccle- 
 siastical, as Cardinal and legate. 
 
 Yet his health was by no means strong, nor was the advice 
 of Fox unneeded. Throughout the four years embraced in 
 this volume Wolsey was continually ailing. Four times he 
 was attacked by the sweating sickness.^ In June, 1517, his 
 life was despaired of ; in August his household and himself 
 were again suffering from the popular epidemic.^ In October, 
 
 Hall “witli noblemen and gentlemen 
 of Ms own family ; ” — an expression 
 intended apparently to apply to the 
 young gentlemen and noblemen in 
 Wolsey’s service. Giustinian speaks 
 of two brothers of the Cardinal, one 
 of whom, he says, held a benefice. I 
 have found no notice of either, or of 
 any other member of Wolsey’s family, 
 with one exception. There is a petition 
 to him from one John Fayrechild, son 
 of Elizabeth Wulcy, the Cardinal’s 
 sister, desiring some small place, as 
 comptroller of the works of Tournay 
 (II. 1368). But the applicant’s name 
 does not occur again in connection 
 with any office. His family received 
 no benefit from his high offices ; even 
 Wynter, his reputed son, now about 
 fourteen years old, was kept in 
 
 straitened circumstances. — See Byr- 
 chinshaw’s letter to Wolsey, II. 4692. 
 Of the gentlemen in his service, 
 Jerningham writes : 
 
 “ I had obtained a taboret for your 
 grace, who plays reasonably well, but 
 is oftentimes overseen with drink, 
 which me seemed was not meet for 
 your grace, nor to be in the company 
 of so many young gentlemen as your 
 grace hath in your service.” — Jerning- 
 ham to Wolsey, II. 3202. 
 
 1 Of the enormous number of 
 debtors to the Crown, and the sums 
 invested, the reader may gain some 
 notion from the list of loans and 
 recognizances in II. pp. 1481-1490. 
 
 2 II. 3372. 
 
 3 II. 3638. 
 
262 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENEY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 1518, he was too unwell to receive the visits of the foreign 
 ambassadors.^ Yet no interruption took place in the business 
 of the nation. Despatches passed and repassed with their 
 usual punctuality, Scotland, ready to throw the borders into 
 disorder and insurrection, was restrained ; Spain and the 
 Netherlands kept on the best terms ; and France, tired of war, 
 and anxious for an alliance with England, was entertained 
 and certainly outwitted in its negociations for Tournay. 
 
 That he was peremptory, unceremonious, and sometimes 
 lost his temper, must be admitted, — will probably have been 
 expected by those who consider his excessive labours. The 
 extreme difficulties of his position, the impatience of a man 
 of great genius and penetration at the interruptions, follies, 
 and contradictions to which he was exposed by conceited 
 mediocrity or pertinacious self-interest, were a sore trial to 
 a man incessantly employed and fully alive to the value of 
 minutes. The prudence and apprehensions of modern times 
 have divided the great offices once centred in Wolsey, and in 
 him only. His position and power were exceptional, and 
 must be judged accordingly. He was responsible to no one 
 except his Sovereign ; and the King, occupied with fears of 
 the plague or amusements at court, or well satisfied with his 
 minister, had little reason to interfere and less to condemn. 
 Suitors complained that Wolsey was hard of access, that he 
 displayed his resentments too openly, that he adopted too 
 imperious a style for a subject, that he identified himself too 
 much with his own political measures, and proportioned his 
 anger and gratitude accordingly. In one instance he pro- 
 ceeded to lay hands on the papal nuncio, utterly regardless 
 of his sacred character, or his immunity as ambassador, 
 declaring that if the nuncio would not confess the nature of 
 his communications with France, he should be put on the 
 rack,^ The report was probably exaggerated. Still, for a 
 prime minister and a Cardinal to be so far transported beyond 
 himself was, even in that rough age, regarded with astonish- 
 ment, On another occasion, he sent for Sebastian’s secretary, 
 and rated him soundly : ‘‘ I charge your ambassador and you 
 not to write anything out of this kingdom without my consent^ 
 
 ^ II. 4510, 4529. It was probably or substance within was taken ont 
 after these repeated attacks, and to and filled up again with part of a 
 prevent their recurrence, that the sponge, wherein was vinegar and other 
 Cardinal was in i^he habit, as Caven- confections against the pestilent adrs.’* 
 dish relates, of carrying “in his hand ^ Dec, 7, 15K>. 
 
 a very fair orange, whereof the meat 
 
1515-18.] 
 
 THE PLOT AGAINST LEO X. 
 
 263 
 
 under pain of the King’s indignation and the heaviest 
 penalties ; ” and these words he repeated, growing more and 
 more irritated every instant, and gnawing a cane which he 
 held in Ms handd But such excessive fits of irritation were 
 not usual, and were to he traced in these instances to one and 
 the same cause, in which a curious point of his history is 
 involved. 
 
 In May, 1517, two Cardinals, De Saiili and Sienna, were 
 committed to the castle of St. Angelo, for attempting to poison 
 Leo X. by means of a surgeon.^ Cardinal St. George, papal 
 chamberlain, once a favourite of Julius II., and Cardinal 
 Hadrian, formerly papal collector in England, and Bishop of 
 Bath and Wells, were implicated in the conspiracy; St. 
 G-eorge, for hearing the intemperate threats of Sienna without 
 revealing them to the Pope ; Hadrian, because Sienna had 
 said in his presence, pointing to the surgeon, ^‘That fellow 
 will get the college out of trouble.”® The accusation might 
 have been treated as a calumny, had not Hadrian, with tears 
 in his eyes, fallen at the Pope’s feet, and besought his mercy.^ 
 Against Hadrian, Leo entertained a grudge of ancient stand- 
 ing. He had contrived, under the pretence of befriending 
 Hadrian, to exasperate the King of England against him, and 
 obtain the dismissal of Hadrian and his deputy, Polydore 
 Yergil, from the collectorship. Possibly, in his resentment at 
 the Pope’s duplicity, Hadrian would have been by no means 
 unwilling had the conspiracy succeeded, even if he declined to 
 take any active part in it himself. Sienna was put to death 
 secretly.® St. George purchased peace and pardon hy a large 
 sum of money. Hadrian fled to Venice, from which place he 
 wrote to Wolsey (19th of July),® begging his favourable inter- 
 cession with the King and the Pope. This is probably the 
 last of his letters that has been preserved. His subsequent 
 fate is hidden in impenetrable mystery. Great efforts were 
 made by the Venetians, through Sebastian, their ambassador 
 in England, to obtain Hadrian’s restoration. The Venetian 
 had the audacity to abstract from Wolsey’s packet a letter 
 addressed by the signory in favour of Hadrian, and present it 
 
 1 II. 3581. 
 
 2 II. 3277. 
 
 3 II. 3356. 
 
 ^ II. 3352. Tunstal, speaking of 
 his communication with Fra Nicolas, 
 the papal commissioner, who was per- 
 fectly well informed on this subject, 
 states that this friar informed him 
 
 that Cardinal St. George confessed he 
 was an accomplice, luithout the torture 
 being applied (No. 3373). The notion 
 of putting a cardinal on the rack did 
 not seem strange to Tunstal or his 
 correspondent. 
 
 5 II. 3406. 
 fi II. 3493. 
 
264 
 
 THE REIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 to the King, unknown to Wolsey4 This was the secret of 
 Wolsey’s wrath. Sebastian, who would not otherwise have 
 been admitted, in consequence of the sweating sickness, pre- 
 tended urgent business ; — was introduced, presented the 
 letter, and met the rebuff he deserved. The King told him 
 that he was perfectly well acquainted with the whole affair, 
 and had received intelligence from the Pope that Hadrian had 
 confessed, and was to be degraded. When Sebastian attempted 
 to excuse the Cardinal, he was cut short by the curt remark, 
 
 1 understand this matter better than you Venetians ! ” 
 Sebastian attributed the King’s displeasure to the suggestions 
 of Wolsey, who had obtained the see of Bath in commendayn 
 by Hadrian’s disgrace. The offence was in reality of much 
 earlier standing. 
 
 Hadrian’s factor in England was Polydore Vergil,^ the 
 historian. His imprisonment and loss of employment are 
 notorious. It has been broadly stated by most English 
 historians that his imprisonment was owing to Wolsey’s 
 resentment, who, on failing to receive the assistance he ex- 
 pected from Hadrian, in his efforts to obtain the cardinalate, 
 seized his deputy collector, and committed him to the Tower. 
 This tale, with its various embellishments, rests, like many 
 others in which historians indulge without examination, on 
 mere conjecture, and is not very probable. The true cause of 
 Polydore’s and his patron’s disgrace are laid open in State 
 papers. A wit — and, like wits, not always very careful or 
 scrupulous — Polydore was in the habit of writing letters from 
 England to Hadrian, reflecting on the King, Wolsey, and 
 others. It happened, unfortunately for the writer, that one of 
 these letters fell into the hands of his rival Ammonius ; or, 
 more probably, was intercepted, and sent to Ammonius from 
 Eome. It is not hard to conjecture that Worcester was the 
 agent. The intercepted letter,^ was shown to Wolsey with 
 certain comments expressing the Pope’s indignation. In 
 terms neither decent nor discreet Vergil had thrown out 
 imputations against the Pope and the King. He had called 
 the latter a mere boy ; said he was ruled by others, and signed 
 papers without being acquainted with their contents. The 
 Pope stated that he would be glad to have an opportunity of 
 chastising Hadrian, and begged that his and Polydore’s letters 
 
 ^ II. 3558. merchant in London. II. 215, 2130. 
 
 2 Vergil was not an assumed name. ® II. 215. 
 
 He had a brother Jerome Vergil, a 
 
1515-18.] 
 
 POLYDOEE VERGIL IN DISGRACE. 
 
 265 
 
 might be intercepted. The letter of Polydore was ambiguously 
 worded, yet not so completely as to veil its true meaning from 
 those into whose hands it fell. It professed to give a circum- 
 stantial account of the intrigues set on foot to deprive himself 
 and Hadrian of the collectorship. Ammonius was libelled 
 under the name of Harenarius (sandy) ; ^ and He Giglis, the 
 Bishop of Worcester, who had been implicated in the poison- 
 ing of Cardinal Bainhridge, under the nick-name of tal])ci 
 (mole) significant of his underhand proceedings. He accused 
 the Pope of intriguing with the King, and inducing the latter 
 to write a letter to his Holiness indicating his wish that 
 Hadrian should resign; though Polydore believed that the 
 King entertained no such desire. A third person is introduced 
 under .the monosyllables le. mi., and there can be no doubt 
 that Wolsey is intended. Polydore says he has offered le. mi. 
 lOOL annually ; — that le. mi. is hateful to heaven and earth ; 
 — that he is so tyrannical, his influence cannot last ; — all 
 England abuses him ; — and, as if that were not enough, “ he 
 is now for money’s sake treating of peace with the French, 
 without reverence for man or God.” Polydore and Hadrian 
 were imperialists ; and the presence of Suffolk at the court of 
 Francis I. gave an air of probability to the rumour. 
 
 It will surprise no one who knows the temper of those 
 times, to learn that Polydore found himself, a few days after, 
 an inmate of the Tower, and his deputy collectorship irre- 
 coverably forfeited.^ He languished in prison until the end 
 of the year, though repeated applications in his favour came 
 from the Pope — instigated apparently by his fears of Hadrian, 
 In his captivity, Polydore addressed the most abject letters to 
 Wolsey for mercy.^ He told Wolsey he had heard with 
 rapture of his elevation to the Cardinal’s throne ; and when- 
 ever Wolsey would allow him an opportunity to present him- 
 self, he would gaze and bow in adoration, and his spirit 
 should rejoice in him '‘as in God my Saviour.'’ He prayed 
 that his punishment might be wholly remitted, and Wolsey ’s 
 gifts perfected in him, even as he himself was imfect. It will 
 surprise no one to learn, after this letter, that Polydore went 
 
 ^ The word arenarius, besides being 
 Latin for Ammonius, means also a 
 prize-fighter, and Polydore might in- 
 tend this play upon the word, and I 
 think did ; — the prize for which 
 Ammonius was fighting being the 
 deputy collectorship. The true name 
 
 of Ammonius seems to be de Arena 
 (see I. 4963), which he Grcecized in 
 conformity with the pedantic taste of 
 that age. 
 
 2 II. 272. 
 
 2 II. 970. 
 
266 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 home in the spring of 1516, and took immortal revenge when 
 he was fairly ont of the Cardinal’s reach. He sneered at the 
 Cardinal’s birth, sneered at his ingratitude, sneered at his 
 buildings, sneered at his administration of justice, sneered at 
 his cardinal’s hat. He painted Wolsey, in his history, as 
 an ambitious priest,^ successful only because he was un- 
 scrupulous ; distinguished mainly for his underhanded 
 intrigues in banishing Fox and Warham from the council 
 table. He called him a foolish architect, for building the 
 palace of Bridewell on the muddy banks of the Thames ; ^ a 
 blusterer in chancery, whose administration of justice was a 
 shadow without reality, and doomed to vanish like a shadow ; 
 a vulgar upstart, intoxicated with dignities undeserved; a 
 parvenu whose brain was turned by his gilded chair, the gold 
 fringes of his cushion and table-cloth — (to which, Polydore 
 forgot to tell his hearers, he had offered to bow down in 
 adoration), — and his cardinal’s hat, which was carried before 
 him like an idol, whenever he walked abroad to take the air, 
 by some tall fellow in his livery, and placed conspicuously on 
 the altar in the chapel royal when mass was sung. Our only 
 surprise is, that every historian in succession should have 
 accepted this as a true picture, each adding a little to the 
 original caricature ; — Hall took it from Vergil, Foxe from 
 Hall, Burnet and Strype from Foxe, Hume from Burnet, and 
 so on to the end of the series. 
 
 Wolsey was raised to the cardinalate, on the 10th of 
 September, 1515, by the name of St. Cecilia trans Tiberim. 
 
 ^ “Divinis litteris non indoctus,” 
 is tlie tame compliment paid Fim by 
 Polydore. That is, he was fit to read 
 his mass-book and thumb his breviary ; 
 — a Thomist, not a Ciceronian; — neither 
 a scholar nor a gentleman, but a 
 respectable sort of hedge-priest, 
 
 2 Various sums are entered in the 
 King’s Book of Payments for buildings 
 at Blackfriars, under the superin- 
 tendence of Thomas Larke. In Aug., 
 1515, 1,OOOZ. ; in April, 1516, 1,0001. ; 
 in Feb., 1517, the same sum ; and the 
 same sum in June following. It is 
 almost needless to say that Polydore’ s 
 sarcasm must not be accepted as 
 literally true. The north side of the 
 Thames was studded with palaces and 
 noblemen’s seats, from Bridewell to 
 Westminster; and there could be no 
 more pleasant^sight in the world than 
 the prospect from these houses, when 
 
 the southern side was unoccupied, and 
 the Surrey hills stretched away in 
 endless prospect of green fields and 
 hawthorns, and the river was crowded 
 with painted barges flashing along 
 with watermen in bright liveries and 
 the gayest of company. None but 
 the veriest tradesmen and apprentices 
 bearing their clogs and lanterns, 
 dreamed of threading the fetid mud 
 and mantling ditches of London; or 
 exposing their fine clothes and persons 
 to the filthy birds and gaunt dogs, 
 more quarrelsome than apprentices, 
 that snarled and wrangled over the 
 garbage cast into the streets by thrifty 
 citizens. Bridewell, however, was 
 never a favourite resort of Henry 
 VIII. ; and after the trial of Katharine, 
 Polydore’s flurt at its deserted 
 chambers was probably well founded. 
 
1 
 
 
David Hume, our celebrated Iiistorian, was born at Edinburgh, April 26, IJll. 
 His family, though nobly allied, was not rich, and he was a younger brother ; but, a phi- 
 losopher from his earliest age, he seemed to have no other desire than to prosecute his 
 studies with ardour. In 1734, he attempted to settle at Bristol ; but soon found that 
 scene totally unsuitable to his dispositions. He then passed three years of rural retire- 
 ment in France, on a plan of very rigid frugality: first, at Rheims ; but, chiefly, at la 
 Fleche, in Anjou, where he composed his Treatise of Human Nature. In 1737, he came 
 to London ; and, the year following, published this work, which he had meditated even 
 while at the university with much expectation of success : but, to use his own emphatic 
 expression, “ it fell dead-born from the press.” 
 
 He was cheerful, though disappointed. In 1742, the first part of his Essays was 
 better received. His talents obtained him friends ; and, in 1745, he was engaged by 
 the marquis of Anandale, whose state of mind required an intelligent attendant. He 
 afterwards, in 1746, became secretary to general St. Clair ; whom he attended in an expe- 
 dition on the coast of France ; as well as on his military embassy, in 1747, to the courts 
 of Vienna and Turin. He now conceived himself independent, as he says in his own 
 life, being “ master of near a thousand pounds.” 
 
 In 1751 , he published his Political Discourses, which was his only work that succeeded 
 on the first publication. Three years afterwards, he gave two volumes of his History of 
 England. But such was it’s reception, that he seems, for once, to have lost his philo- 
 sophy ; and, had it not been for the war, proposed ‘■‘to change his name, and never 
 more to have returned to his native country.” He, however, renewed his intrepidity; 
 and, having completed his History, it obtained a very high degree of celebrity. 
 
 In 1763, he was invited by the earl of Hertford, to accompany him as secretary on his 
 embassy to Paris ; and, in the summer of 1765, was left there charge d’affaires. In 
 1766, he quitted France ; where his fashionable philosophical opinions had obtained him 
 the panegyrics of the literati, the nobility, the ladies, and even princes of the blood : and, 
 soon after his return to Scotland, he was appointed under secretary of state to general 
 Conway. His fortune had now been so much augmented, that when he returned to Edin- 
 burgh, in 1769 , he possessed an income of 1000^. per annum. Surrounded by. literary 
 friends, he passed his latter years in the 'calm enjoyments of philosophy, and the de- 
 lightful contemplation of a reputation gradually increasing. He asserts, in the account 
 of his own life, that his friends never had occasion to vindicate any one circumstance of his 
 character and conduct : “ not,” adds he, “ but that the zealots, we may well suppose, 
 would have been glad to invent and propagate any story to my disadvantage, but they 
 could never find any which they thought would wear the face of probability.” He was 
 attacked, in the spring of 1775, by a disorder in his bowels ; which gave him so little 
 alarm, that he tells us, only four months prior to its proving mortal, “ notwithstanding 
 the great decline of his person, he had never suffered a moment’s abatement of his spi- 
 rits ; that he possessed the same ardour as ever in his tfludy, and the same gaiety in com- 
 pany; insomuch that, w^ere he to name a period of his life w hich he should most choose 
 to pass over again, he might be tempted to point to this latter period.” He died, at 
 Edinburgh, August 25, 1776. 
 
 Hume, in his metaphysical essays, has veiled, by a polished diction, the most pernici- 
 ous sentiments. He is accused by many of an unreasonable scepticism. His History 
 of England is better known than his philosophical writings. It displays, in general, 
 every charm of elaborate composition, and an acuteness which captivates the reader; but it 
 is not entitled to unqualified praise as a faithful and an impartial narrative. 
 
I 
 
 1515.] 
 
 WOLSEY MADE A CARDINAL. 
 
 267 
 
 The choice of the title was a matter of some difficulty. The 
 Bishop of Worcester wrote ^ to say that he could think of no 
 other appellation than St. Cecilia, ‘‘which was lucky, as 
 many popes had proceeded from it.” Wolsey always signed 
 himself T. Ehor., was generally so addressed ; and in 
 
 England not one man in ten thousand was aware of the 
 existence of any other title. The first mention we have of his 
 intended dignity occurs in a letter of Polydore Yergil, from 
 Eome, May 21, 1514,^ some months before the murder of 
 Cardinal Bainbridge. Polydore had broken the subject to 
 Hadrian, then on good terms with Wolsey, desiring him to 
 use his interest with the Pope in obtaining the cardinalate for 
 Wolsey. Four months after, Henry himself wrote to the 
 3 Pope, urging the same request in behalf of his great minister, 
 ^ “ whose merits were such that the king esteemed him above 
 
 his dearest friends, and could do nothing of the least im- 
 i| portance without him.”^ In his reply to this letter, dated 
 J from Eome, 24th of September, 1514,^ the Pope tells the King 
 that the promotion demanded by his Majesty for Wolsey was 
 surrounded with difficulties ; it was greatly desired as the 
 highest dignity in the Church ; and he attempted to avoid 
 compliance by a sort of general promise that he would accede 
 to the King’s wishes at a suitable opportunity. From this 
 period these negociations at Eome seem to have dropped from 
 the hands of Yergil and Hadrian, and been transferred to 
 Worcester’s. Then followed the death of Bainbridge and the 
 negociations for the marriage of Mary with Lewis XII. 
 Worcester was implicated in that murder, and both out of 
 rivalry to Hadrian, whom he hated, and to secure the favour 
 of Wolsey and the King, in his distress he urged Wolsey’s 
 promotion with all the assiduity and skill of which he was 
 master. As Lewis professed great friendship, in consequence 
 of the part taken by Wolsey in the French match, it was 
 expected that he would have employed his influence with Leo 
 in the same direction. So, probably, Hadrian and Yergil, 
 who were imperialists, intrigued against it. But Leo was in 
 no hurry to comply ; precipitancy was not one of his failings. 
 Dilatory and irresolute — fearful of giving offence, yet too 
 cowardly to refuse outright- — he offered a compromise.^ He 
 would not create Wolsey a cardinal, but would give him a 
 
 ^ II. 967. 
 
 2 I. 5110. 
 
 3 I. 5318. 
 
 < I. 5445. 
 i I. 5464. 
 
268 
 
 THE KEIGN OF HENKY YIIL 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 bull for his promotion on condition he should not publicly 
 display the insignia. Wolsey wrote to Worcester that the 
 King was as much interested as he was in this promotion, 
 and this appears to have been true : ‘‘ If by your politic 
 handling the Pope can be induced shortly to make me a 
 Cardinal, ye shall singularly content and please the king ; for 
 I cannot express how desirous the king is to have me advanced 
 to the said honor, to the intent that not only men might 
 perceive how much the Pope favoreth the king and such as 
 he entirely loveth, but also that thereby I shall be the more 
 able to do his Grace service,” ^ Leo prevaricated : — he had 
 ‘‘ a particular regard for Wolsey,” but could not break his 
 oath : — delay was necessary ; his promotion could not take 
 place at present without causing the greatest scandal ; ^ he 
 was very sorry, but Francis I. and Maximilian had insisted 
 on the creation of their own Cardinals first, and the Pope 
 could not venture to offend them. Wolsey was indifferent to 
 the promotion, so far as he was personally concerned — at 
 least so he ordered Worcester to tell the Pope ; — but “ his 
 sense of duty,” and desire to see the King “a fast friend to 
 his Holiness,” compelled him to urge it. The King had 
 always been a firm ally of the Pope, and his wishes ought not 
 to be lightly rejected.^ The next letter conveyed a much more 
 significant hint, and was calculated to throw the Pope into an 
 agony. Francis was on his road to Milan. The eldest son of 
 the Church intended to lay himself with his battalions of 
 veterans at the feet of his Holy Father. To decline the visit 
 was impossible ; to prevent it, not feasible. The king’s 
 grace marvelleth,” writes Wolsey to the Bishop of Worcester,^ 
 ‘‘ that the Pope delayeth so long the sending of the red hat to 
 me, seeing how tenderly, instantly, and often his grace hath 
 written to his Holiness for the same.” The King, he adds, 
 calls daily for it ; and though he will not distrust the Pope’s 
 promise, the sooner it is fulfilled the better will he be pleased. 
 Then comes the significant hint : — if the King forsake the 
 Pope, he will be in greater danger on this day two years 
 than ever was Pope Julius.” 
 
 This letter had the desired effect : Leo consented, at the 
 instigation of Worcester, to create Wolsey “Cardinal sole.”^ 
 
 ^ I. 5465. from the King, preserved in the 
 
 2 II. 312, ^66, 374. Vatican, has been published by Martene 
 
 * II. 780. One of these letters English historians. The king urges 
 
 3 II. 648. 
 < II. 763. 
 
 in his Monumenta, with other letters 
 of Wolsey, strangely overlooked by 
 
1515.] 
 
 WOLSEY MADE A CARDINAL. 
 
 269 
 
 At the same time the King consented to enter the league 
 secretly formed by the Pope, ostensibly for defence of the 
 Church, really for resisting the encroachments of France, on 
 condition of the red hat being sent at once ; — Wolsey adds, 
 no man earthly helping thereto,” which I see no reason to 
 disbelieve. He expressed a wish that the legatine authority 
 should he combined with the cardinalate as most agreeable to 
 the King; but if the Pope proved refractory Worcester was 
 to content himself with obtaining a faculty for the Cardinal to 
 visit the exempt monasteries. That request was not destined 
 to be gratified at present. On the 7th of September,^ Worcester 
 wrote to him from Kome to say that the Pope was highly 
 delighted with his letters from England, and was now so bent 
 on his promotion that he would insist upon it in spite of all 
 the Cardinals, and complete it within eight days. The election 
 took place on the 10th. ^ 
 
 It was not in any man’s nature to he insensible on such 
 an occasion ; certainly not in Wolsey’s. He loved the dignity 
 of the cardinalate, partly no doubt for its’ authority, probably 
 as much for its splendour. Since the days of Archbishop 
 Morton no Cardinal had been seen in England, for Bainbridge 
 lived abroad ; and Wolsey was resolved to invest his new 
 dignity with all that splendour and magnificence which no 
 man understood better or appreciated more highly than he. 
 Even in that age of gorgeous ceremonial, before Puritan senti- 
 mentalism had insisted on the righteousness of lawn-sleeves ; 
 — when the sense aches with interminable recitals of cloth of 
 gold, silks, and tapestries, — even then, amidst jewelled mitres 
 and copes, a Cardinal in his scarlet robes formed a conspicuous 
 object. Not that Wolsey was the slave of a vulgar vanity. 
 Magnificent in all his notions and all his doings, — in plate, 
 dress, tapestry, pictures, buildings, the furniture of a chapel 
 or of a palace, the setting of a ring or the arrangements for a 
 congress, — there was the same regal taste at work, — the same 
 
 Wolsey’s advancement in the most 
 emphatic terms ; — begs the Pope will 
 pay the same attention to whatever 
 Wolsey says as if it had proceeded 
 from his own lips ; — expresses his 
 extreme anxiety and fervent desire 
 for the day when he shall see Wolsey 
 advanced to the cardinalate ; a dignity 
 he fully deserved, for his genius, 
 learning, and many admirable qualities. 
 See II. App. 12. So strong were the 
 fears and such the reluctance of Leo, 
 
 that, but for this emphatic interposition 
 of Henry VIII., it is questionable 
 whether he would ever have given the 
 cardinalate to Wolsey; certainly not 
 so soon as he did. But the part taken 
 by the King in this affair was forgotten, 
 ignored, or unknown at Wolsey’s fall ; 
 and his accusers, for obvious reasons, 
 represented it as the sole act of Wolsey 
 himself. 
 
 * II. 887. 
 
 “ II. 892-893. 
 
270 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 powerful grasp of little things and great. A soul as capacious 
 as the sea, and minute as the sands upon its shores, when 
 minuteness was required, he could do nothing meanly.^ The 
 last great builder this nation ever had, the few remains which 
 have survived him show the vastness of his mind and the 
 universality of his genius. He could build a kitchen, or plan 
 a college, or raise a tower, as no man since then has been able 
 to build them. It was the same in music. There were no 
 quire boys could sing like his. “My Lord,” writes Pace, “if 
 it were not for the personal love that the king’s Highness doth 
 bear unto your Grace, surely he would have out of your chapel 
 not children only but also men. For his Grace hath plainly 
 shown unto Cornish (the King’s choir-master) that your 
 Grace’s chapel is better than his ; for if a new song should be 
 brought unto both to be sung ex improviso, then the said song 
 should be better and more surely handled by your chapel than 
 by his Grace’s.”^ If Quentin Matsys had a picture on the 
 easel Wolsey was ready to purchase it.^ If there was a 
 curious clock it was secured for him.^ Various notices occur 
 in this volume of his love of tapestry. “ One has to traverse 
 eight rooms,” says Giustinian, “ before you reach his audience 
 chamber ; and they are all hung with tapestry, which is 
 changed once a week.” As Cardinal, all his gentlemen 
 appeared in livery of crimson velvet with gold chains, his 
 meaner officers in coats of scarlet bordered with black velvet, 
 a hand broad. “His own dress was fine scarlet or crimson 
 
 1 
 
 ! 
 
 i 
 
 ^ The expenses of his household 
 were something over 30,000h a year, 
 modern reckoning ; but this sum in- 
 cluded the entertainment of numerous 
 gentlemen of good family, a very 
 considerable retinue, and all the ex- 
 penses of the Chancery. In 1516, they 
 amounted to 2,485L 16s. 4Jd. ; in 1517, 
 to 2,616L 5s. 2fd. ; in 1518, to 2,897h 
 15s. 5|d. See II. 4623. His house- 
 hold has been variously estimated ; at 
 180 persons in one manuscript of 
 Cavendish, at 500 in another, at 800 
 in a third, which of course, as being 
 the most extravagant, was followed by 
 Hume and others. There is a subsidy 
 roll in the Record Office (bundle 204), 
 drawn up by Thomas Stanley, in which 
 the whole household is assessed, in 
 conformity with the act 14 & 15 Hen. 
 VIII., at 429 persons ; and another 
 dated 10th of January, 16 Hen. VIII. 
 (1525), which makes the total not 
 more than 250. I cannot account for 
 
 this discrepancy, except that it be in 
 this year he gave Hampton Court to 
 the king, and with it no doubt his 
 entire establishment there. It is 
 worth noticing that in the latter 
 account John Cromwell is assessed at 
 40s., and a Robert Cromwell at 4d. 
 But of Thomas Cromwell there is no 
 notice until the third roll, 20th of 
 March, 18 Hen. VIII. (1527), where 
 he is assessed on his goods at 50s. 
 This points out the date of his entry 
 in the Cardinal’s service. 
 
 ^ See also II. 4044. 
 
 ^ I think this must be the artist 
 to whom Spinelly refers in a letter to 
 Wolsey (II. 1013), when he sends him 
 from Antwerp “ a table (picture) for 
 an altar, which was made hy the best 
 master of all this land” 1 have no 
 doubt that many of the pictures went 
 into the royal collection at the con- 
 fiscation of Wolsey’s property. 
 
 ^ II. 2332. 
 
THOMAS STAI^LEXEAKL OT HEKHY. 
 
 OB. i:)04 . 
 
 FROM THE ORIGIHAT, OF HOI.BETH, m THE COELECTJON OF 
 
 TTIB 1^K;IIT JJOJSP4’ Tm: R..VRL of J)EEBY. 
 
1515.] 
 
 WOLSEY MADE A CAKDINAL. 
 
 271 
 
 satin, taffety or damask, and over all a tippet of fine sable,” 
 says Cavendish d Some curious indications have been pre- 
 served of his punctiliousness in these matters. He writes to 
 Worcester : Considering that the Parliament beginneth in 
 
 crastino Animarum ^ (November 3), it shall be necessary that 
 I have the habit and hat of a Cardinal ; and whereas there be 
 none here that can make the said habit, [please] send to me 
 two or three hoods of such pattern and colour as Cardinals be 
 wont to wear there (at Kome), and also one paper of caps 
 larger and shallower than those were which your Lordship 
 lately sent to me ; with two great pieces of silk used by 
 Cardinals there for making the kirtles and other like gar- 
 ments.” 
 
 But if Wolsey was delighted with his new dignity, the King 
 was scarcely less pleased. He wrote to the Pope to say — and 
 the letter is still preserved in the Vatican^ — “ that nothing in 
 all his life had given him greater pleasure than the papal brief 
 announcing Wolsey’s election to the College of Cardinals ; he 
 regarded the distinction, thus bestowed on a subject for whom 
 he entertained the strongest affection, as a favour bestowed 
 upon himself, so great were Wolsey’s gifts and so eminent his 
 services.” In fact, though this has often been overlooked or 
 denied, no doubt can exist that the King was at the time fully 
 as much interested in Wolsey’s advancement as was Wolsey 
 himself. 
 
 Great preparations were now made for his installation. 
 On the 7th of October, the Bishop of Worcester’s secretary 
 was despatched to England ^ with the hat and a ring of more 
 than usual value from the Pope, and plenary indulgence for 
 all those who should take part in the ceremony.^ He arrived 
 at Calais on the 7th of November.® On the 15th he entered 
 London ; at Blackheath he was met by the Earl of Essex and 
 the Bishop of Lincoln, and at the city gates by the mayor, 
 aldermen, and the different crafts with their banners lining 
 
 ^ Cavendish knew Wolsey only in 
 his latter years, and the earlier part 
 of his narrative mast not be too im- 
 plicitly trusted. He describes Wolsey 
 as he saw him. Scarlet was properly 
 the papal colour ; was permitted to be 
 worn by Legates de latere, but was not 
 the usual colour of cardinals, whose 
 (ordinary dress was an ample cape over 
 a violet-coloured rochet ; sometimes 
 scarlet, but not generally. See Liber 
 C(vrim. f. 135. 
 
 ^ II. 894. In this document some 
 of the words are obscure and mutilated. 
 See also 3045. 
 
 3 II. 960. 
 
 ^ II. 994. 
 
 ® It was not usual to send the hat 
 out of Kome. The ceremonies observed 
 on this occasion were in exact con- 
 formity with the Liber Sacrarum 
 Cceremoniarum put forth by Leo X. in 
 1516. 
 
 « II. 1117. 
 
272 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 the streets. At Westminster Abbey the hat was received by 
 the Abbot and eight others, and so carried in state to the high 
 altar.^ On Sunday the Cardinal proceeded from his house at | 
 
 Westminster to the abbey, where mass was sung by Warham, j 
 
 Archbishop of Canterbury, assisted by Fox, Euthal, and other I 
 
 Bishops. The sermon was preached by the celebrated Dr. I 
 
 Colet, Dean of St. Paul’s. During benedictions and prayers | 
 
 the Cardinal lay grovelling at the foot of the high altar ; then 
 the Archbishop placed the hat upon his head, and the service 
 ended with Te Deum. The new-made Cardinal was conducted, 
 on his return, to the western door of the abbey by the 
 Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk, thence to his place at Charing j 
 
 Cross, followed by the great nobility, bannerets, knights, and j 
 
 gentlemen, the Archbishop and Bishops bringing up the rear. { 
 
 The whole was concluded with a magnificent banquet, graced i- 
 
 by the King, Queen Katharine, and Queen Mary, all the |j 
 
 nobility and clergy, the Barons of the Exchequer, the judges 1 
 
 and Serjeants- at-iaw. i 
 
 To Polydore Vergil, then languishing in the Tower, the S 
 
 salvos of artillery, the pealing of bells, the acclamations and [ 
 
 roar of the populace, thronging to the splendid pageant, must j, 
 
 have been far from agreeable sounds. This Le. mi., whom j, 
 
 everybody hated, and whose downfall he had predicted as at i 
 
 hand, had not fallen ; was not likely to fall, at present. I 
 
 Modern philosophy despises lord mayors’ coaches and 
 cardinals’ hats ; but the philosophy of that age was different. ; 
 Men delighted in such shows without stopping to reason about 
 them. Now and then some Puritan would start up and 
 inveigh against the immorality of poleaxes and the profane- 
 ness of scarlet cloth, as the livery “of the whore of Babylon.” 
 
 “ How think ye ? ” said Wolsey to one of this sect ; “ were it i 
 
 better for me, being in the honour and dignity that I am, to li 
 
 coin my pillars and poleaxes, and give the money to five or six | 
 
 beggars ? Do you not reckon the commonwealth better than 
 five or six beggars?” “To this I did answer,” says Dr, ; 
 
 Barnes, who tells the story himself, “ that I reckoned it more ; ; 
 
 to the honour of God and to the salvation of his soul, and also : 
 
 to the comfort of his poor brethren, that they were coined and ' ! 
 
 given in alms ; and as for the commonwealth, it did not hang • | 
 
 on them, for, as his Grace knew, the commonwealth was afore ] 
 
 his Grace, and must be when his Grace is gone ; and the i 
 
 pillars and poleaxes came with him, and should also go away 
 

 // 
 
 VV//// //, 
 . . // 
 
1515.] 
 
 WOLSEY MADE A CAEDINAL. 
 
 273 
 
 with him.” And if giving alms to beggars were the final end 
 of man’s creation, Dr. Barnes said well.^ But reasoning such 
 as this had not yet grown popular ; beggars, like housebreakers, 
 were not objects of much sympathy : contrariwise, the former 
 were whipped, and the others hanged— often unmercifully, 
 always unsentimentally. The intense conservative and aristo- 
 cratical principle pervading all classes in England in those 
 days QJid strictly insisting on the due subordination of ranks, 
 would have repudiated with scorn and contempt the equalizing- 
 appeal to their common humanity from the unfortunate and 
 the vagabond, and probably have condemned the appellant to 
 the stocks. The day had not yet come, though it was fast 
 approaching, when the fervid eloquence of Puritanism was to 
 proclaim the communistic doctrines of Christianity, and repre- 
 sent all men as equal in that wisdom which alone was to be 
 deemed wisdom, — reading and expounding the Scripture. The 
 old sacramental mysteries of the earlier ages, not to be pro- 
 faned by vulgar eyes were destined to pass away. Impene- 
 trable barriers which had hitherto severed the ecclesiastic 
 from the layman, the knight and nobleman from the burgess, 
 were doomed to fall, and the time was not far distant when a 
 beggar in grace ^ should take the wall of a gentleman without 
 it, and every unwashed artificer prove a match for the bench 
 of bishops. But that time had not yet come ; was not to 
 come so long as Wolsey lived. Now and then the rising spirit 
 of equality wept with Hall over the wrongs done to crimson 
 jackets and fine shirts — but no more. “As soon as Wolsey 
 was Chanceller, he directed commissions into all shires for to 
 put the Statute of Apparel and the Statute of Labourers ^ in 
 execution. And he himself one day called a gentleman named 
 Simon Eitz-Kichard, and took from him an old jacket of crimson 
 
 ^ “ I dare be bold to warrant that 
 I can find of those who most may- 
 spend, which were they sure that it 
 should in this matter do any good 
 would be well content to withdraw 
 from all their other countenance 
 [external pomp and appearance] the 
 chief part of their movables, and of 
 their yearly livelihood too, and out of 
 hand bestow the one, and with their 
 own hand yearly bestow the other 
 openly among the poor. And I must 
 again be bold to warrant that if they 
 did, even the selfsame folk that now 
 grudge and call them proud for their 
 countenance, would then find as great 
 VOL. I. 
 
 a grudge and call them hypocrites for 
 their alms, and say that they spent 
 upon naughty beggars the good that 
 was w-ont to keep good yeomen, and 
 that tiiereby they both enfeeble and 
 also dishonor the realm.” — Sir Thomas 
 More’s Apology, p. S‘J2. 
 
 2 The old Lollard text, “ that 
 dominion is founded in grace,” often 
 revived, never utterly extinguished. 
 
 ® This is another proof, if further 
 proof were needed, of what I have 
 stated before : — that the Statute of 
 Labourers was made for the employer, 
 not the employed. 
 
 T 
 
274 
 
 THE REIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 velvet and divers brooches, which extreme doing caused him 
 greatly to be hated ; and by his example many cruel officers 
 for malice evil entreated divers of the King’s subjects, inas- 
 much that one Shynnynge, mayor of Kochester, set a young 
 man on the pillory for wearing of a riven shirt.” ^ 
 
 I have stated that Wolsey was anxious to obtain the 
 legatine authority,^ and requested Worcester to urge his suit. 
 But the Pope demurred. He had given enough ; he had no 
 inclination to bestow more. As Archbishop of York, Wolsey 
 was but legatus natus, an empty title ; as legate de latere^ he 
 would be enabled to take ecclesiastical precedence, and use 
 the insignia of his ecclesiastical authority in both provinces. 
 But what the Pope would not grant spontaneously was wrested 
 from him by the force of circumstances. He had long been 
 anxious to set on foot an expedition against the Turks ; — as 
 early as the summer of 1515 he had used all his influence 
 with Wolsey and Warham to levy a 10th or at least a 20th 
 from the clergy of England for that purpose. The case was 
 apparently urgent. The Turks had possessed themselves of 
 Syria and Egypt ; they were daily threatening Ehodes, and 
 the Knights of the island had called home all members of 
 their order, and were making great exertions to prepare for 
 the impending struggle.^ Turkish corsairs swarmed in the 
 Mediterranean, and swept the coast from Terracina to Pisa.^ 
 On one occasion they plundered the church of Loretto ; on 
 another they sailed up the Tiber, and nearly made a prisoner 
 of the Pope whilst he was hunting at Pali.^ Hungary was on 
 the verge of dissolution, whilst its nobles, with suicidal folly, 
 quarrelled and fought among themselves. On the death of 
 Ladislaus VI. the confusion increased. Without immediate 
 aid, as the Bishop of Vesprim wrote to the Pope,® the kingdom 
 must fall into the hands of the Turks. The young King of 
 Hungary, only twelve years of age, was utterly incompetent to 
 cope with the dangers of his position."^ But Christendom had 
 
 ^ Hall’s Chronicle, p. 583. 
 
 2 II. 968. 
 
 2 See the letters of the Master of 
 Rhodes in the Calendar, Vol. II., under 
 the name of Fahricius de Careto. They 
 are extremely interesting, and have 
 never been used. 
 
 " II. 1874. . 
 
 ® II. 2017. 
 
 « II. 1709. 
 
 ^ “ The young king of Bohemia 
 [who afterwards fell at Mohatz], son 
 
 to the king of Hungary, is but ten 
 years of age ; howbeit of stature and 
 bigness he might well be twelve ; and 
 is brown of nature. The young queen 
 [Ann] his sister is but twelve years ; 
 nevertheless of growing she seemeth 
 to be fourteen, and of beauty is the 
 fairest I have seen, and hath the 
 fairest hair.” — (Wingfield to Henry 
 VIII., July 31, 1515.) This was the 
 beautiful princess Ann, married to 
 Ferdinand Archduke of Austria in 
 
1515-18.] 
 
 THE PROPOSED CRUSADE. 
 
 275 
 
 so often been alarmed with the cry of The Turk is coming,” 
 that when the Turk came at last no one believed it. So the 
 English clergy turned a deaf ear to the voice of the Papal 
 charmers, and refused a disme and even half a disme.^ They 
 declared they would not open a window to so perilous an 
 example as the Pope required, lest when they wished to shut 
 it they should not be able. Already they had paid six-tenths 
 to defend the patrimony of St. Peter, and no real danger was 
 to be apprehended. Leo was bitterly disappointed ; not with- 
 out reason. He had reckoned on Wolsey’s gratitude and 
 influence in carrying this measure as a reward for the 
 cardinalate. Wolsey had readily promised his aid;^ but 
 
 1516. In’ another letter announcing 
 the espousals (August 9, 1516), Wing- 
 field says, “ I pray God send them joy 
 and long life for that the one is as 
 near akin to my lady Princess your 
 daughter (Mary), as goodly may be, 
 and that the other by her mother’s 
 side is of your subject’s blood, lineally 
 descended from the head house of the 
 Wingfields, and verily to this day I do 
 esteem her to be one of the fairest 
 ladies on live.” 
 
 Pace tells a curious story about 
 this young lady : “We have here 
 knowledge for certainty that the 
 Emperor would marry the French 
 King’s mother (Louise of Savoy), but 
 she will none of him, fearing a divorce 
 'post solutam pecuniam. And the late 
 king of Hungary’s daughter, whom the 
 Emperor some years past "was bound 
 to marry to the king of Castile, intra 
 annum (see II. 746), or take her him. 
 self, hearing of this treaty of marriage 
 with the French king’s mother, is come 
 desperately sick, and saith openly the 
 Emperor shall be her husband and she 
 will none other. Also there be come 
 other divers lords of Hungary with a 
 great complaint of the Emperor that 
 he hath received and expended a very 
 great part of the money of the dowry 
 of the king of Hungary’s daughter.” 
 (II. 3090.) The young lady could not 
 be more than 14 ; the Emperor was 
 59. This would be wholly incredible, 
 did it not appear from a letter of the 
 Imperial Chancellor to Wolsey (July 
 10, 1517) that the Emperor was then 
 at Augsburg on his way to Inspruck, 
 where he was to marry the daughter 
 of the King of Hungary (3456). It 
 is stated by Palma, Notitia Rerum 
 Hungaricamm, that John Zapolya, 
 
 waiwode of Transylvania, had deter- 
 mined to possess himself by force of 
 the person of this Princess ; where- 
 upon, at the instance of Thomas 
 Bakatz, Cardinal of Strigonium, who 
 is frequently mentioned in these 
 pages, a double marriage was deter- 
 mined on by the Emperor Maximilian 
 and the King of Hungary. Lewis 
 was to take Mary the Emperor’s grand- 
 daughter (afterwards the celebrated 
 Mary of Hungary) ; and the Princess 
 Ann, either Charles or Ferdinand. On 
 the 22nd of July, 1515, both betrothals 
 took place in the church of St. Stephen 
 at Posen ; Maximilian acting as proxy 
 for Ferdinand, who was then in Spain, 
 with this condition — that if Ferdinand 
 refused the lady, the espousal should 
 be valid as between Maximilian and 
 the Princess! (Palma, ii. 518.) Of 
 the ceremonies on the occasion Wing- 
 field gives a wonderfully graphic 
 account (II. 746). Notwithstanding 
 the extraordinary disparity of years, 
 the young lady seems to have been 
 perfectly willing to accept this 
 arrangement. “ The Emperor then 
 gave her a rich crown, and set it upon 
 her head, saying, I give this crown 
 unto you in token that here before 
 these witnesses I promise to do my 
 best to make you queen of Castile, 
 and, if that fail, to make you queen 
 of Naples. And, furthermore, if that 
 I shall fortune to fail of both those, I 
 promise you by word of an Emperor 
 that, an God send me life, I shall not 
 fail to make you queen of the Romans 
 and lady of Austria, which may be 
 valued to a royaume ” — i.e. to marry 
 her himself. 
 
 ^ II. 1312. 
 
 2 II. 967-8. 
 
276 
 
 THE KEIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 Warham, less courtly, had candidly told the Pope from the 
 first that he could hold out no hopes of any such grant from 
 Convocation.^ So long as the thoughts of princes were 
 entirely engrossed with a European war, it was useless to 
 urge upon them the obligations of unity and the duty of 
 repelling the common enemy ; and to that indifference England 
 mainly contributed. At the meeting of Francis and the Pope 
 at Bologna in December, 1515,^ the former had consented to 
 lay aside all other considerations and devote himself to the 
 cause. The Pope thanked him, with tears in his eyes, as he 
 told Henry, and begged the King to forget his animosity and 
 listen to the prayers of those who were daily in danger from the 
 Turk.^ But Henry did not believe his Holiness. He thought 
 it was only a delusion intended to throw him off his guard. 
 So the expedition made no real progress/ though it was the 
 constant theme of state papers, and Europe was scandalized 
 accordingly.^ When hostilities between the great European 
 powers had been extinguished by the treaty of Noyon in the 
 spring of 1517, the Pope thought the opportunity so long 
 desired had arrived. After a solemn mass, the crusade was 
 determined on in the Council of the Lateran on the 16th of 
 March, and the bull drawn up.^^ Various plans were in 
 agitation. It was resolved that an army should be raised, in 
 the first instance, of 60,000 men, to be paid by a tenth levied 
 upon all the estates of Christendom.”^ Every 50th person was 
 to turn soldier, and the other 49 were to contribute to his 
 support and wages ; all spiritual persons to pay a tenth, all 
 seculars a twentieth. The army thus raised was to be placed 
 under one captain-general, to be assisted by a Papal legate, 
 and if any one refused their summons to join he should be 
 accounted as a rebel and punished accordingly. The care of 
 the north-east was delegated to France, of the north-west to 
 England, of the south-west to the Pope. To keep the Turk 
 employed it was proposed that the Sophi of Persia should be 
 encouraged to make war upon him, and be persuaded, if pos- 
 sible, to embrace the Christian faith. To counterbalance any 
 aid that might be sent to the Infidels from Egypt or else- 
 
 ^ II. 966. far as to hint that the King might, in 
 
 2 II. 1282. anticipation of the grant, advance the 
 
 3 See the repaarkable account of money from his own treasury. 11.887. 
 
 this celebrated meeting, II. 1281, sq. ® II. 2761, 3119, 3163. 
 
 Yet Leo evidently flattered him- ® II. 3040. 
 
 self with success. The King had given ^ II. 3815-6. 
 
 his consent, and his Holiness went so 
 

1515-18.] 
 
 THE PROPOSED CRUSADE. 
 
 277 
 
 where, communications were to he opened, by means of 
 Christian subjects dwelling in the East, with Prester John 
 of the Indies, the King of Nubia and Ethiopia, and the King 
 of the Georgians. So whilst the Soldan was thus employed 
 on the side of Arabia and Ethiopia, it was hoped that Syria 
 and Palestine might fall into the hands of the Christians ; 
 and they could easily hold the latter by building fortresses at 
 Joppa, Petra, Dan, and Beersheba on the south, and placing 
 a garrison in Mount Sion. In the summer of 1518 an army 
 was to be sent into Africa to encourage the Kings of Tremesin, 
 Fez, and Morocco, and the Arabs in the Libyan mountains, 
 who had not yet submitted to the Turk. The powers of 
 Hungary and Poland, joined with the Scythians and Tartars, 
 were appointed to occupy the northern settlements. Next 
 year the campaign was to be followed up in Africa. Maximilian 
 and the King of Portugal were to throw themselves on Cairo 
 and Alexandria, to be joined by the Kings of England and 
 Denmark and the Great Master of Prussia, whilst the King of 
 France marched through Dalmatia and Croatia, and seized 
 upon Bosnia; then turning their armies south-east they 
 might take possession of Philippopolis and Adrianople, and 
 garrisoning them with Tartar troops, who could easily support 
 themselves by plundering the neighbourhood, direct their 
 attention to Chalcedon and Negropont, or some equally 
 advantageous seaport. 
 
 When Africa had thus been emancipated, the Emperor 
 and the King of Portugal were to cross the year after into 
 Greece, take Constantinople, invade Asia Minor, give half 
 Natolia to the Sophi, and retain the rest of Asia and Africa, 
 especially Palestine and Jerusalem, exclusively for the Chris- 
 tians. After these successes it might be feasible to carry 
 Christianity into Persia and Africa : — as for the Turks, they 
 were to disappear altogether. All these wondrous results 
 might be obtained in two or three years, at the cost of 
 12,000,000 of ducats. A paltry sum for a universal millennium ! 
 
 To give practical efficiency to this grand vision it was 
 needful that Leo should send Legates to all the leading 
 Sovereigns of Christendom. Cardinal St. Giles (iEgidius of 
 Viterbo) was despatched to Spain, Cardinal Flisco to Germany, 
 Bibiena (S. Maria in Porticu) to France, and Campeggio was 
 destined for England. In France the Legate was received in 
 a great hall erected for the purpose.’^ Francis enlarged upon 
 * Deo. 6, 1517. II. 3823. 3830. 
 
278 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 liis ardent desire to join in this holy expedition. As eldest 
 son of the Church he offered to serve in person, and put him- 
 self and his kingdom entirely at the disposal of the Pope. 
 But all were not equally enthusiastic ; there wanted not some 
 who still regarded the crusade as an attempt to raise money ; 
 — as a ridiculous chimera.^ Erasmus in his scoffing humour 
 writes to More, and turns into jest the grave devices employed 
 to give an air of solemnity to the design, in which no one, he 
 asserts, had any real faith. “ The Pope has put out a pro- 
 hibition that wives, in the absence of their husbands at the 
 war, shall not indulge themselves ; they are to abstain from 
 fine dresses and silks, from gold and jewels ; use no paint, 
 drink no wine, and fast every other day.” “ But as for your 
 wife,” he continues in his bantering style, “ she is so serious 
 and devout, she will find no difficulty in complying with 
 the Pope’s injunctions.” When the King heard of it, and 
 Maximilian’s offer to act as generalissimo, “ his Grace did 
 right well laugh,” says Pace in a letter to Wolsey,^ “ at the 
 device of the Emperor enempst the expedition to be made the 
 first year against the Turk, by him, with other men’s money, 
 considering that this should be only an expedition of money.” 
 When Pace showed his Majesty the letters in which Cam- 
 peggio’s mission was mentioned, the King at once remarked 
 that “ it was not the rule of this realm to admit Legates de 
 latere.'' But he did not insist on the prohibition ; for a fort- 
 night after Wolsey wrote to the Bishop of Worcester^ that he 
 regretted much to hear of the increasing power of the Turk, 
 which could not be repressed except by a union of Christian 
 princes. He had informed the King of the Pope’s intention 
 to send a Legate into England ; but by the municipal law of 
 England, which the King was strictly bound to observe, no 
 foreign Cardinal could be admitted to exercise legatine 
 authority within this realm. The King, however, would waive 
 that objection, provided that all those faculties which were 
 usually conceded to legates de jure be suspended, and Wolsey 
 joined in equal authority with Campeggio. The Pope had no 
 alternative except to comply, and the commission was sent to 
 Wolsey as desired.^ But this was not the end of the humilia- 
 tion to which the Pope and his Legate were to be subjected. 
 Cardinal Hadrian, the patron of Polydore Vergil, had sig- 
 nalized himself by his opposition to Wolsey on all occasions. 
 
 1 II. 3991-2. 3 April 11, 1518. II. 4073. 
 
 2 II. 4023. ^ May 17. II. 4170, 
 
1618.] 
 
 CARDINAL CAMPEGGIO. 
 
 279 
 
 He was now in disgrace : — had fled to Venice ; was moving 
 heaven and earth to be pardoned and restored. Maximilian 
 and the Venetians had incurred Wolsey’s displeasure for inter- 
 posing in his favour. The Pope vacillated, was inclined to 
 relent, and delayed passing sentence of deprivation. Wolsey 
 urged, and even threatened ; and Leo replied with a variety 
 of excuses. On Hadrian’s disgrace, the bishopric of Bath 
 and Wells had been conferred upon Wolsey ; ^ hut the Pope, 
 by declining to degrade Hadrian, might keep the right of that 
 see an open question, and involve its new possessor in endless 
 litigation and expense. 
 
 Campeggio reached Calais in June, in the full bloom of his 
 legatine authority, intending at once to cross to England. If 
 he thought to snuff out the pretensions of his English 
 associate, who had never been at Eome, knew nothing of 
 legates or legatine usages — had not a hat or a cope fit for a 
 procession, — that was no more than any native Italian would 
 have felt towards a tramontane ecclesiastic, whatever his 
 dignity or pretensions. On reaching Calais he found a letter 
 waiting for him from England, stating that the King was 
 greatly displeased with the backwardness of the Pope in 
 depriving Cardinal Hadrian, and the Legate must remain at 
 Calais until the King had perfect satisfaction on that head.^ 
 In vain Campeggio protested that he had written three times 
 to the Pope on the subject, and felt no doubt of his com- 
 pliance. May passed, June passed, and it was not until the 
 22nd of July that his quarantine was withdrawn, and he was 
 permitted to land on English shores. Now, however pleasant 
 Calais might be for a summer holiday in the warm months of 
 May, June, and July, and however courtly the attentions of 
 its deputy, Sir Kichard Wingfield, it is hard to conceive any 
 delay more galling or annoying to the dignity of a papal 
 Legate like Campeggio, than this cooling his heels, like an 
 ordinary layman, for many weeks in a rude garrison town ; — 
 with the mortifying consciousness, besides, that his detention 
 depended entirely on the will of the man whom he had 
 purposed to eclipse. Hall tells a story, greedily repeated by 
 Foxe, that the night before Campeggio entered London, 
 Wolsey, to give greater effect to the solemnity, sent him 
 twelve mules with empty coffers trapped with scarlet ; and 
 thus the cavalcade, with eight others belonging to the Legate, 
 passed through the streets as if they had carried so much 
 1 II. 3504, 3544. ^ H. 4271. 
 
280 
 
 THE KEIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 treasure. In Cheapside one of the mules turned restive, and 
 upset the chests, out of which tumbled old hose, broken shoes, 
 bread, meat, and eggs, with ^'much vile baggage; ” at which 
 the boys exclaimed, See, see my lord Legate’s treasure ! ” 
 The story is more malicious than probable. There might be 
 much vile baggage and broken shoes, however ; for the fresh- 
 ness and splendour of the Legate’s preparations would be 
 tarnished and injured by his long detention. Accustomed to 
 be received with profuse gratitude and unbounded liberality 
 by the Sovereigns to whom they were sent, these dignitaries 
 were not prepared for any heavy outlay from their own purses. 
 The delay and consequent expense proved a serious annoyance. 
 
 News, however, came at last of Hadrian’s deprivation, and 
 a knight of the Garter was sent to bring over the Legate.^ On 
 the 23rd of July he landed at Heal, and was met by the 
 Bishop of Chichester, the Lords Abergavenny, Cobham, and 
 others, and conveyed by them to Sandwich. Next day he 
 reached Canterbury. Here he was received by the clergy and 
 corporation of the town, and conducted to the cathedral gates, 
 where the Archbishop, the Bishop of Kochester, the Abbots of 
 St. Augustine and Faversham, the Priors of Christchurch and 
 St. Gregory’s, attended his coming in full pontificals. After 
 prayers and benediction he was led to the shrine of St. 
 Thomas; was censed and sprinkled with holy water; then 
 conducted to his lodgings in St. Augustine’s Abbey. Here he 
 stayed the Sunday. On Monday he set out for Sittingbourne 
 in a great storm of thunder and lightning, attended by a 
 cavalcade of 500 horse. There he dined, and supped and 
 slept at Bexley. On Tuesday he was entertained at a 
 magnificent dinner at Eochester ; thence to Otford, attended 
 all the way by the Archbishop, with a thousand horsemen, in 
 armour and gold chains. On Thursday, at Lewisham ; and 
 after dinner, about one o’clock, he arrived at Blackheath. At 
 this place a more splendid company awaited him, consisting 
 of the Duke of Norfolk, the Bishops of Durham and Ely, the 
 Earl of Surrey, the Lords Darcy and Abergavenny. In a 
 meadow ‘‘two miles from London,” a tent of cloth of gold had 
 been erected for his reception. The procession was now 
 arranged. The nobility rode in advance ; then came the 
 Legate in full pontificals, with his cross, his pillars, and 
 pole-axes ; next his servants in red livery ; after them the 
 Archbishop’s (Wolsey’s ?) in one livery, with red hats, except 
 
 1 II. 4348. 
 
1 
 
1518.] 
 
 CAMPEGGIO’S EECEPTION. 
 
 281 
 
 the chaplains, to the number of 200 horse. As it neared the 
 city gates the whole procession extended upwards of two 
 miles. From St. George’s Church to London Bridge the way 
 was lined on both sides by friars, monks, and clergy singing 
 hymns, dressed in their habits, with copes of cloth of gold, 
 gold and silver crosses and banners ; and as the Legate passed 
 along they threw up clouds of incense in the air, and sprinkled 
 him with holy water. At the foot of the bridge he was 
 received by two Bishops, who presented him with the relics of 
 the saints to kiss, whilst salvos of artillery from the Tower 
 and the river forts rent the air,^ and hundreds of bells pealed 
 from every abbey, priory, and parish church, to the deeper 
 bass of old St. Paul’s. In “ Gracious Street ” the London 
 city companies joined the procession ; at Cheapside he was 
 welcomed by the mayor and aldermen ; and here the celebrated 
 Sir Thomas More delivered a Latin oration. At St. Paul’s 
 the Bishops of Lincoln and London, with the whole cathedral 
 clergy, received him, and led him after another oration to the 
 high altar. This done, the Legate mounted his mule, and 
 was conveyed to his lodgings in Bath Place. 
 
 The reception was magnificent beyond description ; there 
 had been nothing like it seen in England, at least within the 
 memory of living man. It had been prepared and arranged, 
 and the whole expense of it was defrayed, by Wolsey.^ But 
 there was one face wanting to complete the magnificence of 
 the ceremony : that was his own. Archbishops and dukes 
 and all the great nobility were there ; but Wolsey and the 
 King were absent. Sebastian said they were afraid of the 
 sweating sickness.^ 
 
 Campeggio’s audience took place five days after at Green- 
 wich, on Tuesday the 8rd of August.^ The King entered. 
 
 ^ “ Salvoes of artillery rent the air 
 as if the very heavens would fall,” is 
 Wolsey’s own expressive description 
 addressed to the Bishop of Worcester. 
 II. 4348. 
 
 2 II. 4348. 
 
 3 II. 4361. 
 
 ^ “ On Sunday [a blunder for 
 Tuesday] these two Cardinals or 
 Legates took their barges and came 
 to Greenwich. Each of them had 
 besides their crosses, two pillars of 
 silver, two little axes gilt, and two 
 cloak bags embroidered [what were 
 these ?], and the Cardinals’ hats borne 
 before them. And when they came 
 to the king’s hall, the Cardinal of 
 
 York went on the right hand ; and 
 then the king, royally apparelled and 
 accompanied, met them even as though 
 both had come from Kome, and so 
 brought them both up into his chamber 
 of presence [a mistake]. And there 
 was a solemn oration made by an 
 Italian, declaring the cause of the 
 legacy to be in two articles, one for 
 aid against God’s enemies, and the 
 second for reformation of the clergy 
 [the latter is Hall’s invention]. And 
 when mass was done [another inven- 
 tion], they were had to a chamber, 
 and served with lords and knights [a 
 mistake] with much solemnity ; and 
 after dinner, they took their leave of 
 
282 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 attended by the lords spiritual and temporal, and advanced to 
 the middle of the hall. The Legates ‘‘ saluted him with great 
 marks of respect.” ^ The King returned their salutations by 
 taking off his bonnet, and then proceeded towards the upper 
 end of the hall, with Wolsey as the chief Legate on his right, 
 and Campeggio on the left ; their pillars, crosses, and hats 
 borne before them. The Earl of Surrey carried the sword, 
 walking between the Legates. On the right of the throne 
 stood the two primates and the bishops ; on the left, the 
 dukes and lords. Fronting the throne, and a little to the 
 right, were placed two chairs covered with cloth of gold ; in 
 the larger chair sate Wolsey, and a little behind him Cam- 
 peggio.^ Then Wolsey rising, cap in hand, delivered a Latin 
 oration, the King standing whilst it was delivered. ‘‘ To this 
 his Majesty replied, also in Latin, most elegantly and with all 
 gravity.” This done, they seated themselves, and the Legate’s 
 brother commenced his oration, dilating on the objects of this 
 solemn mission, — the desire of the Pope for ]oeace and unity 
 in Christendom, — the importance of a crusade against its 
 common enemy the Turk. He was answered by Hr. Taylor 
 on the King’s behalf, stating that his Majesty needed not to 
 be reminded of his duty as a Christian. Then the King and 
 the Legates retired to a private chamber. Campeggio’s 
 importance expired with this delivery of his mission. He was 
 invited to the usual court entertainments, was present at the 
 solemnity of Mary’s espousals with the Dauphin; but, says 
 Sebastian, ^Mittle respect was shown to the see Apostolic.”^ 
 A remark which requires no comment. 
 
 So the wheel had revolved once more, and all things had 
 apparently returned to the point from which they had started. 
 England and France were again intimately allied, and the 
 alliance cemented by marriage : Charles and Maximilian 
 remained subordinate in the great European confederacy, as 
 they had been four years before. As then, so now, Wolsey 
 stood master of the game, but with far higher advantages. 
 Then he was only Archbishop of York ; now he was Legate, 
 Cardinal, and Lord-Chancellor. Then he was only rising into 
 favour with his Sovereign ; now that favour was confirmed ; — 
 his supremacy was contested then by others not less powerful 
 than himself ; now, even his enemies admitted his superiority, 
 
 the king, and came to London, and * II. 4362, 4366. 
 
 rode through the city together in great ^ See the plate opposite, 
 
 pomp and glory to their lodgings.” — ^ II. 4371. 
 
 Hall’s Chron., p. 593. 
 
The Legate’s brother, with the spiritual men of the King’s Council, 
 Knights, and other gentlemen of the King’s privy chamber. 
 
 1518.] 
 
 THE TWO LEGATES. 
 
 283 
 
 The cloth of State. 
 
 Chair. 
 
 The King’s 
 Chamberlain. 
 
 V ice-chamberlain. 
 
 A Chief Legate. 
 A Legate. 
 
 
 2 ^ 
 P o 
 • 4 
 
 CD ® 
 
 ^ ? 
 
 O P 
 
 g 2 
 Bi ^ 
 
 o o 
 
 
 The Ambassador of 
 Venice. 
 
 Si 
 
 rt-’ 
 
 d 
 
 P 
 
 P ■" 
 Pj 
 
 W P 
 
 S' 
 
 ^ St 
 
 S' 
 
 All the Legates’ gentlemen and 
 other noblemen 
 appointed to come in. 
 
 Barons that sit not with other temporal of the King’s Council. 
 
284 
 
 THE REIGN OF HENRY VIIL 
 
 [A.D. 1518. 
 
 and, if they did not crouch to it, dared not contest it. Then 
 his influence was little felt or acknowledged beyond his own 
 country; now kings and emperors sought his favour. It 
 rested with him to determine whether Europe should have 
 peace or war ; whether a crusade should he or should not be ; 
 who should dictate to the titular Pope, whether a Frenchman, 
 a German, or a Fleming ; and who should overshadow the 
 papal tiara. And all this he had accomplished without 
 moving from his chair, without a blow, with a peace ex- 
 penditure, and a rigid economy. There had never been such 
 a minister in England. Francis and Charles were now strain- 
 ing every nerve for the Imperial crown : — bribes, favours, 
 alliances, were showered by both ; the most unblushing 
 venality found as unblushing and prodigal a purchaser. The 
 holy Eoman Empire, like a rare bauble — and no better than a 
 bauble — was set up to the highest bidder. It remained with 
 Wolsey to decide to which of the two parties it should be 
 knocked down. 
 

J^7u:f'raMe-dy by £. Sct~ivrn/. 
 
 ffiMASMUJ S . 
 
 ( 
 
 iriidrr llie STipe3'ixil,exLdaJu;c of tlie SocieXy &r die DiEfuslon of ITsefu] Kuo-wled.rt- . 
 
( 285 ) 
 
 CHAPTEB X. 
 
 TWO BOOKS OF THE PERIOD. 
 
 Our review of this period would be incomplete without some 
 notice of the two important works which then made their 
 appearance. I refer to the Greek Testament of Erasmus, and 
 the Utopia of Sir Thomas More. Though printed at Basle, 
 the Greek Testament of Erasmus was strictly the work of his 
 residence in England. In the collation and examination of 
 manuscripts required for the task, he had the assistance of Eng- 
 lishmen ; Englishmen supplied the funds, and English friends 
 and patrons lent him that support and encouragement without 
 which it is very doubtful whether Erasmus would have ever 
 completed the work. He was not always liberal in acknow- 
 ledging his obligations ; yet in his New Testament, hidden 
 away in a page where no one would have expected to find it, 
 he bursts into a sudden fit of enthusiasm and celebrates the 
 praises of Warham in language such as none but Erasmus 
 could command.^ After discanting upon the Archbishop’s 
 modesty, labours, genius, administration of justice (for he was 
 still Chancellor), his patronage of letters and learned men, 
 Erasmus thus pursues the subject : 
 
 “ Had it been my good fortune to have fallen in with such a Maecenas 
 in my earlier years, I might, perhaps, have done something for literature. 
 Now, born as I was in an unhappy age, when barbarism reigned supreme, 
 especially among my own people, by whom the least inclination for 
 literature was then looked upon as little better than a crime, Avhat could I 
 do with my small modicum of talent ? Death carried oh Henry de 
 Berghes, bishop of Cambray, my hrst patron ; my second, William lord 
 Mount joy, an English peer, was separated from me by his employments 
 at court and the tumults of war. By his means it was my good fortune, 
 then advanced in life and close upon my fortieth year, to be introduced 
 to archbishop Wareham. Encouraged and cheered by his bounty, I 
 revived ; I gained new youth and strength in the cause of literature. 
 What nature and my country denied me, his bounty supplied. ” 
 
 These expressions of gratitude were no more than the 
 Archbishop deserved ; in addition to an annual pension he 
 
 ^ In Epist. ad Thessalon. i. cap. 2. 
 
286 
 
 THE REIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 sent various sums of money to Erasmus, generally through 
 More. Nor were Warham and Mountjoy his only friends. 
 Tunstal and Lupset assisted him in his collations ; Fisher, 
 Fox, More, Colet, Urswick, and Ammonius made him continual 
 presents, and pushed his interest at court. Wolsey, apparently 
 indifferent to literary praise, offered him only a prebend at 
 Tournay — adwpov as Erasmus calls it, who could never 
 be persuaded to speak well of Wolsey afterwards.^ When the 
 New Testament appeared, it was applauded by those whom 
 we have been told to regard as the most superstitious and 
 benighted upholders of the old religion. Lately in a large 
 concourse of people,” writes More,^ ‘‘ the Bishop of Winchester 
 (Fox) affirmed that your version of the New Testament was 
 worth more to him than ten commentaries. The bishops were 
 loud in its praises,^ Warham in particular. Fisher had 
 always been one of its earliest promoters. Tunstal, as I have 
 remarked already, had assisted with his scholarship and his 
 bounty. 
 
 The experiment was a bold one — the boldest that had been 
 conceived in this century or for many centuries before it. 
 We are accustomed to the freest expression of opinion in 
 Biblical criticism, and any attempt to supersede our English 
 version, to treat its inaccuracies with scorn, to represent it as far 
 below the science and scholarship of the age, or as a barbarous 
 unlettered production, made from inaccurate manuscripts, 
 and imperfectly executed by men who did not understand the 
 language of the original, would excite little apprehension or 
 alarm.^ To explain the text of Scripture exclusively by the 
 rules of human wisdom, guided by the same principles as are 
 freely applied to classical authors, — to discriminate the 
 spurious from the genuine, and decide that this was canonical, 
 and that was not — might, perhaps, be regarded as audacious. 
 Yet all this, and not less than this, did Erasmus propose to 
 himself in his edition and translation of the New Testament. 
 He meant to subvert the authority of the Vulgate, and to 
 show that much of the popular theology of the day, its errors 
 and misconceptions, were founded entirely on a misapprehen- 
 sion of the original meaning, and inextricably entangled with 
 the old Latin version. It was his avowed object to bring up 
 the translation of the sacred books, and all criticism connected 
 
 ^ See II. 889,^890, 1552, 2066. written in the year 1864, before the 
 
 2 XX. 2831. project of a Revised Version had 
 
 ® II. 2074, 2196. assumed anything like definite shape. 
 
 * This, it may be observed, was — Ed. 
 
1516.] 
 
 ERASMUS’ NEW TESTAMENT. 
 
 287 
 
 with them, to the level of that scholarship in his days which 
 had been successfully applied to the illustration of ancient 
 authors ; to set aside all rules of interpretation resting merely 
 on faith and authority, and replace them by the philological 
 and historical. And it was precisely for this reason that 
 Luther disliked the work.^ In this respect the New Testament 
 of Erasmus must be regarded as the foundation of that new 
 school of teaching on which Anglican theology professes 
 exclusively to rest ; as such it is not only the type of its class, 
 but the most direct enunciation of that Protestant principle 
 which, from that time until this, has found its expression in 
 various forms : “ The Bible alone is the religion of Protestants.” 
 Whatever can be read therein or proved thereby is binding 
 upon all men ; what cannot, is not to be required of any man 
 as an article of his faith, either by societies or individuals. 
 Who sees not that the authority of the Church was displaced, 
 and the sufficiency of all men individually to read and interpret 
 for themselves was thus asserted by the New Testament of 
 Erasmus ? 
 
 The work found readers where readers were least to be 
 expected ; not merely in universities and among bishops, but 
 with friars and monks and other religious orders. It was 
 talked over in the common rooms of Oxford and Cambridge ; 
 criticized in the refectory of the friars, or the nun’s parlours ; 
 preached at from the pulpit and the lecture room ; the topic 
 of conversation at court ; declaimed against before lord mayors 
 and corporations. Violet and scarlet hoods fluttered with 
 emotion at its daring innovations ; black woollen gowns and 
 white enlarged, in corners, to anxious, upturned faces, on the 
 new version which had re-written the Epistles of St. Paul, and 
 put unauthorized phrases into the Magnificat and the Pater 
 noster. I have already stated that the age was not that sink 
 of corruption which modern historians delights to paint it. 
 And the universal interest taken in this work of Erasmus 
 shows equally that the age was not so illiterate as it is often 
 assumed to be. Popular stories of the Bible being unknown, 
 of the total indifference of the friars to learning, rest like most 
 popular stories on vulgar credulity. Here is a passage from 
 More’s Utopia, written in 1516, which conveys a very different 
 impression : — 
 
 ^ See his letters 22 and 29. To Galatians, the profoundest of all his 
 the last, Luther retained the use of works, 
 the Vulgate in his commentary on the 
 
288 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENRY VIIL 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 Men’s tastes differ mucli ; some are so morose, so sour in disposition, 
 and their judgments so perverse, that people of cheerful and lively 
 temper, who indulge their humors, seem much more happy than those 
 who torment themselves by writing books, or attempting to please or 
 profit the ungrateful and fastidious. Many know nothing of learning and 
 others despise it. To the lover of barbarisms all is rough and distasteful 
 that is not barbarous. The sciolist despises as common place whatever 
 abounds not in antiquated expressions. Some love antiquity only ; the 
 greater part, novelty. This man is of “ so vinegar an aspect ” that he can 
 allow no jokes ; another so dull he cannot endure wit. This man’s face is 
 so flat he is as much afraid of a nose as the devil of holy water. Some 
 again are so changeable, that their thoughts alter as rapidly as their 
 postures. These sit in taverns, and take upon them to criticise works of 
 genius over their cups. They cannot endure the least ridicule, and con- 
 demn in authoritative tones, ad libitum, with mo less advantage than a 
 bald man plucks his neighbour’s hair ; for they are so smooth and shorn — 
 these good fellows — they present not a single hair for others to lay hold 
 on. Some are so unthankful that even when they are well pleased with a 
 book they love not the author the more, and are like those rude guests, 
 who, after they have been well entertained, go away with a belly-full, 
 without so much as thanking their host.” 
 
 And this brings me, in conclusion, to some remarks on the 
 Utopia itself. A modern French author, with that sprightliness 
 and lively declamation for which he is justly remarkable, 
 characterizes the Utopia of Sir Thomas More as “ an insipid 
 romance in which the author has taken great pains to discover 
 truths already realized by the mystic communists of the middle 
 ages in a more original manner. The design of the work is 
 common-place, its matter ordinary ; it has little imagination, 
 and less sense of reality.” ^ There is not the least reason for 
 supposing that More was ever acquainted with the communistic 
 doctrines of the middle ages, or ever wished to establish them. 
 For common tables and community of goods in the institu- 
 tions of Utopia, More was indebted to Plato and the laws of 
 Lycurgus ; for More was much more familiar with the classical 
 than the middle ages ; — and these were introduced for a 
 different purpose than that which M. Michelet surmises. We 
 readily concede that there is not to be found in the Utopia the 
 wonderful invention, the inexhaustible wit, the profound 
 learning, the broad farce, the abundant physical coarseness, 
 the sarcasm and unextinguishable laughter, the tenderest 
 and profoundest sentiments masquerading in grotesque and 
 ludicrous shapes, the healthy vigorous humanity, overflowing 
 at one time with clear and beautiful truths, and then anon 
 stranded in pools of mud and filth, that are to be found in 
 Rabelais, But the objects of the two men were as different as 
 their natures. The wit and humour of More is that of the 
 
 ^ La forme est plate, le fonds commun. Micbelet, Reforme, p. 414. 
 

 RABELAIS, 
 
 THIS eccentrick genius was born at Chinon, in the province of 
 Touraine, about the year 14S3. He was brought up to the churchj 
 j fout could hardly have chosen a less congenial avocation. 
 
 At an early age, he displayed a brilliant imagination, and an uncom- 
 mon share of learning. By his brother monks he was hated and feared® 
 for his wit 5 and by many regarded as a conjuror, because he understood 
 Gjeek, which then had but lately be^an to be studied in Europe. 
 
 He soon found patrons, however, to assist him in quitting his duH per- 
 secutors. Clement y II. granted him permission to change hisorderj hut 
 Rabelais, an enemy to all restraint, som threw off entirely his religious 
 livery, and studied physick at Montpellier, where he took a do6lor’s 
 j degree. In 1531, his merit raise:d him to a professorship; and he ren- 
 ' tiered such important services to the university, that even to the present 
 hour, every candidate who takes a degi ee at Montpellier, must wear on 
 his admission the cloak of Rabelais, which is preserved with a religious 
 veneration ; as if, like the mantle of Elijah, it were expe6led to impart 
 a portion of the original owner’s spirit. 
 
 In 1532,, he published some works of Hippocrates, and read Lectures 
 to crouded audiences. But, with the restless ardour of genius, he 
 I quitted Montpellier, and went to Lyons; where he practised as a phy- 
 sician, till Cardinal Du Bellay’s celebrated embassy to Rome. He then 
 accompanied that prelate to the Pope; and so highly delighted his holi- 
 ness, with his wit and humour, that a bull of absolution was the reward 
 of his drolleries, and he resumed his clerical fun6tions. He then, from 
 a Cordelier, became a Benedictine ; from a BenediCtine, a Canon; and 
 from a Canon, a Vicar; and the living of Mendon being given to him in 
 1545, he was, at once, the parson and the physician of his parish. 
 
 His most celebrated production. The History of Garagantua and 
 Pantagruel, was written about this time. This severe satire on the 
 monks being condemned by the Sorbonne, was the rnore greedily read ; 
 and Rabelais was courted with the same avidity as his imitator, our ad- 
 mired Sterne. The work, though it displays great erudition, and has con- 
 siderable gaiety, is extravagant, often unintelligible, and tainted v\'itli 
 obscenity. Rabelais assures us, that he wrote it at his meals ; he might 
 probably have added, not imfrequently in his cups. 
 
 Like Sterne, he is famous for having perverted uncommon talents. 
 He was not only a great linguift, but familiar with the severer sciences, 
 and had adorned his memory with the riches of study. 
 
 He died at Paris, in 1553; regretted by the many who had been charm- 
 ed by his brilliant wit, and enlivened by his chearful conversation. 
 
. 
 
1516.] 
 
 MORE’S “UTOPIA.’ 
 
 289 
 
 thoughtful observant Englishman, not breaking out into peals 
 of laughter, but so quiet, sedate, and serious as to demand on 
 the part of the reader something of the same habit of quiet 
 thought a,nd observation, to be fully perceived and enjoyed. 
 More hovers so perpetually on the confines of jest and earnest, 
 passes so naturally from one to the other, that the reader is in 
 constant suspense whether his jest be serious, or his serious- 
 ness a jest. The book is wonderfuDy Englishlike ; wonderfully 
 like that balancing habit of mind which trembles on the verge 
 of right and wrong, sometimes struggling on in happier times 
 to clearer vision, sometimes, like More, shutting its eyes and 
 relapsing into older impressions unable to endure suspense 
 any longer. 
 
 In More’s own day the Utopia was regarded as a mirror of 
 the political and social evils of the times.^ '' A burgomaster 
 at Antwerp,” writes Erasmus, is so pleased with it, he knows 
 it all by heart.” Its popularity is attested by numerous 
 editions ^ and translations. The scene of it is laid in the then 
 scarce-known regions of the West, where Christianity had 
 not yet penetrated. It describes the social and political per- 
 fection to which the people of Utopia had arrived by the mere 
 efforts of natural goodness, as compared with the corrupt 
 institutions and manners of Christendom. The Utopians are 
 not entirely free from usages which seem incompatible with a 
 model republic, and this is part of the author’s design. They 
 attempt to prevent war by assassination, and bribe the subjects 
 of their enemy to commit treason. But he must be dull 
 indeed, who does not perceive that Utopia when following out 
 these principles, is removed but a few miles from the English 
 Channel, and that a practice which seems the more odious in 
 these upright and wise Utopians was tenfold more unjustifiable 
 in those who, professing the doctrines of Christ never scrupled 
 to employ the same means against their own enemies. Were 
 the intrigues of Henry VIII. and his minister Dacre against 
 Scotland more moral than these ? Were not their attempts to 
 sow treason and disaffection among the Scotch lords an exact 
 exemplification of this Utopian policy ? Letter after letter in 
 this volume betrays a similar design for decoying or cutting 
 off The White Rose, De la Pole,^ thus illustrating More’s words 
 
 ^ II. 2962, 2996. correspondence passed through Tun- 
 
 ^ The first was at Louvain in 1516, stal’s hands when minister in the 
 the next at Basle in 1518, and another, Netherlands. And it is greatly to his 
 a few months after, at Paris. credit that he always discouraged 
 
 ^ It is worth noticing that this these speculators in private assassina- 
 
 VOL. T. U 
 
290 
 
 THE KEIGN OF HENRY VHL 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 to the letter : “By this means it has often fallen ont that 
 many of them, even the Prince himself has been betrayed 
 by those, in whom they trusted most ; for the rewards the 
 Utopians offer are so immeasurably great that there is no sort 
 of crime to which men cannot be drawn by them.” 
 
 But Utopia is nowhere, and was never intended to be, set 
 up as a model to be literally followed. Could More seriously 
 advocate a community of goods, even if as a sound lawyer he 
 could expect to see the Utopian prohibition verified, that the 
 nations of Europe should have fewer laws and no lawyers ? ^ 
 Could he gravely recommend a purely elective monarchy, 
 even if, with his religious views, he might have justified the 
 marriage of priests, to which he has never given any sanction 
 in his writings? But though the Utopia was not to be 
 literally followed — was no more than an abstraction at which 
 no one would have laughed more heartily than More himself, 
 if interpreted too strictly — Utopia might serve to show to 
 a corrupt Christendom what good could he effected by the 
 natural instincts of men when following the dictates of natural 
 prudence and justice. If kings could never be elective in 
 Europe, Utopia might show the advantage to a nation where 
 kings were responsible to some other will than their own. 
 If property could never be common, Utopia might teach men 
 how great was the benefit to society when the state regarded 
 itself as created for the well-being of all, and not of a class 
 or a favoured few. Literally property could never be common, 
 except in Utopia; but it might be so in effect in Christian 
 communities when capital and property were more widely 
 diffused, — when the enormous disproportion between the poor 
 and the rich, the noble and the serf, was modified by social 
 improvements, — when laws were simplified, and the statute 
 
 tion, and gave no credence to the 
 numerous spies and vagabonds who 
 now, and much more in after times, 
 were employed by Henry to carry 
 out this Utopian policy. Strange that 
 what then was considered too scan- 
 dalous to be done openly should now 
 find defenders on the plea of State 
 necessity ! 
 
 ^ “ They have but few laws, and 
 such is their constitution that they 
 need not many. They do very much 
 condemn other nations whose laws, 
 together with the ^commentaries upon 
 them, swell to so many volumes ; for 
 they think it an unreasonable thing to 
 oblige men to obey a body of laws 
 
 that are both of such a bulk and so 
 dark that they cannot be read or 
 understood by every one of their sub- 
 jects. 
 
 “ They have no lawyers among 
 them, for they consider them as a 
 sort of people whose profession it is 
 to disguise matters as well as to arrest 
 laws ; and therefore they think it is 
 much better that every man should 
 plead his own cause and trust it to 
 the judge, as mother places the client 
 does to his councillor. By this means 
 they both cut off many, delays and find 
 out truth more certainly.” A bold 
 stroke against trial by jury. 
 
1516 .] 
 
 MORE’S “UTOPIA.’ 
 
 291 
 
 book disencumbered of obsolete and unintelligible Acts, too 
 often put in force to catch the unwary, and made an instrument 
 of oppression by the crown lawyers. 
 
 It might, perhaps, be thought that More attributed too 
 much to nature, — that in the misery and confusion of his 
 times, in the deadlock of all social, political, and religious 
 reforms, in his dissatisfaction at Christianity, as exhibited 
 in the lives of his contemporaries, he gladly turned away to 
 an ideal as little like the reality as possible, and pleased 
 himself, as some did at the French Eevolution, with a pure 
 social abstraction removed from all those debasing influences 
 under which men groaned. We might be tempted to think 
 for a moment that he wavered in his allegiance to Christianity, 
 and that the beautiful visions of Platonic republics and ancient 
 patriots, fostered by his classical studies, had for a time over- 
 mastered his imagination, as was the case with many others. 
 Christianity, in his days at least, could present no such 
 heroical virtue, no such grace or beauty, as Paganism had 
 done, and was then doing, with an intensity of attraction to 
 the newly-awakened longings of men, of which we can form 
 no conception. Were monks and friars comparable to the 
 ancient philosopher and his supper of herbs ? Were Christian 
 kings of the sixteenth century, imperious, headstrong, pas- 
 sionate, and arbitrary, immersed in the games of war and 
 ambition, absorbed by the tournament, or the chase, impatient 
 of contradiction, deaf to good advice^ — comparable to the 
 Catos, the Eeguli, the Spartan or Sabine rulers of the old 
 republics ? Had not the advancement of the faith been made 
 a pretext for spoliation and aggrandizement ? Had not its 
 teachers taken part rather with the oppressors than the 
 oppressed ? Were not half the wars of Christendom trace- 
 able to this one cause ? — ignoble wars that only fostered 
 the evils under which society laboured, strengthening the 
 oppressor and trampling on the weak ? Had More’s faith 
 staggered at the trial, it could have occasioned little surprise ; 
 but apparently it did not. For Christianity is inlroduced 
 among the Utopians ; it is readily received by them from its 
 secret sympathy with their own opinions and institutions in 
 its purer form. 
 
 But a very brief sketch of the Utopian political and social 
 regulations will point out more clearly the prevalent evils of 
 More’s days. I wdsh I might ask my reader to carry in his 
 memory the leading topics of the preceding chapters ; the 
 
292 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 endless wars, the faithless leagues, the military expenditure, 
 the money and time wasted upon instruments and means of 
 offence to the neglect of all social improvements, unsettled 
 habits, trains of idle serving-men re-enacting in the streets the 
 interminable brawls of the Montagues and Capulets, broken 
 and disabled soldiers turning to theft, and filling Alsatia for 
 lack of employment, labour disarranged, husbandry broken up, 
 villages and hamlets depopulated to feed sheep, agricultural 
 labourers turned adrift, but forbidden to stray, and driven 
 home from tithing to tithing by the lash, to starve ; no poor- 
 houses, no hospitals, though the sweating sickness raged 
 through the land, but the poor left to perish as paupers by 
 the side of the ditches, filling the air with fever and pestilence, 
 houses never swept or ventilated, choked with rotten thatch 
 above and unchanged rushes within, streets reeking with offal 
 and filthy puddles, no adequate supply of water for cleanliness 
 or health, penal laws stringently enforced, more stringently 
 as the evils grew greater, crime and its punishment struggling 
 for the upper hand, justice proud of its executions, and 
 wondering that theft multiplied faster than the gibbet. Then 
 again, and unquestionably the greatest blot upon the reign of 
 Henry VIIL — was the sudden revival of obsolete statutes; 
 as in the punishment of the London apprentices and the 
 prcemunire in 1530. More’s language ^ looks prophetical, as 
 if he pierced into futurity, and saw beneath the popular and 
 fascinating exterior of Henry YIII. the monarch who should 
 one day use the law, not for the protection, but the oppression 
 of his subjects. One set of ministers,” says the supposed 
 traveller in Utopia, “ will bring forward some old musty laws 
 that have been antiquated by a long disuse, and which, as 
 they have been forgotten by all the king’s subjects, so they 
 have also been broken by them ; and will urge that the levy- 
 ing of the penalties of these laws, as it will bring in a vast 
 treasure, so also fails not of a very good pretence, since it 
 would look like the executing of the law and the doing of justice.'’^ ^ 
 Another proposes that the judges should be made sure of, 
 that in all causes affecting the king they may always give 
 sentence in his favour, and be sent for to the palace and 
 invited to discuss the matter before the king, that there may 
 
 ^ The face of More is remarkable procuring bulls from Rome, in which, 
 for its peering anxious look, as of a as has been already shown (pp. 267, 
 man endeavouring to penetrate into 268), the King was as much implicated 
 and yet dreading the future. as his minister. 
 
 * As in Wolsey’s attainder for 
 
1516 .] 
 
 MOEE’S “UTOPIA.’ 
 
 293 
 
 be no cause of bis, however obviously unjust, in which some 
 among them, either through love of contradiction, or pride of 
 singularity, or desire to win favour, will not find out some 
 pretence or another for giving sentence in the king’s behalf, 
 . . . And there never will be wanting some pretext for de- 
 claring in the king’s favor ; — as, that equity is on his side, 
 or the strict letter of the law, or some forced interpretation 
 of it ; or if none of these, that the royal prerogative ought 
 with conscientious judges to outweigh all other considerations. 
 And these notions are fostered by the maxims, that the king 
 can do no wrong, however much he may wish to do it ; that 
 not only the property, but the persons of his subjects, are 
 his ; — that a man has a right to no more than the king’s 
 goodness think fit not to take from him.” 
 
 Extravagant as such doctrines may appear to us in these 
 days, they represent the feelings of the people, and the 
 position of the Sovereign in the days of the Tudors. Absolute 
 in theory, clergy, judges, people strove to render the pre- 
 rogative more absolute, both in theory and practice. So long 
 as Wolsey lived the Church formed some barrier ; afterwards, 
 as it stood for a time without any such control, before the 
 House of Commons or public opinion had yet risen to take 
 the place of the Church, Government was absolutely identified 
 with the will of the Sovereign ; his word was law for the con- 
 sciences as well as the conduct of his subjects. And the 
 remembrance of the civil commotions of the fifteenth century 
 springing solely from a disputed succession — the rooted con- 
 viction that society must relapse once more into confusion 
 under a similar evil — that it was disintegrated, that all social 
 order was bound up in the King, as its only certain and 
 immovable centre — nurtured in the minds of Englishmen 
 the extravagant doctrines thus denounced by More. Any 
 wrong, any injustice, any royal violation of the law, however 
 flagrant, was a more tolerable evil than disobedience, or 
 opposition to the will of the prince, however just or sacred 
 the cause. For that, in the temper of the times, peoiDle had 
 no sympathy ; the will of the prince, however expressed, as 
 Komanist or Protestant, in passing the Six Articles or behead- 
 ing More, in divorcing Queen Katharine or marrying Anne 
 Boleyn, was to be respected. Innocence itself was to plead 
 ^‘guilty,” and suffer as guilt, if the King required it. How 
 far Cromwell took advantage of this feeling it is not my 
 present purpose to inquire. 
 
294 
 
 THE KEIGN OF HENRY VHI. 
 
 [A.T). 
 
 Such evils as these could have no place among the 
 Utopians. Their monarchy was elective, their government 
 strictly representative : — The prince is for life, but he is 
 removable on suspicion of a design to enslave his people.” 
 Strange doctrine this in the reign of Henry VIII. ! Due pro- 
 vision was made for the health, education, employment, re- 
 creation of the people — subjects quite below the consideration 
 of monarchs and ministers in Christian Europe. Every street 
 was twenty feet broad ; ^ every house was built of stone, with 
 its garden behind it for health and recreation ; a striking 
 contrast to the mean hovels, mud walls, thatched roofs, 
 straggling with overhanging gables, and shutting out both air 
 and light in the metropolis of England. Labour alternated 
 from town to country and from country to town ; learning 
 followed work, and work learning. Public lectures were given 
 every morning before daybreak ; after supper diversion ; 
 summer in their gardens, winter in their public halls, with 
 music and discourse. No games except chess were allowed, 
 or an allegorical tournament between vices and virtues. All, 
 whatever their condition, male or female, noble or ignoble, 
 were set to learn some trade. Six hours for labour, the 
 others for rest ; but that rest must be reasonably employed in 
 reading, exercise, or gardening. Labour common, and property 
 common; common halls in every district, ‘‘where they all 
 meet and eat ; ” hospitals without the walls, “so large that 
 they may j)ass for little towns ; by this means, if they had 
 ever such a number of sick, they could lodge them con- 
 veniently, and at sufficient distances to prevent contagion.” 
 No slaughter-houses permitted within the walls, no offal, no 
 pestilential manufactures. In the country these restrictions 
 were relaxed. 
 
 Fathers and grandfathers, sons and daughters-in-law, made 
 one family, and lived under the same roof, like More’s own 
 family at Chelsea. In this respect no philosopher ever ex- 
 emplified his own precepts more perfectly than More. And 
 if we may accept the repeated and uniform assurances of his 
 contemporaries — if the respect and affection of all his house- 
 hold, which accompanied him even to the scaffold, be any test 
 — his own practice must have been the noblest proof of the 
 sound wisdom ^of his theory. Englishmen and. strangers 
 admitted to his acquaintance testify to the peace, purity, love, 
 
 ^ What, then, must the streets of London have been ? Perhaps some 10 or 
 12 feet. 
 
1516 .] 
 
 MOEE’S “UTOPIA.’ 
 
 295 
 
 courtesy, and refinement that reigned supreme in his family ; 
 — far more Utopian, when compared with what is known of 
 the private lives of his contemporaries, than any household in 
 Utopia itself. 
 
 No wonder, then, that cheerfulness, regard to the welfare 
 and happiness of others, gentleness and good nature, formed 
 a very prominent part in the philosophy of the Utopians, 
 and these not merely as private but public virtues ; — that on 
 the same principle gambling, hunting, and field sports were 
 disallowed, as pleasures purchased by the pain of inferior 
 animals, and degenerating into brutality by frequent in- 
 dulgence.^ Closely connected with these feelings was the 
 attention paid by the Utopians to the condition of the labour- 
 ing classes, and their regulations to prevent the workman, 
 skilled or unskilled, from being ground down to that hopeless 
 wretchedness, which at last burst out into open rebellion here 
 and on the continent. 
 
 ‘‘What justice is this,” says Raphael, the imaginary traveller, “that 
 a nobleman, a goldsmith, or a banker, or any other man that does nothing 
 at all, should live in great luxury and splendor, and a carter, a smith, or a 
 ploughman that works harder than the beasts themselves, and is employed 
 in labors of such a nature that no commonwealth could exist for a year 
 without them, should be able to earn so poor a livelihood, and lead so 
 miserable a life, that the condition of the beasts is much better than his ? 
 For as the beasts do not work so constantly, feed almost as well and more 
 pleasantly, have no anxiety for the future, these men, on the contrary, 
 are crushed by a barren and profitless employment, and tormented with 
 apprehensions of want in their old age. What they obtain by their daily 
 labor serves only for their daily maintenance ; — is consumed as fast as it 
 comes in ; — and no surplus is left them to lay up for old age. Is not that 
 government unjust that takes no care of the meaner sort, and when they 
 can no longer serve it, and are oppressed with age, sickness, and want, ail 
 the labors and good they have done are forgotten, and their only reward 
 is to die in great misery ? A dd to this, all the richer sort are often 
 endeavouring to bring the hire of laborers lower, not only by fraudulent 
 practices, but by the laws which they procure to be made to that effect for 
 regulating labor.” ^ 
 
 Nor is More less severe against the foreign policy of the 
 governments of Europe ; their utter carelessness in breaking 
 treaties however solemnly ratified ; their employment of 
 mercenaries ; the absence of all controlling power on the part 
 of the popes, who rather imitated than denounced the per- 
 
 ^ It must be remembered that in 
 More’s time no game-seasons were 
 observed by country gentlemen. 
 Their whole life was occupied with 
 field sports. Cromwell shot partridges 
 all the year round j but then he had 
 
 been born and bred a citizen. 
 
 ^ A hard hit against the Statute of 
 Laborers ; — strangely enough quoted 
 of late as an institution of the Tudors 
 to protect the employed against the 
 employer. 
 
296 
 
 THE KEIGN OF HENRY YHI. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 nicious practices of the secular rulers. The Utopians,” he 
 says, make no leagues as other nations do. What is the 
 use of leagues ? say they ; do you think that a man will care 
 for words whom natural affection fails to reconcile to his 
 fellow-man ? ” Then adds More, with grave irony : “In 
 Europe, and especially the parts about us where Christianity 
 is received, the majesty of treaties is everywhere regarded as 
 holy and inviolable, partly from the justice and goodness of 
 kings, partly from the fear and reverence they feel for the 
 sovereign Pontiffs ; for as the latter never take engagements 
 upon them which they do not religiously observe, so they 
 enjoin upon all princes to abide by their promises at all 
 hazards, and if they equivocate, subject them to ecclesiastical 
 censures ! For they justly consider it a most indecent thing, 
 for them who claim the title of the faithful to show no faith in 
 their treaties.” Again, in illustration of this topic. More 
 observes : if in their wars against their enemies other means 
 fail, “they sow the seeds of dissension among them, and set 
 up the king’s brother or some nobleman to aspire to the 
 crown ; ” a remark which receives ample illustration from the 
 State Papers. — “Or,” he continues, “if domestic factions 
 languish, they stir up against them the neighbouring nations ; 
 and rummaging out some old claims which are never wanting to 
 princes, supply them abundantly with money for the war, but 
 not with their own troops.” Then follows a passage aimed so 
 directly against the policy of England that I wonder More had 
 the courage to insert it, only that as France pursued the same 
 methods, unreflecting readers might not at once perceive how 
 the arrow glanced from one nation to the other : — 
 
 They hire soldiers from all places, but chiefly from the Zapoleta3 
 (the Swiss) ; a hardy race, patient of heat, cold and labor ; strangers to 
 all delights, indiflerent to agriculture, careless of their houses and their 
 clothes, studious of nothing but their cattle. They live by hunting and 
 plunder ; born only for war, which they watch all opportunities of engaging 
 in, they embrace it eagerly when offered, and are ready to serve any 
 prince that will hire them, in great numbers. They know none of the 
 arts of life, except how to take it away. They serve their employers 
 actively and faithfully ; but will bind themselves to no certain terms, and 
 only agree on condition that next day they shall go over to the enemy if 
 he promises larger pay, and veer back again the day after at a higher 
 bidding. As war rarely arises in which a greater part of them is not 
 enlisted on both sides, it often happens that kinsmen and most intimate 
 friends, hired from the same cantons, find themselves opposed, engage 
 and kill one another, regardless of these ties, for no other consideration 
 than that they have been hired to do so for a miserable pay, by princes of 
 opposite interests ; and they are so nice in demanding it that they will 
 change sides for the advance of a halfpenny. And yet their wages are of 
 
1516.] 
 
 MORE’S “UTOPIA.’ 
 
 297 
 
 no use to them, for they spend them immediately in low dissipation. 
 They serve the Utopians against all the world, for they are the best 
 paymasters. And as the Utopians look out for good men for their own 
 use at home, they employ the greatest scoundrels abroad ; and they think 
 they do a great service to mankind by thus ridding the world of the 
 entire scum of such a foul and nefarious population.” 
 
 But it is time for me to bring these remarks to a close. If 
 any one wishes to see the real condition of Europe at this 
 period— the arbitrary rule of its monarchs bent on their own 
 aggrandisement, and careless of the improvement of their 
 people— the disputes among their councillors, agreed in one 
 point only, to flatter and mislead their sovereigns — the wide 
 separation between the luxury of the rich and the hopeless 
 misery of the poor — the prevalence of crime — the severe 
 execution of justice, earnest for punishment, but regardless of 
 prevention — the frequency of capital punishment — the depopu- 
 lation of villages — -the engrossing by a few hands of corn and 
 wool — -the scarcity of meat— the numbers of idle gentlemen 
 without employment— of idle serving-men and retainers turned 
 adrift on a life of vagabondism : — -in short, whoever wishes to 
 see society full of the elements of confusion, requiring only a 
 small spark to fan them into a flame, may read with advan- 
 tage the Utopia of Sir Thomas More, 
 
298 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENEY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 CHAPTEE XL 
 
 THE IMPERIAL ELECTION. 
 
 The Emperor Maximilian died on the 12th of January, 1519. 
 The latter days of his life had been employed in endeavouring 
 to secure for his grandson the reversion of the imperial crown. 
 He prosecuted this object with greater consistency and firm- 
 ness than he did most of his schemes, forged by a brain 
 unusually fertile in expedients, and as rapidly abandoned by 
 his easy and fickle temperament. Through dint of bribery, 
 entreaty, perseverance, and boundless promises, he had 
 succeeded in obtaining assurances of support from four out of 
 the seven electors. The patriotism or avarice of the Elector 
 of Cologne was propitiated by the promise of 20,000 florins in 
 ready money, and a pension of 6,000 florins. Thirty thousand 
 florins and the hand of the infanta Katharine, a lady whose 
 great beauty and virtue ” were enhanced by a dowry of 
 70,000 florins, payable on the day of the election, secured the 
 Marquis of Brandenburg. His brother the Archbishop of 
 Mayence was contented with 52,000 florins, a handsome 
 credence, a service of silver to be selected by himself, and the 
 most exquisite tapestry from the looms of Flanders. The 
 better to confirm him in his allegiance, a pension of 8,000 
 florins was promised to each of his two brothers. As for the 
 King of Bohemia, a boy of fifteen, Maximilian had no cause 
 of solicitude ; his vote was determined already by his marriage 
 with Mary, sister of the King of Castile. Three other 
 members of the electoral College remained undecided ; the 
 Count Palatines, the Archbishop of Treves, and the Elector of 
 Saxony. The last tw^o were inflexible. The enemies of the 
 House of Hapsburg had chosen to congratulate themselves 
 that the last' sparks of virtue and patriotism were not extin- 
 guished in the breasts of the noblest, — in the chiefs of their 
 people. Some few were yet to be found in the hierarchy of 
 German feudality, to whom national independence and the 
 
1519 .] 
 
 THE LAST SCHEMES OF MAXIMILIAN. 
 
 299 
 
 sanctity of an oath, were something more than empty names. 
 ‘‘I swear on these gospels here open before me” — such was 
 the oath repeated after the Archbishop of Mayence by every 
 one of the electors — that my voice, vote, and my suffrage 
 
 shall be given unbiassed by any pact, price, pledge or engage- 
 ment under any pretence whatsoever. So help me God, and 
 all His holy saints and angels ! ” 
 
 Yet the Archbishop of Treves could not behold with com- 
 placency the dangerous neighbourhood and restless aggran- 
 dizement of the House of Hapsburg. The Elector of Saxony 
 had reasons of his own for disliking Maximilian. The Prince 
 Palatine kept aloof, but from different motives. His brother. 
 Count Frederick, had formed a secret attachment to Charles’s 
 sister Eleanor, afterwards Queen of Portugal. For this 
 unwarrantable presumption the Count had been coldly and 
 haughtily dismissed — to employ his influence, as might 
 naturally have been expected, with his brother the Elector, in 
 advancing the pretensions of Francis I. But affection for the 
 sister outweighed the insult received from the brother. The 
 Count readily complied with the summons of Maximilian. He 
 even undertook, for a pension of 20,000 florins, to bring over 
 his brother to the Emperor’s views. The negociation was 
 costly ; the Palatine demanded no less than 100,000 florins as 
 the price of his vote, and certain other concessions, not needful 
 here to be insisted on. At the cost of half a million of gold 
 florins, in the shape of presents, and 70,000 or something 
 more, by way of annuities, Maximilian had contrived to secure 
 or corrupt the highest nobility in Germany. He had fixed, as 
 he thought, the imperial crown in the House of Hapsburg for 
 ever. The price of the Holy Eoman Empire, everything 
 considered, was not so exorbitant after all. 
 
 My readers who have pursued with me, in previous 
 chapters, the fortunes of ‘‘ the penniless Emperor,” will 
 naturally inquire how Maximilian could obtain the funds 
 required for so costly a purchase. Of his own, he had nothing 
 to bestow ; he could only pledge his grandson’s credit ; and 
 German electors were too well acquainted with the value of 
 royal and imperial engagements to barter their votes for 
 empty promises. More than once the imperial broker had to 
 urge upon his grandson his need of remittances ; more than 
 once was the empire in danger of falling into the hands of 
 Francis I., who, more wealthy and less scrupulous than his 
 rival, squandered his treasures without present or after 
 
300 
 
 THE EEIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 thought of the consequences. Cautious and penurious, even 
 where great advantages were to he gained, Charles doled out 
 his gold in proportions more suited to a village than an 
 empire. Already at the age of nineteen, unlike his con- 
 temporaries, he possessed the virtue of prudence in perfec- 
 tion. He insisted that his agents should incur no expenses in 
 the election, unless they were certain of success ; that no 
 elector should receive for his vote more than 4,000 florins. 
 With bitter pangs and ill-concealed reluctance he placed to 
 the credit of Maximilian first 100,000 and then 200,000 
 ducats,^ obtained from the bankers of Genoa and Augsburg. 
 From personal experience, better versed in the ways of the 
 world, more alive than most of his contemporaries to the 
 influence of bribery, Maximilian remonstrated. “If,” said 
 he, “ you wish to gain mankind, you must play at a high 
 stake. Either then follow my counsel and adopt my sugges- 
 tions, or abandon the chance of bringing this affair to a 
 termination satisfactory to our wishes, and creditable to our 
 fame. It would be lamentable if, after so much pain and 
 labor to aggrandize and exalt our house and our posterity, we 
 should now lose all through some pitiful omission or penurious 
 neglect.” 
 
 In the midst of all this happiness and bustle, scheming, 
 intriguing, and corrupting, Maximilian died suddenly at Welz 
 in Upper Austria, “ vanquished with sickness, which was first 
 a catarrh, and sithence a flux and a fever continual.”^ 
 
 The new world, under younger masters, with new notions 
 and untrained energies, was now rapidly drifting away from 
 the old. The grasp of the old, destined to fade away, became 
 every day feebler. Time, the greatest of innovators, had 
 altered the relative positions of the three rulers of Christen- 
 dom. At the death of Maximilian, Henry YHI. was in his 
 28th year, Francis I. in his 25th, Charles in his 19th. All 
 were equally ambitious, all nearly equally powerful, and 
 all equally, though in different ways, greedy of personal 
 distinction. Yet to command the applause of the age it 
 
 • ■ * See III. 27. Spinellj is more 
 precise : “ Armestorff is gone to the 
 Emperor with bills of exchange to the 
 value of 250,000 ducats, payable 1st 
 April next. The merchants have 
 promised that the Fuggers, the 
 Hochstetters, or Welzers, shall answer 
 the same in February next, that the 
 electors may be sure of their money, 
 
 and make no diflBculty of coming to 
 Frankfort. The king is also bound to 
 make good to the electors a pension of 
 70,000 florins of gold during their 
 lives. The town o£ Antwerp is to 
 answer for the same,” etc. Jan. 20, 
 1519 (III. 36). 
 
 2 Knight, Jan. 14, 1519; III. 25. 
 
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1519 .] 
 
 THE NEW ORDER. 
 
 301 
 
 was still indispensable that they should be, or seem to be, 
 the champions of the Church. Francis I. was its dearest and 
 its eldest son. Who more ready than he to draw the sword in 
 its defence ? Was it to pursue the heretic and the infidel to 
 the furthest verge of Ind, — was it to sluice out his blood and 
 treasure at the bidding of his Holiness, — none more prompt 
 than he, even when he was invading the patrimony of the 
 Church, or turning a wistful eye to an alliance with the Turk. 
 As for Charles, it had always been the special glory of the 
 kings of Castile to maintain the honour and orthodoxy of the 
 Church, with a devotion that knew no doubts, and a zeal which 
 overlooked all difficulties. The maintenance of the Faith was 
 as essentially associated in the minds of all men with the 
 imperial dignity, as the iron crown of the Lombards or the 
 coronation robe of Charlemagne. Yet, when his interests 
 required it, the Catholic King was unable to distinguish 
 heretics from Catholics, though they sprang up like tares 
 among the wheat, in every corner of his Flemish dominions. 
 More zealous and devout than either, with something of 
 English earnestness and sincerity, and something perhaps of 
 the narrow and impetuous energy of English prejudice, Henry 
 signalized his attachment to the Faith by drawing his pen in 
 its defence. If his arguments were mean, his Latin was 
 kinglike. It was so far above the level of royal Latinity that 
 people gave out (I shall have to consider with what degree of 
 justice) that whilst the King furnished the arguments, Fisher 
 and Pace supplied or furbished up the Latin. Whatever 
 honours, as conquerors or crusaders, the Kings of England 
 might have achieved, they had never attained the proud 
 eminence of being styled ‘‘Most Christian” or “Most 
 Catholic.” They had never yet attained the standa.rd of zeal 
 and ability in defence of the Faith, when popes and cardinals 
 could acknowledge their services, and reward them with corre- 
 sponding distinction and gratitude. That achievement was 
 reserved for Henry VIII. Of his own spontaneous and mere 
 motion, unsolicited by popes or nuncios, he overwhelmed the 
 new Titan of heresy ; buried him under a mountain of royal 
 theology and invective, never to rise again ; — so at least popes 
 and bishops assured him, and he was willing to believe. The 
 joy of Leo was unbounded ; for he was at that time in hope 
 (vain hope !) of recruiting an exhausted exchequer by a new 
 loan from England. Latin dictionaries, Ciceronian vocabu- 
 laries, styles and titles, were diligently examined; various 
 
302 
 
 THE REIGN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 epithets proposed and rejected. After months spent in 
 deliberation, Henry, the new candidate for spiritual honours, 
 was admitted into the narrow and exclusive orbit of the 
 Church’s patrons. Defender of the Faith” was nearly as 
 superlative, if not quite, as Catholic ” and “ Most Christian,” 
 and was regarded with jealousy by the monopolists and 
 admirers of the earlier distinctions. 
 
 To an inexperienced eye, judging by the extent of his 
 dominions, Charles would have appeared the most powerful 
 and the most considerable monarch in Christendom. At the 
 death of Maximilian he held the Low Countries, Burgundy, 
 Naples, Sardinia, and the archduchy of Austria. By the dis- 
 coveries of Columbus and of others, the New World was 
 pouring into his lap, as King of Spain, its unsunned and 
 exhaustless treasures. One sister was married to the King of 
 Hungary, another to the King of Portugal, and a third to the 
 King of Denmark. To his enormous possessions he was soon 
 to annex the Crown of the Empire. But overgrown empires, 
 like overgrown men, more for show than for use, are not 
 easily moved ; and by a kindly law of nature the mischief 
 they are most capable of doing is counteracted by their 
 habitual inertness, not to say insensibility. The cataracts 
 and earthquakes of the world are not half so dangerous as the 
 dripping water, the narrow crevice, or the sightless Lilliputian 
 of the coral reef. So, with all his diffluent, sinewless, and 
 ill -jointed dominions, Charles was more formidable in appear- 
 ance than reality. National jealousies prevented unity of 
 action. Favours shown to Flanders were resented by Spain ; 
 residence in one part of his dominions was a signal for mutiny 
 and discontent in another. Had he attempted in his youth to 
 have made all the clocks of the sixteenth century strike in 
 unison he would not have found it a more difflcult task than to 
 insure harmonious co-operation between Spaniard, German, 
 Flemirjg, and Italian. So the restless activity of Francis I., 
 backed by his compact dominions, was always a match for 
 Charles ; would have been more than a match, had Francis 
 not despised his sallow, gouty, and phlegmatic rival — slow as 
 fate, but like fate pertinacious. With territory less extensive, 
 the King of England possessed more available treasures than 
 either of his rivals. For years the precious metals had flowed 
 into our shoi;es in a steady current, which had never ebbed. 
 As no plate or coin was permitted to pass the English ports, 
 as the industry and frugality of the peojple had always been 
 
1519 .] 
 
 THE STRUGGLE FOR EMPIRE. 
 
 303 
 
 unintermittent, as they had for centuries escaped the storm 
 of foreign invasion, money and money’s worth were abundant. 
 Then, as now, foreigners regarded with envy and amazement 
 the well-stored goldsmiths’ and jewellers’ shops in the city of 
 London ; then, as now, if foreign states wanted a loan, their 
 eyes were turned towards England. Lance-knights, men-at- 
 arms, Swiss volunteers, Flemish and German artillerymen, 
 the most experienced freebooters and captain adventurers, rose 
 to the sight of English gold. Only promise to pay,” said 
 the Italian or Almain banker to the English agent ; and his 
 promise was better than the bond of an Emperor. 
 
 When Maximilian died, and open competition for the 
 imperial crown was no longer restrained by affectation of 
 reserve, “the attention of all Europe,” in the words of a 
 modern historian, was fixed upon the contest. In the grand 
 indefiniteness of the phrase we are apt to lose sight of the 
 special significance of the fact. All Europe proceeded not 
 merely to fix its attention, but if possible to fill its pockets 
 and reap its advantage from the coming struggle. Happily, 
 by the late alliance between France and England, no war was 
 then on foot to gratify the cupidity of those roving adventurers, 
 who, in their thirst for plunder, sold their blood for drachmas, 
 and hacked out a precarious subsistence by the sword. Swiss 
 and lance-knight, hunger-starved for some new scene of action, 
 turned their eyes and their footsteps to Germany. For these 
 soldiers of fortune the imperial election was a Camacho’s 
 wedding, where money and provisions abounded, and claims 
 for service were not too narrowly scrutinized. Thither flocked 
 the maimed, the halt, and the blind — in character, conduct, 
 and principles. Itinerant chieftains like Sickingen, command- 
 ing a handful of resolute and not over-scrupulous followers, 
 undaunted negociators not too delicate or too squeamish, 
 thriftless patriots eager for the freedom and independence of 
 election, there found what they never would have found in 
 purer and more peaceable times, corruption and employment. 
 Impartial in their favours, the electors took bribes from both 
 candidates, made the same promises to both, and broke them 
 to both with magnanimous indifference. To secure them the 
 unbiassed exercise of their important functions, Charles had 
 raised a considerable body of Swabians. He had contrived to 
 detach Sickingen from the service of his rival by a pension of 
 3,000 florins. With six hundred cavaliers in the pay of the 
 King Catholic, this daring adventurer advanced towards 
 
304 
 
 THE BEIGN OF HENKY VIII. 
 
 [A.D. 
 
 Wurtemberg, and, uniting bis forces with the League, was 
 ready at any moment, if need were, to secure the impartiality 
 of the distressed Electors by falling sword in hand on the 
 partizans of the French monarch. The approaches leading 
 to Frankfort were crowded with expectant couriers, anxious 
 canvassers, disinterested soldiers. Troops of rival negociators, 
 followed by brilliant escorts, hurried to and fro ; trains of 
 Sumpter mules, laden with coin stuffed in their pack-saddles, 
 plunged and struggled along the dusty roads. Supple agents, 
 with obsequious looks, haunted the chambers, mounted the 
 barges, and watched the countenances of the Electors. Ke- 
 tailers of small gossip found a ready welcome, and reaped a 
 rich harvest from the idle credulity of their listeners. Charles 
 and Francis were alike determined to obtain possession of the 
 imperial crown ; both had resolved to spare no cost in securing 
 their object. Never had there been so much animation in 
 Germany. 
 
 As a consequence of this obstinate competition, the cost of 
 the imperial crown rose in the market. The Archbishop of 
 Mayence, formerly content with 52,000 florins and a few 
 trifles in addition, now demanded 120,000. The Elector of 
 Brandenburg, “the father of all greediness,” as the Austrians 
 called him, would accept nothing less than 100,000 gold 
 crowns, with the hand of the infanta Katharine, 30,000 crowns 
 for his vote, “and a good round sum besides.” ^ The Arch- 
 bishop of Cologne and the Count Palatine followed in the 
 steps of the Archbishop of Mayence. The projects of Maxi- 
 milian were scattered to the winds. The stipulations he had 
 exacted were disregarded. The Electors pretended that they 
 were absolved from their promises by the death of the 
 Emperor. It was requisite to commence de novo. 
 
 Francis I., as I have said, determined to spare no efforts 
 to win over the Electors. He told Sir Thomas Boleyn, the 
 English ambassador, that his realm was worth six millions 
 yearly, “and he would spend three millions of gold but he 
 would be Emperor.” ^ More prudent and old-fashioned than 
 his master, the President Guillart appealed to that chivalrous 
 sense of magnanimity which, notwithstanding his numerous 
 failings, still lurked in the breast of the French monarch. It 
 would be his glory and honour, he told the King, to abstain 
 from force ^ or bribery in gaining the empire : it was more 
 
 ^ De Berghes to Margaret, Feb. 16, in Le Glay. 
 
 2 Feb. 28 : III. 100. 
 
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