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CARDINAL
WOLSEY
BY
MANDELL CREIGHTON
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I The State of Europe, 1494-1512
CHAPTER II The French Alliance, 1512-1515
CHAPTER III The Universal Peace, 1515-1518
CHAPTER IV The Field
of the Cloth op Gold, 1518-1520.
CHAPTER Y The Conference of Calais, 1520-1521
CHAPTER VI The Imperial Alliance, 1521-1523
CHAPTER VII Renewal
of Peace, 1523-1527
CHAPTER
VIII Wolsey’s Domestic Policy
CHAPTER IX The King’s Divorce, 1527-1529
CHAPTER X The Fall op Wolsey, 1529-1530
CHAPTER XI
The 'Work of Wolsey
CHAPTER I
THE STATE OF EUROPE
1494-1512
All
men
are to be judged by what they do, and the way in which they do it. In the case
of great statesmen there is a third consideration which challenges our judgment—what they choose to do. This consideration only presents itself in the case
of great statesmen, and even then is not always recognised.
For the average statesman does from day to day the business which has to be
done, takes affairs as he finds them, and makes the best of them. Many who
deliberately selected the questions with which they dealt have yet shrunk from
the responsibility of their choice, and have preferred to represent their
actions as inevitable. Few can claim the credit of choosing the sphere of their
activity, of framing a connected policy with clear and definite ends, and of
applying their ideas to every department of national organisation.
In short, statesmen are generally opportunists, or choose to represent
themselves as such; and this has been especially the case with English
statesmen—amongst whom Wolsey stands out as a notable exception. For Wolsey
claims recognition on grounds which apply to
Thus Wolsey is to be
estimated by what he chose to do rather than by what he did. He was greater
than his achievements. Yet Wolsey’s greatness did not rise beyond the
conditions of his own age, and he left no legacy of great thought or high endeavour. The age in which he lived was not one of lofty
aspirations or noble aims; but it was one of large designs and restless energy.
No designs were cast in so large a mould as were
those of Wolsey; no statesman showed such skill as he did in weaving patiently
the web of diplomatic intrigue. His resources were small, and he husbanded them
with care. He had a master who only dimly understood his objects, and whose
personal whims and caprices had always to be conciliated. He was ill supplied
with agents. His schemes often failed in detail; but he was always ready to
gather together the broken threads and resume his work without repining. In a
time of universal restlessness and excitement Wolsey was the most plodding,
the most laborious, and the most versatile of those who laboured
at statecraft.
The field of action
which Wolsey deliberately chose was that of foreign policy, and his weapons
were diplomacy. The Englishmen of his time were like the Englishmen of today,
and had little sympathy with his objects. Those who reaped the benefits of his
policy gave him no thanks for it, nor did they recognise
what they owed to him. Those who exulted in the course taken by the English Reformation regarded Wolsey as its bitterest foe, and never
stopped to think that Wolsey trained the hands and brains which directed it;
that Wolsey inspired England with the proud feeling of independence which
nerved her to brave the public opinion of Europe; that Wolsey impressed Europe
with such a sense of England’s greatness that she was allowed to go her own
way, menaced but unassailed. The spirit which
animated the England of the sixteenth century was due in no small degree to the
splendour of Wolsey’s successes, and to the way in
which he stamped upon men’s imagination a belief in England’s greatness. If it
is the characteristic of a patriot to believe that nothing is beyond the power
of his country to achieve, then Wolsey was the most devoted patriot whom
England ever produced.
When Wolsey came to
power England was an upstart trying to claim for herself a decent position in
the august society of European states. It was Wolsey’s cleverness that set her
in a place far above that which she had any right to expect. For this, purpose
Wolsey
There is little that
is directly ennobling in the contemplation of such a career. It may be doubted
if the career of any practical statesman can be a really ennobling study if we
have all its activity recorded in detail. At the best it tells us of much which
seems disingenuous if not dishonest—much in which nobility of aim or the
complexity of affairs has to be urged in extenuation of shifty words and
ambiguous actions.
The age in which
Wolsey lived was immoral in the sense in which all periods are immoral, when
the old landmarks are disappearing and there is no certainty about the future.
Morality in individuals and in states alike requires an orderly life, a
perception of limits, a pursuit of definite ends. When order is shattered, when
limits are removed, when all things seem possible, then political morality
disappears. In such a condition was Europe at the beginning of the sixteenth
century. The old ideas, on which the mediaeval conception of Christendom
depended, were passing away. No one any longer regarded Christendom as one
great commonwealth, presided over by Pope and Emperor, who were the guardians
of international law and arbiters of international relations. The Empire had
long ceased to exercise any control, because it was destitute of strength. The
Papacy, after vainly endeavouring to unite Europe
round
The first result of
this decay in the mediaeval state-system of Europe was the emergence of vague
plans of a universal monarchy. The Empire and the Papacy had harmonised with the feudal conception of a regulative
supremacy over vassals who were free to act within the limits of their
obligations to their superior lord. When the old superiors were no longer recognised, the idea of a supremacy still remained; but
there was no other basis possible for that supremacy than a basis of universal
sovereignty. It was long before any state was sufficiently powerful to venture
on such a claim; but the end of the fifteenth century saw France and Spain
united into powerful kingdoms. In France, the policy of Louis XI succeeded in
reducing the great feudatories, and established the power of the monarchy as
the bond of union between provinces which were conscious of like interests. In
Spain, the marriage of Ferdinand and Isabella united a warlike people who swept
away the remains of the Moorish kingdom. Germany, though nominally it recognised one ruler, had sacrificed its national kingship
to the futile claims of the Empire. The emperor had great pretensions, but was
himself powerless, and the German princes steadily refused to lend him help to
give reality to his high-sounding claims. Unconsciously to themselves, the
rulers of France and Spain were preparing to attempt the extension of their
power over the rest of Europe.
France under Charles
VIII was the first to give expression to this new idea of European
politics. The Italian expedition of Charles VIII marked the end of the Middle
Ages, because it put forth a scheme of national aggrandisement
which was foreign to mediaeval conceptions. The scheme sounded fantastic, and
was still cast in the mould of mediaeval aspirations.
The kingdom of Naples had long been in dispute between the houses of Arragon and Anjou. As heir to the Angevin
line, Charles VIII proposed to satisfy national pride by the conquest of
Naples. Then he appealed to the old sentiment of Christendom by proclaiming
his design of advancing against Constantinople, expelling the Turk from Europe,
and realising the ideal of mediaeval Christianity by
planting once more the standard of the Cross upon the Holy Sepulchre
at Jerusalem.
The first part of his
plan succeeded with a rapidity and ease that bewildered the rest of Europe. The
French conquest of Naples awakened men to the danger which threatened them.
France, as ruler of Naples, could overrun the rest of Italy, and as master of
the Pope could use the authority of the head of Christendom to give legitimacy
to further schemes of aggression. A sense of common danger drew the other
powers of Europe together; and a League of Spain, the Empire, the Pope, Milan,
and Venice forced Charles VIII to retire from Naples (1495), where the French
conquests were rapidly lost. A threat of his return next year led to an
emphatic renewal of the League and an assertion of the basis on which it
rested—“the mutual preservation of states, so that the more powerful might
not
This League marks a
new departure in European affairs. There was no mention of the old ideas on
which Europe was supposed to rest. There was no recognition of papal or
imperial supremacy; no principle of European organisation
was laid down. The existing state of things was to be maintained, and the
contracting powers were to decide amongst themselves what rights and claims
they thought fit to recognise. Such a plan might be
useful to check French preponderance at the moment, but it was fatal to the
free development of Europe. The states that were then powerful might grow in
power; those that were not yet strong were sure to be prevented from growing
stronger. Dynastic interests were set up as against national interests.
European affairs were to be settled by combinations of powerful states.
The results of this
system were rapidly seen. France, of course, was checked for the time; but
France, in its turn, could enter the League and become a factor in European
combinations. The problem now for statesmen was how to use this concert of
Europe for their own interests. Dynastic considerations were the most obvious
means of gaining powerful alliances. Royal marriages
became matters of the greatest importance, because a lucky union of royal
houses might secure a lasting preponderance, The Emperor Maximilian married
his son Philip to a daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella. Death removed the
nearer heirs to the Spanish rulers, and the son of Philip was heir to Austria,
the Netherlands, and the Spanish kingdoms. The notion of a maintenance
This prospect,
however, was only in the future. For the present there was an opportunity for
endless scheming. The European League for the preservation of the existing
state of things resisted any expansion on the part of smaller states, but
encouraged compacts for aggression amongst the more powerful. France, Spain,
and Germany had each of them a national existence, while Italy consisted of a
number of small states. If Italy was to survive it was necessary that she
should follow the example of her powerful neighbours,
and consolidate herself as they had done. The only state which was at that time
likely to unite Italy was Venice; and Venice, in consequence, became the object
of universal jealousy. The concert of Europe was applied to the Venetian
question, and discovered a solution of the simplest sort. Instead of allowing
Venice to unite Italy, it was judged better to divide Venice. A secret
agreement was made between Spain, France, the Emperor, and the Pope that they
would attack Venice simultaneously, deprive her of her possessions, and divide
them amongst themselves. There was no lack of claims and titles to the
possessions which were thus to be acquired. The powers of Europe, being judges
in their own cause, could easily state their,
respective pleas and pronounce each other justified. The League of Cambrai, which was published at the end of 1508, was the
first great production of the new system of administering public law in Europe.
Anything more
iniquitous could scarcely be conceived. Venice deserved well at the hands of
Europe. She had developed a great system of commerce with the East;
This League of Cambrai witnessed the assimilation by the new system of the relics of the old Imperial and papal claims were set
in the foreground. Venice was excommunicated by the Pope, because she had the
audacity to refuse to give up to him at once his share of the booty. The
iniquities of the European concert were flimsily concealed by the rags of the
old system of the public law of Europe, which only meant that the Pope and the
Emperor were foremost in joining in the general scramble. France was first in
the field against Venice, and consequently France was the chief gainer. Pope
Julius II, having won from Venice all that he could claim, looked with alarm
on the increase of the French power in Italy. As soon as he had satisfied
himself, and had reduced Venice to abject submission, his one desire was to rid
himself of his troublesome allies. The papal authority in itself could no
longer influence European politics; but it could give a sanction to new combinations
which interested motives might bring about. With cynical frankness the Papacy,
powerless in its own resources, used its privileged position to further its
temporal objects. We cannot wonder that Louis XII
During the reign of
Henry VII England had stood aloof from these complicated intrigues. Indeed
England could not hope to make her voice heard in the affairs of Europe. The
weak government of Henry VI, and the struggles between the Yorkist
and Lancastrian factions, had reduced her to political exhaustion. While France
and Spain had grown into strong kingdoms, England had dwindled into a
third-rate power. Henry VII had enough to do in securing his own throne
against pretenders, and in reducing the remnants of the feudal nobility to
obedience. He so far worked in accordance with the prevailing spirit that he
steadily increased the royal power. He fell in with the temper of the time, and
formed matrimonial alliances which might bear political fruits. He gave his
daughter in marriage to the King of Scotland, in the hopes of thereby bringing
the Scottish Crown into closer relation with England. He sought for a connection with Spain by marrying his eldest son Arthur to
Katharine, a daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella, and on Arthur’s untimely death
Katharine became the wife of his next son Henry. Further, Henry VII gave his
general approval to the League of 1496; he joined it, but would promise no
armed aid nor money. In short, he did enough to claim for England
So England stood when
Henry VII died, and was succeeded by his son Henry VIII, a youth of nineteen.
We may indulge ourselves, if we choose, in speculations on the probable effects
if Henry VIII. had been content to pursue his father’s policy. The picture of
England, peaceful and contented while the rest of Europe is engaged in
wasteful and wicked war, is attractive as an ideal in English politics. England
in the sixteenth century might have stood aloof from European affairs, and
might have prospered in her own fashion. But one thing is certain, that she
would never have become the England of today; the New World, and the
possessions of the British Empire, would have been divided between France
It is scarcely worth while to inquire if Henry VIII could by prudence and
caution have continued to keep clear of the complications of European politics,
and make England strong by husbanding its resources and developing its commerce.
Such a course of action was not deemed possible by any one. All classes alike
believed that national prosperity followed upon the assertion of national
power. The commercial interests of England would have had little chance of
being respected unless they were connected with political interests as well.
If Henry VIII had lived frugally like his father, and avoided adventurous
schemes for which he needed the money of his people, the English monarchy would
have become a despotism, and the royal will would have been supreme in all
internal affairs. England was not exposed to this danger. Henry VIII, when he
ascended the throne at the age of nineteen, was fully imbued by the spirit of
his time. The story goes that when Leo X was elected Pope he turned to his
brother and said with a smile, “Let us enjoy the Papacy, since God has given it
to us.” Henry VIII was resolved to enjoy his kingship to the full; he wished
to show Europe that he was every inch a king, and equal to the best.
Henry VIII in his
early days had been educated with a view to high ecclesiastical preferment, and
was a
So Henry VIII
carried out the plan which his father had formed for him. He married Katharine,
his brother’s widow, and so confirmed the alliance with Ferdinand of Spain. He
renewed the marriage treaty between his sister Mary and Charles, Prince of
Castile, heir of the Netherlands, and eldest grandson of Ferdinand and
Maximilian alike. Charles was only a boy of nine, and had great prospects of a
large heritage. England was likely, if this arrangement were carried out, to
be a useful but humble ally to the projects of the houses
The alliance,
however, between Ferdinand and Maximilian was by no means close. Ferdinand by
his marriage with Isabella had united the kingdoms of Castile and Arragon; but after Isabella’s death he had no claim to the
Crown of Castile, which passed to his daughter Juana. Already Juana’s husband,
the Archduke Philip, had claimed the regency of Castile, and Ferdinand was
only saved by Philip’s death from the peril of seeing much of his work undone.
The claim to Castile had now passed to the young Charles, and Ferdinand was
afraid lest Maximilian should at any time revive it in behalf of his grandson.
He was unwilling to help in any way to increase Maximilian’s power, and
rejoiced that in the results of the League of Cambrai
little profit fell to Maximilian’s share. The Pope gained all that he wished;
Ferdinand acquired without a blow the Venetian possessions in the Neapolitan
kingdom; the French arms were triumphant in North Italy; but Venice continued to offer a stubborn resistance to
Maximilian. In vain Maximilian implored Ferdinand’s help. He was unmoved till
the successes of the French awakened in his mind serious alarm. The authors of
the League of Cambrai began to be afraid of the
catastrophe which they had caused. They did not wish to see the French supreme
in Italy, but their combination had gone far to ensure the French supremacy.
Pope Julius II felt
himself most directly threatened by the growth of the French power. He resolved
to break up the League of Cambrai, and so undo his
own work. He tried to gain support from the Swiss and from England. He released
Venice from her excommunication, and showed himself steadfastly opposed to
France. He did his utmost to induce Ferdinand and Maximilian to renounce the
League. Ferdinand was cautious, and only gave his secret countenance to the
Pope’s designs. Maximilian, anxious to make good his claims against Venice,
wavered between an alliance with France and a rupture. Louis XII of France was
embarrassed by the hostility of the Pope, whom he tried to terrify into
submission. His troops advanced against Bologna, where Julius II. was residing.
The Pope fled but the French forces did
not pursue him. Louis was not prepared to treat the Pope as merely a temporal
sovereign, and Eome was spared a siege. But Louis was
so ill-judging as to attack the Pope on his spiritual side. He raised the old
cry of a General Council for the reform of the Church, and drew to his side a
few disaffected cardinals, who summoned a Council to assemble at Pisa.
This half-hearted
procedure was fatal to all hopes of French supremacy. Had Louis XII promptly
dealt with Julius II by force of arms he would have rendered the Pope
powerless to interfere with his political plans, and no one would have
interposed to help the Pope in his capacity of an Italian prince. But when the
French king showed that he was afraid of the papal dignity in temporal matters,
while he was ready to attack it in spiritual matters, he entered upon a course
Of this Holy League Henry VIII became a member in December, and so stepped boldly into the politics of Europe. He was at first a submissive son of King Ferdinand, whose daughter, Queen Katharine, acted as Spanish ambassador at the English Court. Henry wished to make common cause with his father-in-law, and trusted implicitly to him for assurances of goodwill. He made a separate accord with Ferdinand that a combined army should invade Guienne. If the French were defeated Ferdinand would be able to conquer Navarre, and England would seize Guienne. The gain to England would be great, as Guienne would be a secure refuge for English commerce, and its possession would make the English king an important personage in Europe, for he would stand between Spain and France.
The scheme was not
fantastic or impossible, provided that Ferdinand was in earnest. Henry believed
in his good faith, but he still had the confidence of youth. Ferdinand trusted
no one, and if others were like himself he was wise in his distrust. Every
year he grew more suspicious and fonder of crooked ways. He took no man’s
counsel; he made fair professions on every
Unconscious of the
selfishness of his ally, Henry VIII prepared for war in the winter of 1512. In
these preparations the capacity of Thomas Wolsey first made itself felt, and
the course of the war that followed placed Wolsey foremost in the confidence of
the English king.
CHAPTER II
THE FRENCH ALLIANCE
1512-1515
Thomas
Wolsey was
born at Ipswich, probably in March 1471. He was the
son of Robert Wolsey and Joan his wife. Contemporary slander, wishing to make
his fortunes more remarkable or his presumption more intolerable, represented
his father as a man of mean estate, a butcher by trade. However, Robert
Wolsey’s will shows that he was a man of good position, probably a grazier and wool merchant, with relatives who were also
well-to-do. Thomas seems to have been the eldest of his family, and his
father’s desire was that he should enter the priesthood. He showed quickness in
study; so much so that he went to Oxford at the early age of eleven, and
became Bachelor of Arts when he was fifteen. His studies do not seem to have
led him in the direction of the new learning; he was well versed in the
theology of the schools, and is said to have been a devoted adherent to the
system of St. Thomas Aquinas.
But it was not by the life of a student or the principles of a philosopher that Wolsey rose to eminence. If he learned anything in his University career he learned a knowledge of men and of their motives.
In due course he
became a Fellow of Magdalen, and master of the
grammar school attached to the College. Soon afterwards, in 1498, he was
bursar; and tradition has connected with him the building of the graceful tower
which is one of the chief architectural ornaments of Oxford. Unfortunately the
tower was finished in the year in which Wolsey became bursar, and all that he
can have done was the prosaic duty of paying the bills for its erection. He
continued his work of schoolmaster till in 1500 the Marquis of Dorset, whose
sons Wolsey had taught, gave him the living of Lym- ington in Somerset.
So Wolsey abandoned
academic life for the quietness of a country living, which, however, did not
prove to be entirely free from troubles. For some reason which is not clear, a
neighbouring squire, Sir Amyas Paulet,
used his power as justice of peace to set Wolsey in the stocks, an affront
which Wolsey did not forgive, but in the days of his power punished by
confining Sir Amyas to his London house, where he
lived for some years in disgrace. If this story
be true, it is certainly not to Wolsey’s discredit,
who can have been moved by nothing but a sense of injustice in thus reviving
the remembrance of his own past history. Moreover, Wolsey’s character certainly
did not suffer at the time, as in 1501 he was made chaplain to Dean, Archbishop
of Canterbury. After Dean’s death in 1503, his capacity for business was so far
established that he was employed by Sir Richard Nanfan,
Deputy-Lieutenant of Calais, to help him in the duties of a post which
advancing years made
At Court Wolsey
allied himself with Richard Fox, Bishop of Winchester, Lord Privy Seal, and at
first seems to have acted as one of his secretaries.
Fox was a
well-trained and careful official, who had been in Henry VII’s employment all through
his reign. Cold and cautious by nature, Henry VII had to pick his way through
many difficulties, and took no man unreservedly into his confidence. He was
his own minister, and chose to be served by men of distinguished position who
were content to do his bidding faithfully, and were free from personal
ambition. For this purpose ecclesiastics were best adapted, and Henry VII did
much to secularise the Church by throwing the weight
of public business into the hands of men like Morton and Fox, whom he rewarded
by the highest ecclesiastical offices. In such a school Wolsey was trained as a
statesman. He regarded it as natural that the King should choose his ministers
for their readiness to serve his purposes, and should reward them by
ecclesiastical preferments. The State might gain by
such a plan, but the Church undoubtedly lost; and in following the career of
Wolsey there is little to remind us of the ecclesiastic, however much we may
admire the statesman.
It was well for
England that Wolsey was trained in the traditions of the policy of Henry VII,
which he never forgot. Henry VII. aimed, in the first place, at securing his
throne and restoring quiet and order in his kingdom by developing trade and
commerce. For this
The accession of
Henry VIII made little change in the composition of the King’s Council. The
Lady Margaret survived her son long enough to make her influence felt in the
choice of her grandson’s advisers. Archbishop Warham,
Bishop Fox, and Thomas Howard, Earl of Surrey, were the men into whose hands
public business naturally fell. But Warham was
somewhat stiff and crabbed, so that he did not commend himself to the young
king. Fox represented the opinions of the old officials, while the Earl of
Surrey was the natural leader of the old nobility, who could not help resenting
the subordinate position into which they had been reduced by Henry VII, and
hoped that a new reign would give them fresh opportunities. So Fox urged
caution and carefulness, while Surrey favoured
extravagance and military ambition. Fox felt that he was growing old, and the
pressure of a continued conflict of opinion was irksome to him. Much as the
ecclesiastics of that time were secular in their lives, they were rarely
entirely forgetful of their priestly office, and were genuinely anxious to rid
themselves of the burden of affairs and spend their last years in quiet. So Fox
chose Wolsey as the man to take his place, perhaps because he saw in him the
qualities necessary to influence the young king. Besides him he favoured Buthal, another
experienced official, who was rewarded by the rich bishopric of Durham, but who
was soon eclipsed by the superior genius of Wolsey, which he frankly admitted,
and willingly accepted the post of Wolsey’s assistant and subordinate.
So Wolsey was made
the king’s almoner, and had
So Wolsey worked at
providing for the troops who were sent to Guienne in 1512; but the expedition
itself was a complete failure. Ferdinand played his own
game of procrastination, and sent no succours. The
Marquis of Dorset was an incapable leader. The English troops were not inured
to hardships, and soon grew discontented; at last they rose in open mutiny,
and clamoured to be led back to England. Dorset was
driven to retire without striking a blow. The first attempt of England to
assert her prowess ended in disaster. The statesmen of the Continent made merry
over the blundering efforts of an upstart power. “The English,” they said, “are
so unaccustomed to war that they have no experience to guide them.” Henry
The fleet put to sea
in March 1513, under the command of the Lord Admiral Sir Edward Howard. The
French fleet was far superior in numbers, and prepared to prevent the English
from landing on the French coast. Sir Edward Howard was burning with desire for
a decisive engagement, and on 25th April attacked the French galleys as they
lay in shallow water. He boarded them with his boats, and himself leapt on to
the ship of the French admiral, but before his men could follow him their cable
was cut away, and he was left almost alone. Seeing that there was no hope of
support, he took his whistle from his neck and cast it into the sea; then with
his gilt target on his arm he fought till the enemy’s pikes thrust him
overboard and he was drowned. The English attack was driven back; but its gallantry
and the bravery of Sir Edward Howard produced a great impression. It was clear
that after all the Englishmen had not forgotten how to fight.
The efforts of the
English fleet were successful in securing the peaceful landing of the army at
Calais, where Henry arrived at the end of June. With him went Wolsey,
commanding two hundred men, and now a necessary personage in the king’s train.
Such confidence was placed in him by Queen Katharine that she requested him to
write to her frequently and inform her of the king’s health, while in return
she poured her household troubles into his sympathetic ear. No doubt Wolsey’s
hands were full of business of many kinds during this brief and glorious
campaign, glorious in the sense that success attended its operations, but
fruitless because the things done were scarcely worth the doing. The English
army took Terouenne, more owing to the feebleness of
the French than to their own valour. Louis XII was
prematurely old and ailing; things had gone against him in Italy, and there was
little spirit in the French army. The defeat of the French outside Terouenne was so rapid that the battle was derisively
called the Battle of Spurs. Henry’s desire for martial glory was satisfied by
the surrender of Terouenne, and his vanity was
gratified by the presence of Maximilian, who in return for a large subsidy
brought a few German soldiers, and professed to serve under the English king.
From Terouenne he advanced to Tournai,
which surrendered at the end of September. Maximilian was delighted at these
conquests, of which he reaped all the benefit; with Tournai
in the hands of England, Flanders had a strong protection against France. So
Maximilian would gladly have led Henry to continue the campaign in the
interests of the Flemish frontier. But Henry had no taste for spending a winter
in the field; he
In truth the arms of
England had won a greater victory on English ground than anything they had
achieved abroad. The war against France awakened the old hostility of Scotland,
and no sooner was Henry VIII encamped before Terouenne
than he received a Scottish herald bringing a message of defiance. “I do not
believe that my brother of Scotland will break his oath,” said Henry, “but if
he does, he will live to repent it.” Repentance came rapidly on the Field of
Flodden, where the Scottish army was almost cut to pieces. This brilliant
victory was greatly due to the energy of Queen Katharine, who wrote to Wolsey,
“My heart is very good to it, and I am horribly busy with making standards,
banners, and badges.” She addressed the English leaders before they started for
the war, bade them remember that the English courage excelled that of other
nations, and that the Lord smiled on those who stood in defence of their own.
With a proud heart she sent her husband the blood-stained plaid of the Scottish
king, taken from his corpse. “In this,” she wrote, “your Grace shall see how I
keep my promise, sending you for your banner a king’s coat.”
The victory of
Flodden Field was of great importance, for it delivered England from the fear
of a troublesome neighbour, and showed Europe that
England could not be muzzled by the need of care for her own borders. The Scottish
power was broken for many years to come, and England was free to act as she
would. Europe began to respect the power of England, though there was little
reason to rate highly the wisdom of her
Henry VIII was young
and simple. He expected to captivate the world by brilliant deeds, and
fascinate it by unselfish exploits. He soon found that his pretended allies
were only seeking their own advantage. The name of the “Holy League” was the
merest pretext. The new Pope, Leo X, a supple time-serving intriguer, trained
in the deceitful policy of the Medici House, was willing to patch up the
quarrel between France and the Papacy. Ferdinand of Spain wished only to keep
things as they were. As he grew older he grew more suspicious, and clung to the
power which he possessed. His one dread was lest Charles, the grandson of
himself and Maximilian, should demand his maternal heritage of Castile. Ferdinand
was resolved to keep the two Spanish kingdoms united under his own rule until
his death, and considered European affairs in the first instance as they were
likely to affect that issue. He was of opinion that France was no longer
formidable to Spanish interests in Italy, while English successes on the
Flemish frontier might make Charles more powerful than he wished him to be.
Accordingly he set to work to undermine Henry’s position by making an alliance
with France. He was still Henry’s ally, and had promised him to help him to
continue the war in the spring of 1514. None the less he entered into secret
negotiations with France, and cautiously endeavoured
to persuade Maximilian to join him. Maximilian was still at war with Venice,
and was aggrieved that he was the only member of the plundering gang who had
not gained by the League of Cambrai. Fer
It is no wonder that
Henry was greatly angered at this result, and declared that he would trust no
man any more. He had taken the measure of the good faith of European rulers,
and had learned the futility of great undertakings for the general welfare. In
truth, the difficulty of European politics always lies in the fact that the
general welfare can only be promoted by the furtherance of particular
interests, which threaten in their turn to become dangerous. The interests of
the sixteenth century were purely dynastic interests, and seem trivial and
unworthy. We are not, however, justified in inferring that dynastic interests,
because they are concerned with small arrangements, are in their nature more
selfish or more iniquitous than interests which clothe themselves in more
fair-sounding phrases. Their selfishness is more apparent; it does not follow
that it is less profound.
However that may be,
the desertion of Maximilian and Ferdinand put a stop to Henry’s warlike
projects, and restored England to peace. Henry had had enough
Wolsey’s services in
the campaign of 1513 gave him a firm hold of the king’s favour,
and secured for him large reward. As he was an ecclesiastic his salary was paid
out of the revenues of the Church. When Tournai
became an English possession its bishopric was conferred on Wolsey, and on a
vacancy in the bishopric of Lincoln in the beginning of 1514 that see was given
him in addition. How the offices of the Church were in those days used as
rewards for service to the State may be seen by the fact that the English
representative in Rome was the Archbishop of York, Thomas Bainbridge, who lived
as Cardinal in the Papal Court. Moreover, an Italian, Silvestro
de’ Gigli, held the bishopric of Worcester, though he
lived habitually in Rome, and devoted his energies to the furtherance of the
interests of England. In July 1514 Cardinal Bainbridge died in Rome, poisoned
by one of his servants. The Bishop of Worcester was suspected qf being privy to the deed for the purpose of removing out
of the way a troublesome rival. It would seem, however, that the murder was
prompted by vengeful feelings and the desire to hide peculations. The charge
against the Bishop of Worcester was investigated by the Pope, and he was
acquitted; but the story gives a poor picture of morality and security of life
at Rome. On the death of Bainbridge the vacant archbishopric of York was also
conferred on Wolsey, who was now
He rose to this position
solely by the king’s favour, as the king alone chose
his own ministers and counsellors, and there existed
no external pressure which could influence his decisions. The Wars of the Boses had seen the downfall of the baronial power, and
Henry VII. had accustomed men to see affairs managed almost entirely by a new
class of officials. The ministers and counsellors of
Henry VIII were chosen from a desire to balance the old and the new
system. The remnants of the baronial party were associated with officials, that
they might be assimilated into the same class. The Duke of Norfolk, as the
greatest nobleman in England, was powerful, and was jealous of the men with whoiiihe found himself called upon to work. Charles
Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, was the personal friend of the king, and shared in
his private more than in his public life. The Earl of Surrey had done good
service at Elodden Field, and was a man of practical
capacity. The other ministers were most of them ecclesiastics. Warham, Archbishop of Canterbury, was respected rather than
trusted. Fox, Bishop of Winchester, was a capable and painstaking official. Euthal, Bishop of Durham, was destitute of real insight,
and was content to follow Wolsey’s lead. Wolsey won his way by his political
genius, his quickness, and his vast power of detailed work. He owed his
position entirely to the king, and was responsible to him alone. The king
consulted his Council only about such matters as he thought fit; foreign
affairs were managed almost entirely according to his own will and pleasure.
The English have
never been famous for diplomacy, and Wolsey was ill supplied with agents for
his work. The English residents at foreign Courts were not men of mark or
position. John Stile at the Court of Ferdinand, and Thomas Spinelly
in Flanders seem to have been merchants carrying on their own business. With
Maximilian was a more important man, Sir Richard Wingfield,
a Suffolk knight, who was too selfsatisfied and too
dull-witted to understand Wolsey’s schemes. For special work special agents had
to be sent, who went unwillingly to a thankless and laborious task. They were
ill paid and ill supported; but even here Wolsey knew how to choose the right
men, and he managed to inspire them with his own zeal and tenacity of purpose.
It is a striking proof of Wolsey’s genius that he knew whom he could trust, and
that his trust was never misplaced.
When Henry VIII was
smarting under his rebuff from Maximilian and Ferdinand, he concerted with
Wolsey how he might avenge himself, and Wolsey devised his scheme in entire
secrecy. Ferdinand and Maximilian had left England in the lurch by making a
truce with France. Wolsey resolved to outdo them in their own lines. They had
elected to maintain the existing condition of affairs by checking England’s
aspirations and lending a cold support to France. Wolsey resolved to turn
France into a firm ally, that so England and France united might form a new
combination, before which the schemes of Ferdinand would be powerless.
Wolsey luckily had
the means of approaching Louis XII without attracting attention. Amongst the
prisoners taken in the Battle of the Spurs was the
It has always been
one of the most revolting features of dynastic politics, that the private
relationships of members of ruling families have been entirely determined by
considerations of dynastic expediency. In the sixteenth century this was
eminently the case. Alliances were family arrangements, and corresponded to
motives of family aggrandisement rather than to
national interests. They were sealed by marriages, they were broken by
divorces. So great were the responsibilities of royalty that the private life
of members of royal houses was entirely sunk in their official position. They
were mere counters to be moved about the board at will, and disposed of
according to the needs of family politics. Such a victim of circumstances was
Henry VIII’s younger sister, the Princess Mary, a bright and intelligent girl
of seventeen. She was betrothed to Charles, Prince of Castile, and it had been
arranged that the marriage should take place when he reached the age of
fourteen. The time was
Wolsey allowed
Maximilian to go on with his shifty talk, and was only too glad to see him fall
into the trap. His negotiations with France were progressing, and the outward
sign of the new alliance was to be the marriage of Mary to Louis XII. So
secretly were the arrangements made that Europe was taken by surprise when, at
the end of July, it was gradually known that the alliance between France and
England was an accomplished fact. The marriage contract was soon signed, and
in October Mary went to Abbeville, where she was met by her elderly husband.
The result of this
clever diplomacy was to secure England the respect and envy of Europe. It was
clear that henceforth England was a power which had to be reckoned with.
Ferdinand was taught that he could no longer count on using his dutiful
son-in-law as he thought most convenient to himself. Maximilian sadly reflected
that if he needed English gold in the future he must show a little more
dexterity in his game of playing fast and loose with everybody. Pope Leo X was
not overpleased at seeing England develop a policy
of her own, and looked coldly on Wolsey. After the
death of Cardinal Bainbridge Henry wrote to the Pope and begged him to make
Wolsey cardinal in his room. “Such are his merits,” said the king, “ that I
esteem him above
England did not long
enjoy the diplomatic victory which Wolsey had won by his brilliant scheme of a
French alliance. Henry still had a longing for military glory, with which
Wolsey had little sympathy. He wished to revenge himself on his perfidious
father-in-law, and proposed to Louis XII an attack upon Navarre, and even
thought of claiming a portion of the kingdom of Castile, as rightfully
belonging to Queen Katharine. Whatever projects Henry may have had came to an end on the death of Louis on the 1st of January
1515. The elderly bridegroom, it was said, tried too well to humour the social disposition of his sprightly bride. He
changed his manner of life, and kept late hours, till his health entirely gave
way, and he sank under his well-meant efforts to renew the gallantry of youth.
CHAPTER III
THE UNIVERSAL PEACE
1515-1518
The
death
of Louis XII was a severe blow to Wolsey. The French alliance was not popular
in England, and was bitterly opposed by the Duke of Norfolk and the party of
the old nobility, who saw with dislike the growing influence of Wolsey. They
now had an opportunity of reversing his policy and securing his downfall. It
required all Wolsey’s sagacity to devise a means of solving the difficulties which
the death of Louis created. The new king of France, Francis I., was aged
twenty-one, and was as ambitious of distinction as was Henry. The treaty
between France and England had not yet been carried out, and it would require
much dexterity to modify its provisions. The kings of the sixteenth century
were keen men of business, and never let money slip through their hands. The
widowed Queen of France must, of course, return to England, but there were all
sorts of questions about her dowry and the jewels which Louis had given her.
Henry claimed that she should bring back with her everything to which any title
could be urged: Francis I. wished to give up as
In these dangerous
conditions Wolsey had to seek an ally in Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, and
had to trust to his private knowledge of the character of Queen Mary. She had
the strong will of the Tudors, and had also their craving for admiration. These
two qualities seem to have drawn her in opposite directions. While her marriage
with Prince Charles was talked of she professed the greatest admiration for
him, and gazed with rapture on a very bad portrait of her intended husband. But
this did not prevent her from being attracted by the personal fascinations of
the Duke of Suffolk, as Wolsey knew. When he negotiated the French alliance he
had some difficulty in overcoming Mary’s repugnance to an old husband; but she
viewed the proposal in a business-like way, and was not indifferent to the
position of Queen of France. She looked forward to a speedy widowhood, and
extracted from Henry a promise that, if she undertook to marry for the first
time to please him, she might choose her second husband to please herself. When
Mary was free the hopes of the Duke of Suffolk revived, and Wolsey knowing
this, chose him as the best instrument for clearing away the difficulties
raised by Francis I, and bringing back Mary honourably
to England.
Francis, on his side,
used his knowledge of the current
However, Mary
received part of her dowry and some of her jewels. Francis I had no wish to
quarrel with England, but only to make the best terms for himself. He was bent
upon gathering laurels in Italy, and on 5th April renewed the alliance between
France and England. This time, however, the treaty was little more than a
truce, and many questions were left untouched; no mention was made of the
return of Tournai, and the question of Mary’s jewels
was left undecided. Francis I counted on keeping England quiet by an alliance
which he formed at the same time with Ferdinand, while he won over the Flemish
counsellors of Prince Charles, who betrothed himself
to the infant daughter of Louis XII, Renée, a child of four.
Thus he had cleared
the way for an expedition to Italy, where he longed to claim for France the
Duchy of Milan, that had been won and lost by Louis XII. In July he set out
contentedly, knowing that Henry was powerless to interfere. He treated England
with neglect, and gave Henry no information of his movements. England looked on
with growing jealousy while Francis crossed the Alps and in September defeated
the Swiss mercenaries who held Milan in the name of the last Sforza Duke. The
battle of Marignano (14th September) was a splendid
success for Francis, who there beat back the Swiss
infantry, hitherto considered invincible in Europe. The star of France had
risen, and Francis could look round with proud superiority.
The princes of Europe
were alarmed beyond measure at the completeness of the French success. They had
looked with equanimity at the preparations of Francis, because they expected
that he would be delayed, or, if he attacked the Swiss, would be defeated. But
his rapid march soon convinced men that he was in earnest, and especially
excited the fear of Pope Leo X, whose ingenious policy of being secretly
allied with everybody was disturbed by this display of unexpected vigour. The alarm of the Pope was useful to Wolsey. It
awakened him to the need of making the English king his friend, and fulfilling
his desire to have Wolsey created cardinal. Wolsey had not ceased, through his
agent, the Bishop of Worcester, to urge this point upon the Pope, and when
Francis was well advanced on his road to Milan the pleadings of Wolsey were
irresistible. “If the King of England forsake the Pope,” wrote Wolsey to the
Bishop
Wolsey’s creation was
not popular in the Roman Court. Cardinal Bainbridge had been overbearing in
manner and hasty in temper, and the English were disliked for their
outspokenness. England was regarded as a political upstart, and Wolsey was
considered to be a fitting emblem of the country which he represented.
Moreover, the attitude of England in ecclesiastical matters was not marked by
that subservience which the Papacy wished to exact, and many doubted the expediency
of exalting in ecclesiastical authority an English prelate of such far-reaching
views as Wolsey was known to hold. An official of the Roman Court gives the
following account of the current opinion:—
“Men say that an
English Cardinal ought not to be created lightly, because the English behave
themselves insolently in that dignity, as was shown in the case of Cardinal
Bainbridge just dead. Moreover, as Wolsey is the intimate friend of the king,
he will not be contented with the Cardinalate alone,
but, as is the custom of these barbarians, will wish to have the office of
legate over all England. If this be granted the influence of the Eoman Court will be at an end; if it be not granted the
Cardinal will be the Pope’s enemy and will favour
France. But despite all this the Pope, in whose hands
This elevation of
Wolsey was due to the strong expression of desire on the part of Henry, who
further asked that legatine powers should be given to the new cardinal. This
Leo refused for the present; he had done enough to induce Henry to enter into a
secret league for the protection of the Church, which meant a convenient
pretext for attacking Francis if he became too powerful in Italy. When this was
arranged the red hat was sent to England, and its reception gave Wolsey an
opportunity of displaying his love for magnificent ceremonial. On 17th November
it was placed on his head by Archbishop Warham in
Westminster Abbey.
Ceremonial, however
splendid, was but an episode in Wolsey’s diplomatic business. The news of the
French victory at Marignano was so unpleasant that
Henry VIII for some time refused to believe it to be true. When at last it was impossible to doubt any longer, the necessity
became urgent to put a spoke in the wheel of Francis I. England was not
prepared to go to war with France without allies, and Wolsey developed his
cleverness in attaining his ends by secret means. Nothing could be done by
uniting with the cautious Ferdinand; but the flighty Maximilian was a more
hopeful subject. The only troops that could be used against France were the
German and Swiss mercenaries, men who made war a trade, and were trained and
disciplined soldiers. The first means of injuring France was to prevent her
from hiring Swiss soldiers, and the second was to induce Maximilian to
undertake an
The hindrances which
beset Pace in carrying out his instructions decorously were very many. Not the
least troublesome was the want of intelligence displayed by Sir Robert Wingfield, the English envoy to Maximilian. Wingfield belonged to the old school of English officials,
honest and industrious, but entirely incapable of finesse. He did not
understand what Pace was about; he could not comprehend Wolsey’s hints, but was
a blind admirer of Maximilian, and was made his tool in his efforts to get the
gold of England and do nothing in return. But Pace was deaf to the entreaties
of Maximilian and to the lofty remonstrances of Wingfield. He raised 17,000 Swiss soldiers, who were to
serve under their own general, and whose pay was not to pass through Maximilian’s hands.
Maximilian was sorely disappointed at this result, but led his troops to join
the Swiss in an attack on Milan. On 24th March 1516, the combined army was a
few miles from Milan, which was poorly defended, and victory seemed secure.
Suddenly Maximilian began to hesitate, and then drew off his forces and retired.
We can only guess at the motive of this strange proceeding; perhaps he had
never been in earnest, and only meant to extract money from England. When Pace
refused to pay he probably negotiated with Francis I, and obtained money from
him. Anyhow his withdrawal was fatal to the expedition. The Germans at Brescia
seized the money which was sent to Pace for the payment of the Swiss. The Swiss
in anger mutinied, and Pace was for some days thrown into prison. Maximilian
vaguely promised to return, but the Swiss troops naturally disbanded. Such was
Maximilian’s meanness that he threatened Pace, now deserted and broken by
disappointment, that if he did not advance him money he would make peace with
France. Pace, afraid to run the risk, pledged Henry VIII. to pay 60,000
florins. All this time Wingfield was convinced that
it was Pace’s ill-judged parsimony that had wrought this disaster, and he
continued to write in a strain of superior wisdom to Wolsey. He even, at
Maximilian’s bidding, forged Pace’s name to receipts for money. Never was
diplomat in more hopeless plight than the unlucky Pace.
Wolsey saw that his
plan had failed, but he put a good face upon his failure. Maximilian enjoyed
the advantage which consummate meanness always gives for a moment. He put down
the failure to niggardli
Meanwhile a change
had taken place in the affairs of Europe which turned the attention of France
and
The Treaty of Noyon was a further rebuff to Wolsey, England was passed by
in silence, and a tempting bait was laid to draw Maximilian also into the
French alliance, and so leave England entirely without allies.
Maximilian had been
for some time at war with Venice about the possession of the towns of Brescia
and Verona. The Treaty of Noyon provided that the
Venetians should pay the Emperor 200,000 crowns and remain in possession of
the disputed territory. Maximilian used this offer to put himself up to
auction; he expressed his detestation of the peace of Noyon,
but pleaded that unless Henry came to his help he would be driven by poverty to
accept the proffered terms. Henry answered by a proposal that Maximilian
should earn the price he fixed upon his services : let him come into the
Netherlands, and work the overthrow of the unworthy ministers who gave such
evil advice to their sovereign. Maximilian stipulated for the allowance which
he was to receive for the expenses of a journey to the Netherlands, for which
he began to make preparations. He raised all possible doubts and difficulties,
and received all the money he could extract on any pretext from Henry VIII.; at
last he secretly signed the Treaty of Noyon in
December, and drew his payments from both parties so long as he could keep his
game unsuspected.
But Wolsey was not so
much deceived as Maximilian thought, and showed no discomfiture when
Maximilian’s shiftiness at' length came to light. If Maximilian would not be
faithful it was well that his untrustworthiness should be openly shown, and
Francis I., who was watching his manoeuvres, could
not feel proud of his new ally. He knew what he had to expect from Maximilian
when the 200,000 crowns were spent. The money that had been spent on Maximilian
was not wasted if it gave him an encouragement to display his feebleness to the
full.
So Henry maintained a
dignified attitude, and showed no resentment. He received Maximilian’s excuses
with cold politeness, and waited for Francis I. to discover the futility of
his new alliances. Maximilian was clearly of no account. Charles had gained all
that he could gain from his League with France towards quieting the
Netherlands; for his next step, a journey to Spain, he needed the help of
England, and soon dropped his attitude of indifference. After thwarting England
as much as he could, he was driven to beg for a loan to cover the expenses of
his journey, and England showed no petty resentment for his past conduct. The
loan was negotiated, Charles’s ambassadors were honourably
received, it was even proposed that he should visit Henry on his way. This honour Charles cautiously declined on the ground of ill
health; but all the other marks of Henry’s goodwill were accepted with
gratitude, and in September 1517 Charles set out on his voyage to Spain, where
he found enough to employ his energies for some time.
This conciliatory
attitude of England was due to a perception that the time had come when simple
opposition to France was no longer useful. England had so far succeeded as to
prevent the French ascendency from being complete; she had stemmed the current,
had shown Francis I. the extent of her resources, and had displayed unexpected
skill. Moreover, she had made it clear that neither she nor France could form a
combination sufficiently powerful to enable the one to crush the other, and
had given Francis I. a lesson as to the amount of fidelity he might expect from
his allies. When it was clear to both sides that there was no hope
for far-reaching
schemes, it was natural for the two powers to draw together, and seek a
reasonable redress for the grievances which immediately affected them.
Chief amongst these
on the French side was the possession of Tournai by
the English, glorious, no doubt, as a trophy of English valour,
but of very doubtful advantage to England. Negotiations about its restoration
were begun as early as March 1517, and were conducted with profound secrecy. Of
course Charles hoped to get Tournai into his own
hands, and did not wish it to be restored to France. It was necessary to keep
him in ignorance of what was going on, and not till he had sailed to Spain were
there any rumours of what was passing.
Wolsey and Henry
VIII. deceived the ambassadors of Charles and of Venice by their repeated
professions of hostility against France, and Charles’s remonstrances
were answered by equivocations, so that he had no opportunity for interfering
till the matter had been agreed upon as part of a close alliance between
England and France. The negotiations for this purpose were long and intricate,
and form the masterpiece of Wolsey’s diplomatic skill. They were made more
difficult by the outbreak in England of a pestilence, the sweating sickness,
before which Henry fled from London and moved uneasily from place to place.
Wolsey was attacked by it in June so seriously that his life was despaired of;
scarcely was he recovered. when he suffered from a second attack, and soon
after went on a pilgrimage to Walsingham to perform a
vow and enjoy change of air. But with this exception, he stuck manfully to his
work in London, where, beside his manifold duties in internal
administration, he
directed the course of the negotiations with France.
In fact Wolsey alone
was responsible for the change of policy indicated by the French alliance. He
had thoroughly carried the king with him; but he was well aware that his course
was likely to be exceedingly unpopular, and that on him would fall the blame
of any failure. Henry did not even inform his Council of his plans. He knew
that they would all have been opposed to such a sudden change of policy, which
could only be justified in their eyes by its manifest advantage in the end.
Wolsey was conscious that he must not only conclude an alliance with France,
but must show beyond dispute a clear gain to England from so doing.
Wolsey’s difficulties
were somewhat lessened by the birth of an heir to the French Crown in February
1518. France could now offer, as a guarantee for her close alliance with
England, a proposal of marriage between the Dauphin and Henry’s only daughter
Mary. Still the negotiations cautiously went on while Wolsey drove the hardest
bargain that he could. They were not finished till September, when a numerous
body of French nobles came on a splendid embassy to London. Never had such
magnificence been seen in England before as that with which Henry VIII.
received his new allies. Even the French nobles admitted that it was beyond
their power to describe. Wolsey entertained the company at a sumptuous supper
in his house at Westminster, “the like of which,” says the Venetian envoy, “
was never given by Cleopatra or Caligula, the whole banqueting hall being
decorated with huge vases of gold and silver.” After the banquet a band of
mummers, wearing
visors on their faces, entered and danced. There were twelve ladies and twelve
gentlemen, attended by twelve torch-bearers; all were clad alike “in fine green
satin, all over covered with cloth of gold, undertied
together with laces of gold.” They danced for some time and then removed their
masks, and the evening passed in mirth. Such were the festivities of the
English Court, which Shakespeare has reproduced, accurately enough, in his play
of Henry VIII.
But these Court
festivities were only preliminary to the public ceremonies whereby Wolsey
impressed the imagination of the people. The proclamation of the treaty and the
marriage of the Princess Mary by proxy were both the occasions of splendid
ceremonies in St. Paul’s Cathedral. The people were delighted by pageantry and
good cheer; the opposition of old- fashioned politicians was overborne in the
prevailing enthusiasm; and men spoke only of the triumph of a pacific policy
which had achieved results such as warfare could not have won. Indeed, the
advantages which England obtained were substantial. France bought back Tournai for 600,000 crowns, and entered into a close
alliance with England, which cut it off from interference in the affairs of
Scotland, which was included in the peace so long as it abstained from
hostilities. But more important than this was the fact that Wolsey insisted on
the alliance between France and England being made the basis of a universal
peace. The Pope, the Emperor, the King of Spain, were all invited to join, and
all complied with the invitation.
None of them,
however, complied with goodwill, least of all Pope Leo X., whose claim to be
the official
pacifier of Europe
was rudely set aside by the audacious action of Wolsey. Leo hoped that the
bestowal of a cardinal’s hat had established a hold on Wolsey’s gratitude ;
but he soon found that he was mistaken, and that his cunning was no match for
Wolsey’s force. No sooner had Wolsey obtained the cardinalate
than he pressed for the further dignity of papal legate in England. Not
unnaturally Leo refused to endow with such an office a minister already so
powerful as to be almost independent; but Wolsey made him pay for his refusal.
Leo wanted money, and the pressure of the Turk on Southern Europe lent a colour to his demand of clerical taxation for the purposes
of a crusade. In 1517 he sent out legates to the chief kings of Christendom;
but Henry refused to admit Cardinal Campeggio, saying
that “it was not the rule of this realm to admit legates h latere.”
Then Wolsey intervened and suggested that Campeggio
might come if he would exercise no exceptional powers, and if his dignity were
shared by himself. Leo was forced to yield, and Campeggio’s
arrival was made the occasion of stately ceremonies which redounded to Wolsey’s
glorification. Campeggio got little for the crusade,
but served to grace the festivities of the French alliance, and afterwards to
convey the Pope’s adhesion to the universal peace. Wolsey had taken matters out
of the Pope’s hand, and Leo was driven to follow his lead with what grace he
could muster. Perhaps as he sighed over his discomfiture he consoled himself
with the thought that the new peace would not last much longer than those
previously made : if he did, he was right in his opinion.
CHAPTER IV
THE FIELD OS' THE
CLOTH OF GOLD 1518-1520
The
object
of Wolsey’s foreign policy had been attained by the universal peace of 1518.
England had been set up as the mediator in the politics of Europe^ The old
claims of the empire and the papacy had passed away in the conflict of national
and dynastic interests, in which papacy and empire were alike involved.
England, by virtue of its insular position, was practically outside the objects
of immediate ambition which distracted its Continental neighbours;
but England’s commercial interests made her desirous of influence, and Henry
VIII. was bent upon being an important personage. It was Wolsey’s object to
gratify the king at the least expense to the country, and so long as the king
could be exalted by peaceful means, the good of England was certainly promoted
at the same time. The position of England as the pacifier of Europe was one
well qualified to develop a national consciousness of great duties to perform
; and it may be doubted if a country is ever great unless it has a clear
consciousness of some great mission.
Wolsey’s policy had
been skilful, and the results
which he had obtained
were glorious; but it was difficult to maintain the position which he had won.
It was one thing to proclaim a peace ; it was another to contrive that peace
should be kept. One important question was looming in the distance when
Wolsey’s peace was signed,—the succession to the empire on Maximilian’s death.
Unfortunately this question came rapidly forward for decision, as Maximilian
died suddenly on 12th January 1519, and the politicians of Europe waited
breathlessly to see who would be chosen as his successor.
The election to the
empire rested with the seven electors, the chief princes of Germany; but if
they had been minded on this occasion to exercise freely their right, it would
have been difficult for them to do so. The empire had for a century been with
the house of Austria, andMaxi- milian
had schemed eagerly that it should pass to his grandson Charles. It is true
that Charles was already King of Spain, Lord of the Netherlands, and King of
Naples and Sicily, so that it seemed dangerous to increase still further his
great dominions. But Charles urged his claim, and his great rival, Francis I.
of France, entered the lists against him. Strange as it may seem that a French
king should aspire to rule over Germany, Francis I. could urge that he was
almost as closely connected with Germany as was Charles, whose interests were
bound up with those of Spain and the Netherlands. In the face of these two
competitors, it was hard for the electors to find a candidate of a humbler sort
who would veuture to draw upon himself the wrath of
their disappointment. Moreover, the task of ruling Germany was not such as to
attract a small prince. The Turks were threatening its borders, and a strong
man was
needed to deal with
many pressing problems of its government. The electors, however, were scarcely
guilty of any patriotic considerations; they quietly put up their votes for
auction between Francis and Charles, and deferred a choice as long as they
could.
Both competitors
turned for help to their allies, the Pope and the King of England, who found
themselves greatly perplexed. Leo X. did not wish to see French influence
increased, as France was a dangerous neighbour in
Italy; nor did he wish to see the empire and the kingdom of Naples both held by
the same man, for that was against the immemorial policy of the Papacy. So Leo
intrigued and prevaricated to such an extent that it is almost impossible to
determine what he was aiming at. He managed, however, to throw hindrances in
Wolsey’s path, though we cannot be sure that he intended to do so.
Wolsey’s plan of
action was clear, though it was not dignified. He wished to preserve England’s
mediating attitude and give offence to no one; consequently, he secretly
promised his help both to Charles and Francis, and tried to arrange that each
should be ignorant of his promises to the other. All went well till Leo, in his
diplomatic divagations, commissioned his legate to suggest to Henry VIII. that
it might be possible, after all, to find some third candidate for the empire,
and that he was ready to try and put off the election for that purpose, if
Henry agreed. Henry seems to have considered this as a hint from the Pope to
become a candidate himself. He remembered that Maximilian had offered to resign
the empire in his favour, but he forgot the
sufficient reasons which had led him to
dismiss the proposal
as fantastic and absurd. His vanity was rather tickled with the notion of rivalling Charles and Francis, and he thought that if the
Pope were on his side, his chances would be as good as theirs.
We can only guess at
Wolsey’s dismay when his master laid this project before him. Whatever Wolsey
thought, he knew that it was useless to offer any opposition. However much he
might be able to influence the king’s opinions in the making, he knew that he
must execute them when they were made. If Henry had made up his mind to become
a candidate for the empire, a candidate he must be. All that could be done was
to prevent his determination from being hopelessly disastrous. So Wolsey
pointed out that great as were the advantages to be obtained by gaining the
empire, there were dangers in being au unsuccessful
candidate. It was necessary first to make sure of the Pope, and then to
prosecute Henry’s candidature by fair and honourable
means. Francis was spending money lavishly to win supporters to his side ; and
Charles was reluctantly compelled to follow his example lest he should be
outbid. It would be unwise for Henry to squander his money and simply raise the
market price of the votes. Let him make it clear to the greedy Germans that
they would not see the colour of England’s money till
the English king had been really elected.
So Wolsey sent the
most cautious instructions to his agent in Rome to see if the Pope would take
the responsibility of urging Henry to become a candidate; but Leo was too
cautious, and affected not to understand the hint. Then in May, Pace, who was
now the king’s secretary, was sent to Germany to sound the electors
with equal care. He
was to approach the electors who were on Francis’s side, as though Henry were
in favour of Francis, and was to act similarly to
those who were in favour of Charles; then he was to
hint cautiously that it might be well to choose some one
more closely connected with Germany, and if they showed any acquiescence, was
to suggest that Henry was “of the German tongue,” and then was to sing his
praises. Probably both Pace and Wolsey knew that it was too late to do anything
serious. Pace reported that the money of France and Spain was flowing on all
sides, and was of opinion that the empire was “ the dearest merchandise that
ever was sold,” and would prove “ the worst that ever was bought to him that
shall obtain it.” Yet still he professed to have hopes, and even asked for
money to enter the lists of corruption. But this was needless, as the election
at last proceeded quickly. The Pope came round to the side of Charles as being
the least of two evils, and Charles was elected on 28th June.
Thus Wolsey succeeded
in satisfying his master’s demands without committing England to any breach
with either of her allies. Henry VIII. could scarcely be gratified at the part
that he had played, but Wolsey could convince him that he had tried his best,
and that at any rate no harm had been done. Though Henry’s proceedings were
known to Francis and Charles, there was nothing at which they could take
offence. Henry had behaved with duplicity, but that was only to be expected in
those days; he had not pronounced himself strongly against either. The
ill-will that had long been simmering between Charles V. and Francis I. had
risen to the surface, and the long rivalry between
the two monarchs was
now declared. Each looked for allies, and the most important ally was England.
Each had hopes of winning over the English king, and Wolsey wished to keep
alive, without satisfying, the hopes of both, and so establish still more
securely the power of England as holding the balance of the peace of Europe.
Wolsey’s conduct in
this matter throws much light on his relations to the king, and the method by
which he retained his influence and managed to carry out his own designs. He
appreciated the truth that a statesman must lead while seeming to follow—a
truth which applies equally to all forms of government. Wolsey was responsible
to no one but the king, and so had a better opportunity than has a statesman
who serves a democracy to obtain permission to carry out a consecutive policy.
But, on the other hand, he was more liable to be thwarted and interrupted in
matters of detail by the interference of a superior. Wolsey’s far-seeing policy
was endangered by the king’s vanity and obstinacy; he could not ask for time to
justify his own wisdom, but was forced to obey. Yet even then he would not
abandon his own position and set himself to minimise
the inconvenience. It is impossible to know how often Wolsey was at other times
obliged to give way to the king and adopt the second-best course; but in this
case we find clear indications of the process. When he was driven from his
course, he contrived that the deviation should be as unimportant as possible.
Wolsey’s task of
maintaining peace by English mediation was beset with difficulties now that
the breach between Francis I. and Charles Y. was clearly made. It was necessary
for England to be friendly to both, and
not to be drawn by
its friendliness towards either to offend the other. In the matter of the
imperial election English influence had been somewhat on the side of Charles,
and Francis was now the one who needed propitiation. The treaty with France had
provided for a personal interview between the two kings, and Francis was
anxious that it should take place at once. For this purpose he strove to win
the good offices of Wolsey. He assured him that in case of a papal election he
could command fourteen votes which should be given in his favour.
Moreover, he conferred on him a signal mark of his confidence by nominating him
his plenipotentiary for the arrangements about the forthcoming interview. By
this all difficulties were removed, and Wolsey stood forward before the eyes of
Europe as the accredited representative of the kings of England and France at
the same time. It is no wonder that men marvelled at
such an unheard-of position for an English subject.
But nothing that
Francis had to give could turn Wolsey away from his own path. No sooner did he
know that the French interview was agreed upon than he suggested to Chari,es that it would be well for him also to have a
meeting with the English king. The proposal was eagerly accepted, and Wolsey
conducted the negotiations about both interviews side by side. Rarely did two
meetings cause such a flow of ink and raise so many knotty points. At last it
was agreed that Charles should visit Henry in England in an informal way before
the French interview took place. It was difficult to induce the punctilious
Spaniards to give way to Wolsey’s requirements. It was a hard thing for
one who bore the
high-sounding title of Emperor to agree to visit a King of England on his own
terms. But Wolsey was resolute that everything should be done in such a way as
to give France the least cause of complaint. When the Spanish envoys objected
to his arrangements or proposed alterations, he brought them to their bearings
by saying, “Very well; then do not do it and begone.”
They were made to feel their dependence on himself. The interview was of their
seeking, and must be held on terms which he proposed, or not at all. This, no
doubt, was felt to be very haughty conduct on Wolsey’s part; but he had set on
foot the scheme of this double interview, by which Henry was to be glorified
and England’s mediatorial position assured. It was
his business to see that his plan succeeded. So he turned a deaf ear to the
offers of the Spanish ambassadors. He was not to be moved by the promise of
ecclesiastical revenues in Spain. Even when the influence of Spain was
proffered to secure his election to the Papacy, he coldly refused.
It has been said that
Wolsey was open to bribes, and his seemingly tortuous policy has been accounted
for by the supposition that he inclined to the side which promised him most.
This, however, is an entire mistake. Wolsey went his own way; but at the same
time he did not disregard his personal profit: He was too great a man to be
bribed; but his greatness entailed magnificence, and magnificence is
expensive. He regarded it as natural that sovereigns who threw work upon his
shoulders should make some recognition of his labours.
This was the custom of the time; and Wolsey was by no means singular in
receiving gifts from foreign kings.
The chief lords of
Henry’s Court received pensions from the King of France; and the lords of the
French Court were similarly rewarded by Henry. This was merely a complimentary
custom, and was open and avowed. Wolsey received a pension from Francis I., and
a further sum as compensation for the bishopric of Toumai,
which he resigned when Toumai was returned to France.
In like manner, Charles V. rewarded him by a Spanish bishopric; but Wolsey
declined the office of bishop, and preferred to receive a fixed pension secured
on the revenues of the see. This iniquitous arrangement was carried out with
the Pope’s consent; and such like arrangements were by no means rare. They were
the natural result of the excessive wealth of the Church, which was diverted to
the royal uses by a series of fictions, more or less barefaced, but all tending
to the weakening of the ecclesiastical organisation.
Still the fact remains that Wolsey thought no shame of receiving pensions from
Francis and Charles alike ; but there was nothing secret nor extraordinary in
this. Wolsey regarded it as only obvious that his statesmanship should be
rewarded by those for whom it was exercised; but the Emperor and the King of
France never hoped that by these pensions they would attach Wolsey to their
side. The promise by which they tried to win him was the promise of the Papacy;
and to this Wolsey turned a deaf ear. “ He is seven times more powerful than
the Pope,” wrote the Venetian ambassador; and perhaps Wolsey himself at this
time was of the same opinion.
Meanwhile Francis was
annoyed wlien he heard of these dealings with
Charles, and tried to counteract
them by pressing for
an early date of his meeting with Henry VIII. It is amazing to find how large a
part domestic events were made to play in these matters of high policy when occasion
needed. Francis urged that he was very anxious for his queen to be present to
welcome Katharine; but she was expecting her confinement, and if the interview
did not take place soon she would be unable to appear. Wolsey replied with
equal concern for family affairs, that the Emperor was anxious to visit his
aunt, whom he had never seen, and Henry could not be so churlish as to refuse a
visit from his wife’s relative. Katharine, on her side, was overjoyed at this
renewal of intimacy with the Spanish Court, to whose interests she was strongly
attached, and tried to prevent the understanding with France, by declaring that
she could not possibly have her dresses ready under three months. In her
dislike of the French alliance Queen Katharine expressed the popular sentiment.
The people had long regarded France as the natural enemy of England, and were
slow to give up their prejudices. The nobles grew more and more discontented
with Wolsey’s policy, which they did not care to understand. They only saw that
their expectations of a return to power were utterly disappointed; W olsey, backed by officials such as Pace, was all-powerful,
and they were disregarded. Wolsey was working absolutely single-handed. It is a
remarkable proof of his skill that he was able to draw the king to follow him
unhesitatingly, at the sacrifice of his personal popularity, and in spite of
the representations of those who were immediately around him.
Moreover, Wolsey, in
his capacity of representative
of the Kings of
England and France, had in his hands the entire management of all concerning
the coming interview. He fixed the place with due regard to the honour of England, almost on English soil. The English king
was not to lodge outside his own territory of Calais; the spot appointed for
the meeting was on the meadows between Guisnes and Ardres, on the borderland of the two kingdoms. Wolsey had
to decide which of the English nobles and gentry were to attend the king, and
had to assign to each his office and dignity. The king’s retinue amounted to
nearly 4000, and the queen’s was somewhat oyer 1000.
A very slight knowledge of human nature will serve to show how many people
Wolsey must necessarily have offended. If the ranks of his enemies were large
before, they must have increased enormously when his arrangements were made
known.
Still Wolsey was not
daunted, and however much every one, from Francis and
Charles, felt aggrieved by his proceedings, all had to obey; and everything
that took place was due to Wolsey’s will alone. The interview with Charles was
simple. On 26th May 1520 he landed at Dover, and was met by Wolsey; next
morning Henry rode to meet him and escort him to Canterbury, which was his
headquarters; on the 29th Charles rode to Sandwich, where he embarked for
Flanders. What subjects the two monarchs discussed we can only dimly guess.
Each promised to help the other if attacked by France, and probably Henry
undertook to bring about a joint-conference of the three sovereigns to discuss
their common interests. The importance of the meeting lay in its display of
friendliness; in the warning which it gave
to France that she
was not to count upon the exclusive possession of England’s goodwill.
No sooner was the
Emperor gone than Henry embarked for Calais, and arrived at Guisnes on 4th June. We need not describe again the “ Field
of the Cloth of Gold,” to furnish which the art of the Renaissance was used to
deck medieval pageantry. It is enough to say that stately palaces of wood
clothed the barren stretch of flat meadows, and that every ornament which man’s
imagination could devise was employed to lend splendour
to the scene. No doubt it was barbaric, wasteful, and foolish; but men in
those days loved the sight of magnificence, and the display was as much for the
enjoyment of countless spectators as for the self-glorification of those who
were the main actors. In those days the solace of a poor man’s life was the
occasional enjoyment of a stately spectacle; and after all, splendour gives more pleasure to the lookers-on than to the
personages of the show.
Most splendid among
the glittering throng was the figure of Wolsey, who had to support the dignity
of representative of both kings, and spared no pains to do it to the full. But
while the jousts went on, Wolsey was busy with diplomacy; there were many
points relating to a good understanding between France and England, which he
wished to arrange,—the projected marriage of the Dauphin with Mary of England,
the payment due from France to England on several heads, the relations between
France and Scotland and the like. More important than these was the
reconciliation of Charles with Francis, which Wolsey pressed to the utmost of
his persuasiveness, without, however, reaching
any definite
conclusion. Charles was hovering on the Flemish border, ready at a hint from
Wolsey to join the conference; but Wolsey could find no good reasons for giving
it, and when the festivities came to an end on 24th June, it might be doubted
if much substantial good had resulted from the interview. No doubt the French
and English fraternised, and swore friendship over
their cups; but tournaments were not the happiest means of allaying feelings of
rivalry, and the protestations of friendship were little more than lip-deep.
Yet Wolsey cannot be blamed for being over-sanguine. It was at least a worthy
end that he had before him,—the removal of long-standing hostility, the
settlement of old disputes, the uniou of two
neighbouring nations by the assertion of common aims and common interests.
However we may condemn the methods which Wolsey used, at least we must admit
that his end was in accordance with the most enlightened views of modem
statesmanship.
When Henry had taken
leave of Francis, he waited in Calais for the coming of Charles, whose visit to
England was understood to be merely preliminary to further negotiations. Again
Henry held the important position; he went to meet Charles at Grave- lines,
where he stayed for a night, and then escorted Charles as his guest to Calais,
where he stayed from 10th to 14th July. The result of the conference was a
formal treaty of alliance between the two sovereigns, which Charles proposed to
confirm by betrothing himself to Henry’s daughter Mary. As she was a child of
four years old, such an undertaking did not bind him to much; but Mary was
already betrothed to the Dauphin, while Charles was also already betrothed to
Charlotte of France,
so that the proposal aimed at a double breach of existing relationships and
treaties. Henry listened to this scheme, which opened up the way for further
negotiation, and the two monarchs parted with protestations of friendship. It
was now the turn of Francis to hang about the place where Henry was holding
conference with his rival, in hopes that he too might be invited to their
discussions. He had to content himself with hearing that Henry rode a steed
which he had presented to him, and that his face did not look so contented and
cheerful as when he was on the meadows of Guisnes. In
due time he received from Henry an account of what had passed between himself
and the Emperor. Henry informed him of Charles’s marriage projects, and of his
proposal for an alliance against France, both of which Henry falsely said that
he had rejected with holy horror.
Truly the records of
diplomacy are dreary, and the results of all this display, this ingenious
scheming, and this deceit seem ludicrously small. The upshot, however, was
that Wolsey’s ideas still remained dominant, and that the position which he had
marked out for England was still maintained. He had been compelled to change
the form of his policy, but its essence was unchanged. European affairs could
no longer be directed by a universal peace under the guarantee of England; so
Wolsey substituted for it a system of separate alliances with England, by which
England exercised a mediating influence on the policy of the two monarchs,
whose rivalry threatened a breach of European peace. He informed Francis of the
schemes of Charles, that he might show him how much depended on English
mediation.
He so conducted
matters that Charles and Francis should both be aware that England could make
advantageous terms with either, that her interests did not tend to one side
rather than the other, that both should be willing to secure her goodwill, and
should shrink from taking any step which would throw her on the side of his
adversary. It was a result worth achieving, though the position was precarious,
and required constant watchfulness to maintain. ■
F
CHAPTER V
THE CONFERENCE OF
CALAIS
1520-1521
The most significant point in the mediatorial
policy of Wolsey was the fact that it threw the Papacy entirely into the shade.
What Wolsey was doing was the traditional business of the Pope, who could not
openly gainsay a policy which he was bound to profess coincided with his own.
So Leo X. followed Wolsey’s lead of keeping on good terms with France and the
Emperor alike; but Leo had no real wish for peace. He wished to gain something
in Italy for the Medici, and nothing was to be gained while France and Spain
suspended hostilities. ■ Only in time of war
could he hope to carry out his own plans by balancing one combatant against the
other. Charles’s ambassador was not wrong in saying
that Leo hated Wolsey more than any other man ; and Leo tried to upset his
plans by drawing nearer to the imperial side.
It required very
little to provoke war between Francis and Charles; either would begin the
attack if the conditions were a little more favourable,
or if he could secure an ally. But Charles was weak owing to the
want of unity of
interest in his unwieldy dominions. Germany was disturbed by the opinions of
Luther; Spain was disturbed by a revolt of the cities against long-standing
misgovernment. Charles was not ready for war, nor was Francis much better
provided. His coffers were empty through his lavish expenditure, and his
Government was not popular. Really, though both wished for war, neither was
prepared to be the aggressor; both wanted the vantage of seeming to fight in selfdefence.
It was obvious that
Charles had made a high bid for the friendship of England when he offered
himself as the husband of the Princess Mary. Wolsey had taken care* that
Francis was informed of this offer, which necessarily led to a long negotiation
with the imperial Court. Really Charles’s marriage ' projects were rather
complicated; he was betrothed to Charlotte of France; he had made an offer for
Mary of England; but he wished to marry Isabella of Portugal for no loftier
reason than the superior attractions of her dowry. His proposal for Mary of
England was prompted by nothing save the desire to have Henry as his ally
against France ; if he could manage by fair promises to induce Henry to go to
war his purpose would be achieved, and he could still go in quest of the
Portuguese dower. So when Tunstal, the Master of the
Rolls, went as English envoy to discuss the matter, Charles’s Council raised
all sorts of difficulties. Let the English king join a league with the Pope and
the Emperor against France; then the Pope would grant his dispensation, which
was necessary, owing to the relationship between Charles and Mary. Tunstal was bidden by Wolsey to refuse such conditions.
England would not
move until the marriage had been concluded, and would not join in any league
with the Pope till his dispensation was in Henry’s hand. The separate alliance
of England and the Emperor must be put beyond doubt to England’s satisfaction
before anything else could be considered. Wolsey commissioned Tunstal to adopt a lofty tone. “ It would be great folly,”
he says, “ for this young prince, not being more surely settled in his
dominions, and so ill-provided with treasure and good councillors,
the Pope also being so brittle and variable, to be led into war for the
pleasure of his ministers.”’ Truly Wolsey thought he had taken the measure of
those with whom he dealt, and spoke with sufficient plainness when occasion
needed. But Charles’s chancellor, Gattinara, a Piedmontese, who was rising into power, was as obstinate as
Wolsey, and rejected the English proposals with equal scorn. “ Your master,” he
said to Tunstal, “ would have the Emperor break with
France, but would keep himself free; he behaves like a man with two horses, one
of which he rides, and leads the other by the hand.” It was clear that nothing
could be done, and Wolsey with some delight recalled Tunstal
from his embassy. The closer alliance with the Emperor was at an end for the
present; he had shown again that England would only forego her mediating
position on her own terms.
At the same time he
dealt an equal measure of rebuff to France. Before the conference at Guisnes Francis had done s6me work towards rebuilding the
ruined walls of Ardres on the- French frontier. After
the conference the work was continued till England resented it as an unfriendly
act. Francis was obliged to give way, and
order the building to
be stopped. Neither Francis nor Charles were allowed to presume on the
complacency of England, nor use their alliance with her to further their own
purposes.
The general aspect of
affairs was so dubious that it was necessary for England to be prepared for any
emergency, and first of all Scotland must be secured as far as possible. Since
the fall of James IY. at Flodden Field, Scotland had been internally unquiet.
Queen Margaret gave birth to a son a few months after her husband’s death, and,
to secure her position, took the unwise step of marrying the Earl of Angus. The
enemies of Angus and the national party in Scotland joined together to demand
that the Regency should be placed in firmer hands, and they summoned from
France the Duke of Albany, a son of the second son of James III., who had been
born in exile, and was French in all the traditions of his education. When
Albany came to Scotland as Regent, Queen Margaret and Angus were so assailed
that Margaret had to flee to England for refuge in 1515, leaving her son in
Albany’s care. She stayed in England till the middle of 1517, when she was
allowed to return to Scotland on condition that she took no part in public
affairs. About the same time Albany returned to France, somewhat weary of his
Scottish charge. By his alliance with Francis Henry contrived that Albany
should not return to Scotland; but he could not contrive to give his sister
Margaret the political wisdom which was needed to draw England and Scotland
nearer together. Margaret quarrelled with her husband
Angus, and only added another element of discord to those which previously
existed. The safest way for England to keep
Scotland helpless was
to encourage forays on the Border. The Warden of the Western Marches, Lord Dacre of Naworth, was admirably
adapted to work with Wolsey for this purpose. Without breaking the formal peace
which existed between the two nations, he developed a savage and systematic
warfare, waged in the shape of Border raids, which was purposely meant to devastate
the Scottish frontier, so as to prevent a serious invasion from the Scottish
side. Still Henry VIII. was most desirous to keep Scotland separate from
France; but the truce with Scotland expired in November 1520. Wolsey would
gladly have turned the truce into a perpetual peace; but Scotland still clung
to its French alliance, and all that Wolsey could achieve was a prolongation
of the truce till 1522. He did so, however, with the air of one who would have
preferred war; and Francis I. was induced to urge the Scots to sue for peace,
and accept as a favour what England was only too glad
to grant.
At the same time an
event occurred in England which showed in an unmistakable way the determination
of Henry to go his own way and allow no man to question it In April 1520 the
Duke of Buckingham, one of the wealthiest of the English nobles, was imprisoned
on an accusation of high treason. In May he was brought to trial before his
peers, was found guilty, and was executed. The charges against him were trivial
if true ; the witnesses were members of his household who bore him a grudge.
But the king heard their testimony in his Council, and committed the duke to
the Tower. None of the nobles of England dared differ from their imperious
master. If the king thought lit that Bucking
ham should die, they
would not run the risk of putting any obstacle in the way of the royal will.
Trials for treason under Henry YIII. were mere formal acts of registration of
a decision already formed.
The Duke of
Buckingham, no doubt, was a weak and foolish man, and may have done and said
many foolish things. He was in some sense justified in regarding himself as the
nearest heir to the English throne if Henry left no children to succeed him.
Henry had been married for many years, and as yet there was no surviving child
save the Princess Mary. It was unwise to talk about the succession to the Crown
after Henry’s death; it was criminal to disturb the minds of Englishmen who had
only so lately won the blessings of internal peace. If the Duke of Buckingham
had really done so, he would not be undeserving of punishment ; but the
evidence against him was slight, and its source was suspicious. No doubt
Buckingham was incautious, and made himself a mouthpiece of the discontent
felt by the nobles at the French alliance and their own exclusion from affairs.
No doubt he denounced Wolsey, who sent him a message that he might say what he
liked against himself, but warned him to beware what he said against the king.
It does not seem that Wolsey took any active part in the proceedings against
the Duke, but he did not do anything to save him. The matter was the king’s
matter, and as such it was regarded by all. The nobles, who probably agreed
with Buckingham’s opinions, were unanimous in pronouncing his guilt; and the
Duke of Norfolk, with tears streaming down his cheeks, condemned him to his
doom. The mass of the people were indifferent to his fate, and
were willing
that the king should be sole judge of the precautions necessary for his safety,
with which the internal peace and outward glory of England was entirely
identified. Charles and Francis stood aghast at Henry’s strong measures, and
were surprised that he could do things in such a high-handed manner with
impunity. If Henry intended to let the statesmen of Europe know that he was not
to be diverted from his course by fear of causing disorders at home he
thoroughly succeeded. The death of Buckingham was a warning that those who
crossed the king’s path and hoped to thwart his plans by petulant opposition
were playing a game which would only end in their own ruin.
Free from any fear of
opposition at home, Wolsey could now give his attention to his difficult task
abroad. Charles Y. had been crowned at Aachen, and talked of an expedition to
Rome to receive the imperial crown. Francis I. was preparing for a campaign to
assert the French claims on Milan. Meanwhile he wished to hamper Charles
without openly breaking the peace. He stirred up a band of discontented barons
to attack Luxembourg, and aided the claimant to the crown of Navarre to enter
his inheritance. War seemed now inevitable; but Wolsey remained true to his
principles, and urged upon both kings that they should submit their differences
to the mediation of England. Charles was busied with the revolt of the Spanish
towns, and was not unwilling to gain time. After a show of reluctance he
submitted to the English proposals; but Francis, rejoicing in the prospect of
success in Luxembourg and Navarre, refused on the ground that Charles was not
in earnest. Still Francis was afraid of incurring
England’s hostility,
and quailed before Wolsey’s threat that if France refused mediation, England
would be driven to side with the Emperor. In June 1521 he reluctantly assented
to a conference to be held at Calais, over which Wolsey should preside, and
decide between the pleas urged by representatives of the two hostile monarchs.
If Wolsey triumphed
at having reached his goal, his triumph was of short duration. He might display
himself as a mediator seeking to establish peace, but he knew that peace was
well-nigh impossible. While the negotiations were in progress for the
conference which was to resolve differences, events were tending to make war
inevitable. When Wolsey began to broach his project, Francis was desirous of
war and Charles was anxious to defer it; but Charles met with some success in
obtaining promises of help from Germany in the Diet of Worms, and when that was
over, he heard welcome news which reached him gradually from all sides. The
revolt of the Spanish towns was dying away; the aggressors in Luxembourg had
been repulsed; the troops of Spain had won signal successes in Navarre. His
embarrassments were certainly disappearing on all sides. More than this, Pope
Leo X., after long wavering, made up his mind to take a definite course. No
doubt he was sorely vexed to find that the position which he hankered after was
occupied by England; and if he were to step back into the politics of Europe,
he could not defer a decision much longer. He had wavered between an alliance
with France and Venice on the one side, or with the Emperor on the other. The
movement of Luther in Germany had been one of the questions for
settlement in the
Diet of Worms, and Luther had been silenced for a time. Leo awoke in some
degree to the gravity of the situation, and saw the advantage of making common
cause with Charles, whose help in Germany was needful. Accordingly he made a
secret treaty with the Emperor for mutual defence, and was anxious to draw
England to the same side. The religious question was beginning to be of ’importance,
and Francis I. was regarded as a favourer of
heretics, whereas Henry VIII. was strictly orthodox, was busy in suppressing
Lutheran opinions at home, and was preparing his book which should confute
Luther for ever.
Another circumstance
also greatly affected the attitude of Charles, the death of his minister Chifrvres, who had been his tutor in his youth, and
continued to exercise great influence over his actions. Charles was cold,
reserved, and ill-adapted to make friends. It was natural that one whom he had
trusted from his boyhood should sway his policy at the first. Chi^vres was a Burgundian, whose
life had been spent in saving Burgundy from French aggression, and the
continuance of this watchful care was his chief object till the last. His first
thought was for Burgundy, and to protect that he wished for peace with France
and opposed an adventurous policy. On his death in May 1521 Charles V. entered
on a new course of action. He felt himself for the first time his own master,
and took his responsibilities upon himself. He seems to have admitted to
himself that the advice of Chievres had not always
been wise, and he never allowed another minister to gain the influence Chievres had possessed. He contented
himself with
officials who might each represent some part of his dominions, and whose advice
he used in turns, but none of whom could claim to direct his policy as a whole.
Chief of these
officials was a Savoyard, Mercurino della Gattinara, whose diplomatic
skill was now of great service to the Emperor. Gattinara
was a man devoted to his master’s interests, and equal to Wolsey in resoluteness
and pertinacity. Hitherto Wolsey had had the strongest will amongst the statesmen
of Europe, and ha'd reaped all the advantages of his
strength. In Gattinara he met with an opponent who
was in many ways his match. It is true that Gattinara
had notWolsey’s genius, and was not capable of
Wolsey’s far-reaching schemes; but he had a keen eye to the interests of the
moment, and could neither be baffled by finesse nor overborne by menaces. His
was the hand that first checked Wolsey’s victorious career.
So it was that
through a combination of causes the prospects of peace suddenly darkened just
as Wolsey was preparing to stand forward as the mediator of Europe. Doubtless
he hoped, when first he put forward the project of a conference, that it might
be the means of restoring his original design of 1518, a European peace under
the guarantee of England. Since that had broken down he had been striving to
maintain England’s influence by separate alliances; he hoped in the conference
to use this position in the interests of peace. But first of all the alliance
with the Emperor must be made closer, and the Emperor showed signs of demanding
that this closer alliance should be purchased by a breach with France. If war
was inevitable, England had
most to gain by an
alliance with Charles, to whom its friendship could offer substantial
advantages, as England, in case of war, could secure to Charles the means of
communicating between the Netherlands and Spain, which would be cat off if
France were hostile and the Channel were barred by English ships. Moreover the
prospect of a marriage between Charles and the Princess Mary was naturally
gratifying to Henry; while English industry would suffer from any breach of
trading relations with the Netherlands, and the notion of war with France was
still popular with the English.
So Wolsey started for
Calais at the beginning of August with the intention of strengthening England’s
alliance with the Emperor, that thereby England’s influence might be more
powerful. Charles on the other hand was resolved on war; he did not wish for
peace by England’s mediation, but he wished to draw England definitely into the
league between himself and the Pope against France. Wolsey knew that much
depended on his own cleverness, and nerved himself for the greatest caution, as
Francis was beginning to be suspicious of the preparations of Charles, and the
attitude of affairs was not promising for a pacific mediation.
This became obvious
at the first interview of Wolsey with the imperial envoys, foremost amongst
whom was Gattinara. They were commissioned to treat
about the marriage of Charles with the Princess Mary, and about a secret
undertaking for war against France ; but their instructions contained nothing
tending to peace. The French envoys were more pacific, as war was not popular
in France.
On 7th August the
conference was opened under Wolsey’s presidency; but Gattinara
did nothing save dwell upon the grievances of his master against France; he
maintained that France had been the aggressor in breaking the existing treaty;
he had no powers to negotiate peace or even a truce, but demanded England’s
help, which had been promised to the party first aggrieved. The French retorted
in the same strain, but it was clear that they were not averse to peace, and
were willing to trust to Wolsey’s mediation. Wolsey saw that he could make
little out of Gattinara. He intended to visit the
Emperor, who had come to Bruges for the purpose, as soon as he had settled with
the imperial envoys the preliminaries of an alliance; now he saw that the only
hope of continuing the conference lay in winning from Charles better terms than
the stubborn Gattinara1 would concede. So he begged the French
envoys to remain in Calais while he visited the Emperor and arranged with him
personally for a truce. As the French were desirous of peace, they consented.
On 16th August Wolsey
entered Bruges in royal state, with a retinue of 1000 horsemen. Charles came to
the city gate to meet him, and received him almost as an equal. Wolsey did not
dismount from his horse, but received Charles’s embrace seated. He was given
rooms in Charles’s palace, and the next day at church Charles sat by Wolsey’s
side and shared the same kneeling stool with him. Their private conferences
dealt solely with the accord between England and the Emperor. Wolsey saw that
it was useless to urge directly the cause of peace, and trusted to use for this
purpose the advantages which his alliance would give.
He succeeded,
however, in considerably modifying the terms which had been first proposed. He
diminished the amount of dowry which Mary was to receive on her marriage, and
put off her voyage to the Emperor till she should reach the age of twelve,
instead of seven, which was first demanded. Similarly he put off the period
when England should declare war against France till the spring of 1523, though
he agreed that if war was being waged between Francis and Charles in November,
England should send some help to Charles. Thus he still preserved England’s
freedom of action, and deferred a rupture with France. Every
one thought that many things might happen in the next few months, and
that England was pledged to little. Further, Wolsey guarded the pecuniary
interests of Henry by insisting that if France ceased to pay its instalments for the purchase of Toumai,
the Emperor should make good the loss. He also stipulated that the treaty
should be kept a profound secret, so that the proceedings of the conference
should still go on.
Wolsey was impressed
by Charles, and gave a true description of his character to Henry: “ For his
age he is very wise and understanding his affairs, right cold and temperate in
speech, with assured manner, couching his words right well and to good purpose
when he doth speak.” We do not know what was Charles’s private opinion of
Wolsey. He can scarcely have relished Wolsey’s lofty manner, for Wolsey bore
himself with all the dignity of a representative of his king. Thus, the King of
Denmark, Charles’s brother-in-law, was in Bruges, and sought an interview with
Wolsey, who answered that it was unbecoming for him to receive in
his
chamber any king to whom he was not commissioned ; if the King of Denmark
wished to speak with him, let him meet him, as though by accident, in the
garden of the palace. -
"When the
provisions of the treaty had been drafted, Wolsey set out for Calais on 26th
August, and was honourably escorted out of Bruges by
the Emperor himself. On his return the business of the conference began, and
was dragged on through three weary months. The imperial envoys naturally saw
nothing to be gained by the conference except keeping open the quarrel with
France till November, when Henry was bound to send help to the Emperor if peace
were not made. Wolsey remained true to his two principles : care for English
interests, and a desire for peace. He secured protection for the fishery of the
Channel in case of war, and he cautiously strove to lead up both parties to see
their advantage in making a truce if they could not agree upon a peace. It was
inevitable that these endeavours should bring on
Wolsey the suspicions of both. The French guessed something of the secret
treaty from the warlike appearance which England began to assume, and cried out
that they were being deceived. The imperial envoys could not understand how one
who had just signed a treaty with their master, could throw obstacles * in their
way and pursue a mediating policy of his own. Really both sides were only
engaged in gaining time, and their attention was more fixed upon events in the
field than on any serious project of agreement.
When in the middle of
September the French arms won some successes, Gattinara
showed himself inclined to negotiate for a truce. The conference, which
hitherto
had been merely
illusory, suddenly became real, and Wolsey’s wisdom in bargaining that England
should not declare war against France till the spring of 1523 became apparent.
He could urge on Gattinara that it would be wise to
agree to a truce till that period was reached; then all would be
straightforward. So Wolsey adjourned the public sittings of the conference,
and negotiated privately with the two parties. The French saw in a year’s truce
only a means of allowing the Emperor to prepare for war, and demanded a
substantial truce for ten years. Wolsey used all his skill to bring about an
agreement, and induced Gattinara to accept a truce
for eighteen months, and the French to reduce their demands to four years. But
Charles raised a new difficulty, and claimed that all conquests made in the war
should be given up. The only conquest was Fontarabia,
on the border of Navarre, which was still occupied by the French. Francis not
unnaturally declined to part with it solely to obtain a brief truce, as
Charles had no equivalent to restore. Wolsey used every argument to induce the
Emperor to withdraw his claim; but he was obstinate, and the conference came to
an end. It is true that Wolsey tried to keep up appearances by concluding a
truce for a month, that the Emperor might go to Spain and consult his subjects
about the surrender of Fontarabia.
So Wolsey departed
from Calais on 25th November, disappointed and worn out. As he wrote himself,
“I have been so sore tempested in mind by the untowardness of the chancellors
and orators on every side, putting so many difficulties and obstacles to
condescend to any reasonable conditions of truce and abstinence of war,
that night nor day I
could have no quietness nor rest.” There is no doubt that Wolsey wrote what he
felt. He had laboured hard for peace, and had failed.
If he hoped that the labours of the conference might
still be continued by his diplomacy in England, that hope was destroyed before
he reached London. On 1st December the imperial troops captured Tournai, which they had been for some time besieging, and
news came from Italy that Milan also had fallen before the forces of the
Emperor and the Pope. Charles had seemed to Wolsey unreasonable in his
obstinacy. He had refused a truce which he had every motive of prudence for
welcoming; and now events proved that he was justified. Not only had Francis
been foiled in his attempts to embarrass his rival, but success had followed
the first steps which Charles had taken to retaliate. The time for diplomacy
was past, and the quarrel must be decided by the sword.
So Wolsey saw his
great designs overthrown. He was a peace minister because he knew that England
had nothing to gain from war. He had striven to keep the peace of Europe by
means of England’s mediation, and his efforts had been so far successful as to
give England the first place in the counsels of Europe. But Wolsey hoped more
from diplomacy than, diplomacy could do. Advice and influence can do something
to check the outbreak of war when war is not very seriously designed; but in
proportion as great interests are concerned, attempts at mediation are useless
unless they are backed by force. England was not prepared for war, and had no
troops by whom she could pretend to enforce her counsels. When the two rival
powers began
to be in earnest,
they admitted England’s mediation only as a means of involving her in their
quarrel. Wolsey was only the first of a long series of English ministers who
have met with the same disappointment from the same reason. England in Wolsey’s
days had the same sort of interest in the affairs of the Continent as she has
had ever since. Wolsey first taught her to develop that interest by pacific
counsels, and so long as that has been possible, England has been powerful. But
when a crisis comes England has ever been slow to recognise
its inevitableness; and her habit of hoping against hope for peace has placed
her in an undignified attitude for a time, has drawn upon her reproaches for
duplicity, and has involved her in war against her will.
This was now the net
result of Wolsey’s endeavours, a result which he
clearly perceived. His efforts of mediation at Calais had been entirely his
own, and he could confide to no one his regret and his disappointment. Henry
was resolved on war when Wolsey first set forth, and if Wolsey had succeeded in
making a truce, the credit would have been entirely his own. He allowed Henry
to think that the conference at Calais was merely a pretext to gain time for
military preparations; if a truce had been made he would have put it down to
the force of circumstances; as his efforts for a truce had failed, he could
take credit that he had done all in his power to establish the king’s
reputation throughout Christendom, and had fixed the blame on those who would
not follow his advice. It is a mark of Wolsey’s conspicuous skill that he never
forgot his actual position, and never was so entirely absorbed in his own
plans as not to leave himself a ready
means for retreat.
His schemes had failed; but he could still take credit for having furthered
other ends which were contrary to his own. Henry was well contented with the
results of Wolsey’s mission, and showed his satisfaction in the customary way
of increasing Wolsey’s revenues at the expense of the Church. The death was
announced of the Abbot of St. Albans, and the king, in answer to Wolsey’s
request, ordered the monks to take Wolsey for their abbot, saying, “ My lord cardinal
has sustained many charges in this his voyage, and hath expended £10,000.” So
kings were served, and so they recompensed their servants.
CHAPTER VI
THE IMPERIAL ALLIANCE
1521-1523
The failure of Wolsey’s plans was due to the diplomacy of Gattinara and to the obstinacy of Charles V., who showed at
the end of the negotiations at Calais an unexpected readiness to appreciate
his obligations , towards his dominions as a whole, by refusing to abandon Fontarabia lest thereby he should irritate his Spanish subjects.
It was this capacity for large consideration that gave Charles V. his power in
the future; his motives were hard to discover, but they always rested on a view
of his entire obligations, and were dictated by reasons known only to himself.
Even Wolsey did not understand the Emperor’s motives, which seemed to him
entirely foolish. He allowed himself to take up a haughty position, which
deeply offended Charles, who exclaimed angrily, “This cardinal will do
everything his own way, and treats me as though I were a prisoner.” Charles
treasured up his resentment, of which Wolsey was entirely unconscious, and was
determined not to allow so masterful a spirit to become more powerful.
He soon had an
opportunity of acting on this deter-
urination, as the
unexpected death of Pope Leo X. on 1st December naturally awakened hopes in
Wolsey’s breast. It was impossible that the foremost statesman in Europe should
not have had the legitimate aspiration of reaching the highest office to which
he could attain. But though Wolsey was ready when the opportunity came to press
his own claims with vigour, it cannot be said with
fairness that his previous policy had been in any way directed to that end, or
that he had swerved in the least from his own path to
further his chances for the papal office. Indeed he had no reason for so doing,
as Leo was only forty-six years old when he died, and his death was entirely
unforeseen. Moreover, we know that when the Spanish envoys offered Wolsey the
Emperor’s help towards the Papacy in 1520, Wolsey refused the offer; since
then Charles at Bruges had repeated the offer without being asked. Now that a
vacancy had arisen, it was natural for Wolsey to attach some weight to this
promise, and Henry expressed himself warmly in favour
of Wolsey’s election, and urged his imperial ally to work by all. means for
that end. He sent to Eome his favourite
secretary Pace to further it by pressing representations to the cardinals.
It does not seem that
Wolsey was very sanguine in his expectations of being elected. Leo X. had died
at a moment of great importance for Charles V.; in fact his death had been
brought about by the imprudence which he showed in manifesting his delight at
the success of the imperial arms against Milan, and his prospect of the overthrow
of France. It was necessary for Charles that a Pope should be elected who would
hold to Leo’s policy, and would continue the alliance with England. The man
who held in his hand
the threads of Leo X.’s numerous intrigues was his cousin, Cardinal Giulio de’ Medioi, and Wolsey
admitted the advantages to be gained by his election. Wolsey at once declared
that he submitted his candidature to the decision of Henry VIII. and the
Emperor; if they thought that he was the best person to promote their interests
he would not shrink from the labour; but he
agreed that if his candidature were not likely to be acceptable to the
cardinals, the two monarchs should unite in favour of
Cardinal Medici. Charles’s ambassador wrote him that it would be well to act
carefully, as Wolsey was watching to see how much faith he could put in the
Emperor’s protestations of goodwill.
So Charles was
prepared, and acted with ambiguous caution. He put off communicating with Henry
as long as he could; he regretted that he was in the Netherlands instead of
Germany, whence he could have made his influence felt in Eome;
he secretly ordered his ambassador in Eome to press
for the election of Cardinal Medici, but gave him no definite instructions
about any one else; finally he wrote a warm letter in
favour of Wolsey, which he either never sent at all,
or sent too late to be of any use, but which served as an enclosure to satisfy
Henry VIII. Wolsey was not deceived by this, and knew how papal elections might
be influenced. He told the Spanish ambassador that, if his master were in
earnest, he should order his troops to advance against Eome,
and should commaud the cardinals to elect his
nominee; he offered to provide 100,000 ducats to cover the expenses of such
action. When it came to the point Wolsey was a very practical politician, and
was under
no
illusions about the fair pretences of free choice
which surrounded a papal election. He treated it as a matter to be settled by
pressure from outside, according to the will of the strongest. There is something
revoltingly cynical in this proposal. No doubt many men thought like Wolsey,
but no one else would have had the boldness to speak out. Wolsey’s
outspokenness was of no avail at the time, but it bore fruits afterwards. He
taught Henry VIII. to conceive the possibility of a short' way of dealing with
refractory popes. He confirmed his willing pupil in the belief that all things
may be achieved by the resolute will of one who rises above prejudice and faces
the world as it is. When he fell he must have recognised
that it was himself who trained the arm which smote him. •
In spite of Wolsey’s
advice Charles did not allow Spanish influence to be unduly felt in the
proceedings of the conclave. Rarely had the cardinals been more undecided, and
when they went into the conclave on 27th December, it was said that every one
of them was a candidate for the Papacy. The first point was to exclude Cardinal
Medici, and it could be plausibly urged that it was dangerous to elect two
successive popes from the same family. Medici’s opponents succeeded in making
his election impossible, but could not agree upon a candidate of their own;
while Medici tried to bring about the election of some one
who would be favourable to the Emperor. At last in
weariness the cardinals turned their thoughts to some one
who was not present. Wolsey was proposed, and received seven votes; but Medici
was waiting his time, and put forward Cardinal Adrian of Utrecht, who had been
Charles’s tutor,
and was then
governing Spain in his master’s name. Both parties agreed on him, chiefly
because he was personally unknown to any of the cardinals, had given no
offence, was well advanced in years, and was reckoned to be of a quiet
disposition, so that every one had hopes of guiding
his counsels. It was clear that the imperialists were strongest in the
conclave, and of all the imperialist candidates Adrian was the least offensive
to the French. One thing is quite clear, that Charles Y. had not the least
intention of helping Wolsey.
Wolsey probably knew
this well enough, and was not disappointed. He bore the Emperor no ill-will for
his lukewarmness; indeed he had no ground for
expecting anything else. Wolsey’s aim was not the same as that of Charles, and
Charles had had sufficient opportunity to discover the difference between them.
Probably Wolsey saw that the alliance between England and the Emperor would not
be of long duration, as there was no real identity of interests. Henry VIIL was
dazzled for a moment with the prospect of asserting the English claims on
France; he was glad to find himself at one with his queen, who was overjoyed at
the prospect of a family alliance with her own beloved land of Spain. The
English nobles rejoiced at an opportunity to display their prowess, and hoped
in time of war to recover the influence and position of which they had been
deprived by an upstart priest. The sentiment of hostility to France was still
strong amongst the English people, and the allurements of a spirited foreign
policy were many. But as a matter of fact England was ill prepared for war; and
though the people might throw up their caps at first, they would not long
consent to pay for a war
which brought them no
profits. And the profits were not likely to be great, for Charles had no wish
to see England’s importance increased. He desired only English help to achieve
his own purposes, and was no more trustworthy as an ally than had been his
grandfather Ferdinand.
However, war had been
agreed upon, and all that Wolsey could do was to try and put off its declaration
until he had secured sufficient assurance that English money was not to be
spent to no purpose. Charles V., who was in sore straits for money, asked for a
loan from England, to which Wolsey answered that England could not declare war
till the loan was repaid. He insisted that no declaration of war should be made
till the Emperor had fulfilled his promise to pay a visit to England, a
promise which Charles’s want of money rendered him unable for some time to
keep.
But however much
Wolsey might try to put off the declaration of war, it was inevitable. Francis
could not be expected, for all Wolsey’s fine promises, to continue his
payments for Tournai to so doubtful an ally as Henry,
nor could he resist from crippling England as far as he could. The Duke of
Albany went back to Scotland ; and in the .beginning of May Francis ordered the
seizure of goods lying at Bordeaux for shipment to England. This led to
retaliation on the part of England, and war was declared against France on 28th
May 1522.
This coincided with
the visit of Charles Y. to London, where he was magnificently entertained for a
month, while the treaty of alliance was being finally brought into shape by
Wolsey and Gattinara. Wolsey contented
himself with
providing that the alliance did not go further than had been agreed at Bruges,
and that England’s interests were secured by an undertaking from Charles that
he would pay the loss which Henry VIII. sustained by the withdrawal of the
French instalments for Tournai.
When the treaty was signed it was Wolsey who, as papal legate, submitted both
princes to ecclesiastical censures in case of a breach of its provisions.
Moreover, Charles granted Wolsey a pension of 9000 crowns in compensation for
his loss from Tournai, and renewed his empty promise
of raising him to the Papacy.
It was one thing to
declare war and another to carry it on with good effect. England, in spite of
all the delays which Wolsey had contrived to interpose, was still unprepared.
It was late in the autumn before forces could be put in the field, and the
troops of Charles V. were too few for a joint undertaking of any importance.
The allies contented themselves with invading Picardy, where they committed
useless atrocities, burning houses, devastating the country, and working all
the mischief that they could. They did not advance into the centre
of France, and no army met them in the field; in the middle of October they
retired ingloriously. It is hard to discover the purpose of such an expedition.
The damage done was not enough to weaken France materially, and such a display
of barbarity was ill suited to win the French people to favour
Henry VIII.’s claim to be their rightful lord. If Francis I. had been unpopular
before, he was now raised to the position of a national leader whose help was
necessary for the protection of his subjects.
The futile result of
this expedition caused mutual recriminations between the new allies. The
imperialists complained that the English had come too late; the English
answered that they had not been properly supported. There were no signs of
mutual confidence; and the two ministers, Wolsey and Gattinara,
were avowed enemies, and did not conceal their hostility. The alliance with the
Emperor did not show signs of prospering from the beginning.
The proceedings of
the Earl of Surrey and the direction of the campaign were not Wolsey’s
concern. He was employed nearer home, in keeping a watchful eye on Scotland,
which threatened to be a hindrance to Henry VIII.’s great undertakings abroad.
The return of the Duke of Albany in December 1521 was a direct threat of war.
Albany was nominally regent, but had found his office troublesome, and had
preferred to spend the last five years in the gaieties of the French Court
rather than airiong the rugged nobles of Scotland.
They were years when France was at peace with England and had little interest
in Scottish affairs; so Queen Margaret might quarrel with her husband at
leisure, while the Scottish lords distributed themselves between the two
parties as suited them best. But when war between France and England was
approaching, the Duke of Albany was sent back by Francis I. to his post as
agent for France in Scottish affairs. Queen Margaret welcomed him with joy,
hoping that he would further her plan of gaining a divorce from the Earl of
Angus. Before this union of forces the English party in Scotland was powerless.
It was in vain that Henry VIII. tried by menaces to influence either his sister
or the Scottish lords. As soon
as the English forces
sailed for France Albany prepared to invade England.
It was lucky for
Henry VIII. that he was well served on the Borders by Lord Dacre
of Naworth, who managed to show the Scots the measure
of Albany’s incapacity. Dacre began negotiations with
Albany, to save time; and when, in September, the Scottish forces passed the
Border, Albany was willing to make a truce. As a matter of fact, England was
totally unprepared to repel an invasion, and Albany might have dictated his own
terms. But Dacre, in Carlisle, which he could not defend,
maintained his courage, and showed no signs of fear. He managed to blind Albany
to the real state of affairs, and kept him from approaching to the crumbling
walls of Carlisle. He advanced to the Debatable Land to meet him, and “with a
high voice” demanded the reason of his coming; and the parley thus begun ended
in the conclusion of a month’s truce. Wolsey was overjoyed at this result, but
yet found it necessary to intercede with the king for Dacre’s
pardon, as he had no authority to make terms with the enemy; and Dacre was not only forgiven, but thanked. This futile end
to an expedition for which 80,000 soldiers had been raised ruined Albany’s
influence, and he again retired to France at the end of October.
Wolsey at once saw
the risk which England had run. A successful invasion on the part of the Scots
would have been a severe blow to England’s military reputation; and Wolsey
determined to be secure on the Scottish side for the future. The Earl of
Surrey, on his return from his expedition in France, was put in charge of the defences of the Border, and everything was done
to humour Queen Margaret, and convince her that she had more
to gain from the favour of her brother than from the
help of the Duke of Albany. Moreover, Wolsey, already convinced of the uselessness
of the war against France, was still ready to gain from it all that he could,
and strove to use the threat of danger from Scotland as a means of withdrawing
from war and gaining a signal triumph. Francis I., unable to defend himself,
tried to separate his enemies, and turned to Charles Y. with offers of a truce.
When this was refused, he repeated his proposals to England, and Wolsey saw his
opportunity. He represented to Charles that so long as England was menaced by
Scotland she could send little effective help abroad; if Scotland were crushed
she would be free again. He suggested that the Emperor had little to win by
military enterprises undertaken with such slight preparation as the last
campaign; would he not make truce for a year, not comprehending the realm of
Scotland?
The suggestion was
almost too palpable. Gattinara answered that Henry
wished to use his forces for his private advantage, and neglected the common
interest of the alliance. Again bitter complaints were made of Wolsey’s lukewarmness. Again the two allies jealously watched each
other lest either should gain an advantage by making a separate alliance with
France. And while they were thus engaged the common enemy of Christendom was
advancing, and Rhodes fell before the Turkish arms. It was in vain that Adrian
YI. lamented and wept; in vain he implored for succours.
Fair promises alone were given him. Europe was too much intent on the duel
between Francis and Charles to think
seriously
of anything else. The entreaties of the Pope were only regarded by all parties
as a good means of enabling them to throw a decent veil over any measure which
their own interests might prompt. They might declare that it was taken for the
sake of the holy war; they might claim that they had acted from a desire to fulfil the Pope’s behest. .
So things stood in
the beginning of 1523, when an unexpected event revived the military spirit of
Henry VIII., and brought the two half-hearted allies once more closely
together, by the prospect which it afforded of striking a deadly blow at
France. The chief of the nobles of France, the sole survivor of the great
feudatories, the Constable of Bourbon, was most unwisely affronted by Francis
I., at a time when he needed to rally all his subjects round him. Not only was
Bourbon affronted, but also a lawsuit was instituted against him, which
threatened to deprive him of the greater part of his possessions. Bourbon, who
could bring into the field 6000 men, did not find his patriotism strong enough
to endure this wrong. He opened up secret negotiations with Charles, who
disclosed the matter to Henry. Henry’s ambition was at once fired. He saw
Francis I., hopelessly weakened by a defection of the chief nobles, incapable
of withstanding an attack upon the interior of his land, so that the English
troops might conquer the old provinces which England still claimed, and victory
might place upon his head the crown of France.
Wolsey was not misled
by this fantastic prospect, but as a campaign was imminent, took all the
precautions he could that it should be as little costly as possible to England,
and that Charles should bear his full share of
the expense. He
demanded, moreover, that Bourbon should acknowledge Henry VIII. as the rightful
King of France—a demand which was by no means acceptable to Charles. He sent an
envoy of his own to confer with Bourbon, but his envoy was delayed on the way,
so that the agreement was framed in the imperial interests alone, and the
demands of Henry were little heeded. The agreement was that Bourbon should
receive the hand of one of the Emperor’s sisters, and should receive a subsidy
of 200,000 crowns to be paid equally by Henry and Charles; the question of the
recognition of Henry as rightful King of France was to be left to the decision
of the Emperor.
The plan of the
campaign was quickly settled. Charles, with 20,000 men, was to advance into
Guienne ; Henry, with 15,000 English, supported by 6000 Nether- landers, was to
advance through Picardy; 10,000 Germans were to advance through Burgundy; and
Bourbon was to head a body of dissatisfied nobles of France. It was an
excellent plan on paper; and, indeed, the position of France seemed hopeless
enough. Francis I. had squandered his people’s money, and was exceedingly
unpopular; Wolsey’s diplomacy had helped to win over the Swiss to the imperial
alliance; and the indefatigable secretary Pace had been sent to Venice to
detach the republic from its connexion with France.
It was believed that Wolsey was jealous of Pace’s influence with Henry VIII.,
and contrived to keep him employed on embassies which removed him from the
Court. At all events, he certainly kept him busily employed till his health
gave way under the excessive pressure. To lend greater weight to Pace’s
arguments, Wolsey descended
to an act of overbearing
insolence. Some Venetian galleys trading with Flanders put in at Plymouth
during a storm; they were laid under an embargo, and were detained on many
flimsy pretexts. It was in vain that the Venetian ambassador remonstrated;
Wolsey always had a plausible answer. Probably he wished to show Venice that
its trading interests required the friendship of England. At all events the
galleys were not released till Venice was on the point of joining the imperial
alliance. Even then Wolsey had the meanness to carry off a couple of guns from
each vessel, and Venice had to make a present of them to the English king with
as much grace as the circumstances allowed. This little incident certainly
shows Wolsey’s conduct at its worst, and confirms the impression of contemporaries,
that he had to some degree the insolence of an upstart, and sometimes overrode
the weak in a way to leave behind a bitter feeling of resentment.
However, Venice
joined the Emperor, and Pope Adrian VI., who had pursued hitherto a policy of
pacification, was at last overborne by the pressure of England and the Emperor,
so that he entered into a defensive league against France. Thus France was
entirely isolated. Distrusted at home and unbefriended
abroad, she seemed to be a prey to her enemies; and Henry’s hopes rose so high
that he gleefully looked forward to being recognised
as “ governor of France,” and that “ they should by this means make a way for
him as King Richard did for his father.” Wiser men shook their heads at the
king’s infatuation. “I pray God,” wrote More to Wolsey, “if it be good for his
Grace and for this realm that then it may prove
so; and else in the
stead thereof I pray God send his grace an honourable
and profitable peace.”
The spirit that
breathes through this prayer is not a martial spirit, and no doubt More’s
feelings represented those of Wolsey, who, though carried away by the king’s
military zeal, had little hopes of any great success, and such hopes as he had
were rapidly destroyed. The campaign did not begin till the end of September;
the contingent from the Netherlands was late in appearing and was ill supplied
with food. Till the last moment Wolsey urged, as the first object of the
campaign, the siege of Boulogne, which, if successful, would have given England
a second stronghold on the French coast; but Wolsey was overruled; and an
expedition into the interior of France was preferred. It was a repetition of
the raid made in the last year, and was equally futile. The army advanced to Montdidier, and expected tidings of its confederate; but
nothing was to' be heard of Bourbon; his lanzknechts
began to devastate France and then disbanded. The army of Charles V. contented
itself with taking Fontarabia, and did not co-operate
with the English forces. After the capture of Montdidier
the troops, who were attacked by sickness, and had difficulty in finding
provisions, withdrew to the coast; and the Duke of Suffolk brought back his
costly army without having obtained anything of service to England. This
expedition, which was to do so much, was a total failure—there was positively
nothing to be shown in return for all the money spent.
Again the wisdom of
Wolsey’s policy was fully justified. He was right in thinking that England had
neither troops nor
generals who were sufficient for an expedition on the Continent, where there
was nothing tangible to be gained. So long as England was a neutral and
mediating power she could pursue her own interests; but her threats were more
efficacious than her performances. She could not conquer unaided, and her
allies had no intention of allowing her to win more than empty glory. Even this
had been denied in the last campaigns. England had incurred debts which her
people could ill afford to pay, and had only lowered her reputation by a
display of military incompetence. Moreover, her expedition against France
involved her in the usual difficulties on the side of Scotland. Again there was
a devastating war along the Border; again the Duke of Albany was sent from
France and raised an army for the invasion of England. But this time Wolsey had
taken his precautions, and the Earl of Surrey was ready to march against him.
When in November Albany crossed the Tweed and besieged the Castle of Wark, Surrey took the field, and again Albany showed his
incapacity as a leader. He retired before Surrey’s advance, and wished to
retire to France, but was prevented by the Scottish lords. Again the Border
raids went on with their merciless slaughter and plunder, amidst which was
developed the sternness and severity which still mark the character of the
northern folk
Still, though the
Scots might be defeated in the field, their defeat and suffering only served to
strengthen the spirit of national independence. The subjugation of Scotland to
England was hindered, not helped, by the alliance with the Emperor, which only
drew Scotland
nearer to France, and
kept alive the old feeling of hostility. It was hard to see what England had to
gain from the imperial alliance, and events soon proved that Charles V. pursued
his own interests without much thought of the wishes of Henry VIII.
On 14th September
died Pope Adrian VI., a weary and disappointed man. Again there was a prospect
of Wolsey’s election to the papacy; again it might be seen how much Charles V.
would do for his English ally. Wolsey had little hope of his good offices, and
was his own negotiator in the matter. He was not sanguine about his prospects
of success, as he knew that Cardinal Medici was powerful in Eome;
and the disasters of the pontificate of Adrian VI. led the cardinals to wish
for a return to the old policy of Leo X., of which Medici held the threads. So
two letters were sent to the English representatives in Eome,
one in behalf of Wolsey, the other in behalf of Medici. If things were going
for Medici, Wolsey was not to be pressed; only in case of a disagreement was
Wolsey to be put forward, and then no effort was to be spared; money was to be
of no object, as Henry would make good any promises made on his behalf to
secure Wolsey’s election.
The conclave was
protracted; it sat from 1st October to 17 th
November, and there was ample opportunity for Charles to have made his
influence felt in Wolsey’s behalf. He professed to Henry that he was doing so.
He wrote a letter recommending Wolsey to his envoy in Eome,
and then gave orders that the courier who carried the letter should be detained
on the way. Really his influence was being used for Medici,
and though a strong
party in the conclave opposed Medici’s election, it does not appear that Wolsey
was ever put forward as a competitor. The cardinals would hear nothing of a
foreigner, and the stubbornness of Medici’s party was at length rewarded by his
election. There is no trace that Wolsey was keenly disappointed at this result.
In announcing it to Henry VIII., he wrote, “For my part, as I take God to
record, I am more joyous thereof than if it had fortuned upon my person,
knowing his excellent qualities most meet for the same, and how great and sure
a friend your Grace and the Emperor be like to have of him, and I so good a
father.”
Few popes came to
their office amid greater expectations, and few more entirely disappointed
them than did Guilio de’ Medici. Clement VII., whose
election Charles, Henry, and Wolsey united in greeting with joy, suffered in a
brief space entire humiliation at the hands of Charles, caused the downfall of
Wolsey, and drove Henry to sever the bond between the English Church and the
Holy See. It is impossible not to think how different would have been the
course of events if Wolsey had presided over the destinies of the Church.
CHAPTER VII
RENEWAL OF PEACE
1523-1527
The events of the year 1523 had practically made an end of
the imperial alliance. Henry VIII. was not in a position to go to war again,
and his confidence in Charles V.’s good intentions towards him was dispelled.
Charles and Francis had had enough of war, and both of them secretly desired
peace, but neither would make the first move towards it. Wolsey watched their
movements keenly, and strove that English interests should not be entirely
sacrificed in the pacification which seemed imminent. He strove to induce
Charles to allow proposals of peace to proceed from England, which should
arbitrate on the differences between him and Francis. He urged that in any
negotiations which Charles himself undertook he was bound to consider how
Henry could be recompensed for his losses. Moreover, he secretly opened up
negotiations of his own with the French Court, and used the imperial alliance
as a means to heighten England’s value to France.
The more Wolsey
watched events the more he became convinced that the best thing was to make a
separate peace with
France, yet in such a way as to avoid an open breach with the Emperor. There
were other reasons besides the failure of military expeditions, and the
distrust in any good result from their continuance, which impelled Wolsey to a
pacific policy. He knew only too well that war was impossible, and that the
country could not bear the continued drain on its resources. If Henry VII. had
developed the royal power by a parsimony which enabled him to be free from
parliamentary control, Henry VIH had dazzled his people by the splendour of royalty, and had displayed his magnificence to
such an extent that Englishmen were beginning to doubt if they could afford
much longer to be so important, or rather if England’s importance in
Continental affairs were worth all the money that it cost. Of late years the
weight of taxation had become oppressive, and the expenses of the last campaign
were difficult to meet.
There was no
difference between the national revenue and the royal revenue in Wolsey’s days.
The king took all the money he could get, and spent it as he thought good ; if
he went to war he expected his people to pay for it. In an ordinary way the
king was well provided for by his feudal dues and the proceeds of customs,
tonnage and poundage, and the tax on wool, wool-fells, and leather. When
extraordinary expenses were incurred Parliament was summoned, and granted
taxes to the king. Their vote was reckoned on an old assessment of tenths and
fifteenths of the value of chattels possessed by the baronage and the commons;
and when Parliament made this grant the clergy in their convocation granted a
tenth of clerical incomes. The value of
a tenth and fifteenth
was £30,000; of a clerical tenth £10,000; so that the usual grant in case of an
emergency- amounted to £40,000 from the whole realm. For his expedition of 1513
Henry obtained a vote of two tenths and fifteenths, besides a subsidy of a
graduated income and property tax which was estimated to produce £160,000, and
this had to be supplemented by a further grant of tenths and fifteenths in
1515.
It was in 1515 that
Wolsey became Chancellor, and with that office assumed the entire
responsibility for all affairs of state. He managed to introduce some order
into the finances, and during the years of pacific diplomacy things went
tolerably well. But the French expeditions were costly, and in April 1523
Parliament had to be summoned to pay the king’s debts. The war against France
was popular, and men were willing to contribute.
So on 15th April
Henry VIII. opened Parliament, and Tunstal, Bishop of
London, delivered the usual oration in praise of the king and grief over the
evils of the time. The Commons departed, and elected as their Speaker Sir
Thomas More, who had already abandoned the quiet paths of literature for the
stormy sea of politics. The king’s assent was given in the usual manner to his
appointment, and the session was adjourned. The Commons doubtless began to
take financial matters under their consideration, but it was thought desirable
that they should have a definite statement of the national needs. On 29th April
Wolsey went to the House, and after urging the importance of the interests at
stake in the war, proposed a subsidy of £800,000, to be raised according to an
old method, by a tax of four
shillings in the
pound on all goods and lands. Next day there was much debate on this proposal;
it was urged that the sudden withdrawal of so large an amount of ready money
would seriously affect the currency, and was indeed almost impossible. A
committee was appointed to represent to Wolsey that this was the sense of the
House, and beg him to induce the king to moderate his demands. Wolsey answered
that he would rather have his tongue pulled out with red-hot pincers than carry
such a message to the king.
The Commons in a
melancholy mood renewed their debate till Wolsey entered the House and desired
to reason with those who opposed his demands. On this Sir Thomas More, as
Speaker, defended the privilege of the House by saying, “That it was the order
of that House to hear and not to reason save among themselves.” Whereupon
Wolsey was obliged to content himself with answering such objections as had
come to his ear. He argued, it would seem with vigour,
that the country was much richer than they thought, and he told them some
unpleasant truths, which came with ill grace from himself, about the prevalence
of luxury. After his departure the debate continued till the House agreed to
grant two shillings in the pound on all incomes of £20 a year and upwards; one
shilling on all between £20 and £2 ; and fourpence on
all incomes under £2 ; this payment to be extended over two years. This was
increased by a county member, who said, “Let us gentlemen of £50 a year and
upwards give the king of our lands a shilling in the pound, to be paid in two
years.” The borough members stood aloof, and allowed the landholders to tax
themselves an extra
shilling in the pound
if they chose to do so. This was voted on 21st May, and Parliament was
prorogued till 10th June. Meanwhile popular feeling was greatly moved by rumours of an unprecedented tax, and what was really done
was grossly exaggerated on all sides. As the members left the House an angry
crowd greeted them with jeers. “We hear say that you will grant four shillings
in the pound. Do so, and go home, we advise you.” Really the members had done
the best they could, and worse things were in store for them. For when the
session was resumed the knights of the shire showed some resentment that they
had been allowed to outdo the burgesses in liberality. They proposed that as
they had agreed to pay a shilling in the pound on land assessed over £50 in the
third year, so a like payment should be made in the fourth year on all goods
over the value of £50. There was a stormy debate on this motion; but Sir Thomas
More at length made peace, and it was passed. Thus Wolsey, on the whole, had
contrived to obtain something resembling his original proposal, but the
payments were spread over a period of four years. After this Wolsey, at the
prorogation of Parliament, could afford to thank the Commons on the king’s
behalf, and assure them that “his Grace would in such wise employ their loving
contribution as should be for the defence of his realm and of his subjects,
and the persecution and pressing of his enemy.”
Yet, however Wolsey
might rejoice in his success, he knew that he had received a serious warning,
which he was bound to lay to heart. He had been faithful to the king, and had
done his best to carry out his views.
The war with France
was none of his advising, and he had no hopes of any advantage from it; yet he
was willing to take all the blame of measures which inwardly he disapproved. He
stood forward and assumed the unpopularity of taxation, whose necessity he
deplored. Henry spent the nation’s money at his pleasure, and Wolsey undertook
the ungrateful task of squeezing supplies from a reluctant Parliament, while
the king sat a benevolent spectator in the background. Henry took all the
glory, and left Wolsey to do all the unpleasant work. Wolsey stood between the
national temper and the king; he felt that he could not stand under the odium
of accomplishing many more such reconciliations. England had reached the limit
of its aspirations after national glory. For the future Wolsey must maintain
the king’s honour without appealing to the national
pocket.
There was no prospect
of obtaining further supplies from Parliament, and the best way to pay the
expenses of a futile war was by making a lucrative peace. Wolsey tried to
induce Francis I. to renew his financial agreement with Henry VIII. which the
war had broken off; and to bring pressure to bear upon him for this purpose,
was willing to continue with Charles V. negotiations for a fresh undertaking.
So in June the
unwearied Pace was sent to Bourbon’s camp to promise England’s help on terms
which Wolsey knew were sure to be refused. England would again join in a
campaign against France in the north, provided Bourbon, by an invasion of
Provence, succeeded in raising a rebellion against Francis I., and would take
an oath of allegiance to the English king as lord of France. Bour
bon sorely needed
money, and did all he could to win over Pace. He secretly took an oath of
fidelity, not of allegiance; andPacewasimpressed
with admiration of hisgenius and believed in his
chances of success. Wolsey was coldly cautious towards Pace’s enthusiasm, and
the result was a breach between them. Pace openly blamed Wolsey, as Wingfield had done before, and pressed for money and an
armed demonstration. Wolsey soberly rebuked his lack of judgment by setting
before him a well-considered survey of the political chances. His caution
proved to be justified, as Bourbon’s invasion of Provence was a failure. Wolsey
gained all that he needed by his pretence of helping
Bourbon; he induced the French Court to undertake negotiations seriously by
means of secret envoys who were sent to London.
Still Wolsey did not
hide from himself the difficulties in the way of an alliance with France which
would satisfy Henry VIII. or bring substantial advantage to the country.
However, on one point he managed to obtain an immediate advantage. He always
kept his eye on Scotland, and now used the first signs of returning
friendliness on the part of France to further his scheme of restoring English
influence in that country. In June the Duke of Albany was recalled to France,
and Wolsey set to work to win back Queen Margaret to her brother’s cause. He
seems to have despaired of blandishments, and contrived a way to have a more
powerful weapon. Margaret’s husband, the Earl of Angus, had been sent by Albany
to France, where he was carefully guarded. On the first signs of renewed
friendliness between England and France a hint from Wolsey procured him an
opportunity of
escaping to England.
With Angus at his disposal Wolsey urged Margaret to be reconciled to her
husband, and terrified her by the prospect of alternately restoring him to
Scotland. By playing cleverly on her personal feelings, Wolsey led her by
degrees to accept his own plan for freeing Scotland from Albany and French
interference. He urged that the young king was now old enough to rule for himself,
and promised Margaret help to secure her supremacy in his council. At the same
time he won over the Scottish lords by the prospect of a marriage between James
and Mary of England, who was still Henry YIII.’s heir. In August James V. was
set up as king, and the Scottish Parliar ment approved of the English marriage. Again Wolsey won a
signal triumph, and accomplished by diplomacy what the sword had been unable to
achieve.
We need not follow
the complicated diplomacy of the year 1524, which was transferred to Italy,
whither Francis I. had pursued Bourbon and was engaged in the siege of Pavia.
It is enough to say that Wolsey pursued a cautious course : if Francis won the
day in Italy he was ready to treat with him liberally : if the imperial arms
prevailed, then he could sell England’s alliance more dearly. But this cautious
attitude was displeasing to Charles, whose ambassador in London, De Praet, complained without ceasing of the growing coldness
of Henry and Wolsey. Wolsey kept a sharp watch on De Praet,
and resented his keen - sightedness; finally, in February 1525, De Praet’s despatches were intercepted,
and he was called before the Council, when Wolsey charged him with untruth. De Praet answered by complaining that his privileges as an
ambassador had
been violated. He was
ordered to confine himself to his own house till the king had written to the
Emperor about his conduct.
This was indeed an
unheard-of treatment for the ambassador of an ally, and we can scarcely
attribute it merely to personal spite on the part of so skilled a statesman as
Wolsey. Perhaps it was a deliberate plan to cause a personal breach between
Henry and the Emperor. No doubt Henry’s own feelings were towards Charles
rather than Francis, and it seems probable that Wolsey wished to show his
master that Charles was only trying to make use of his friendship for his own
purposes. The despatches of Charles’s envoy were
opened and their contents made known to Henry for some time before Wolsey took
any open action. He acted when he saw his master sufficiently irritated, and he
probably suggested that the best way to give Charles a lesson was by an attack
upon his ambassador. This proposal agreed with the high-handed manner of action
which Heury loved to adopt. It gave him a chance of
asserting his own conception of his dignity, and he challenged Charles to say
if he identified himself with his ambassador’s sentiments.
Under any
circumstances it was an audacious step, and as things turned out it was an
unfortunate one. Within a few days the news reached England that Francis had
been attacked at Pavia by the imperial forces, had been entirely routed, and
was a prisoner in the hands of Charles. Though Wolsey was prepared for some
success of the imperial arms, he was taken aback at the decisiveness of the
stroke. His time for widening the breach between Charles and Henry had not been
well chosen.
However, Charles saw
that he could not pursue his victory without money, and to obtain money he must
adopt an appearance of moderation. So he professed in Italy willingness to
forget the past, and he avoided a quarrel with England. He treated the insult
to his ambassador as the result of a personal misunderstanding. Henry
complained of De Praet’s unfriendly bearing; Charles
assured him that no offence was intended. Both parties saved their dignity; De Praet was recalled, and another ambassador was sent in his
stead. Wolsey saw that he had been precipitate, and hastened to withdraw his
false step ; Henry lent him his countenance, but can scarcely have relished
doing so. Wolsey knew that his difficulties were increased. The victory of
Charles again drew Henry to his side and revived his projects of conquest at
the expense of France, now left helpless by its king’s captivity. As the
defection of Bourbon had formerly awakened Henry’s hopes, so now did the
captivity of Francis. Again Wolsey’s pacific plans were shattered; again he was
driven to undertake the preparations for a war of which his judgment
disapproved.
Indeed Wolsey knew
that war was absolutely impossible for want of money; but it was useless to
say so to the king. He was bound to try and raise supplies by some means or
other, and his experience of the last Parliament had shown him that there was
no more to be obtained from that source. In his extremity Wolsey undertook the
responsibility of reviving a feudal obligation which had long been forgotten.
He announced that the king purposed to pass the sea in person, and demanded
that the goodwill of his subjects should provide
for his proper equipment
But the goodwill of the people was not allowed the privilege of spontaneous
generosity. Commissioners were appointed in every shire to assess men’s
property, and require a sixth part of it for the king’s needs. Wolsey himself
addressed the citizens of London. When they gave a feeble assent to his request
for advice, “whether they thought it convenient that the king should pass the
sea with an army or not,” he proceeded, “ Then he must go like a prince, which
cannot be without your aid.” He unfolded his proposals for a grant of 3s. 4d.
in the pound on £50 and upwards, 2s. 8d.on £20 and upwards, and Is. in the
pound on £1 and upwards. Some one pleaded that the
times were bad. “ Sirs,” said Wolsey, “speak not to breakwhat
is concluded, for some shall not pay even a tenth; and it were better that a few should suffer indigence than the king at this
time should lack. Beware, therefore, and resist not, nor ruffle not in this
case; otherwise it may fortune to cost some their heads.” This was indeed a
high-handed way of dealing with a public meeting, which was only summoned to
hear the full measure of the coming calamity. We cannot wonder that “all people
cursed the cardinal and his adherents as subverted of the laws and liberty of
England.” Nor was Wolsey ignorant of the unpopularity which he incurred; but
there was no escape possible. He rested only on the king’s favour,
and he knew that the king’s personal affection for him had grown colder. He
was no longer the king’s friend and tutor, inspiring him with his own lofty
ideas and slowly revealing his far-reaching schemes. Late years had seen Wolsey
immersed in the business of the State, while the king pursued his own
pleasures, sur
rounded by companions
who did their utmost to undermine Wolsey’s influence. They advocated war,
while he longed for peace; they encouraged the royal extravagance, while he
worked for economy; they favoured the imperial
alliance and humoured Henry’s dreams of the conquest
of France, while Wolsey saw that England’s strength lay in a powerful
neutrality. The king’s plans had deviated from the lines which Wolsey had
designed, and the king’s arbitrary temper had grown more impatient of
restraint. Wolsey had imperceptibly slipped from the position of a friend to
that of a servant, and he was dimly conscious that his continuance in the royal
service depended on his continued usefulness. Whatever the king required he was
bound to provide.
So Wolsey strained
every nerve to fill the royal coffers by the device of an “Amicable Loan,”
which raised a storm of popular indignation. Men said with truth that they had
not yet paid the subsidy voted by Parliament, and already they were exposed to
a new exaction. Coin had never been plentiful in England, and at that time it
was exceptionally scarce. The commissioners in the different shires all
reported the exceeding difficulty which they met with in the discharge of their
unpleasant duty. It soon became clear to Wolsey that his demand had overshot
the limits of prudence, and that money could not be raised on the basis of the
parliamentary assessment without the risk of a rebellion. Accordingly Wolsey
withdrew from his original proposal. He sent for the mayor and corporation of
London and told them, in the fictitious language in which constitutional procedure
is always veiled, “I kneeled down to his Grace, showing him both your good
minds towards him and also
the charge you
continually sustain, the which, at my desire and petition, was content to call
in and abrogate the same commission.” The attempt to raise money on the basis
of each man’s ratable value was abandoned, and the more usual method of a
benevolence was substituted in its stead.
This, however, was
not much more acceptable. Again Wolsey summoned the mayor and corporation; but
they had now grown bolder, and pleaded that benevolences hadbeen
abolished bythe statute of Richard III. Wolsey
angrily answered that Richard was a usurper and a murderer of his nephews; how
could his acts be good 1 “ An it please your Grace,” was the answer, “ although
he did evil, yet in his time were many good acts made not by him only, but by
the consent of the body of the whole realm, which is Parliament.” There was
nothing more to be said, and Wolsey had to content himself with leaving every
man to contribute privily what he would. It did not
seem that this spontaneous liberality went far to replenish the royal
exchequer.
What happened in
London was repeated in different forms in various parts of England. In Norwich
there was a tumult, which it needed the presence of the Duke of Norfolk to
appease. He asked the confused assembly who was their captain, and bade that he
should speak. Then out spake one John Greene, a man
of fifty years. “ My lord, since you ask who is our captain, forsooth, his name
is Poverty; for he and his cousin Necessity have brought us to this doing. For
all these persons and many more live not of ourselves, but we live by the
substantial occupiers of this "country; and yet they give
I
us so little wages
for our workmanship that scarcely we be able to live; and thus in penury we
pass the time, we, our wives and children: and if they, by whom we live, be
brought in that case that they of their little cannot help us to earn our
living, then must we perish and die miserably. I speak this, my lord: the elothmakers have put away all their people, and a far
greater number, from work. The husbandmen have put away their servants and
given up household ; they say the king asketh so much
that they be not able to do as they have done before this time, and then of
necessity must we die wretchedly.”
John Greene’s speech
expressed only too truly the condition of affairs in a period of social change.
The old nobility had declined, and the old form of life founded on feudalism
was slowly passing away. Trade was becoming more important than agriculture ;
the growth of wool was more profitable than the growth of corn. It is true that
England as a whole was growing richer, and that the standard of comfort was
rising ; but there was a great displacement of labour,
and consequent discontent. The towns had thriven at the expense of the
country; and in late years the war with France had hindered trade with the
Netherlands. The custom duties had diminished, the drain of bullion for war
expenses had crippled English commerce. There had been a succession of bad
seasons, and every one had begun to diminish his establishment and look more
carefully after his expenditure.
All this was well
known to the Duke of Norfolk, and was laid, before the king. The commissions
were recalled, pardons were granted to the rioters, and the loan was
allowed to drop. But
Wolsey had to bear all the odium of the unsuccessful attempt, while the king
gained all the popularity of abandoning it. Yet Henry VIII. resented the
failure, and was angry with Wolsey for exposing him to a rebuff. In spite of
his efforts Wolsey was ceasing to be so useful as he had been before, and Henry
began to criticise his minister. Brave and resolute
as Wolsey was, his labours and disappointments began
to tell upon him. Since the failure of the Conference of Calais he had been
working not at the development of a policy which he approved, but at the
uncongenial task of diminishing the dangers of a policy which he disapproved.
The effects of this constant anxiety told upon his health and spirits, and
still more upon his temper. He might be as able and as firm as ever, but he no
longer had the same confidence in himself.
It was perhaps this
feeling which led Wolsey to show the king the extremity of his desire to serve
him by undertaking the desperate endeavour to wring
more money from an exhausted people. Wolsey had done his utmost to satisfy the
king; he had accepted without a murmur the burden of popular hatred which the
attempt was sure to bring. There is a pathos in his words, reported by an
unfriendly hand, addressed to the council: “ Because every man layeth the burden from him, I am content to take it on me,
and to endure the fume and noise of the people, for my goodwill towards the
king, and comfort of you, my lords and other the king’s councillors;
but the eternal God knoweth all.” Nor was it enough
that he submitted to the storm j he wished to give the king a further proof of
his devotion. Though others might withhold their substance, yet he
would not. He offered
the king his house at Hampton Court, which he had built as his favourite retreat, and had adorned to suit his taste. It
was indeed a royal gift, and Henry had no scruple in accepting it. But the
offer seems to show an uneasy desire to draw closer a bond which had been
gradually loosened, and renew an intimacy which was perceptibly diminishing.
However, in one way
Wolsey had a right to feel satisfaction even in his ill-success. If money was
not to be had, war was impossible, and Wolsey might now pursue his own policy
and work for peace. He had to face the actual facts that England was allied to
Charles, who had won a signal victory over Francis, and had in his hands a
mighty hostage in the person of the King of France. His first object was to
discover Charles V.’s intentions, and prevent him from using his advantage
solely for his own profit. Bishop Tunstal and Sir Eichard Wingfield were sent to
Charles with orders to put on a bold face, and find whether Charles thought of
dethroning Francis or releasing him for a ransom. In the first case, they were
to offer military aid from England; in the second, they were to claim for
England a large share in the concessions to be wrung out of Francis. The
English demands were so exorbitant that though they may have satisfied the
fantastic aspirations of Henry, Wolsey must have known them to be impossible.
Under cover of a friendly proposal to Charles he was really preparing the way
for a breach.
Charles on his side
was engaged in playing a similar game. In spite of his success at Pavia he was
really helpless. He had no money, and the captivity of the French king awakened
so much alarm in Europe that
he felt compelled to
use his advantage moderately. As a first measure he needed money, and saw no
chance of obtaining it save by marrying Isabella of Portugal, who would bring
him a dowry of 1,000,000 golden crowns. For this purpose he must free himself
from the engagement of the treaty of Windsor, by which he was betrothed to Mary
of England. So he acted as Wolsey was acting. He professed a great desire to
carry out his engagement as a means of getting rid of it, and sent ambassadors
to ask that Mary and her dowry should be given up to him, with a further loan
of 200,000 ducats.
The two embassies had
crossed on the way, and Henry received Charles’s communication as an answer to
his demands. In this way it served Wolsey’s purpose admirably, for it showed
clearly enough that the interests of Henry and Charles were not the same.
Charles was bent upon pursuing his own advantage, and was still willing to use
Henry as a useful ally; but Henry saw nothing to be gained from the alliance,
and the time had come when some tangible gain was to be secured from all his
expenditure. Hitherto he had been personally on Charles’s side, but in his
conferences with the imperial envoys in the month of June he made it clear that
his patience was exhausted. Henceforth he accepted Wolsey’s views of peace with
France. If Charles was striving to make what he could out of the captivity of
the French king, then England might as well join in the scramble. The
misfortune of France was England’s opportunity. If Charles was not willing to
share his gains with Henry, then Henry must pick up what he could for himself.
It was an unwelcome conclusion for Charles, who hoped to bring the pressure of
irresistible
necessity to bear on his captive. If England also joined in the bidding its
competition would run down his price.
Moreover, this
resolution of Henry made a great change in his domestic relations. Queen
Katharine was devoted to her nephew’s interests, and had exercised considerable
influence over her husband. They talked together about politics, and Henry
liked to move amidst acquiescent admiration. All that was now at an end, as
Katharine could not change her sympathies, and had not the tact to disguise her
disapprobation. From this time forward Henry did not treat her with the
affection and familiarity which had been his wont, and when he made up his mind
he did not scruple to emphasise his decision by his
acts. He had not been a faithful husband, but hitherto his infidelity had not
been a cause of domestic discord. He had an illegitimate son, Henry Fitzroy, by
Elizabeth Blunt, one of the Queen’s ladies- in-waiting; and on 15th June he
created this boy of six years old Duke of Richmond. This he did with a display
of pomp and ceremony which must have been very offensive to the Queen; nor was
the offence diminished when, a month afterwards, the boy was created Lord High
Admiral of England. Such an act was, to say the least, a taunt to Katharine
that she had borne no son; it was a public proclamation of the king’s disappointment
and discontent with his matrimonial lot. The luckless Katharine could make no
complaint, and was forced to submit to the king’s will; but we cannot doubt
that she put down to Wolsey what was not his due, and that Wolsey had to bear
the hatred of her friends for the king’s change of policy, and all that flowed
from it.
However, Wolsey’s
course was now clearly to dissolve the imperial alliance without causing a
breach. For this purpose he used Charles’s desire for his Portuguese marriage.
He offered to release Charles from his engagement to Mary on condition that the
treaty was annulled, that he paid his debts to Henry, and concluded a peace with
France to England’s satisfaction. Charles refused to take any step so decided,
and the negotiations proceeded. But Wolsey’s attention was not so much directed
to Charles as to France, where Louise, the king’s mother, was desperately
striving to procure her son’s release. In their dealings with France there was
a keen rivalry between England and the Emperor, which should succeed in making
terms soonest. In this competition Wolsey had one advantage; he had already
learned the stubbornness of the national spirit of France, and its willingness
to submit to anything rather than territorial loss. So, while Charles haggled
for provinces, Wolsey demanded money. He told the French envoys that in order
to make peace, without having won laurels to justify it, Henry could not take
less than 2,000,000 crowns, and he would hear of no abatement. There was much
discussion of all the old claims of England for compensation from France, but
Wolsey knew the necessity of the moment, and carried all his points.
When the terms were
agreed upon there was another discussion about the security to be given.
Francis was a prisoner in Spain, and though his mother was regent, a doubt
might be thrown upon her capacity to ratify such an important treaty. Wolsey
would admit no doubts in the matter. He knew that peace with France would not
be popular, but he was determined that his master
should see its
advantage in the substantial form of ready money with good security for its
payment. Besides ratification by the regent he demanded the personal security
of several French nobles, of towns and local estates. At length he was
satisfied. The treaty was signed on 30th August, and was published on 6th September.
Henry was to receive 2,000,000 crowns in annual instalments
of 50,000; the treaty included Scotland as an ally of France, and it was
stipulated that the Duke of Albany was not to return. Scotland, left
unprotected, was bound to follow France, and in January 1526 peace was signed
with Scotland to the satisfaction of both countries.
Wolsey could
congratulate himself on the result of his work. Again he had won for England a
strong position, by setting her in the forefront of the opposition to the
overweening power of the empire. Again had England’s action done much to
restore the equilibrium of Europe. This had been achieved solely by Wolsey’s
diplomacy. Charles V. had received a blow which he could neither parry nor
resent. The French treaty with England deprived Charles of the means of exercising
irresistible pressure upon Francis, and encouraged the Italian States to form
an alliance against the Emperor. Francis, weary of his long captivity, signed
the treaty of Madrid, and obtained his freedom in February 1526. But he
previously protested against it as extorted by violence, and refused to
surrender an inch of French territory notwithstanding his promises. Charles
gained little by his victory at Pavia. His hands were again full, as the Turks
invaded Hungary, and Francis joined the Italian League against him. He still
had
every motive to keep
on good terms with England, and Wolsey had no desire to precipitate a breach.
So Wolsey’s policy
for the future was one of caution and reserve. The king withdrew more and more
from public affairs, and spent his time in hunting. His relations with Katharine
became day by day more irksome, and he tried to forget his domestic life by
leading a life of pleasure. Wolsey strove to hold the balance between Charles
and Francis without unduly inclining to either side. Both wished to be on good
terms with England, for neither was free from anxiety. The sons of Francis were
hostages in Spain, and Charles was hampered by the opposition of the Italian
League. Of this League Henry VIII. was a member, but he declined to give it any
active support The Italians, as usual, were divided, and Clement VII. was not
the man to directtheir distracted councils
successfully. In September 1526 a small force of Spaniards, aided by a party
amongst the Boman barons, surprised Eome, sacked the papal palace, and filled Clement with terror.
Charles V. disavowed any share in this attack, and excused himself before
Henry’s remonstrances. But as Clement did not
entirely amend his ways, the experiment was repeated on a larger scale. In May
1527 the imperial troops under the Duke of Bourbon and the German general
George Frundsberg captured and plundered Eome, and took the Pope prisoner. This unwonted deed filled
Europe with horror. It seemed as if the Emperor had joined the enemies of the
Church.
During this period
Wolsey had been cautiously drawing nearer to France. At first he only
contemplated strengthening the ties which bound the two countries
together; but in the
beginning of 1527 he was willing to form a close alliance with France, which
must lead to a breach with the Emperor. French commissioners came to London,
and a proposal was made that Francis should marry Mary, then a child of ten,
though he was betrothed to the Emperor’s sister Eleanor. Wolsey’s demands were
high : a perpetual peace between the two countries, a perpetual pension of
50,000 crowns to the English king, a tribute of salt, and the surrender of
Boulogne and Ardres. In the course of the discussion
the son of Francis, the Duke of Orleans, was substituted for the father as
Mary’s husband; on all other points Wolsey had his will, and never did he show
himself a more consummate master of diplomacy. The treaty was signed on 30th
April. The debts of Charles were transferred to Francis, and Wolsey could show
that he had made a substantia] gain.
Doubtless Wolsey
intended that this peace with France should form the basis of a universal
peace, which he never ceased to pursue. The success of Charles V. in Italy, and
subsequent events at home, rapidly dispelled his hopes. Already the selfwill of Henry VIII. had driven him to consent to measures
which were against his judgment; the same selfwill,
turned to domestic and persona] affairs, was already threatening to involve
Wolsey in a matter whose far-reaching effects no man could foresee.
CHAPTER VIII
wolsey’s
domestic policy
We
have
been following the laborious career of Wolsey in his direction of foreign
affairs. He held in his hands the threads of complicated negotiations, by which
he was endeavouring to assure England’s power on the
Continent, not by means of war but by skilful diplomacy.
In doing this he had to guard the commercial relations of England with the
Netherlands, and had also to bow before the selfwill
of the king, who insisted on pursuing fantastic designs of personal aggrandisement. Still he steered a careful course amidst
many difficulties, though when he looked back upon his labours
of thirteen years he must have owned to serious disappointment. Perhaps he
sometimes asked himself the question, if foreign policy was worthy of the best
attention of an English minister, if he had not erred in adventuring on such
large schemes abroad. There was much to do at home; many useful measures of
reform awaited only a convenient season. He had hoped, when first he began his
course, to have seen England long before this time peaceful and powerful, the
arbiter of European affairs, a pattern to other kingdoms, dealing
honestly and
sagaciously with the pressing needs of the time. He had laboured
incessantly for that end, but it was as far off as ever. The year 1527 saw
England exhausted by useless wars, and Europe plunged in irreconcilable
strife. Wolsey’s dream of a united Europe, cautiously moved by England’s
moderating counsels, had vanished before forces which he could not control.
Meanwhile domestic
reforms had been thrust into the background. Wolsey was keenly alive to their
importance, and had a distinct policy which he wished to carry out. He had
carefully gathered into his hands the power which would enable him to act, but
he could not find the time for definite action. Something he contrived to do,
so as to prepare the way for more; but his schemes were never revealed in their
entirety, though he trained the men who afterwards carried them out, though in
a crude and brutal shape.
England was passing
through a period of social change which necessitated a re-adjustment of old
institutions. The decay of feudalism in the Wars of the Roses had been little
noticed, but its results had been profound. In the sphere of government the
check exercised by the barons on the Crown was destroyed. Henry VII. carefully
depressed the baronage and spared the pockets of the people, who were willing
to have the conduct of affairs in the hands of the king so long as he kept
order and guarded the commercial interests, which were more and more absorbing national
energies. The nation wished for a strong government to put down anarchy and
maintain order; but the nation was not willing to bear the cost of a strong
government on constitutional principles. Henry VII. soon found that he might
do what
he liked provided he
did not ask for money; ho might raise supplies by unconstitutional exactions on
individuals provided he did not embarrass the bulk of the middle classes, who
were busied with trade. The nobles, the rich landowners, the wealthy merchants,
were left to the king’s mercies ; so long as the pockets of the commons were
spared they troubled themselves no further.
Henry VII. recognised this condition of national feeling, and pursued
a policy of levelling class privileges and cautiously
heeding the popular interests; by these means he established the royal power on
a strong basis, and carried on his government through capable officials, who
took their instructions from himself. Some of the ' old nobles held office, but
they gradually were reduced to the same level as the other officials with whom
they consorted. The power of the old nobility passed silently away.
With this political
change a social change corresponded. The barons of former years were great in
proportion to the number of their retainers and the strength of their castles.
Now retainers were put down by the Star Chamber; and the feudal lord was turned
into the country gentleman. Land changed hands rapidly; opulent merchants
possessed themselves of estates. The face of the country began to wear a new
look, for the new landlords did not desire a numerous tenantry
but a large income. The great trade of England was wool, which was exported to
Flanders. Tillage lands were thrown into pasture; small holders found it more
difficult to live on their holdings; complaints were heard that the country was
being depopulated. England was slowly passing through an economic change which
involved a
displacement of population, and consequent misery on the labouring
classes. No doubt there was a great increase in national prosperity ■ but
prosperity was not universally diffused at once, and men were keenly conscious
of present difficulties. Beneath the surface of society there was a widespread
feeling of discontent.
Moreover,
amongst thinking men a new spirit was beginning to prevail. In Italy this new
spirit was manifest by quickened curiosity about the world and life, and found
its expression in a study of classical antiquity. Curiosity soon led to
criticism ; and before the new criticism the old ideas on which the
intellectual life of the Middle Ages was built were slowly passing away.
Rhetoric took the place of logic, and the study of the classics superseded the
study of theology. This movement of thought slowly found its way to England,
where it began to influence the higher minds. .
Thus England was
going through a crisis politically, socially, and iutellectually,
when Wolsey undertook the management of affairs. This crisis was not acute, and
did not call for immediate measures of direction; but Wolsey, was aware of its
existence, and had his own plans for the future. We must regret that he put
foreign policy in the first place, and reserved his constructive measures for
domestic affairs. The time seemed ripe for great achievements abroad, and
Wolsey was hopeful of success. He may be pardoned for his lofty aspirations,
for if he had succeeded England would have led the way in a deliberate
settlement of many questions which concerned the wellbeing of the whole of
Christendom. But success eluded Wolsey’s grasp, and he fell from power before
he had time to trace decidedly the
lines on which
England might settle her problems for herself; and when the solution came it
was strangely entangled in the personal questions which led to Wolsey’s fall
from power. Yet even here we may doubt if the measures of the English
Reformation would have been possible if Wolsey’s mind had not inspired the king
and the nation with a heightened consciousness of England’s power and dignity.
Wolsey’s diplomacy at least tore away all illusions about Pope and Emperor, and
the opinion of Europe, and taught Henry VIII. the measure of his own strength.
It was impossible
that Wolsey’s powerful hand should not leave its impression upon everything
which it touched. If Henry VIII. inherited a strong monarchy, Wolsey made the
basis of monarchical power still stronger. It was natural that he should do so,
as he owed his own position entirely to the royal favour.
But never had any king so devoted a servant as had Henry VIII., in Wolsey; and
this devotion was not entirely due to motives of selfish calculation or to
personal attraction. Wolsey saw in the royal power the only possible means of
holding England together and guiding it through the dangers of impending
change. In his eyes the king and the king alone could collect and give
expression to the national will. England itself was unconscious of its
capacities, and was heedless about the future. The nobles, so far as they had
any policy, were only desirous to win back their old position. The Church was no
longer the inspirer of popular aspirations or the bulwark of popular freedom.
Its riches were regarded with a jealous eye by the middle classes, who were
busied with trade; the defects of its organisation
had been deplored
by its most
spiritually-minded sons for a century; its practices, if not its tenets,
awakened the ridicule of men of intelligence; its revenues supplied the king
with officials more than they supplied the country with faithful pastors; its
leaders were content to look to the king for patronage and protection. The
traders of the towns and the new landlords of the country appreciated the
growth of their fortunes in a period of internal quiet, and dreaded anything
that might bring back discord. The labouring classes
felt that redress of their grievances was more possible from a far-off king
than from landlords who, in their eyes, were bent upon extortion. Every class
looked to the king, and was confident in his good intentions. We cannot wonder
that Wolsey saw in the royal power the only possible instrument strong enough
to work reforms, and set himself with goodwill to make that instrument
efficacious.
So Wolsey was in no
sense a constitutional minister, nor did he pay much heed to constitutional
forms. Parliament was only summoned once during the time that he was in
office, and then he tried to browbeat Parliament and set aside its privileges.
In his view the only function of Parliament was to grant money for the king’s
needs. The king should say how much he needed, and Parliament ought only to
advise how this sum might most conveniently be raised. We have seen that Wolsey
failed in his attempt to convert Parliament into a submissive instrument of
royal despotism. He under-estimated the strength of constitutional forms and
the influence of precedent. Parliament was willing to do its utmost to meet the
wishes of the king, but it would not submit to Wolsey’s high-handed dictation.
The
habits of diplomacy
had impaired Wolsey’s sagacity in other fields ; he had been so busy in
managing emperors and kings that he had forgotten how to deal with his
fellow-countrymen. He was unwise in his attempt to force the king’s will upon
Parliament as an unchangeable law of its action. Henry VIII. looked on and
learned from Wolsey’s failure, and when he took the management of Parliament
into his own hands he showed himself a consummate master of that craft. His
skill in this direction has scarcely been sufficiently estimated, and his
success has been put down to the servility of Parliament. But Parliament was
by no means servile under Wolsey’s overbearing treatment. If it was subservient
to Henry the reason is to be found in his excellent tactics. He conciliated
different interests at different times; he mixed the redress of acknowledged
grievances with the assertion of far-reaching claims; he decked out selfish
motives in fair-sounding language; he led men on step by step till they were
insensibly pledged to measures more drastic than they approved; he kept the
threads of his policy in his own hands till the only escape from utter
confusion was an implicit confidence in his wisdom ; he made it almost
impossible for those who were dissatisfied to find -a point on which they could
establish a principle for resistance. He was so skilful
that Parliament at last gave him even the power over the purse, and Henry,
without raising a murmur, imposed taxes which Wolsey would not have dared to
suggest. It is impossible not to feel that Henry, perhaps taught in some degree
by Cromwell, understood the temper of the English people far better than Wolsey
ever did. He established the royal power on a broader
and securer basis
than Wolsey could have erected. Where Wolsey would have made the Crown
independent of Parliament, Henry VIII. reduced Parliament to be a willing instrument
of the royal will. Wolsey would have subverted the constitution, or at least
would have reduced it to a lifeless form; Henry VIII. so worked the
constitutional machinery that it became an additional source of power to his
monarchy.
But though Wolsey was
not successful in his method ofrnaMng the royal power
supreme over Parliament, he took the blame of failure upon himself, and saved
the king’s popularity. Wolsey’s devotion to his master was complete, and cannot
be assigned purely to selfish motives. Wolsey felt that his opinions, his
policy, his aspirations had been formed through his intercourse with the king;
and he was only strong when he and his master were thoroughly at one. At first
the two men had been in complete agreement, and it cost Wolsey many a pang when
he found that Henry did not entirely agree with his conclusions. After the
imperial alliance was made Wolsey lost much of his brilliancy, his dash, and
his force. This was not the result of age, or fatigue, or hopelessness so much
as of the feeling that he and the king were no longer in accord: Like many
other strong men, Wolsey was sensitive. He did not care for popularity, but he
felt the need of being understood and trusted. He gave the king his affection,
and he craved for a return. There was no one else who could understand him or
appreciate his aims, and when he felt that he was valued for his usefulness
rather than trusted for what he was in himself, the spring of his life’s energy
was gone.
Still Wolsey laboured in all things to exalt the royal power, for in it
he saw the only hope of the future, and England endorsed his opinion. But
Wolsey was too great a man to descend to servility, and Henry always treated
him with respect. In fact Wolsey always behaved with a strong sense of his
personal dignity, and carried stickling for decorum to the verge of punctiliousness.
Doubtless he had a decided taste for splendour and
magnificence, but it is scarcely fair to put this down to the arrogance of an
upstart, as was done by his English contemporaries. Wolsey believed in the
influence of outward display on the popular mind, and did his utmost to throw
over the king a veil of unapproachable grandeur and unimpeachable rectitude. He
took upon himself the burden of the king’s responsibilities, and stood forward
to shield him against the danger of losing the confidence of his people. As the
king’s representative he assumed a royal state; he wished men to see that they
were governed from above, and he strove to accustom them to the pomp of power. In
his missions abroad, and in his interviews with foreign ambassadors, he was
still more punctilious than in the matters of domestic government. If the king
was always to be regarded as the king, Wolsey, as the mouthpiece of the royal
will, never abated his claims to honour only less
than royal; but he acted not so much from self-assertion as from policy. At
home and abroad equally the greatness of the royal power was to be unmistakably
set forth, and ostentation was an element in the game of brag to which a
spirited foreign policy inevitably degenerates. It was for the king’s sake that
Wolsey magnified himself; he never assumed an independent position, but all his
triumphs were loyally
laid at the king’s feet. In this point, again, Wolsey overshot the mark, and
did not understand the English people, who were not impressed in the manner
which he intended. When Henry took the government more directly into his own
hands he managed better for himself, for he knew how to identify the royal will
with the aspirations of the people, and clothed his despotism with the
appearance of paternal solicitude. He made the people think that he lived for
them, and that their interests were his, whereas Wolsey endeavoured
to convince the people that the king alone could guard their interests, and
that their only course was to put entire confidence in him. Henry saw that men
were easier to cajole than to convince; he worked for no system of royal
authority, but contented himself with establishing his own will. In spite of
the disadvantage of a royal education, Henry was a more thorough Englishman
than Wolsey, though Wolsey sprang from the people.
It was Wolsey’s
teaching, however, that prepared Henry for his task The king who could use a
minister like Wolsey and then throw him away when he was no longer useful, felt
that there was no limitation to his self-sufficiency.
Wolsey, indeed, was a
minister in a sense which had never been seen in England before, for he held in
his hand the chief power alike in Church and State. Not only was he chancellor,
but also Archbishop of York, and endowed besidewith
special legatine powers. These powers were not coveted merely for purposes of
show: Wolsey intended to use them, when opportunity offered, as a means of
bringing the Church under the royal power as
completely as he
wished to subject the State. He had little respect for the ecclesiastical organisation as such • he saw its
obvious weaknesses, and wished to provide a remedy. If he was a candidate for
the Papacy, it was from no desire to pursue an ecclesiastical policy of his
own, but to make the papal power subservient to England’s interests. He was
sufficiently clear-sighted to perceive that national aspirations could not much
longer be repressed by the high-sounding claims of the Papacy; he saw that the
system of the Church must be adapted to the conditions of the time, and he
wished to avert a revolution by a quiet process of steady and reasonable
reform. He was perhaps honest in saying that he was not greatly anxious for the
Papacy; for he knew that England gave him ample scope for his energies, and he
hoped that the example of England would spread throughout Europe. So at the
beginning of his career he pressed for legatine powers, which were grudgingly
granted by Leo X., first for one year, and afterwards for five; till the
gratitude of Clement VII. conferred them for life. Clothed with this authority,
and working in concert with the king, Wolsey was supreme over the English
Church, and perhaps dreamed of a future in which the Roman Pontiff would
practically resign his claims over the northern churches to an English
delegate, who might become his equal or superior in actual power.
However this might
be, he certainly contemplated the reform of the English Church by means of a
judicious mixture of royal and ecclesiastical authority. Everything was
propitious for such an undertaking, as the position of the Church was felt to
be in many ways anomalous and antiquated. The rising middle class had
many grievances to
complain of from the ecclesiastical courts; the new landlords looked with
contempt on the management of monastic estates; the new learning mocked at the
ignorance of the clergy, and scoffed at the superstitions of a simpler past
which had survived unduly into an age when criticism was coming into fashion.
The power of the Church had been great in days when the State was rude and the
clergy were the natural leaders of men. Now the State was powerful and enjoyed
men’s confidence; they looked to the king to satisfy their material aspirations,
and the Church had not been very successful in keeping their Spiritual
aspirations alive. It was not that men were opposed to the Church, but they
judged its privileges to be excessive, its disciplinary courts to be vexatious,
its officials to be too numerous, and its wealth to be devoted to purposes
which had ceased to be of the first importance. There was a general desire to
see a re-adjustment of many matters in which the Church was concerned; and
before this popular sentiment churchmen found it difficult to assert their old
pretensions, and preferred to rest contentedly under the protection of the
Crown.
A trivial incident
shows the general condition of affairs with sufficient clearness. One of the
claims which on the whole the clergy had maintained was the right of trial
before ecclesiastical courts; and the greater leniency of ecclesiastical
sentences had been a useful modification of the severity of the criminal law,
so that benefit of clergy had been permitted to receive large extension of
interpretation. Further, the sanctity of holy places had been permitted to give
rights of sanctuary to criminals fleeing from justice or revenge.
Both of these
expedients had been useful in a rude state of society, and had done much to
uphold a higher standard of humanity. But it was clear that they were only
temporary expedients which were needless and even harmful as society grew more
settled and justice was regularly administered. Henry VII. had felt the need of
diminishing the rights of sanctuary, which gave a dangerous immunity to the
numerous rebels against whom he had to contend, and he obtained a bull for that
purpose from Pope Innocent VIII. The example which he set was speedily
followed, and an Act was passed by the Parliament of 1511, doing away with sanctuary
and benefit of clergy in the case of those who were accused of murder.
It does not seem that
the Act met with any decided opposition at the time that it was passed; but
there were still sticklers for clerical immunities, who regarded it as a dangerous
innovation, and during the session of Parliament in 1515 the Abbot of Winchcombe preached a sermon in which he denounced it as an
impious measure. Henry VIII. adopted a course which afterwards stood him in
good stead in dealing with the Church; he submitted the question to a
commission of divines and temporal peers. In the course of the discussion
Standish, the Warden of the Friars Minors, put the point clearly and sensibly
by saying, “The Act was not against the liberty of the Church, for it was
passed for the weal of the whole realm.” The clerical party were not prepared
to face so direct an issue, and answered that it was contrary to the decretals. “ So,” replied Standish, “is the non-residence
of bishops; yet that is common enough.” Baffled in their appeal to law the
bishops fell
back upon Scripture,
and quoted the text, “ Touch not mine anointed.” Again Standish turned against
them the new critical spirit, which destroyed the old arguments founded on
isolated texts. David, he said, used these words of all God’s people as opposed
to the heathen; as England was a Christian country the text covered the laity
as well as the clergy. It was doubtless galling to the clerical party to be so
remorselessly defeated by one of their own number, and their indignation was increased
when the temporal lords on the commission decided against the Abbot of Winchcombe and ordered him to apologise.
The bishops vented
their anger on Standish, and summoned him to answer for his conduct before
Convocation, whereon he appealed to the king. Again Henry appointed a
commission, this time exclusively of laymen, to decide between Standish and his
accusers. They reported that Convocation, by its proceeding against one who was
acting as a royal commissioner, had incurred the penalties of preemunire, and they added that the king could, if he
chose, hold a parliament without the lords spiritual, who had no place therein
save by virtue of their temporal possessions. Probably this was intended as a
significant hint to the spirituality that they had better not interfere unduly
with parliamentary proceedings. Moreover, at the same time a case had occurred
which stirred popular feeling against the ecclesiastical courts. A London
merchant had been arrested by the chancellor of the Bishop of London on a
charge of heresy, and a few days after his arrest was found hanging dead in his
cell. Doubtless the unhappy man had committed suicide, but there was a
suspicion that
his arrest was due to
a private grudge on the part of the chancellor, who was accused of having made
away with him privily. Popular feeling waxed high,
and the lords who gave their decision so roundly against Convocation knew that
they were sure of popular support.
Henry was not sorry
of an opportunity of teaching the clergy their dependence upon himself, and he
summoned the bishops before him that he might read them a lesson. Wolsey’s
action on this occasion is noticeable. He seems to have been the only one who
saw the gravity of the situation, and he strove to effect a dignified
compromise. Before the king could speak Wolsey knelt before him and interceded
for the clergy. He said that they had designed nothing against the king’s
prerogative, but thought it their duty to uphold the rights of the Church; he
prayed that the matter might be referred to the decision of the Pope. Henry
answered that he was satisfied with the arguments of Standish. Fox, Bishop of
Winchester, turned angrily on Stan dish, and Archbishop Warham
plucked up his courage so far as to say feebly, “ Many holy men have resisted
the law of England on this point and have suffered martyrdom.” But Henry knew
that he had not to deal with, a second-Becket, and that the days of Becket had
gone by for ever. He would have nothing to say to
papal intervention or to clerical privilege; the time had come for the
assertion of royal authority, and Henry could use his opportunity as skilfully as the most skilful
priest. “We,” said he, “are by God’s grace king of England, and have no
superior but God; we will maintain the rights of the Crown like our
predecessors; your decrees you break and interpret at your pleasure;
but we will not
consent to your interpretation any more than our predecessors have done.” The
immemorial rights of the English Crown were vaguer and more formidable than
the rights of the Church, and the bishops retired in silence. Henry did not
forget the service rendered him by Standish, who was made Bishop of St. Asaph in 1518.
In this incident we
have a forecast of the subsequent course of events—the threat of praemunire, the assertion of the royal supremacy, the
submission of the clergy Nothing was wanting save a sufficient motive to work a
revolution in the ancient relations between Church and State. Wolsey alone
seems to have seen how precarious was the existing position of the Church. He
knew that the Church was wrong, and that it would have to give way, but he
wished to clothe its submission with a semblance of dignity, and to use the
papal power, not as a means of guarding the rights of the Church, but as a
means of casting an air of ecclesiastical propriety over their abandonment.
Doubtless he proposed to use his legatine power for that purpose if the need
arose; but he was loyal to the Church as an institution, and did not wish it to
fall unreservedly to the tender mercies °f the king.
He saw that this was only to be avoided by a judicious pliancy on the Church’s
part, which could gain a breathing-space for carrying out gradual reforms.
The fact that Wolsey
was a statesman rather than an ecclesiastic gave him a clear view of the
direction which a conservative reformation should pursue. He saw that the
Church was too wealthy and too powerful for the work which it was actually
doing. The wealth and power of the Church were a heritage from a former age,
in which the care for
the higher interests of society fell entirely into the hands of the Church
because the State was rude and barbarous, and had no machinery save for the
discharge of rudimentary duties. Bishops were the only officials who could curb
the lawlessness of feudal lords; the clergy were the only refuge from local
tyranny; monks were the only landlords. who cleared the forests, drained the
marshes, and taught the pursuits of peace; monastery schools educated the sons
of peasants, and the universities gave young men of ability a career. All the
humanitarian duties of society were discharged by the Church, and the Church
had grown in wealth and importance because of its readiness- to discharge
them. But as the State grew stronger, and as the power of Parliament increased,
it was natural that duties which had once been delegated should be assumed by
the community at large. It was equally natural that institutions which had once
been useful should outlast their usefulness and be regarded with a jealous eye.
By the end of the reign of Edward I. England had been provided with as many
monastic institutions as it needed, and the character of monasticism began to
decline. Benefactions for social purposes from that time forward were mainly
devoted to colleges, hospitals, and schools. The fact that so many great
churchmen were royal ministers shows how the energy of the Church was placed
at the disposal of the State and was by it absorbed. The Church possessed
revenues, aud' a staff of officials which were too
large for the time, in which it was not the only worker in the field of social
welfare. It possessed rights and privileges which were necessary for its
protection in days of anarchy and
lawlessness, but
which were invidious in days of more settled government. Moreover, the tenure
of so much land by ecclesiastical corporations like monasteries, was viewed
with jealousy in a time when commercial competition was becoming a dominant
motive in a society which had ceased to be mainly warlike.
From this point of
view Wolsey was prepared for gradual changes in the position of the Church; but
he did not wish those changes to be revolutionary, nor did he wish them to be
made by the power of the State. He knew the real weakness of the Church and the
practical omnipotence of the king; but he hoped to unite the interests of the
Crown and of the Church by his own personal influence and by his position as
the trusted minister of king and Pope alike.
He did not, however,
deceive himself about the practical difficulties in the way of a conservative
reform, which should remove the causes of popular discontent, and leave the
Church an integral part of the State organisation. He
knew that the ecclesiastical system, even in its manifest abuses, was closely
interwoven with English society, and he knew the strength of clerical
conservatism. He knew also the dangers which beset the Church if it came across
the royal will and pleasure. If any reform were to be carried out it must be by
raising the standard of clerical intelligence. Already many things which had
accorded with the simpler minds of an earlier age had become objects of mockery
to educated laymen. The raillery of Erasmus at the relics of St. Thomas of
Canterbury and the Virgin’s milk preserved at Walsingham
expressed the difference which had arisen between the old practices of religion
and the belief of
thoughtful men. It
would he well to divert some of the revenues of the Church from the maintenance
of idle and ignorant monks to the education of a body of learned clergy.
This diversion of
monastic property had long been projected andattempted.
William of Wykeham endowed his New College at Oxford
with lands which he purchased from monasteries. Henry VI. endowed Eton and
King’s College with revenues which came from the suppression of alien
priories. In 1497 John Alcock, Bishop of Ely,
obtained leave to suppress the decrepit nunnery of St. Rhadegund
in Cambridge and use its site for the foundation of Jesus College. Wolsey only
carried farther and made more definite the example which had previously been
set when in 1524 he obtained from Pope Clement VII. permission to convert into
a college the monastery of St. Frideswyde in Oxford.
Soon after he obtained a bull allowing him to suppress monasteries with fewer
than seven inmates, and devote their revenues to educational purposes.
Nor was Wolsey the
only man who was of opinion that the days of monasticism were numbered. In 1515
Bishop Fox of Winchester contemplated the foundation of a college at Oxford in
connection with the monastery. of St. Swithin at
Winchester. He was dissuaded from making his college dependent on a monastery
by his brother bishop, Oldham of Exeter, who said, “ Shall we build houses and
provide livelihoods for a company of bussing monks, whose end and fall we
ourselves may live to see 1 No, no: it is meet to provide for the increase of
learning, and for such as by learning shall do good to Church and
commonwealth.” Oldham’s advice
prevailed, and the
statutes of Fox’s college of Brasenose were marked by the influence of the new
learning as distinct from the old theology.
Still Wolsey’s bull
for the wholesale dissolution of small monasteries was the beginning of a
process which did not cease till all were swept away. It introduced a principle
of measuring the utility of old institutions and judging their right to exist
by their power of rendering service to the community. Religious houses whose
shrunken revenues could not support more than seven monks, according to the
rising standard of monastic comfort, were scarcely likely to maintain serious
discipline or pursue any lofty end. But it was the very reasonableness of this
method of judgment which rendered it exceedingly dangerous. Tried by this
standard, who could hope to escape 1 Fuller scarcely exaggerates when he says
that this measure of Wolsey’s “made all the forest of religious foundations in
England to shake, justly fearing that the king would fell the oaks when the
cardinal had begun to cut the underwood.” It would perhaps have required too
much wisdom for the monks to see that submission to the cardinal’s pruning-
knife was the only means of averting the clang of the .royal axe.
The method which
Wolsey pursued was afterwards borrowed by Henry VIII. Commissioners were sent
out to inquire into the condition of small monasteries, and after an unfavourable report their dissolution was required, and
their members were removed to a larger house. The work was one which needed
care and dexterity as well as a good knowledge of business. Wolsey was lucky in
his agents, chief amongst whom
was Thomas Cromwell,
an attorney whose cleverness Wolsey quickly perceived. In fact most of the men
who so cleverly managed the dissolution of the monasteries for Henry had
learned the knack under Wolsey, who was fated to train up instruments for
purposes which he would have abhorred.
The immediate objects
to which Wolsey devoted the money which he obtained by the dissolution of these
useless monasteries were a college in his old university of Oxford and another
in his native town of Ipswich. The two were doubtless intended to be in
connection with one another, after the model of William of Wykeham’s
foundations at Winchester and Oxford, and those of Henry YI. at Eton and
Cambridge. This scheme was never carried out in its integrity, for on Wolsey’s
fall his works were not completed, and were involved in his forfeiture. Few
things gave him more grief than the threatened check of this memorial of his
greatness, and owing to his earnest entreaties his college at Oxford was spared
and was refounded. Its name, however, was changed
from Cardinal College to Christ Church, and it was not entirely identified with
Wolsey’s glory. The college at Ipswich fell into abeyance.
Wolsey’s design for
Cardinal College was on a magnificent scale. He devised a large court
surrounded by a cloister, with a spacious dining-hall on one side. The hall was
the first building which he took in hand, and this fact is significant of his
idea of academic life. He conceived a college as an organic society of men living
in common, and by their intercourse generating and expressing a powerful body
of opinion. Contemporaries mocked and said, “ A fine piece of business; this
car
dinal projected
a college and has built a tavern.” They did not understand that Wolsey was not
merely adding to the number of Oxford colleges, but was creating a society
which should dominate the University, and be the centre
of a new intellectual movement. For this purpose Wolsey devised a foundation
which should be at once ecclesiastical and civil, and should set forward his
own conception of the relations between the Church and the intellectual and
social life of the nation. His foundation consisted of a dean, sixty canons,
six professors, forty petty canons, twelve chaplains, twelve clerks, and
sixteen choristers; and he proposed to fill it with men of his own choice, who
would find there a fitting sphere for their energies.
Wolsey was a man well
adapted to hold the balance between the old and the new learning. He had been
trained in the theology of the schools, and was a student of St. Thomas
Aquinas; but he had learned by the training of life to understand the new
ideas; he grasped their importance, and he foresaw their triumph. He was a
friend of the band of English scholars who brought to Oxford the study of
Greek, and he sympathised with the intellectual
aspirations of Grocyn, Colet, More, and Erasmus.
Perhaps he rather sympathised than understood ; but
his influence was cast on their side when the opposition to the new learning
broke out in the University and the Trojans waged a desperate and at first a
successful war against the Greeks. The more ignorant among the clerical
teachers objected to any widening of the old studies, and resented the
substitution of biblical or patristic theology for the study of the schoolmen.
They dreaded the effects of the critical method, and were
not reassured when Grocyn, in a sermon at St. Paul’s Cathedral, declared that
the writings attributed to Dionysius the Areopagite
were spurious. A wave of obscurantism swept over Oxford, and, as Tyndale puts
it, “ the barking curs, Dun’s disciples, the children of darkness, raged in
every pulpit against Greek, Latin, and Hebrew.” Wolsey used the king’s
authority to rebuke the assailants of learning; but the new teachers withdrew
from Oxford, and Wolsey saw that if the new learning was to make way it must
have a secure footing. Accordingly he set himself to get the universities into
his power, and in 1517 proposed to found university lectureships in Oxford.
Hitherto the teaching given in the universities had been voluntary; teachers
arose and maintained themselves by a process of natural selection. Excellent as
such a system may seem, it did not lead to progress, and already the Lady
Margaret, Countess of Richmond, Henry VII.’s mother, had adopted the advice of
Bishop Fisher, and founded divinity professorships in the two universities.
Wolsey wished to extend this system and organise an
entire staff of teachers for university purposes. We do not know how far he showed
his intention, but such was his influence that Oxford submitted its statutes to
him for revision. Wolsey’s hands were too full of other work for him to
undertake at once so delicate a matter; but he meant undoubtedly to reorganise the system of university education, and for this
purpose prevailed on Cambridge also to entrust its statutes to his hands. Again
he had prepared the way for a great undertaking, and had dexterously used his
position to remove all obstacles, and prepare a field for the work of
reconstruction. Again he was
prevented from
carrying out his designs, and his educational reform was never actually made.
We can only trace his intentions in the fact that he brought to Oxford a
learned Spaniard, Juan Luis Yives, to lecture on
rhetoric, and we may infer that he intended to provide both universities with a
staff of teachers chosen from the first scholars of Europe.
Another matter gives
another indication of Wolsey’s desire to remove the grievances felt against the
Church. If the monasteries were survivals of a time when the Church discharged
the humanitariau duties of society,, the
ecclesiastical courts were in a like manner survivals of a time when the civil
courts were not yet able to deal with many points which concerned the relations
between man and man, or which regulated individual conduct. Thus marriage was a
religious ceremony, and all questions which arose from the marriage contract
were decided in the ecclesiastical courts. Similarly wills were recognised by the Church, as resting on the moral basis of
mutual confidence, long before the State was prepared to acknowledge their
validity. Besides these cases which arose from contract, the Church exercised a
disciplinary supervision over its members for the good of their souls, and to
avoid scandals in a Christian community. On all these po.ints
the principles .of the Church had leavened the conceptions of the State, and
the civil jurisdiction had in many matters overtaken the ecclesiastical. But
the clerical courts stood stubbornly upon their claim to greater antiquity, and
the activity of ecclesiastical lawyers found plenty of work to do. Disciplinary
jurisdiction was unduly extended by a class of trained officials, and was
resented by the growing inde
pendence of the
rising middle class. No doubt the ecclesiastical courts needed reform, but the
difficulties in the way of reforming legal procedure are always great. Wolsey
faced the problem in a way which is most characteristic of his statesmanship.
He strove to bring the question to maturity for solution by getting the control
of the ecclesiastical courts into his own hands. For this purpose he used his
exceptional position as Papal Legate, and instituted a legatine court which
should supersede the ordinary jurisdiction. Naturally enough this brought him
into collision with Archbishop Warham, and his fall
prevented him from developing his policy. His attempt only left the
ecclesiastical courts in worse confusion, and added to the strength of the opposition,
which soon robbed them of most of their powers. It added also to Wolsey’s
unpopularity, and gave a shadow of justice to the unworthy means which were
used for his destruction.
In fact, wherever we
look, we see that in domestic affairs Wolsey had a clear conception of the
objects to be immediately pursued by a conservative reformer. But a
conservative reformer raises as much hostility as does a revolutionist, for the
mass of men are not sufficiently foreseeing or sufficiently disinterested
willingly to abandon profitable abuses. They feel less animosity against the
open enemy who aims avowedly at their destruction, than against the seeming
friends who would deprive them of what they consider to be their rights. The
clergy submitted more readily to the abolition of their privileges by the king
than they would have submitted to a reform at the hands of Wolsey. They could
understand the one; they could not understand the other.
This was natural, for
Wolsey had no lofty principles to set before them ; he had only the wisdom of a
keen- sighted statesman, who read the signs of the times. Indeed he did not
waste his time in trying to persuade others to see with his eyes. He could not
have ventured to speak out and say that the Church must choose between the
tender mercies of the royal power and submission to the discretion of one who,
standing between the king and the Pope, was prepared to throw a semblance of
ecclesiastical recognition over reforms which were inevitable. It is clear
that Wolsey was working for the one possible compromise, and he hoped to effect
it by his own dexterity. Secure of the royal favour,
secure through his political importance of the papal acquiescence in the use
which he made of his legatine power, standing forward as the chief ecclesiastic
in England, he aimed at accomplishing such reforms as would have brought into
harmony the relations between Church and State. He did not hope to do this by
persuasion, but by power, and had taken steps to lay his hand cautiously on
different parts of the ecclesiastical organisation.
With this idea before him we may safely acquit Wolsey of any undue ambition for
the papal office; he doubted whether his influence would be increased or not by
its possession.
In everything that
Wolsey did he played for the highest stakes, and risked all upon the hope of
ultimate success. He trusted to justify himself in the long-run, and was
heedless of the opposition which he called forth. Resting solely upon' the
royal favour, he did not try to conciliate, nor did
he pause to explain. Meu could not understand his
ends, but they profoundly disliked his means. The suppression of small
monasteries, which
might be useless but
served to provide for younger sons or dependants of
country families, was very unpopular, as coming from a cardinal who enjoyed the
revenues of many ecclesiastical offices whose duties he did not discharge. The
setting up of a legatine court was hateful to the national sentiment of finglishmen, who saw in it only another engine of
ecclesiastical oppression. The pompandmagnificence wherewith
Wolsey asserted a greatness which he mainly valued as a means of doing his
country service, was resented as the vulgar arrogance of an upstart. Wolsey’s
ideas were too’great to pay any heed to the
prejudices of Englishmen which, after all, have determined the success of all
English ministers, and which no English statesman has ever been powerful endugh to disregard.
CHAPTER IX
THE KING’S DIVORCE
1527-1529
If Wolsey
hoped that the peace with France, which he had so successfully concluded in the
beginning of 1527, would enable him to reassert England’s influence on the
Continent, and would give him an opportunity for the work of domestic reform,
he was sorely disappointed. A new matter arose, not entirely unexpected, but
which widened into unexpected issues, and consumed Wolsey’s energies till it
led to his fall. The project of the king’s divorce was suddenly mooted; and
this personal matter, before it was ripe for settlement, gradually drew into
its sphere all the questions concerning England’s foreign and domestic policy
which Wolsey’s statesmanship had been trying to solve by wise and
well-considered means. Wolsey had been gathering into his hands the threads of
a complicated policy, each one of which required dexterous handling, in
accordance with a great design. He found himself suddenly called upon to act
precipitately for the accomplishment of a small matter, which brought all the
difficulties of his position promin'ently forward,
and gave him no time for that skilful diplomacy in
CHAP. IX
THE KING’S DIVORCE
151
which he excelled.
Moreover, when the project was started neither Henry nor Wolsey could have
foreseen the complications which would arise; still less could Wolsey have
known the obstinacy which the faintest opposition to the royal will would
develop in the king, or the extent to which he could persuade himself that the
satisfaction of the royal pleasure was the sole purpose of the existence of the
power of the State. At first Henry had sympathised
with Wolsey’s far-reaching schemes. Latterly he had at all events been willing
to allow Wolsey to have his own way on the whole. The time came when he showed
himself a hard taskmaster, and demanded that Wolsey should at all costs satisfy
his personal desires in a matter which he persuaded himself was all-important
to the nation at large.
Viewed according to
the general notions of the time, * there was nothing very surprising in the
fact that Henry VIII. should wish for a divorce. Royal marriages were made and
unmade from motives of expediency; it was only a question of obtaining a decent
plea. The sons of Katharine had died in infancy, and Mary was the only heir of
the English throne; it was a matter of importance to the future of England that
the succession to the throne should be clearly established. If Henry had
remained attached to his wife this consideration would not have been put
forward ; but Henry was never famed for constancy. He was in the prime of life,
while Katharine was over forty. He had developed in character, not for the
better, while she remained true to the narrow traditions of her early training.
She was an excellent housewife, conscientious, decorous, and capable; but she
was devoted to the political interests of Spain,
and admired her
nephew Charles. While the imperial alliance was warmly pursued by Henry she was
happy; when Henry’s zeal for Charles began to fade she felt offended, and was
not judicious in the display of her political bias. Henry was more and more
annoyed by his wife’s discontent, and the breach between them rapidly widened.
When Henry broke with Charles and allied himself with France he seems to have
felt that his domestic peace was at an end, and he was not the man to shrink
from the effort to re-establish it upon another basis.
Perhaps none of these
considerations would have moved Henry to take prompt action if his desires had
not been kindled by a new object of his affection. He had not been a faithful
husband, and Katharine seems to have been indulgent to his infidelities. In the
course of 1526 he was captivated by the charms of Anne Boleyn, as he had
formerly been captivated by her sister Mary. But Anne had learned that the king
was fickle, and she resolved that she would not be so easily won as to be
lightly abandoned. She skilfully managed to make herself
agreeable to the king till his passion for her became so violent that he was
prepared to accept her terms and make her his lawful wife.
Wolsey was not in favour of this plan; but he was not opposed to getting rid
of the political influence of Katharine, and he believed that the king’s, fancy
for Anne Boleyn would rapidly pass away. Whatever his own personal opinion
might be, he did not venture to gainsay the king in a matter on which he was
resolved, and he lent himself to be an instrument in a matter which involved
him in measures which became more and
more discreditable.
The first idea of the king was to declare his marriage with Katharine unlawful,
on the ground that she had previously been his brother’s wife ; but he was cognisant of that when he married her and had applied for a
papal dispensation to remedy that source of invalidity. Doubtless some plea
might be discovered to enable the Pope to set aside the dispensation granted
by his predecessor. But whatever technical grounds might be used to justify the
Pope’s decision in the king’s favour, the Pope could
not be expected to act in such a manner as to offend the Powers of Europe and
shock the moral sense of Englishmen. Wolsey did not hide from himself that
there were three hindrances in the way of legalising
the king’s divorce. The opinion of England was not in its favour;
Charles V. was likely to resent the affront which it would put upon his aunt,
and the Pope could not afford to alienate one who was becoming all-powerful in
Italy that he might win the distant friendship of the English king; Francis I.
had just made a treaty with Henry VIII., by which the hand of Mary had been
promised to his son, and he was not likely to wish to see Mary declared to be
illegitimate. These were serious elements of opposition, which it would require
considerable skill to overcome.
The first measure
which suggested itself to Henry and Wolsey was to put the king’s plea into
shape, and endorse it with the authority of the English Church. For this
purpose a suit was secretly instituted against the king in Wolsey’s legatine
court. Henry was solemnly informed that a complaint had been made to Wolsey,
as censor of public morals, that he had cohabited for eighteen years with his
brother’s wife. Henry consented
that Archbishop Warham should be joined with Wolsey as assessor, and named
a proctor who should plead his cause. Three sessions o? this court were held
with the profoundest secrecy in May; but in spite of all the attempts at
secrecy the imperial ambassador discovered what was going on. The object of
this procedure seems to have been to produce a sentence from the legate’s court
in England which should be confirmed by the Pope without right of appeal. If
the Pope had been a free agent he might conceivably have adopted this course;
but the news soon reached England that Rome had been sacked by Bourbon, and
that the Pope was trembling before Charles V. In this turn of affairs it was
useless to proceed farther on the supposition that he would unhesitatingly
comply with the wishes of Henry and Wolsey. A court sitting in secret would
have no influence on English opinion, and Wolsey proposed that its sittings
should be suspended, and the opinions of the English bishops be taken as a
means of educating public opinion.
But Katharine had
been informed of the king’s intentions concerning her, and showed a purpose of
defending her rights. It would be very awkward if she were, the first to make
the matter public, and were to appeal to the Pope or her kinsman Charles. The
question would • then become a political question, and Henry was not prepared
with allies. So on 22d June the king broached his difficulties to Katharine. He
told her of his scruples, and of his intentions of submitting them to the decision
of canonists and theologians; meanwhile they had better live apart. Katharine
burst into tears, and the king vaguely tried to assure her that all was being
done
for the best, and
begged her to keep the matter secret. His only object was to prevent her from
taking any open steps till he had assured himself of the countenance of the
French king to his plans. For this purpose Wolsey was sent on an embassy,
ostensibly to settle some questions raised by the French treaty, really to
concert with Francis I. a scheme for bringing to bear upon the Pope a pressure
which should be strong enough to counteract the influence of Charles V. So, on
3d July, Wolsey left London on his last diplomatic mission. Men who saw Wolsey
set out with more than his accustomed state, escorted by nine hundred horsemen,
thought, doubtless, that the cardinal’s greatness was as high as ever; but
those who watched more closely saw him in the splendid ceremonial of the Church
of Canterbury “ weep very tenderly,” for his mind was ill at ease. He must have
felt that he was going to use his talents for a bad end, and that all
patriotism and nobility had vanished from his aim. On his way to Dover he had a
conference with Archbishop Warham, whom he instructed
about the conduct to be observed towards the queen. Then at Rochester he
sounded Bishop Fisher, the most holy and upright of the English bishops, who
had already been asked by Katharine to give her counsel, though she had not
ventured to tell him what was the subject on which she wished for his advice.
So Wolsey told his own story; that the king’s conscience was disquiet, and
that he wished to have his scruples set at rest by the opinions of learned men.
He represented that Katharine by her hastiness was throwing difficulties in the
way of the king’s considerate procedure, and threatened to publish the matter,
and so create an open
scandal. Fisher
believed Wolsey’s tale, and was beguiled into a belief of the king’s good
intentions, which the queen could not understand. About the validity of Henry’s
marriage Wolsey could not get from Fisher an opinion contrary to the authority
of a papal dispense tion; but he contrived to
alienate Fisher from sympathy with Katharine, and so left the queen without a
friend while he proceeded to machinate against her in France.
We have from one of
Wolsey’s attendants, George Cavendish, his gentleman - usher, a full account of
Wolsey’s journey in France. On one point he gives us valuable insight into
Wolsey’s character where Wolsey has been much misrepresented. He tells us how
at Calais he summoned his attendants and addressed them about their behaviour. He explained that the services which he required
from them were not personal but official, and his words were those of a
statesman who understood, but did not over-estimate, the value of external
things. “Ye shall understand,” he said, “ that the king’s majesty, upon certain
weighty considerations, hath for the more advancement of his royal dignity
assigned me in this journey to be his lieutenant-general, and what reverence belongeth to the same I will tell you. That for my part I
must, by virtue of my commission of lieutenantship,
assume and take upon me, in all honours and degrees,
to have all such service and reverence as to his highness’s presence is meet
and due, and nothing thereof to be neglected or omitted by me that to his royal
estate is appurtenant. And for my part, ye shall see me that I will not omit
one jot thereof.” Then he added some wise advice
about the courtesies
to be observed in their intercourse with the French.
When matters of
etiquette had thus been arranged, Wolsey rode out of Calais on 22d July, and
pursued his journey to Abbeville, where he awaited the arrival of Francis I. at
Amiens. On 4th August he entered Amiens, and was received with royal honours. His interviews with Francis and the queen-mother
were most satisfactory on matters of general policy: the English alliance was
firmly accepted, and all questions between the two Crowns were in a fair way
towards settlement. Wolsey waited till the political alliance was firmly established
before he broached the personal matter of the divorce. Meanwhile he meditated
on the schemes which might be pursued by the allied kings to satisfy Henry’s
desires. He proposed that they should join in demanding from Charles V. that he
should restore the Pope’s independence, in the hope that the Pope when freed
from constraint would be willing to show his gratitude by complying with
Henry’s demands. If they failed in procuring the Pope’s release, they should
declare the papal power to be in abeyance, and summon the cardinals to meet at
Avignon, where, under Wolsey’s presidency, they should transact such business
as the Pope in his captivity was unable to discharge.
Either of these
methods was technically decorous; but they did not much commend themselves to
Henry VIII., whose passion for Anne Boleyn daily increased, and who was
impatient of any procedure that involved delay. So Henry listened coldly to
Wolsey’s proposals for a “ sure, honourable, and safe
” termination of the “ king’s matter,” as the divorce was now called: he
wished for a “ good
and brief conclusion,” and gave ear to the advice of Anne Boleyn and her
friends. It was easy for them to point out that Wolsey was an old- fashioned
statesman, full of prejudice where the Church was concerned. They urged that
the king could do better for himself, and could deal more expeditiously with
the Pope than could a churchman who was bound to adopt a humble attitude
towards his ecclesiastical superior. So Henry determined to take the matter
into his own hands, and send his secretary Knight to negotiate with the Pope
without Wolsey’s intervention.
Wolsey, meanwhile, in
ignorance of the King’s intentions, but distressed at the difficulties which
he foresaw, followed the French Court to Compiegne, where he divided his time
between diplomatic conflicts, festivities, and the despatch
of business. One morning, Cavendish tells us, “ He rose early about four of the
clock, sitting down to write letters into England unto the king, commanding
one of his chaplains to prepare him to mass, insomuch that the said chaplain
stood revested until four of the clock at afternoon;
all which season my lord never rose once even to eat any meat, but continually
wrote his letters, with his own hands, having all that time his nightcap and
kerchief on his head. And about the hour of four of the clock, at afternoon, he
made an end of writing, and commanded one Christopher Gunner, the king’s
servant, to prepare him without delay to ride empost
into England with his letters, whom he despatched
away or ever he drank. And that done he went to mass, and said his other divine
service with his chaplain, as he was accustomed to do; and then went-straight
into a garden ; and after he had walked
the space of an hour
or more, and said his evensong, he went to dinner and supper all at once; and
making a small repast, he went to his bed, to take his rest for the night.”
While Wolsey was thus
labouring in this thorny matter, he received a visit
from Knight on his way to Eome. Knight’s instructions
were to demand from the Pope a dispensation for Henry to marry again before the
divorce from Katharine had been pronounced; failing this, to marry immediately
after his marriage with Katharine was declared invalid. Further, he was to ask
the Pope to issue a bull delegating his spiritual authority to Cardinal Wolsey
during his captivity. No doubt this was an expeditious way to cut existing
difficulties ; but it was too expeditious to suit the traditions of the Papal
Court. Its obvious clumsiness showed that it was not
the work of Wolsey’s hand; and it was unwise for the king to inform the Pope
that he was trying to act without Wolsey’s knowledge.
Though Wolsey was
left in ignorance of the nature of Knight’s instructions, he could not but
suspect that the king was acting without his full knowledge. He finished his
work at Compiegne and returned to England at the end of September. He at once
repaired to the Court at Richmond, and sent to tell the king of his arrival.
Hitherto the king had always retired to a private room when he received the
cardinal alone. Now Anne Boleyn was with the king in the great hall, and
scarcely had Wolsey’s message been delivered than she broke in, “ Where else
should the cardinal come than here where the king is?” The king confirmed her
command, and Wolsey found himself ushered
into the hall, where
Henry sat amusing himself with Anne and his favourites.
Serious talk was out of the question. Wolsey was no longer first in the king’s
confidence. He went away feeling that Anne Boleyn was his political rival, whom
he could only overcome by serving better than she could serve herself.
Henceforth he had two masters instead of one, and he did not deceive himself
that the continuance of his power depended solely on his usefulness in the
matter of the divorce.
As Wolsey showed
himself compliant, Anne Boleyn treated him graciously while she waited to hear
the result of Knight’s mission to Rome. It was not easy for him to enter the
city, which was in possession of the Spaniards, and when he entered it he could
not hold any personal communication with Clement VII., who was shut up in the
Castle of St. Angelo. On 9th December Clement escaped to Orvieto,
where Knight soon joined him, and showed his incapacity for the work which had
been confided to him by revealing to the papal officials the whole details of
the matter, which he ought to have kept secret. Clement saw at once the value
of Henry’s conscientious scruples, and learned that he was moved solely by a
desire to marry Anne Boleyn, a connection which could not be excused by any
paramount reasons of political expediency. However anxious the Pope might be to
oblige the English king, there were limits to his complacency, and Knight had
not the wits to cast a fair appearance over a disgraceful matter. Yet Clement
did not wish to offend Henry by refusing his request at once. The demand for a
dispensation empowering the king to marry at once had already been dropped at
Wolsey’s instance. Knight carried
with him a form of
dispensation allowing Henry to marry as soon as his marriage with Katharine was
dissolved. This form was amended by one of the cardinals, and was signed by
the Pope. Knight started back to England, convinced that he had done his
business excellently, and was bearing to the king the permission which he
desired.
When the documents
were placed in Wolsey’s hands he saw at once that they were worthless. What
Henry wanted was permission for Wolsey to decide the question in the Pope’s
behalf, and permission for himself to act at once as soon as Wolsey’s decision
was pronounced. The documents which he received did not bar Katharine’s right
of appeal; consequently Wolsey’s decision would be of no effect, and the king
could not lawfully marry again pending the appeal. In fact, the Pope reserved
the entire decision of the matter in his own hand.
It was a small matter
for Wolsey to triumph over a man like Knight; but Knight’s failure showed Henry
and Anne Boleyn that they must put their confidence in Wolsey after all. So in
February 1528 Wolsey had to begin again from the beginning, and had to undo the
mischief which Knight’s bungling had made. He chose as his agents his
secretary, Stephen Gardiner, and Edward Foxe, one of the king’s chaplains. They
were instructed to ask that the Pope would join with Wolsey some special
legate, and give them power to pronounce a final judgment. For this purpose
they were to plead Henry’s cause with all earnestness, and say that the king
was moved only by the scruples of his conscience; at the same time they were to
praise the virtues of Anne
Boleyn, and say that
the king was solely moved by considerations of his duty to his country in his
desire to marry her. Further, they were to insist on the dishonour
which would be done to the Holy See if the Pope, through fear of Charles V.,
were to refuse to do justice. If the king could not obtain justice from the
Pope he would be compelled to seek it elsewhere, and live outside the laws of
Holy Church; and however reluctant, he would be driven to this for the quiet of
his conscience.
Truly these pleas
were sorely contradictory. Henry was ready to acknowledge to the fullest extent
the papal power of granting dispensations, and was ready to submit to the
justice of the Pope as the highest justice upon earth. But this was solely on
condition that the Pope gave decision according to his wishes. He regarded the
Papacy as an excellent institution so long as it was on his own side. If it
refused to see the justice of his pleas, then he fell back as strenuously as
did Luther on the necessity of satisfying his own conscience, and to do so he
was ready, if need were, to break with the Church. Truly the movement in
Germany had affected public opinion more than was supposed when Wolsey could
hold such language to the Pope. He did not know what a terrible reality that
curious conscience of Henry would become. His words were a truer prophecy than
he dreamed.
However, this line of
argument was stubbornly pursued by Gardiner even in the Pope’s presence.
Clement at Orvieto was not surrounded by the pomp and
splendour customary to his office. The English envoys
found him in a little room, seated on a wooden bench
which was covered
with “an old coverlet not worth twenty pence.” But he did not sec his way to a
restoration of his dignity by an unhesitating compliance with the demands of
the English king; on the other hand, the mere fact that his fortunes had sunk
so low demanded greater circumspection. He was not likely to escape from
dependence on Charles V. by making himself the tool of Francis I. and Henry
VIII.; such a proceeding would only lead to the entire destruction of the
papal authority. Its restoration must be achieved by holding the balance
between the opposing Powers of Europe, and Henry VIII.’s desire for a divorce
gave the Pope an opportunity of showing that he was still a personage of some
importance. Dynastic questions still depended on his decree, and he could use
Henry’s application as a means of showing Charles that he had something to fear
from the Papacy, and that it was his policy to make the Papacy friendly to
himself. So Clement resolved to adopt a congenial course of temporising,
in the hope that he might see his advantage in some turn of affairs. No doubt
he thought that Henry’s matter would soon settle itself; either his passion for
Anne Boleyn would pass away, or he would make her his mistress. The
stubbornness of Henry, his strange hold upon formal morality while pursuing an
immoral course of conduct, his imperious self-will, which grew by
opposition—these were incalculable elements which might have upset the plans of
wiser men than Clement VII.
So the Pope acted the
part of the good simple man who wishes to do what is right. He lamented his own
ignorance, and proposed to consult those who were more learned in canon law
than himself. When Gardiner
said that England
asked nothing but justice, and if it were refused would be driven to think that
God had taken away from the Holy See the key of knowledge, and would begin to
adopt the opinion of those who thought that pontifical laws, which were not
clear to the Pope himself, might well be committed to the flames, Clement
sighed, and suggested a compromise. Then he added, with a smile, that though
canonists said “the Pope has'all laws in the cabinet
of his breast,” yet God had not given him the key to open that cabinet; he
could only consult his cardinals.
Gardiner’s outspoken remonstrances were useless against one who pleaded an
amiable incompetence. Against the churnings of Henry’s conscience Clement set
up the churnings of his own conscience, and no one could gainsay the Pope’s
right to a conscience as much as the English king. After pursuing this course
during the month of March the Pope at length with sighs and tears devised a
compromise, in which he feared that he had outstepped the bounds of discretion.
He accepted one of the documents which the English envoys had brought, the
permission for the king to marry whom he would as soon as his marriage with
Katharine had been dissolved. He altered the terms of the other document, which
provided for the appointment of a commission with plenary powers to pronounce
on the validity of the king’s marriage; he granted the commission, but did not
give it plenary power; at the same time he chose as the commissioner who was to
sit with Wolsey Cardinal Campeggio, who was the
protector of England in the Papal Court, and who was rewarded for his services
by holding the bishopric of Hereford. In this way he
showed every mark of
goodwill to Henry short of acquiescing entirely in the procedure which he
proposed; but he kept the final decision of the matter in his own hands.
Gardiner was not
wholly pleased with this result of his skill and firmness: after all his
efforts to obtain a definite solution the Pope had managed to escape from giving
any binding promise. Still, Foxe put a good face on Gardiner’s exploits when he
returned to England in the end of April. Henry and Anne Boleyn were delighted,
and Wolsey, though he was more dissatisfied than Gardiner, thought it best to
be hopeful. He tried to bind the Pope more firmly, and instructed Gardiner to
press that the law relating to Henry’s case should be laid down in a papal decretal, so that the legates should only have to determine
the question of fact; this decretal he promised to
keep entirely secret; besides this, he urged that there should be no delay in
sending Campeggio.
During these months
of expectancy Wolsey condescended to ingratiate himself with Anne Boleyn, who
had become a political personage of the first importance. Anne was sure of
Wolsey’s devotion to her interests so long as they were also the king’s, and
could not dispense with Wolsey’s skill. So she was kindly, and wrote friendly
letters to Wolsey, and asked for little gifts of tunny-fish
and shrimps. The English Court again resembled an amiable family party, whose
members were all of one mind. In the course of the summer they were all thrown
into terror by an outbreak of the “ Sweating Sickness,” which devastated the
country. Anne Boleyn was attacked, though not severely; and Henry showed that
his devotion to her
did not proceed to
the length of risking his own precious life for her sake. He fled to Waltham,
and Anne was left with her father ; Henry protested by letter his unalterable
affection, but kept out of harm’s way till all risk of infection was past. At
the same time he showed great solicitude for Wolsey’s health, as did also Anne
Boleyn. It seemed as though Wolsey were never more useful or more highly
esteemed.
Yet, strangely
enough, this outbreak of the plague drew upon Wolsey the most significant
lesson which he had yet received of his own real position and of Henry’s
resoluteness to brook no check upon his royal wilL
Amongst others who perished in the sickness was the Abbess of Wilton, and Anne
Boleyn wished that the vacant office should be given to one of the nuns of the
abbey, Eleanor Carey, sister of William Carey, who had married Anne’s sister
Mary. Wolsey was informed of the wishes of Anne and of the king on this point;
but on examination found that Eleanor’s life and character were not such as to
fit her for the office. He therefore proposed to confer it on the prioress,
Isabella Jordan. It would seem, however, that Eleanor’s friends were determined
to efface in some degree the scandal which their unwise haste had occasioned,
and they retaliated by spreading reports injurious to the character of the
prioress. Wolsey did not believe these reports; but Anne Boleyn and the king
agreed that if their nominee was to be set aside, the cardinal’s nominee should
be set aside likewise, and Wolsey was informed of the king’s decision. Perhaps
Wolsey failed to understand the secret motives which were at work; perhaps he
had so far committed himself before receiving the king’s mes-
sage that he could
not well go back; perhaps he conscientiously did what he thought right.
Anyhow, he appointed Isabella Jordan, and sent her appointment to the king for
confirmation ; further, he gave as his excuse that he had not understood the
king’s will in the matter.
To his extreme surprise
and mortification the king took the opportunity thus afforded of reading him a
lecture on his presumption, and reminding him that he was expected to render
implicit obedience. Matters were no longer arranged between Henry and Wolsey
alone; Anne Boleyn was a third party, and the king’s pride was engaged in
showing her that his word was law. When Henry took his pen in hand he assumed
the mantle of royal dignity, and he now gave Wolsey a sample of the royal way
of putting things which was so effectual in his later dealings with his
Parliament He began by assuring Wolsey that the great love he bore him led him
to apply the maxim, “ Whom I love I chasten ; ” he spoke therefore not in
displeasure but for Wolsey’s good. He could not but be displeased that Wolsey
had acted contrary to his orders; he was the more displeased that Wolsey had
pleaded ignorance as an excuse for his disobedience. He overwhelmed him with
quotations from his letters on the subject, and went on, “ Ah, my lord, it is a
double offence both to do ill and colour it too; but
with men that have wit it cannot be accepted so. Wherefore, good my lord, use
no more that way with me, for there is no man living that more hateth it.” He then went on to tell Wolsey that there were
many rumours current about the means which he was
employing to raise money from religious houses for tbe
foundation of his new colleges; he told him this because “I
dare be bolder with
you than many that mumble it abroad.” He showed that he had not forgotten the
refusal of the monasteries to help in the Amicable Grant: why should they now
give money to Wolsey unless they had some interested motive in doing so 1 He
advised Wolsey to look closely into the matter, and ended, “ I pray you, my
lord, think not that it is upon any displeasure that I write this unto you. For
surely it is for my discharge afore God, being in the room that I am in; and
secondly, for the great zeal I bear unto you, not undeserved on your behalf.
Wherefore, I pray you, take it so; and I assure you, your fault acknowledged,
there shall remain in me no spark of displeasure ; trusting hereafter you
shall recompense that with a thing much more acceptable to me.”
This letter came upon
Wolsey as a sudden revelation of his true position. It showed him the reality
of all the vague doubts and fears which he had for some time been striving to
put from him. He was crushed into abjectness, which he did not even strive to
conceal from others. He took the immediate matters of complaint seriously to
heart, and wished to annul the appointment of Isabella Jordan, which the king
ruled to be unnecessary; on that point he was satisfied with having asserted a
principle. But he advised Wolsey to receive no more gifts for his colleges from
religious houses, and Wolsey promised not to do so. “ Thereby I trust, nor by
any other thing hereafter unlawfully taken, your poor cardinal’s conscience
shall not be spotted, encumbered, or entangled; purposing, with God’s help and
your gracious favour, so to order the rest of my poor
life that it shall appear to your Highness that I love and dread
God and also your
Majesty.” This was a lamentable prostration of the moral authority of the chief
churchman in England before the king, and showed Wolsey’s weakness. He knew
that he had not demeaned himself as befitted his priestly office ; and though
he may have felt that no man in England had less right than the king to reprove
his conduct on moral grounds, still he could not plead that he was above
reproach. In the particular matter of which he was accused—extorting money from
the religious houses in return for immunities granted in virtue of his legatine
power—there is no evidence that Wolsey was guilty. But he could not say that he
had a conscience void of offence; he had acted throughout his career as a
statesman and a man of the world. If the king chose to hold him up to moral
reprobation he had no valid defence to offer. He had disregarded the criticisms
of others that he might serve the king more faithfully ; but if the king took
upon himself the office of critic he had nothing to urge. It was because Henry
had taken the measure of churchmen such as Wolsey that he ventured in later
times to hold such lofty language in addressing the clergy. Henry was always
superior to the weakness of imagining that his own conduct needed any defence,
or his own motives any justification.
Wolsey, though
forgiven with royal graciousness, was profoundly depressed, and could not
recover his sense of security. The future was to him big with menaces, and
perhaps he looked most sadly upon his designs which yet remained unrealised. He saw that his activity must henceforth work
in a smaller sphere, and that he must make haste to finish what he had on hand.
The ugly business of the divorce looked to him still uglier.
Either he would fail
in his efforts to move the Pope, in which case he lost his hold upon the king
at once, or, if he succeeded, he saw that the reign of Anne Boleyn meant the
end of his own uncontested influence. The king’s letter was at least
significant of that: he would never have raised a question about so trivial a
matter if he had not wished to justify his absolute power in the eyes of one
who was to him all-important.
So Wolsey faced the
future; he put his aspirations on a lower level, and wished only to garner
certainly some of the fruits of his life-long labour.
He told the French ambassador, Du Bellay, “ that if God permitted him to see
the hatred of these two nations (France and England) extinguished, and firm
amity established, as he hopes it will shortly be, with a reform of the laws
and customs of the country, such as he would effect if peace were made, and the
succession of the kingdom assured, especially if this marriage took place, and
an heir male were born of it, he would at once retire, and serve God for the
rest of his life; and that, without any doubt, on the first honourable
occasion he could find, he would give up politics.” Doubtless Wolsey was
genuine in these utterances, and felt that he was resigning much when he
reduced his designs within the limits which he here set forth. But limited as
they were, they still contained an entire scheme for the reconstruction of
English politics. Wolsey’s plans remained complete, however much he might be
willing to reduce them; he was incapable of being a mere attendant upon
chance.
For the present he
was awaiting with growing anxiety the coming of Cardinal Campeggio,
which was delayed, according to the Pope’s policy of procrastination. First
the cardinal had to
contend against the difficulties created by the disorderly state of Italy ;
then he was delayed by an attack of the gout, which made his movements slow;
and he did not reach London till 8th October. When he came he was not prepared
to act at once, nor did he treat Wolsey as an equal but rather as a subordinate
in the work of the commission. In fact, Campeggio
behaved as judge, and Wolsey as the king’s advocate. Cam- peggio’s
instructions were first to try and persuade the king to lay aside his purpose
of a divorce. He soon saw that this was useless, and Wolsey plainly warned him
with prophetic instinct. “Most reverend lord, beware lest, in like manner as
the greater part of Germany, owing to the harshness and severity of a certain
cardinal, has become estranged from the Apostolic See and the faith, it should
be said that another cardinal has given the same occasion to England, with the
same result.” Failing to shake the king’s determination, the next course which Campeggio was ordered to pursue was to persuade the queen
to comply with the king’s wishes. Katharine was still treated with outward
respect, but was cut off from all friends and advisers, and subjected to a
secret and galling persecution. Still she maintained a resolute spirit, and
withstood the pleadings of Wolsey and Campeggio, who
urged her to give way and withdraw to a monastery, for the quieting of the
king’s conscience. Katharine replied that there was nothing of which his
conscience need be afraid, and that she intended “ to live and die in the
estate of matrimony to which God had called her.” The obstinacy of Katharine
was as invincible as the obstinacy of Henry; and Katharine had right on her
side.
Nothing remained save
for the legates to proceed to the trial of the case; and in the trial Campeggio’s instructions bade him procrastinate to the
utmost in hopes the king might give way before the long delay. Wolsey had
foreseen this possibility when he demanded that Campeggio
should bring with him a decretal defining the law as
applicable to the case. This decretal Campeggio was instructed to show the king, but keep in his
own hands, so that it was useless for Wolsey’s purpose. His first object was
to get hold of this decretal, and he wrote urgently
to the Pope asking that it should be delivered into the king’s hands, and shown
to the Privy Council. “Without the Pope’s compliance,” he sadly wrote, “I
cannot bear up against this storm.” But Clement VII. felt that he was more
dependent on Charles Y. than on Henry VIII., and declared that he had granted
the decretal merely to be shown to the king and then
burned; he had never consented that it be shown to the king’s counsellors. When he was further pressed he tossed his arms
and said, with great agitation, “I do consider the ruin that hangs over me; I
repent what I have done. If heresies arise, is it my fault 1 My conscience
acquits me. None of you have any, reason to complain. I have performed my
promise, and the king and the cardinal have never asked anything in my power
which I have not granted with the utmost readiness; but I will do no violence
to my conscience. Let them, if they like, send the legate back again, on the
pretext that he will not proceed in the cause, and then do as they please,
provided they do not make me responsible for injustice.”
Here the Pope touched
upon a noticeable feature of
the case. Henry was
bound upon a course which was neither legally nor morally right, though
national interests might to some degree be pleaded in its behalf. He was,
however, resolved to be legally and morally justified in his own eyes and in
the eyes of others. He would not content himself with setting aside the law,
and leaving it to others to prove him in the wrong. The Papal Court was slow to
justify him; it would have been slower to condemn him. Most men would have been
satisfied with this knowledge, and would have acted upon it. But Henry was not
only minded to do what he wished, but was resolved that what he wished should
be declared absolutely right. He was determined that there should be no doubt
about the legitimacy of his children by Anne Boleyn ; and some recognition is
due to him for not allowing his desires to overcome his patriotism, and leave
to England the deplorable legacy of a disputed succession. As a man, Henry did
not strive to subject his desires to the law of right; as a king, he was bent
upon justifying his own caprice so that it should not do hurt to his royal
office, or offend his duty to his kingdom. Henry sinned, but he was bent ou sinning royally, and believed that so he could extenuate
his sin.
Not only was Campeggio ordered not to part with the decretal,
but he was bidden to destroy it. Meanwhile a new feature of the case emerged.
It became known that, besides the bull of dispensation granted to Henry VII.,
an ampler brief had been issued in confirmation of it to Ferdinand of Spain,
of which the original was contained in the Spanish archives. Henry VIII.
insisted on its production, in the hopes of destroy
ing it or
casting doubts on its authenticity, and new negotiations were begun about this
brief, which had the effect of wasting time and deferring the trial of the
case. Further, on Clement VII.’s return to Rome in May he was attacked by
illness, and his death was reported. Nothing could be done by the legates till
they were assured of his recovery.
Meanwhile Henry was
growing more and more impatient, and made it clear to Wolsey that if the proceedings
did not lead to his divorce all the blame would be laid at Wolsey’s door. Anne
Boleyn also began to suspect Wolsey’s good intentions towards herself, and
thought that he was responsible for these repeated delays. Wolsey could no
longer doubt that his all was staked on the issue of the trial, which at length
began at Blackfriars on 18th June 1529. Katharine
appeared, and protested against the jurisdiction of the court. For the purpose
of deciding this point it was necessary that both parties should appear in
person ; and on 21st June Henry and Katharine both were present. The king
demanded instant judgment for the easing of his conscience; Katharine first
knelt before the king and asked for pity, then she appealed to Rome, where only
the cause could be decided without partiality or suspicion. The legates
overruled her appeal, and on her non-appearance declared her contumacious.
The summoning of the
king and queen was merely a formal incident in the procedure of the court, but
it strangely impressed itself upon men’s minds. The king, whom they regarded as
the fountain of law, was called to plead before one of his own subjects and a
foreign priest. Apart from any thought of the question at issue,
or its rights and
wrongs, Englishmen marvelled at this indignity, and
felt that ecclesiastical law was some foreign thing which they could not
fathom. No doubt the impression then wrought upon their minds accounts in some
measure for the acceptance of the royal supremacy, as being at least more
intelligible than the actual working of the outworn theory of the supremacy of
the Pope.
Moreover,
the suppliant attitude of Katharine awakened a strong feeling of compassion,
which on 28th June found expression from the upright Bishop of Rochester, John
Fisher, who appeared to plead Katharine’s cause, and declared himself ready to
follow the example of John the Baptist and lay down his life, if need be, to
maintain the sanctity of matrimony. Others followed his example, and the signs
of some dislike to the king’s proceedings amongst Englishmen encouraged Campeggio to fall back upon his policy of procrastination,
which the impetuous zeal of Wolsey was striving to overcome. - - .
Henry grew more and
more angry at the signs of opposition to his will which met him on every side,
and Wolsey had to bear the brunt of the royal wrath. / 'fkvendishT~tells
how one dajT Wolsey left the king’s presence and took
his barge. The Bishop of Carlisle, who was with him, remarked that the day was
hot. “Yea,” quoth my lord cardinal, “if ye had been
as well chafed as I have been within this hour ye would say it was very hot.”
He went home “to his naked bed,” where in two hours’ time he was found by Lord
Wiltshire, who brought a message from the king, bidding him and Campeggio “ repair uuto the queen
at Bridewell, into her chamber, to persuade her by
their wisdoms,
advising her to
surrender the whole matter unto the king’s hands by her own will and consent,
which should be much better to her honour than to
stand to the trial of law and be condemned, which would seem much to her
slander and defamation.” Wolsey vainly complained of the folly of the lords of
the Council in putting such fancies into the king’s head : he was bound to rise
and obey. Sadly he sought Campeggio, and with a sense
of deep humiliation the two judges set out to make another attempt to browbeat
an accused who had already refused to submit to their judicial authority.
On 23d July it was
expected that the court would give its decision. The king was present in a
gallery, and after the reading of the pleas his counsel demanded judgment. Campeggio rose and declared that as the vacation of the
Roman courts began at the end of July and lasted till October, he must follow
that custom, and adjourn the sittings of the court for two months. On this the
Duke of Suffolk slapped the table and exclaimed, “ It was never merry in
England whilst we had cardinals among us.” Wolsey was not the man to brook an
insult, especially from one whom he had greatly benefited. “ Sir,” he said, “
of all men within this realm ye have least cause to dispraise or be offended at
cardinals : for if I, a simple cardinal, had not been, you should have had at
this present no head upon your shoulders, wherein you should have a tongue to
make any such report of us, who intend you no manner of displeasure.”
But though Wolsey
could still wear a bold face when attacked, he knew- that the future was
hopeless. His enemies were daily gaining ground. His place, as the king’s
trusted counsellor, was taken by Stephen Gar
diner, whom he had
trained, and who was now the king’s secretary and Anne Boleyn’s chief agent.
The old nobles, headed by the Duke of Norfolk, had made common cause with the
relations of Anne Boleyn, and saw their opportunity of avenging themselves for
all the slights which "Wolsey had put upon them. Henry was unwilling to
abandon all hopes of his divorce through the legatine court, and spared Wolsey
for a time; but Wolsey knew that the ground was slipping from under him. The
Pope resolved to revoke the cause to Rome, and recall the powers granted to the
legates; it required all Wolsey’s efforts to prevent the issue of a citation to
Henry to appear before the Roman court.
Moreover, Wolsey had
the additional pang of seeing all the fruits of his diplomatic activity abandoued before the absorbing interest of this miserable
matter of the king’s domestic life. If there was one object which was dear to
Wolsey’s heart, it was to secure England^ power in Europe by a close alliance
with France. For this purpose he had made great sacrifices, and he thought that
he had some claim on Francis I.’s gratitude. Yet Francis was negotiating for
peace with Charles V., and a conference was being held at Cambrai
between his mother Louise and Charles’s aunt Margaret. Wolsey sorely longed to
be present at that conference and protect the interests of England; but Henry
VIII. had no interest in such matters, and only regarded Wolsey’s wish as a
sign that he was lukewarm in his efforts for the divorce. Moreover, Francis I.
defamed him to the English envoy, the Duke of Suffolk, and did his best to
foster the king’s suspicion of Wolsey’s zeal in “the great matter.” He knew
that to deprive Henry of his
acute adviser was the
readiest means of hiding his own proceedings. The conference at Cambrai was an abandonment of the methods of diplomacy and
a return to the old usages of the days of chivalry. Two women took counsel
together about family affairs, and their object was to remove domestic
difficulties. Really Francis I. was weary of a profitless warfare, and agreed
to abandon Italy to Charles V. Henry VIII. was appeased by a transference of
the debt of Charles V. to the shoulders of Francis I., and this promise of more
money seems to have satisfied the English king. Early in August the peace was
signed, and Henry was included in its provisions. If a testimony were needed
that entirely English diplomacy depended upon Wolsey, it would be found in
Henry’s short-sightedness at this time. He did not try to influence the proceedings
at Cambrai, but allowed himself to be hoodwinked by
Francis I., even in the point about which he was most interested. The peace of Cambrai left Charles V. supreme in Italy, and restored in
name the authority of the Pope, which the two sovereigns declared themselves
resolved to maintain. Its practical result was to make the Pope more anxious to
please Charles, who was now most closely connected with his political
interests, and to free him from the dread of an alliance between Henry and
Francis,, which might have brought pressure to bear upon his action in the
divorce. Clement had now no special motive for trying to conciliate the English
king, and it was clear to all Europe that Wolsey no longer guided England’s
policy.
It was not only that
Wolsey had failed in the matter of the divorce, but his failure had brought to
light the
true nature of the policy
which he was pursuing, and had shown that it was not adapted to the turn which
affairs were taking under the influence of the king’s personal desires. Wolsey
had planned a conservative reform, to he carried out gradually. England,
respected on the Continent, and holding the balance between France and the
Empire, was gradually to assert its power and independence by setting up a
strong monarchy which should overawe the Papacy, and without any formal breach
with past traditions, should remodel its ecclesiastical institutions, and put
its relations to the Papacy on a new footing. Henry VIII. had so far entered
into the spirit of this plan as to regard the existing state of things as of
little moment, and his wishes led him to try and anticipate the future. This
was the most disastrous thing that could have befallen Wolsey: it is the danger
which besets all attempts at conservative reform. It is hard to train men in
the ideas of future change, and expect them to submit patiently to present
fetters. Henry brusquely demanded too much from the Pope, and the Pope in his
alarm offered too little. Wolsey tried to mediate, but he was too closely
allied with Henry for the Pope to trust him, and when his object was clearly
seen in a small matter he was deprived of the means by which he hoped to win.
His method was framed for large operations on a large field; it was not suited
for the petty task which was suddenly imposed upon him. Yet if it failed there
it was sure to be condemned altogether, and1 the future would belong
to the more revolutionary forces which he had been trying to hold in check.
So in proportion as
Wolsey failed about the divorce,
the threads of his
different but converging schemes fell from his hands. What was the profit to
Henry of Wolsey’s intricate foreign policy if it did not allow him to get a
divorce when he pleased? Why should he deal tenderly with the papal authority
when it threw such obstacles in his way ? Why should he spare the Church when
its bishops protested against him ? Why should he permit the slow
transformation of the monasteries when with a little trouble their spoil would
fall into his hands ? Why should he trust to Wolsey, who had already failed him
in his need, when he had men like Gardiner, with clear heads about matters of details,
to serve him at his need? Above all, why should Wolsey’s fine-drawn plans stand
between him and his people’s affections, and lead him to do what Englishmen
neither understood nor approved? These were the questions with which Henry was
plied. Wolsey had been only too successful and too consistent. If his policy
was abandoned in aught, it must be abandoned in all. When Henry let fall
Wolsey’s foreign policy, and made no effort to influence the peace of Cambrai, there was no further need of Wolsey in England’s
councils, and his rule was practically at an end.
Still Wolsey was
permitted to retain his offices. Campeggio had not
yet departed; something might still be done. The king had for some time avoided
seeing Wolsey, and was engaged in wandering from place to place in the company
of Anne Boleyn. At last, in the middle of September, Campeggio
prepared to return to Rome, and accompanied by Wolsey went to take leave of the
king, who was then at Grafton in Northamptonshire.
There they arrived on 19th Septem
ber, and Campeggio was shown to his room, but Wolsey was informed
that there was no room provided for him. He was relieved from his astonishment
by a groom of the stole, who said, “I assure you, sir, here is very little room
in this house, scantly sufficient for the king. However, I beseech your grace
to accept mine for a season.” When Wolsey and Campeggio
were ushered into the king’s presence they found the lords of the Council
eagerly watching the king’s behaviour. If they
expected any signs of the royal displeasure they were disappointed, as Henry
received Wolsey most graciously, and drew him aside into a window, where he
talked with him privately.
The king dined
privately with Anne Boleyn, and Wolsey dined with the lords of the Council. In
course of conversation he hinted at his own intentions for the future by
saying, “ It were well done if the king would send his chaplains and bishops to
their cures and benefices.” The Duke of Norfolk eagerly assented, and Wolsey
went on to say that he would gladly go to his bishopric of Winchester. Then
Norfolk showed his fears by saying, “ Nay, to your see of York, whence comes
both your greatest honour and charge.” Already
Wolsey’s foes were scheming to remove him as far as possible from the royal
presence.
Every
one
was eagerly watching and listening for the smallest, indications of the royal
pleasure; and Cavendish was told that Anne Boleyn at dinner with the Ti-ing showed her dissatisfaction at Wolsey’s kindly reception.
She denounced the cardinal in no measured terms, but without any immediate
result, as after dinner the king called Wolsey into his private room and talked
with'him for some
time; “the which blanked his enemies very sore, and made them to stir the
coals, being in doubt what this matter would grow into, having now none other
refuge to trust to but Mistress Anne, in whom was all their whole and firm
trust and affiance.” Wolsey rode off to “Master Empson’s
house, called Euston, three miles from Grafton,” where he spent the night, and
received a visit from Gardiner, who was thought to come as a spy; but Wolsey
talked to him about indifferent subjects, and showed that his sense of personal
dignity was still strong.
Next morning he rode
early to the Court, and saw the king for a short time; but Anne Boleyn had
prepared a picnic at Hatwell Park, and carried off
Henry with her, that Wolsey might not have much opportunity for private talk.
The king bade a hurried farewell to Wolsey and Campeggio,
and then rode away with Anne, while the legates returned to London. Campeggio did not reach Dover till 8th October, and before
he was allowed to embark his luggage was ransacked by the king’s officials.
This extraordinary
violation of the privileges of an ambassador was characteristic of the
unscrupulous meanness to which Henry was now ready to descend. He hoped to
find amongst Campeggio’s papers the Pope’s decretal about the law of the divorce. If he had found it
Wolsey might still have been useful. He might have been compelled to continue
the proceedings of the legatine court, and give judgment in Henry’s favour, sheltering himself under the terms of the
commission, and applying the interpretation of the decretal.
In this way the first measures wrung out of the Pope when he
wished to be
conciliating might have been used in a high-handed fashion against the
conclusions of his settled policy. But Campeggio had
already been instructed by the Pope to bum the decretal.
Nothing was found as the result of the search, which only revealed the
cardinal’s poverty. He had come to England ill provided, and had gained nothing
from the royal bounty.
This unworthy device
seems to have been of .Henry’s own devising; and as soon as he heard of its
failure Wolsey’s doom was sealed. The king had treated him graciously, to the
dismay even of Anne Boleyn, a few days before; now he abandoned him to his
enemies, who had their weapons of attack in readiness. On 9th October the
king’s attorney sued fora writ of praemunire
against Wolsey, on the ground that his acts done as legate were contrary to the
statute. After this Wolsey’s ruin was a foregone conclusion.
CHAPTER X
THE FALL OF WOLSEY
1-529-1530
When the storm broke over his head Wolsey had no
hope of escape. His position as an English minister was due entirely to the
king’s favour, and when that favour
was withdrawn he was entirely helpless. Outside the king there was no motive
power in English politics at this period. There was no party in the State
strong enough to bring any influence to bear upon him : he was likely to be
moved by nothing save the dread of a popular rising, and there was no chance of
a popular rising in Wolsey’s favour. On the other
hand, Wolsey had been contented to take upon his own shoulders the
responsibility of all that was most unpopular in the king’s proceedings. The
demands created by the king’s extravagance were put down to his extortionate
nature ; the debts incurred by a policy which he disapproved were supposed to
be the results of his influence; even the divorce was attributed to his
ill-will against the Emperor and his love for France. The current of popular
opinion ran strong against Wolsey. He had made few friends and many enemies.
His enemies were
powerful, his friends
were powerless. No one in England could lend him any help.
It is true that the
charge brought against him was most iniquitous. He had obtained his legatine
authority through the king’s urgent request; he had used it solely at the
king’s orders, and in the king’s behalf. But he knew that such a plea would not
be regarded, as the king’s courts would simply register the king’s will. There
was no other oourse than entire submission, and
before the king Wolsey had no thought of personal dignity. He wrote to Henry as
a lowly suppliant, “ For surely, most gracious king, the remembrance of my
folly, with the sharp sword of your Highness’s displeasure, hath so penetrated
my heart that I cannot but lamentably cry, It is enough; now stay, most
merciful king, your hand.” Such loyalty, such entire submission, is to our
minds inconceivable, and only shows how the possession of absolute power
debases not only those who are invested with it but those who are brought in
contact with them. Wolsey might indeed lament his “ folly ” in putting any
trust in princes; he had served his master only too well, and met with the
basest ingratitude for all the sacrifices of his own wishes and his own
principles.
Still he hoped by his
submission to save something. If sentence were pronounced against him, under
the charge of prmmunire, his goods would be
forfeited, and his acts invalidated. If he threw himself upon the king’s mercy
he might at least save his two colleges, and might be permitted to serve his
country on a smaller scale. What was coming he could not foresee. There would
be open war between Henry and the Papacy, waged with
new weapons and
fraught with danger to the English Church. “It is the intention of these
lords,” wrote the French ambassador, “when Wolsey is dead or destroyed, to get
rid of the Church and spoil the goods of both. I suppose they mean to do grand things.”
The days of revolution were at hand, and Wolsey might still have some power to
check its excesses.
His submission led to
no immediate results. On 16th October the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk demanded
the surrender of the great seal, and ordered Wolsey to depart to his house at Esher. Wolsey would humble himself before the king, but not
before others, and calmly asked them for their authority. They answered that
they had the king’s commission by word of mouth. “ The great seal of England,”
said Wolsey, “was delivered me by the king’s own person, to enjoy during my
life, with the ministration of the office and high room of chancellorship of
England; for my surety whereof I have the king’s letters-patent to show.” High
words were used by the dukes, but in the end they departed, and reappeared
next day with letters from the king. On reading them Wolsey delivered up the
seal, and expressed himself content to withdraw to Esher.
Before departing he
made an inventory of all his plate and tapestries, that it might be ready for
the king to take possession. He further signed an indenture acknowledging that
on the authority of bulls obtained from Rome, which he published in England
contrary to the statute, he had unlawfully vexed the prelates of the realm and
other of the king’s subjects, thereby incurring the penalties of prcemunire, by which also he deserved to suffer perpetual
imprisonment at the king’s pleasure, and
to forfeit all his
lands, offices, and goods. He besought the king, in part recompense of his
offences, to take into his hands all his temporal possessions. Then he entered
his barge in the presence of a crowd, which was sorely disappointed not to see
him take the way to the Tower.
When Wolsey arrived
at Putney he was greeted by a messenger from the king, who brought him as a
token a ring, with a message “ that the king bade him be of good cheer, for he
should not lack. Although the king hath dealt with you unkindly, he saith that it is for no displeasure that he beareth you, but only to satisfy the minds of some which he
knoweth be not your friends. Also ye know right well
that he is able to recompense you with twice as much as your goods amounteth unto: and all this he bade me that I should show
you. Therefore, sir, take patience; and for my part, I trust to see you in
better estate than ever ye were.” When Wolsey heard this he dismounted from his
mule and knelt in the mud in sign of thankfulness. He gave a present to the
messenger, and grieved that he had no worthy gift to send to the king. Presently
he bethought himself of a jester belonging to his household. “ If ye would at
my request present the king with this poor fool, I trust his Highness would
accept him well, for surely for a nobleman’s pleasure he is worth a thousand
pounds.” It is a relief to find in this dismal story some signs of human
feeling. “The poor fool took on so, and fired so in such a rage when he saw
that he must needs depart from my lord,” that six tall yeomen had to be sent as
an escort to convey him safely to the Court.
It is needless to
seek for a motive for Henry’s conduct in sending this delusive message;
probably he did it
through an amiable
desire to make himself generally agreeable. No man likes to feel that he is
acting villainously ; perhaps Henry’s conscience felt all the pleasure of
having performed a virtuous action when he heard of Wolsey’s gratitude for such
a small mercy. Henry VIII. was nothing if he was not conscientious; but he made
large drafts on his conscience, and paid them back in small coin. Probably we
have here the record of such a payment.
Certainly Henry did
nothing to give his goodwill towards Wolsey any practical expression; he did
not even send him any money to provide his household with the necessaries of
life. For a month they remained “ without beds, sheets, tablecloths, cups, and
dishes to eat their meat or lie in,” and ultimately had to borrow them. What
most distressed Wolsey, who had been accustomed to munificence, was that he had
not even money to pay the wages of his household before he dismissed them
sadly from his service. In his straits one of his officials came to his aid,
and showed his tact and management in affairs of business. Thomas Cromwell, the
son of a London citizen, spent an adventurous youth in business on the Continent,
and settled in London as a small attorney and a money-lender. Wolsey had found
out his ability, and employed him to manage the dissolution of the monasteries,
and transact the business connected with the foundation of his colleges. No
doubt this gave him opportunities of spreading his own business, and making
himself useful friends. In anticipar tion of the future he contrived to get himself elected as
member of the Parliament for which Henry VIII. issued writs upon the suspension
of the legatine court.
Cromwell accompanied
Wolsey to Esher, and was much moved by the thought of
the loss which his patron’s fall was likely to inflict upon himself. On 1st
November Cavendish found him leaning in the window “with a primer in his hand,
saying our Lady mattins. He prayed not more earnestly
than the tears distilled from his eyes.” He lamented that he was in disdain
with most men for his master’s sake, and surely without just cause; but he was
resolved that afternoon to ride to London, and so to the Court, “ where I will
either make or mar, or I come again.” After dinner he talked with Wolsey about
his household, and then showed his power of gaining popularity at the expense
of others. “ Have you not,” he exclaimed, “ a number of chaplains, to whom ye
have departed very liberally with spiritual promotions? and yet have your poor
servants taken much more pains for you in one day than all your idle chaplains
have done in a year. Therefore if they will not freely and frankly consider
your liberality, and depart with you of the same goods gotten in your service,
now in your great indigence and necessity, it is pity that they live.” Wolsey
agreed; he summoned his household, and addressed them in a dignified speech; he
gave them a month’s holiday, that they might seek some more profitable service.
Then Cromwell said that they lacked money, and himself tendered five pounds
towards their payment, adding, “ Now let .us see what your chaplains will do.”
The example was contagious, and contributions poured in. The household was
paid, and departed full of thankfulness to Cromwell. Then, after a private
conversation with Wolsey, Cromwell rode off to London to “make or mar.”
Parliament met on 3d
November, and Wolsey’s enemies hoped that its first business would be Wolsey’s
impeachment. For this, however, Henry VIII. was not prepared, though he did
not openly forbid it. He was not sure of the capacity of his new advisers, and
perhaps felt that he might have further need of Wolsey’s services. Anyhow it
was better to keep his opponents in constant fear of his return to power. They
were bound together rather by opposition to Wolsey than by any agreement
amongst themselves; and Henry was not very sanguine about their administrative
success. The Duke of Norfolk, the uncle of Anne Boleyn, was president of the
Council, and Suffolk was vice-president. The chancellorship was given to Sir
Thomas More, who was well fitted by his literary reputation and high character
to calm the fears of moderate men, and show Europe that the English king had no
lack of eminent servants. The chancellorship of the duchy of Lancashire was
given to the treasurer of the household, Sir William Fitzwilliam, a capable
official. Gardiner preferred an ecclesiastical post, and succeeded to the
bishopric of Winchester, which Wolsey was bidden to resign. It still remained
to be seen if Norfolk, Suffolk, and More could fill the place of Wolsey.
Parliament was opened
by the king; and the chancellor, according to custom, made a speech. In the
course of it More showed that a man of letters does not necessarily retain his
literary taste in politics, and that high character does not save a statesman
from the temptation to catch a passing cheer by unworthy taunts at his defeated
adversary. He spoke of the king as shepherd of his people, and went on, “ As
you see that amongst a
great flock of sheep
some be rotten and faulty, which the good shepherd sendeth
from the good sheep, so the great wether which is of
late fallen, as you all know, so craftily, so scabbedly,
yea, and so untruly juggled with the king, that all men must needs guess and
think that he thought in himself that he had no wit to perceive his crafty
doing, or else that he presumed that the king would not see nor know his
fraudulent juggling and attempts. But he was deceived; for his Grace’s sight
was so quick and penetrating that he saw him, yea, and saw through him, both
within and without, so that all things to him were open; and according to his
deserts he hath had a gentle correction.”
This speech of More
served as introductory to a Bill which was brought into the Upper House for
disabling Wolsey from being restored to his former dignities and place in the
king’s Council. It was founded upon a series of articles which had been drawn
up by his enemies long before, and were a tissue of frivolous or groundless
charges. The Bill passed the Lords, but on its introduction into the Commons
was opposed by Cromwell, who knew that the king did not wish it to be passed.
It answered its purpose of casting a stigma on Wolsey, and justifying Henry’s
conduct towards him; but Henry did not intend to deprive himself of the power
of employing Wolsey again if he should prove useful. So Cromwell served the
king while he served Wolsey, and served himself at the same time by a display
of zeal for his fallen master which raised him in men’s esteem, “so that at
length, for his honest behaviour in his master’s
cause, he grew into such estimation in every man’s opinion, that he was
esteemed to be the
most faithfullest servant to his master of all others, wherein
he was of all men greatly commended.” Moreover, he managed to make friends by
the sure tie of self-interest. He advised Wolsey to buy off the hostility of
important men by granting them pensions out of the revenues of his see: as he chose
the recipients of the money and negotiated the grants he gained more gratitude
than Wolsey gained profit out of the transaction. Wolsey believed that his
prospects depended on Cromwell’s zeal, and the great cardinal became submissive
to the direction of one whom he had raised. He abode at Esher
in a state of feverish anxiety, sometimes receiving a present and a gracious
message from the king, often irritated by Cromwell, who deluded him by a cheap
display of zeal, grieving most of all at the uncertainty of the fortunes of his
great colleges, which he still wished to leave as a memorial to posterity of
the schemes which he intended.
Parliament was
prorogued in the middle of December, and the Bill against Wolsey was allowed to
drop. The king and Anne Boleyn were delighted with the cardinal’s house at York
Place, of which they took possession, and Wolsey was still left in uncertainty
about his future. Anxiety preyed upon his health, and at Christmas he fell ill
The news of his illness seems to have brought some remorse to Henry, who sent
his own physician, and eagerly asked for tidings, saying, “ I would not lose
him for twenty thousand pounds.” Doctor Buttes answered, “Then must your Grace
send him some comfortable message as shortly as is possible.” The king gave
Buttes a favourite ring from his own finger, saying,
“ Tell him that I am not offended with him in my heart nothing at
all, and that shall
he perceive, and God send him life very shortly.” He asked Anne Boleyn to send
also a “ token with comfortable words,” and Anne at his command obeyed,
overcoming her reluctance by the thought that the cardinal was on his deathbed.
Doctor Buttes’s prescription was a good one, and with revived
hopes Wolsey speedily recovered. On 2d February 1530 the king sent him some
furniture for his house and chapel. On 12th February he received a full pardon
for his offences, and on 14th February was restored to the archbishopric of
York and its possessions excepting York Place, which the king retained for himself.
He entreated to be allowed to keep also the bishopric of Winchester and the
Abbey of St. Alban’s ; but Gardiner had his eye on Winchester, and the Dukes of
Norfolk and Suffolk were anxious that Wolsey should not hold a post which might
bring him into the neighbourhood of the king. He was
compelled to resign both these offices, and recognised
in this the power of his foes.
The damp air of Esher was hurtful to his health, and he received permission
to change his residence to Richmond Lodge. There he stayed until the state of
the roads allowed him to take his journey northwards, which the Duke of Norfolk
pressed him to do in forcible language. “ Show him,” he said to Cromwell, “
that if he go not away shortly, I will, rather than he should tarry still, tear
him with my teeth.” When Wolsey heard this he said, “ Marry, Thomas, then it is
time to be going, if my lord of Norfolk take it so. Therefore I pray you go to
the king and say that I would with all my heart go to my benefice at York but
for want of money.” Wolsey’s immediate necessities were grudgingly
supplied by the.
lords of the Council, and in the beginning of Passion Week he began his
journey to York. He was received with courtesy by the gentry on the way. The
manor-house at Southwell, where he resolved to live,
required some repairs, and he could not occupy it till 5th June.
In his house at Southwell Wolsey received the neighbouring gentry, and
made himself popular amongst them. He lived simply, and applied himself to the
discharge of the duties of his office with great success. A pamphlet published
in 1536 says of him : “Who was less beloved in the north than my lord cardinal
before he was amongst them ? Who better beloved after he had been there a while
1 He gave bishops a right good example how they might win men’s hearts. There
were few holy days but he would ride five or six miles from his house, now to
this parish church,-now to that, and there cause one or other of his doctors to
make a sermon unto the people. He sat amongst them and said mass before all the
parish; he saw why churches were made; he began to restore them to their right
and proper use; he brought his dinner with him, and bade divers of the parish
to it. He inquired whether there were any debate or grudge between any of them.
If there were, after dinner he sent for the parties to the church and made them
all one.” It is an attractive picture of episcopal activity which is here set
before us. We wish that Wolsey had been great enough to realise
the pleasure of these simple duties so thoroughly as to wean himself from the
allurements of political ambition. But Wolsey in his retirement was something
like Machiavelli in exile ; he found some satisfaction for his activity in the
doings of peasants,
but he went home and hankered for the great life of politics which was denied
him. He meditated still how he could overthrow his enemies and return to the
more complex problems in which he had been trained.
At the end of the
summer Wolsey removed from Southwell to another
manor-house at Scrooby, where he continued the same
mode of life. All this time his actions were jealously watched by his enemies,
who suspected him of trying to gain popularity and raise up a party in his favour. They did their best to keep him in perpetual
annoyance by threats of legal proceedings touching the possessions of the see
of York. The king paid no heed to him save to exact all the money he could from
his forfeiture. Amongst other things which the king claimed was the payment of
Wolsey’s pension from the Frencn king; and his care
for Wolsey’s health at Christmas may have been due to the fact that he thought
that Wolsey’s life had a pecuniary value to himself. He presently dissolved
Wolsey’s college at Ipswich, and seized all its lands and possessions. It was a
bitter blow to Wolsey to see his plans thus overthrown. He had hoped to found
an institution which should promote education where it was sorely needed in the
eastern counties. It was the beginning of a project which would have led to the
foundation of local universities, which it has been reserved to our own day to
revive. If Wolsey had remained in power monastic revenues would have been
increasingly diverted to educational purposes, and England would have been
provided with colleges which would have grown with local needs. The dissolution
of the college at Ipswich checked this process at the begin
ning, and negatived any scheme for the slow transformation of the
monasteries into institutions which were in accordance with national needs.
Cardinal College at
Oxford met with better fortune. Wolsey pleaded hard for its preservation, and
the authorities of the college made a stand in its behalf. The king was not
yet prepared to seize the lands of the dissolved monastery of St. Frideswyde, or of the old Canterbury Hall, which had been
absorbed, and it could be shown that he would lose as much as he would gain by
attempting an accurate division of the property of the college. He agreed to
“have an honourable college there, but not so great
and of such magnificence as my lord cardinal intended to have, for it is not
thought meet for the common weal of our realm.” The site of the college and a
portion of its revenues were saved from the commissioners who were realising Wolsey’s forfeiture; but the name of Christ
Church obliterated that of Cardinal College, and Henry VIII. endeavoured as far as he could to associate the foundation
with himself and dissociate it from Wolsey.
This persistent disregard'of the ideas which Wolsey had striven to put
forward weighed heavily on his spirits. “ I am put from my sleep and meat,” he
wrote, “ for such advertisements as I have had of the dissolution of my
colleges.” It was not only the sense of personal disappointment which afflicted
him; it was the hopeless feeling that all his policy was being reversed. Wolsey
was in his way a churchman, and hoped as a statesman to bring the Church into
accordance with the national needs. He saw that only in this way could the
existing resources of the Church be saved from the hand
of the spoiler. The
king’s desire to seize upon the revenues of his colleges showed him that Henry
had cast away the principles which Wolsey had striven to enforce, that he had
broken through the limits which Wolsey had endeavoured
to set, and that when once he had tasted his prey his appetite was likely to be
insatiable. This taught Wolsey that his own future was hopeless. On the lower
level to which the king had sunk he was not likely to need the cardinal’s aid.
Wolsey’s great schemes for the future were to make way for a policy mainly
dictated by present greed. Henry VIII. had discovered how great his power was,
and intended to use it for the satisfaction of his own desires.
So Wolsey turned
himself more attentively to the duties of his episcopal office, hoping thereby
to make some amends for past neglect, and fill up with useful work the
remainder of his days. His poverty had prevented him from taking possession of
his cathedral, as he had no money to defray the expenses of his installation.
By the end of September he had managed to scrape together £1500, and set out
from Scrooby to York. On his way he was busied with
confirmations. At St. Oswald’s Abbey he confirmed children from eight in the
morning till noon; after dinner he returned to the church at one, and continued
his confirmation till four, when he was constrained for weariness to sit down
in a chair. Next morning before his departure he confirmed a hundred children
more; and as he rode on his way he found at Ferrybridge
two hundred children waiting for confirmation at a stone cross standing upon
the green. It was late in the evening before he reached Cawood
Castle, seven miles from York. There he was
visited by the Dean
of York, and made arrangements for his installation.
This ceremony,
however, was not to take place. Wolsey’s enemies were implacable, especially
the Duke of Norfolk, who was alarmed at the renewal of Wolsey’s popularity in
the north, and at the signs of vigour which he
showed. His actions were jealously watched and eagerly criticised
to find some opportunity for a charge against him, which was at last found in
Wolsey’s communications with foreign envoys. It would seem that Wolsey could
not reconcile himself to political inactivity, and trusted that the influence
of Francis I., for whom he had done so much, would be used in his favour. But Francis treated Wolsey with the proverbial
ingratitude of politicians. Wolsey had been a friend of France, but his
friendship had been costly, and Francis I. found that the new ministers were
equally friendly to France, and did not demand so much in return. In truth,
Henry, though he had abandoned Wolsey for his failure in the matter of the
divorce, had not been better served by his new advisers, who had no other
course to follow than that which Wolsey had marked out—to use the close
alliance with France as a means of bringing pressure to bear upon the Pope. So
Norfolk was obsequious to Francis, who preferred to deal with a man of Norfolk’s
calibre rather than acknowledge a master in Wolsey.
Of this Wolsey was
ignorant; and he no longer showed his old dexterity in promoting his own
interests. He made the mistake of trusting to the old methods of diplomacy when
his position was no longer that of a minister, and when he had been removed
from actual
touch of current
affairs. He opened up communications with the French envoy by means of a
Venetian physician, Agostino, who was a member of his
household. He even communicated with the imperial envoy as well. However
harmless these communications might be, they were certainly indiscreet, and
were capable of being represented to the king as dangerous. Norfolk gained some
information, either from the French envoy or from Agostino,
and laid before the king charges against Wolsey, “that he had written to Eome to be reinstated in his possessions, and to France for
its favour; and was returning to his ancient pomp,
and corrupting the people.” There was not much in these charges; but Norfolk
was afraid of Wolsey in the background, and quailed before the king’s bursts of
petulance, in which he said that the cardinal knew more about the business of
the State than any of his new advisers. Henry was quite satisfied with the
proceeds of spoiling Wolsey, and was glad to keep him in reserve; but the
suggestion that Wolsey was intriguing with foreign Courts sorely angered him,
and he gave orders that Wolsey be brought to' trial to answer for his conduct.
So Sir Walter Walshe was sent with a warrant to the Earl of
Northumberland, and arrived as Wolsey was busied at Cawood
with the preliminaries of his installation. On 4th November, when Wolsey had
retired from dinner and was sitting in his own room over his dessert, the Earl
of Northumberland appeared, and demanded the keys of the castle from the
porter. He entered the ball and posted his servants to guard all the doors.
Wolsey, in ignorance of what was in store for him, met Northumberland and
offered him hospitality, expressing
his delight at the
unexpected visit. When they were alone the Earl, “trembling, said, with a very
faint and soft voice, unto my lord, laying his hand upon his arm,
‘ My lord, I arrest
you of high treason.’ ” For a time Wolsey stood speechless with astonishment,
then he asked to see the warrant, which Northumberland had not brought with
him. As he was speaking Sir Walter Walshe opened the
door and thrust into the room the physician Agostino,
whom he had made prisoner. Wolsey asked him about the warrant, and when he recognised him as one of the gentlemen of the king’s privy
chamber, he submitted to the royal commands without asking further for the
production of the warrant. Then he delivered up his keys to Northumberland.
Agostino was at
once sent to London tied under a horse’s belly—a mode of conveyance which was
doubtless calculated to refresh his memory. When he arrived in London he was
taken to the Duke of Norfolk’s house, and showed himself ready to bear witness
against Wolsey. “ Since they have had the cardinal’s physician in their hands,”
writes the imperial envoy, “ they have found what they sought. Since he has
been here he has lived in the Duke of Norfolk’s house like a prince, and is
singing the tune they wished.”
There was not the
same need of haste in bringing Wolsey to London, for even with Agostino’s help Norfolk was doubtful if the evidence
against Wolsey would be sufficient to ensure his condemnation to death; and he
did not wish to give Wolsey the opportunity of a trial when he might still be
formidable. His imprisonment in the Tower at the royal pleasure would only
bring him nearer to the king, who might at any moment make use of
him as he threatened.
Keally, Norfolk was somewhat embarrassed at the
success of his scheme ; and Wolsey, in a conversation with Cavendish, showed a
flash of his old greatness. “ If I may come to my answer,” he said, “I fear no
man alive; for he liveth not"upon the earth that shall look upon this face and
shall be able to accuse me of any untruth; and that know my enemies full well,
which will be an occasion that I shall not have indifferent justice, but they will
rather seek some other sinister way to destroy me.”
It was this thought
that unnerved Wolsey, worn out as he was by disappointment, humiliated by his
helplessness, and harassed by a sense of relentless persecution. Still he
retained his dignity and kindliness, and when on the evening of 7th November he
was told to prepare for his journey, he insisted upon bidding farewell to his
household. The Earl of Northumberland wished to prevent this, and only gave way
through fear of a tumult if he persisted in his refusal. The servants knelt
weeping before Wolsey, who “gave them comfortable words and worthy praises for
their diligent faithfulness and honest truth towards him, assuring them that
what chance soever should happen unto him, that he
was a true man and a just to his sovereign lord.” Then shaking each of them by
the hand he departed.
Outside the gate the
country folk had assembled to the number of three thousand, who cried, “God
save your grace. The foul evil take all them that hath thus taken you from us;
we pray God that a very vengeance may light upon them.” Thus they ran crying
after him through the town of Cawood, they loved him
so well. After this moving farewell Wolsey rode through the
gathering darkness to
Pomfret, where he was lodged in the abbey. Thence he
proceeded through Doncaster to Sheffield Park, where
he was kindly received by the Earl of Shrewsbury, whose guest he was for
eighteen days. Once a day the earl visited him and tried to comfort him, but
Wolsey refused all human comfort, and applied himself diligently to prayer.
While he was at Sheffield Park his health, which never had been good, began to
give way, and he suffered from dysentery, which was aggravated by an unskilful apothecary.
As he was thus ailing
there arrived Sir William Kingston, Constable of the Tower, with a guard of
twenty-four soldiers; he had received a commission from the king to bring
Wolsey as a prisoner to the Tower. It would seem from this that Agostino’s confessions had been skilfully
raised to fan the royal wrath, and Henry gave this sign that he was prepared to
treat his former minister as a traitor. The Eai;l of
Shrewsbury did his best to treat the coming of Kingston as a trivial incident,
and sent Cavendish to break the news gently to his master. Cavendish gave the
message as he was bidden. “ Forsooth my lord of Shrewsbury, perceiving by your
often communication that ye were always desirous to come before the king’s
Majesty, and now as your assured friend, hath travailed so with his letters
unto the king, that the king hath sent for you by Master Kingston and
twenty-four of the guard to conduct you to his Highness.” Wolsey was not
deceived. “ Master Kingston,” he repeated, and smote his thigh. When Cavendish
made a further attempt to cheer him he cut him short by saying, “ I perceive
more than you can imagine or can know. Ex
perience hath
taught me.” When Kingston was introduced and knelt before him, Wolsey said, “
I pray you stand up, and leave your kneeling unto a very wretch replete with
misery, not worthy to be esteemed, but for a vile object utterly cast away,
without desert; and therefore, good Master Kingston, stand up, or I will myself
kneel down by you.” After some talk Wolsey thanked Kingston for his kind words.
“ Assure yourself that if I were as able and as lusty as I have been but of
late, I would not fail to ride with you in post. But all these comfortable
words which ye have spoken be but for a purpose to bring me to a fool’s
paradise; I know what is provided for me.”
With a mind thus
agitated the sufferings of the body increased. When Wolsey took his journey
next day all regarded him as a dying man. The soldiers of the guard, “as"soon as they espied their old master in such a
lamentable estate, lamented him with weeping eyes. Whom my lord took by the
hands, and divers times by the way as he rode he would talk with them, sometime
with one and sometime with another.” That night he reached Hardwick Hall, in Notts, a house of the Earl of Shrewsbury, and the next day
rode to Nottingham. On the way from thence to Leicester he was so feeble that
he could scarcely sit upon his mule. It was dark on Saturday night when he
reached Leicester Abbey, where the abbot greeted him by torchlight. “Father
Abbot,” he said, “ I am come hither to. leave my bones among you.” Kingston had
to carry him upstairs to his bed, which he never quitted again.
All Sunday his malady
increased, and on Monday morning Cavendish, as he watched his face, thought
him drawing fast to
his end. “He perceiving my shadow upon the wall by his bedside asked who was
there. ‘Sir, I am here,’ quoth I. ‘What is it of the
clock?’ said he. ‘Forsooth, sir,’ said I, ‘it is past eight of the clock in the
morning.’—‘Eight of the clock, eight of the clock,’ said he, rehearsing divers
times. ‘Nay, nay, it cannot be eight of the clock; for by eight of the clock ye
shall lose your master, for my time draweth near that
I must depart out of this world.’ ”
But the dying man was
not to depart without a reminder of the pitiless character of the master whom
he had served so well. When Wolsey left Cawood the
Earl of Northumberland remained behind to examine his papers; amongst them he
found a record that Wolsey had in his possession £1500, but he reported to the
king that he could not find the money. Such was Henry’s keenness as his own
minister of finance that he could not await Wolsey’s arrival in London, but
wrote off instantly to Kingston, bidding him examine Wolsey how he came by the
money, and discover where it was. In obedience to the royal command Kingston reluctantly
visited the dying man, who told him that he had borrowed the money of divers
friends and dependants whom he did not wish to see
defrauded; the money was in the keeping of an honest man, and he asked for a
little time before disclosing where it was.
In the night he often
swooned, bat rallied in the morning and asked for food. Some chicken broth was
brought him, but he remembered that it was a fast-day, being St. Andrew’s Eve.
“What though it be,” said his confessor, “ye be excused by reason of your sickness.”—“Yea,”
said he, “what though? I will eat no
more.” After this he
made his confession, and about seven in the morning Kingston entered to ask
further about the money. But seeing how ill Wolsey was, Kingston tried to
comfort him. “Well, well,” said Wolsey, “ I see the matter against me how it is
framed, but if I had served God so diligently as I have done the king,, he
would not have given me over in my gray hairs. Howbeit, this is the just reward
that I must receive for my worldly diligence and paips
that I had to do him service, only to satisfy his vain pleasure, not regarding
my godly duty. Wherefore, I pray you, with all my heart, to have me most humbly
commended unto his royal Majesty, beseeching him in my behalf to call to his
most gracious remembrance all matters proceeding between him and me from the
beginning of the world unto this day, and the progress of the same, and most
chiefly in the weighty matter now depending (i.e. the divorce); then shall his
conscience declare whether I have offended him or no. He is sure a prince of a
royal courage, and hath a princely heart; and rather than he will either miss
or want any part of his will or appetite he will put the loss of one-half of
his realm in danger. For I assure you I have often kneeled before him in his
privy chamber on my knees the space of an hour or two, to persuade him from his
will and appetite; but I could never bring to pass to dissuade him therefrom.
Therefore, Master Kingston, if it chance hereafter you to be one of his Privy
Council, as for your wisdom and other qualities ye are meet to be, I warn you
to be well advised and assured what matter ye put in his head, for ye shall
never put it out again.” He went on to bid him warn the king against the spread
of
the pernicious sect
of Lutherans as harmful to the royal authority and destructive of the order of
the realm.- Then as his tongue failed him he gasped out, “ Master Kingston,
farewell. I can no more, but wish all things to have good success. My time draweth on fast. I may not tarry with you. And forget not,
I pray you, what I have said and charged you withal, for when I am dead ye
shall peradventure remember my words much better.” His breath failed him and
his eyes grew fixed. The abbot came to administer supreme unction, and as the
clock struck eight Wolsey passed away. “And calling to our remembrance his
words the day before, how he said that at eight of the clock we should lose our
master, one of us looked upon another supposing that he prophesied of his
departure.”
Kingston sent a
message to tell the king of Wolsey’s death, and hastened the preparations for
his funeral. His body was placed in a coffin of boards, vested in his
archiepiscopal robes, with his mitre, cross, and
ring. It lay in state till five in the afternoon, when it was carried into the
church and was placed in the Lady Chapel, where it was watched all night. At
four in the morning mass was sung, and by six the grave had closed over the
remains of Wolsey.
It would be condoling
to think that a pang of genuine sorrow was felt by Henry VIII. when he heard of
the death of Wolsey; but unfortunately there is no ground for thinking so, and
all that is on record shows us that Henry’s chief care still was to get hold of
the £1500, which was all that remained of Wolsey’s fortune. Cavendish was taken
by Kingston to Hampton Court, where he was summoned to the king, who was
engaged
in archery in the
park. As Cavendish stood against a tree sadly musing Henry suddenly came behind
him and slapped him on the back, saying, “ I will make an end of my game, and
then I will talk with you.” Soon he finished his game and went into the garden,
but kept Cavendish waiting for some time outside. The interview lasted more
than an hour, “during which time he examined me of divers matters concerning my
lord, wishing that liever than twenty thousand pounds
that he had lived. Then he asked me for the fifteen hundred pounds which Master
Kingston moved to my lord before his death.” Cavendish told him what he knew
about it, and said that it was deposited with a certain priest “Well, then,”
said the king, “let me alone, and keep this gear secret between yourself and
me, and let no man be privy thereof; for if I hear more of it, then I know by
whom it is come to knowledge. Three may keep counsel if two be away; and if I
thought that my cap knew my counsel I would cast it into the fire and bum it.”
Henry spoke freely, and these words disclose the secret of his strength. Every
politician has a method of his own by which he hides his real character and assumes
a personality which is best fitted for his designs. Henry VIIL beneath an air
of frankness and geniality concealed a jealous and watchful temperament, full
of crafty designs for immediate gain, resolute, avaricious, and profoundly
self-seeking.
As we have been so
much indebted to Cavendish for an account of Wolsey’s private life, especially
in his last days, it is worth while to follow
Cavendish’s fortunes. The king promised to take him into his own service, and
to pay him his wages for the last year, amounting to
£10. He bade him ask
it of the Duke of Norfolk As he left the king he met Kingston coming from the
Council, whither Cavendish also was summoned. Kingston implored him to take
heed what he said. The Council would examine him about Wolsey’s last words; “
and if you tell them the truth you shall undo yourself.” He had denied that he
heard anything, and warned Cavendish to do the same. So Cavendish answered the
Duke of Norfolk that he was so busied in waiting on Wolsey that he paid little
heed to what he said. “He spoke many idle .words, as men in such extremities
do, the which I cannot now remember.” He referred them to Kingston’s more
accurate memory. It is a dismal picture of Court life which is here presented
to us. On every side was intrigue, suspicion, and deceit. Wolsey’s last words
were consigned to oblivion ; for the frankness that was begotten of a
retrospect in one who had nothing more to hope or fear was dangerous in a place
whence truth was banished.
When the Council was
over Norfolk talked with Cavendish about his future. Cavendish had seen enough
of public life, and had no heart to face its dangers. The figure of Wolsey rose
before his eyes, and he preferred to carry away into solitude his memories of
the vanity of man’s ambition. His only request was for a cart and horse to
carry away his own goods, which had been brought with Wolsey’s to the Tower.
The king was gracious, and allowed him to choose six cart-horses and a cart
from Wolsey’s stable. He gave him five marks for his expenses, paid him £10 for
arrears of wages, and added £20 as a reward. “ I received all these things
accordingly, and then I returned into my country.”
It says much for
Wolsey that he chose as his personal attendant a man of the sweet, sensitive,
retiring type of George Cavendish, though it was not till after his fall from
power that he learned the value of such a friend. No less significant of the
times is the profound impression which Wolsey’s fate excited on the mind of
Cavendish, who in the retirement of his own county of Suffolk lived with
increasing sadness through the changes which befell England and destroyed many
of the memories which were dearest to his heart. No one then cared to hear
about Wolsey, nor was it safe to recall the thought of the great Cardinal of
England to the minds of men who were busied in undoing his work. Not till the
days of Mary did Cavendish gather together his notes and sketch the fortunes of
one whose figure loomed forth from a distant past, mellowed by the mists of
time, and hallowed by the pious resignation which was the only comfort that
reflection could give to the helpless recluse. The calm of a poetic sadness is
expressed in the pages of Cavendish’s Memoir. Wolsey has become to him a type
of the vanity of human endeavour, and points the
moral of the superiority of a quiet life with God over the manifold activities
of an aspiring ambition. But Cavendish did not live to see the time when such a
sermon, preached on such a text, was likely to appeal to many hearers. His work
remained in manuscript, of which copies circulated amongst a few. One such
copy, it is clear, must have reached the hands of Shakespeare, who, with his
usual quickness of perception, condensed as much as his public could understand
into his portrait of Wolsey in the play of Henry VIII. When the Memoir was
first printed in 1641 it was garbled for party purposes. The
figure -of Wolsey was
long left to the portraiture of prejudice, and he was regarded only as the type
of the arrogant ecclesiastic whom it was the great work of the Reformation to
have rendered impossible in the future. Wolsey, the most patriotic of
Englishmen, was branded as the minion of the Pope, and the upholder of a
foreign despotism. When Fiddes, in 1724, attempted,
on the strength of documents, to restore Wolsey to his due position amongst
England’s worthies, he was accused of Popery. Not till the mass of documents
relating to the reign of Henry VIII. was published did it become possible for
Dr. Brewer to show the significance of the schemes of the great cardinal, and
to estimate his merits and his faults.
CHAPTER XI
THE WOKE OF WOLSEY
“ No statesman of
such eminence ever diedless lamented,” is Dr.
Brewer’s remark on Wolsey’s death. Indeed, the king had forgotten his old
servant; his enemies rejoiced to be rid of a possible rival; the men whom he
had trained in politics were busy in seeking their own advancement, which was
not to be promoted by tears for a fallen minister; the people had never loved
him, and were indifferent about one who was no longer powerful. In a time of
universal uncertainty every one was speculating on
the future, and saw that the future was not to be determined by Wolsey or by
Wolsey’s ideas. Not without reason has the story of Wolsey’s fall passed into a
parable of the heartlessness of the world.
For Wolsey lived for
the world as few men have ever done; not for the larger world of intellectual
thought or spiritual aspiration, but for the actual, immediate world of
affairs. He limited himself to its problems, but within its limits he took a
wider and juster view of the problems of his time
than any English statesman has ever done. For politics in the largest sense,
comprising all the rela
tions of the
nation at home and abroad, Wolsey had a capacity which amounted to genius, and
it is doubtful if this can be said of. any other Englishman. There have been
many capable administrators, many excellent organisers,
many who bravely faced the difficulties of their time, many who advocated
particular reforms and achieved definite results. But Wolsey aimed at doing all
these things together and more. Taking England as he found her, he aimed at
developing all her latent possibilities, and leading Europe to follow in her
train. In this project there \fras nothing chimerical
or fantastic, for Wolsey’s mind was eminently practical. Starting from the
existing condition of affairs, he made England for a time the centre of European politics, and gave her an influence far
higher than she could claim on material grounds. Moreover, his far-reaching
schemes abroad did not interfere with strict attention to the details of
England’s interests. ^ His foreign policy was to promote English trade,
facilitate the union of Scotland, keep peace at small expense, prepare the way
for internal re-organisation, and secure the right
of dealing judiciously with ecclesiastical reform. ^ Wolsey’s plans all hung
together. However absorbed he might be in a particular point it was only part
of a great design, and he used each advantage which he gained as a means of
strengthening England’s position for some future undertaking. He had a clear
view of the future as a whole; he knew not only what he wished to make of
England but of Europe as well. He never worked at a question from one motive
only; what failed for one purpose was made useful for another; his resources
were not bounded by the immediate result.
Politics
to him was not a pursuit, it was a passion. He loved it as an artist loves his
art, for he found in it a complete satisfaction for his nature. All that was
best, and all that was worst, in Wolsey sprang from this exceptional attitude
towards statecraft, which he practised with
enthusiasm, not in the spirit of cold calculation. The world is accustomed to
statesmen who clothe the results of calculation in the language of enthusiasm;
Wolsey’s language was practical and direct, his passionate aspirations were
restrained within his own bosom. ________________
Thus there is a
largeness and distinction about ) Wolsey’s aims, a far-reaching patriotism, and
an admirable lucidity. He was indeed a political artist, who worked with a
free hand and a certain touch. He was absorbed in his art as a painter over his
picture, and he did not shrink as the full size of his canvas was gradually
enrolled. He set himself to dominate Europe, and was fearless and
self-contained. He gave himself entirely to his work, and in his eyes the
nobility of his end justified any means. But he was sensitive, as all artists
are, and could not work under cramped conditions. When he was restricted to the
small matter of the divorce his hand lost its cunning. He was, though he knew
it not, fitted to serve England, but not fitted to serve the English king. iHe had the aims of a national statesman, not of a royal v
servants
Wolsey’s misfortune
was that his lot was cast on days when the career of a statesman was not
distinct from that of a royal servant. He owed his introduction to politics
solely to royal favour, and neither had nor could
obtain any other warrant for his position. For good or evil England was
identified with her king,
and it was long
before it could be otherwise. Certainly Wolsey had no wish that it should be
otherwise, and his subservience to the royal will seems to us to be unworthy of
his greatness. But Wolsey associated his political life with the king’s
goodwill, and Henry was to him a symbol of all that was best and most
intelligent in England. His deviations from his own policy in obedience to the
king were not more degrading or more inevitable than are the calculations of
the modern statesman about the exact limits of the field of practical politics.
A statesman has not only to form projects, he has to secure a force behind him
which will enable him to give them effect. Each age recognises
this fact, and acts accordingly. There is nothing more intrinsically base in
Wolsey’s subservience to the royal will than in the efforts of modern statesmen
to bid against one another for an opportunity of carrying out what they think
to be the will of the people. No politician has’ a complete command of his
field of action ; his highmindedness and purity must
be tested by the degree of compromise which consciously or unconsciously he
makes between his love of power and his knowledge or his conscience. The utmost
that can be demanded of him is that he should not, to keep his place,
deliberately act contrary to what he believes to be wise or knows to be right.
In his general
conduct of politics Wolsey was true to his principles, and though occasionally
thwarted, he still pursued the same ends. The matter of the divorce was sprung
upon him, and it would have been well for Wolsey’s fame if he had retired
rather than involve himself in the unworthy proceedings to which it led. But
the temptation to all
men to think themselves necessary in the sphere which they have made their own
is a subtle one; and those who begin by hoping that they may minimise inevitable mischief, end by being dragged into the
mire. To a statesman this temptation is great in proportion to the largeness of
his ultimate aim. He resents that his schemes should be ruined by a temporary
derangement of the perspective of affairs; he believes that his practised hand can easily solve a trumpery difficulty; the
excellence of his intentions in the long- run justifies an occasional sacrifice
on the shrine of present necessity. If he does some things amiss, after all he
is not responsible for them; they are disagreeable incidents in his tenure of
office.
So Wolsey regarded
the divorce; and he is not greatly to be blamed for agreeing to promote it. He
saw great national advantages in a divorce; he knew that it would be well for
England if Henry VIII. left male issue; he did not like the political influence
of Katharine; he saw that Henry was not likely to be happy in her society. It
would have been difficult for him to find in the proposal itself a sufficient
reason for withdrawing from politics even if he could have done so with safety.
Not even Wolsey could foresee the king’s obstinacy and tenacity of purpose, the
depth of meanness to which he would sink, and to which he would drag all around
him. Wolsey found himself powerless to resist, and the growing consciousness of
moral turpitude practised to no purpose degraded him
in his own eyes and robbed him of his strength. When once the divorce question
was started Wolsey was pushed on to his ruin by a power of imperious wickedness
which debased others without
losing its own
self-respect. The dictates of public opinion are, after all, not so very
different from the commands of an absolute king. Both may destroy their
victims, and go on their own way with heads erect.
So when we speak of
the fall of Wolsey we mean more than his irrevocable loss of power. He had lost
his inner strength, and no longer kept his hold upon affairs. He knew that he
was sullied and unnerved ; that he had sunk from the position of a leader to
that of one who tremblingly follows and devises shifty plans that he may still
exercise the semblance of his old authority. He knew that in his negotiations
about the divorce he staked everything that he had gained, and that the result,
whatever it was, would be disastrous to his great designs. If he had succeeded
he would have degraded the Papacy; and when Henry had once learned how easy it
was for him to get his own way, he would have used his knowledge to the full,
and Wolsey would have been powerless to direct him. When Wolsey became the
instrument of the king’s self-will, he hoped that a few disappointments would
wear out his obstinacy; when he saw Henry’s growing resoluteness and complete selfwill he knew that for himself the future was hopeless.
Still he had not the magnanimity to resign himself to his disappointment. He
clung to power when power had ceased to be useful for his plans. He clung to
power, because the habits of office had become to him a second nature. He
vainly strove to find satisfaction in the discharge of his episcopal duties;
he vainly tried to content himself with the simple affairs of simple men. He
had given himself entirely to the material world, and had estranged himself
from the spiritual world, which
was to him thin and
unsubstantial to the last. He could not refrain from casting longing glances
behind him, and his last days are pitiable. The words of the dying man are
often quoted as showing the misery of those who trust in princes’ favour. But they are not merely an echo of a far-off state
of things which has passed by for ever. “ To serve
one’s country” may have a loftier and more noble sound than “ to serve one’s
king,” but the meaning is not necessarily different. The thought in Wolsey’s
heart was this—“If I had served the spiritual interests of my country as I have
striven to serve its material interests my conscience would be more at rest.”
For Wolsey was a true patriot, and had noble aims. Much as he might deaden his
conscience, he did not extinguish it; and his last judgment of himself
expressed the sad conviction that neither his patriotism nor the nobility of
his aims had saved him from actions which he could not justify, and which his conspience loudly condemned.
^We have
called Wolsey a political artist: and this, which makes his career attractive,
is the secret of his unpopularity. ^Wolsey’s designs did not arise from the
pressure of absolute necessity, and their meaning was not
apparent to his contemporaries. Englishmen thought then, as they think now,
that England should disregard foreign affairs and develop her own resources; or
if foreign affairs are undertaken they demand the success of English arms, and
claim to be repaid in current coin or palpable advantages. Wolsey believed that
the establishment of England’s' power on the Continent was necessary for the
increase of English trade, and was a preliminary for the wise solution of those
questions which
I were
most urgent in domestic politics, file was the J last English
statesman of the old school, which regarded England not as a separate nation,
but as an integral part of Western ChristendomTf He
did not look upon questions as being solely English questions : he did not aim
merely at reforming English monasteries or asserting a new position for the
English Church. But he thought that England was ripe for practically carrying
out reforms which had long been talked of, and remedying abuses which had long
been -lamented; and he hoped that England in these respects would serve as a
model to the rest of Europe. Only if England was in full accord with European
sentiment, was powerful, and was respected, could this be done. Wolsey did not
prefer foreign politics on their own account, but he found them to be the
necessary preliminary for any lasting work on the lines which he contemplated.
As regards Church matters he was strictly practical. He had no belief in
reforming councils, or pragmatic sanctions, or Gallican
liberties; he cared little for England’s weapon of prcemunire.
He did not look upon the Pope as a powerful adversary who was to be held at
arm’s length; he regarded him as a man to be managed and converted into a
useful ally. Wolsey was entirely Erastian. Power was
to him the important thing in human affairs, and all power was the same; he
believed much mqro in the divine right of Henry VIII.
than in the divine right of Clement VII. merely because Henry’s power seemed to
him practically to be greater. However poetical Wolsey’s main ideas might be, he
had no illusions about the actual facts of politics.
The Englishmen of his
own day did not appreciate
Wolsey’s aims, and
supposed that his foreign policy was for the gratification of his own vanity,
or was the result of a desire to gain the Papacy. No one understood him in his
own time. He bore the burden of everything that was done, and all the causes of
popular discontent were laid at his door. If the loyalty of Wolsey seems
strange to our eyes, still more inexplicable is the loyalty of the English people,
who could believe in Henry’s good intentions, and could suppose that he was
entirely ruled by Wolsey contrary to his own inclinations. Wolsey was
universally hated; by the nobles as an upstart, by the people as a tyrant, by
Churchmen as a dangerous reformer, by the Lutherans as a rank Papist. While he
was in power he kept in restraint various elements of disorder; but he shared
the fate of those who rule without identifying themselves with any party. When
his power came to an end no minister could assume his place or pick up the
threads which fell from his hands. It was left to Henry YIIL, who had learned
more from Wolsey than any one else, to direct
England’s fortunes on a lower level of endeavour. We
may admire his clear head and his strong hand; we may even prefer the results
of his solution to those which Wolsey would have wrought; but we must confess
that personal motives held the chief place in his mind, and that considerations
of the common weal came only in the second place. For Henry YIII. abandoned
Wolsey’s idea of a European settlement of ecclesiastical questions, and
gradually undertook a national settlement on lines drawn solely with reference
to his own desires and his own interest. In this simpler matter it was possible
for him to enjoy some measure of success, and this was chiefly due to the
preparation which
Wolsey had made. For the work of a statesman is never entirely thrown away; if
his own plans fail, he leaves the way open for others who may use his means for
widely different ends.
Wolsey was the
creator of the forces which worked the great change in England in the sixteenth
century. He obtained for England a position in the esteem of Europe which he
had meant to use for the direction of Europe generally. Henry used that
position for the assertion of England’s right to settle its own affairs for
itself; and the position proved strong enough to ward off foreign interference,
and to carry England safely through the first period of a dangerous crisis. It
was because Wolsey had laid a sure foundation that England emerged from her
separatist policy, isolated, it is true, but not excluded from European
influence. Again, Wolsey exalted the royal power, because he believed that it
alone could rise above the separate interests of classes, and could give a
large expression to the national weal. Henry profited by Wolsey’s labours to pursue exclusively his own interests, yet he
learned enough to interweave them dexterously with some national interests in
such a way that they could not practically be disentangled, and that he had
sufficient adherents to put down opposition when it arose. Even the preliminary
steps which Wolsey had taken were carefully followed. His scheme for the
gradual conversion of monasteries into more useful institutions was revived,
and men believed that it would be imitated: the very agents that he had
trained for the work of turning monasteries into educational establishments
were employed in sweeping the monastic revenues into the royal coffers. So it
was with all other
things. Henry learned Wolsey’s methods, and popularised
Wolsey’s phrases. He clothed his own self-seeking with the dignity of Wolsey’s
designs; the hands were the hands of Henry, but the voice was an echo of the
voice of Wolsey.
The new England that
was created in the sixteenth century was strangely unlike that which Wolsey had
dreamed of, yet none the less it was animated by his ' it. His ideal of
.England, influential in Europe
umough the mediatorial policy which her insular position allowed her
to claim, prosperous at home through the influence which she obtained by her
far-sighted . wisdom and disinterestedness—this isWolsey’s
permanent ' contribution to the history of English politics.