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CARDINAL WOLSEY, 
 
THE LIFE OF 
 
 CARDINAL WOLSEY 
 
 By MANDELL CREIGHTON 
 
 Bishop of London, M. A. Oxford and Cambridge, D.C.L. 
 joi Dtirham, LL.D. of Glasgow and Harvard 
 
 WITH EXPLANATORY NOTES 
 
 By henry KETCHAM 
 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 A. L. BURT COMPANY, ^ ^ ^ ^ 
 d^ ^ J' PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK 
 
THE LIBRARY OF 
 CONGRES'S, 
 
 Two Copies Received 
 
 JUL 18 1903 
 
 Copyriglit Entry 
 
 cuss C c<-- )(Xc No. 
 
 ,r ^ O 3 b 
 COPY B. 
 
 :s. 
 
 '.4 ^ 
 
 <io\ 
 
 Copyright, 1903, 
 By a. L. BURT COMPANY. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. The state of Europe, 1494-1512 1 
 
 II. The French Alliance, 1512-1515 SO 
 
 III. The Universal Peace, 1515-1518...., 61 
 
 IV. The Field of the Cloth of Gold, 1518-1520 88 
 
 V. The Conference of Calais, 1520-1521 110 
 
 VI. The Imperial Alliance, 1521-1523 130 
 
 VII. Renewal of Peace, 1523-1527 164 
 
 VIII. Wolsey's Domestic Policy 196 
 
 IX. The King's Divorce, 1527-1529 235 
 
 X. The Fall of Wolsey, 1529-1530 281 
 
 XI. The Work of Wolsey 317 
 
LIFE or THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 THE STATE OF EUROPE . 
 
 1494-1512. 
 
 All men are to be judged by what they do, and 
 the Avay in which they do it. In the case of great 
 statesman there is a third consideration which chal- 
 lenges our judgment — what they choose to do. 
 This consideration only presents itself in the case of 
 great statesmen, and even then is not always recog- 
 nized. For the average statesman does from day to 
 day the business which has to be done, takes affairs 
 as he finds them, and makes the best of them. 
 Many who delibet-ately selected the questions with 
 which they dealt have yet shrunk from the responsi- 
 bility of their choice, and have preferred to repre- 
 sent their actions as inevitable. Few can claim the 
 credit of choosing the sphere of their activity, of 
 framing a connected policy with clear and definite 
 
 1 
 
2 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 ends, and of applying their ideas to every department 
 of national organization. In short, statesmen are gen- 
 erally opportunists, or choose to represent themselves 
 as such ; and this has been especially the case v^ith 
 English statesmen — amongst v\rhom Wolsey stands 
 out as a notable exception. For Wolsey claims rec- 
 ognition on grounds which apply to himself alone. 
 His name is not associated with any great achieve- 
 ment, he worked out no great measure of reform, 
 nor did he contribute any great political idea which 
 was fruitful in after days. He was, above all things, 
 a practical man, though he pursued a line of policy 
 which few understood, and which he did not stop 
 to make intelligible. No very definite results came 
 of it immediately, and the results which came of it 
 afterwards were not such as Wolsey had designed. 
 Yet, if we consider his actual achievements, we are 
 bound to admit that he was probably the greatest 
 political genius whom England has ever produced ; 
 for at a great crisis of European history he impressed 
 England with a sense of her own importance, and se- 
 cured for her a leading position in European affairs, 
 which since his days has seemed her natural right. 
 
 Thus Wolsey is to be estimated by what he chose 
 to do rather than by what he did. He was greater 
 than his achievements. Yet Wolsey's greatness did 
 
THE STATE OF EUROPE. 3 
 
 not rise beyond the conditions of his own age, and 
 he left no legacy of great thought or high endeavor. 
 The age in which he lived was not one of lofty as- 
 pirations or noble aims ; but it was one of large de- 
 signs and restless energy. IS'o designs were cast in 
 so large a mould as were those of Wolsey ; no states- 
 man showed such skill as he did in weaving patiently 
 the web of diplomatic intrigue. His resources were 
 small, and he husbanded them with care. He had 
 a master who only dimly understood his objects, and 
 whose personal whims and caprices had always to 
 be conciliated. He was ill supplied with agents. 
 His schemes often failed in detail ; but he was al- 
 ways ready to gather together the broken threads 
 and resume his work without repining. In a time 
 of universal restlessness and excitement Wolsey was 
 the most plodding, the most laborious, and the most 
 versatile of those who labored at statecraft. 
 
 The field of action which Wolsey deliberately 
 chose was that of foreign policy, and his weapons 
 were diplomacy. The Englishmen of his time were 
 like the Englishmen of to-day, and had little sym- 
 pathy with his objects. Those who reaped the 
 benefits of his policy gave him no thanks for it, nor 
 did they recognize what they owed to him. Those 
 who exulted in the course taken by the English Eef - 
 
4 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 ormation regarded Wolsey as its bitterest foe, and 
 never stopped to think that Wolsey trained the hands 
 and brains which directed it ; that Wolsey inspired 
 England with the proud feeling of independence which 
 nerved her to brave the public opinion of Europe ; 
 that Wolsey impressed Europe with such a sense of 
 England's greatness that she was allowed to go her 
 own way, menaced but unassailed. The spirit 
 which animated the England of the sixteenth cen- 
 tury was due in no small degree to the splendor of 
 Wolsey' s successes, and to the way in which he 
 stamped upon men's imagination a belief in Eng- 
 land's greatness. If it is the characteristic of a 
 patriot to believe that nothing is beyond the power 
 of his country to achieve, then Wolsey was the 
 most devoted patriot whom England ever produced. 
 When Wolsey came to power, England was an 
 upstart trying to claim for herself a decent position 
 in the august society of European states. It was 
 Wolsey 's cleverness that set her in a place far above 
 that which she had any right to expect. Eor this 
 purpose Wolsey schemed and intrigued ; when one 
 plan failed he was always ready with another. It 
 mattered little what was the immediate object which 
 he had in hand ; it mattered much that in pursuing 
 it he should so act as to increase the credit of Eng- 
 
THE STATE OF EUROPE. 5 
 
 land, and create a belief in England's power. 
 Diplomacy can reckon few abler practitioners than 
 was Wolsey. 
 
 There is little that is directly ennobling in the 
 contemplation of such a career. It may be doubted 
 if the career of any practical statesman can be a 
 really ennobling study if we have all its activity re- 
 corded in detail. At the best it tells us of much 
 which seems disingenuous if not dishonest — much in 
 which nobility of aim or the complexity of affairs 
 has to be urged in extenuation of shifty words and 
 ambiguous actions. 
 
 The age in which Wolsey lived was immoral in 
 the sense in which all periods are immoral, when 
 the old landmarks are disappearing and there is no 
 certainty about the future. Morality in individuals 
 and in states alilve requires an orderly life, a percep- 
 tion of limits, a pursuit of definite ends. "When 
 order is shattered, when limits are removed, when 
 all things seem possible, then political morality dis- 
 appears. In such a condition was Europe at the 
 beginning of the sixteenth century. The old ideas, 
 on which the mediseval conception of Christendom 
 depended, were passing away. JSTo one any longer 
 regarded Christendom as one great commonwealth, 
 presided over by Pope and Emperor, who were the 
 
6 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 guardians of international law and arbiters of inter- 
 national relations. The Empire had long ceased to 
 exercise any control, because it was destitute of 
 strength. The Papacy, after vainly endeavoring to 
 unite Europe round the old cry of a crusade against 
 the Turk, had discovered that there was no Eu- 
 ropean power on which it could rely for support. 
 The old ideas were gone, the old tribunals were 
 powerless, the old bonds of European union were 
 dissolved. 
 
 The first result of this decay in the mediaeval state- 
 system of Europe was the emergence of vague plans 
 of a universal monarchy. The Empire and the Pa- 
 pacy had harmonized with the feudal conception of 
 a regulative supremacy over vassals who were free 
 to act within the limits of their obligations to their 
 superior lord. When the old superiors were no 
 longer recognized, the idea of a supremacy still re- 
 mained ; but there was no other basis possible for 
 that supremacy than a basis of universal sovereignty 
 It was long before any state was sufiiciently power- 
 ful to venture on such a claim ; but the end of the 
 fifteenth century saw France and Spain united into 
 powerful kingdoms. In France, the policy of Louis 
 XL succeeded in reducing the great feudatories, and 
 established the power of the monarchy as the bond 
 
THE STATE OF EUROPE. 7 
 
 of union between provinces which were conscious of 
 like interests. In Spain, the marriage of Ferdinand 
 and Isabella united a warlike people who swept 
 away the remains of the Moorish kingdom. Ger- 
 many, though nominally it recognized one ruler, 
 had sacrificed its national kingship to the futile 
 claims of the Empire. The emperor had great pre- 
 tensions, but was himself powerless, and the Ger- 
 man princes steadily refused to lend him help to give 
 reality to his high-sounding claims. Unconsciously 
 to themselves, the rulers of France and Spain were 
 preparing to attempt the extension of their power 
 over the rest of Europe. 
 
 France under Charles YIII. * was the first to give 
 expression to this new idea of European politics. 
 The Italian expedition of Charles YIII. marked the 
 end of the Middle Ages, because it put forth a 
 scheme of national aggrandizement which was for- 
 eign to medigeval conceptions. The scheme sounded 
 
 * Charles VIII., King of France, was born in 1470 and died 
 in 1498. He ascended the throne in 1483. In 1491 he married 
 Anne, Duchess of Brittany, who was affianced to Maximilian 
 of Austria, to whom she had actually been married by proxy. 
 In revenge for this insult, Maximilian declared war against 
 Charles and effected an alliance for this purpose with Henry 
 VII. of England. Charles managed to settle this matter by 
 negotiation and then gave his whole attention to the con- 
 quest of Naples. In his personal character he is " represented 
 as having been amiable and gracious in the highest degree." 
 
8 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 fantastic, and was still cast in the mould of mediae- 
 val aspirations. The kingdom of ]^aples had long 
 been in dispute between the houses of Arragon and 
 Anjou. As heir to the Angevin line, Charles YIII. 
 proposed to satisfy national pride by the conquest of 
 ]N"aples. Then he appealed to the old sentiment of 
 Christendom by proclaiming his design of advancing 
 against Constantinople, expelling the Turk from 
 Europe, and realizing the ideal of medieval Chris- 
 tianity by planting once more the standard of the 
 Cross upon the Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem. 
 
 The first part of his plan succeeded with a rapidi- 
 ty and ease that bewildered the rest of Europe. The 
 French conquest of E'aples awakened men to the 
 danger which threatened them. France, as ruler of 
 Naples, could overrun the rest of Italy, and as mas- 
 ter of the Pope could use the authority of the head 
 of Christendom to give legitimacy to further schemes 
 of aggression. A sense of common danger drew 
 the other powers of Europe together ; and a league 
 of Spain, the Empire, the Pope, Milan, and Venice 
 forced Charles YIII. to retire from jS'aples (1495), 
 where the French conquests were rapidly lost. A 
 threat of his return next year led to an emphatic re- 
 newal of the League and an assertion of the basis 
 on which it rested — "the mutual preservation o( 
 
THE STATE OF EUROPE. ^ 
 
 states, so that the more powerful might not oppress 
 the less powerful, and that each should keep what 
 rightly belongs to him." 
 
 This League marks a new departure in European 
 affairs. There was no mention of the old ideas on 
 which Europe was supposed to rest. There was 
 no recognition of papal or imperial supremacy ; no 
 principle of European organization was laid down. 
 The existing state of things was to be maintained, 
 and the contracting powers were to decide amongst 
 themselves what rights and claims they thought 
 fit to recognize. Such a plan might be useful to 
 check French preponderance at the moment, but it 
 was fatal to the free development of Europe. The 
 states that were then powerful might grow in power ; 
 those that were not yet strong were sure to be pre- 
 vented from growing stronger. Dynastic interests 
 were set up as against national interests. European 
 affairs were to be settled by combinations of power- 
 ful states. 
 
 The results of this system were rapidly seen. 
 France, of course, was checked for the time; but 
 France, in its turn, could enter the League and be- 
 come a factor in European combinations. The 
 problem now for statesmen was how to use this con- 
 cert of Europe for their own interests. Dynastic 
 
10 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 considerations were the most obvious means of gain- 
 ing powerful alliances. Eoyal marriages became 
 matters of the greatest importance, because a lucky 
 union of royal houses might secure a lasting pre- 
 ponderance. The Emperor Maximilian married his 
 son Philip ^ to a daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella. 
 Death removed the nearer heirs to the Spanish 
 rulers, and the son of Philip was heir to Austria, 
 the ^Netherlands, and the Spanish kingdoms. The 
 notion of a maintenance of European equilibrium 
 faded away before such a prospect. 
 
 This prospect, however, was only in the future. 
 For the present there was an opportunity for end- 
 less scheming. The European League for the pres- 
 ervation of the existing state of things resisted any 
 expansion on the part of smaller states, but encour- 
 aged compacts for aggression amongst the more 
 powerful. France, Spain, and Germany had each 
 
 * Philip (1478-1506), King of Castile, surnamed " Philip the 
 Handsome," was the son of Maximilian I. and Mary of Bur- 
 gundy. From his mother he inherited seventeen provinces in 
 the Netherlands. His marriage to Joanna, who was imbecile 
 or insane, a daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella, occurred in 
 1496. In early life Philip's title was Archduke of Austria ; 
 but on the death of Isabella, in the year 1504, he succeeded, 
 through his wife's disability, to the royal power of Castile. 
 He was the father of Charles V., emperor of Germany (who 
 was also Don Carlos I. of Spain) , and of Ferdinand I. also 
 emperor of Germany, 
 
THE STATE OF EUROPE. ll 
 
 of them a national existence, while Italy consisted 
 of a number of small states. If Italy wa^ to sur- 
 vive it was necessary that she should follow the 
 example of her powerful neighbors, and consolidate 
 herself as thfey had done. The only state which 
 was at that time likely to unite Italy was Yenice ; 
 and Yenice, in consequence, became the object of 
 universal jealousy. The concert of Europe was ap- 
 plied to the Yenetian question, and discovered a 
 solution of the simplest sort. Instead of allowing 
 Yenice to unite Italy, it was judged better to divide 
 Yenice. A secret agreement was made between 
 Spain, France, the Emperor Maximilian, and the 
 Pope that they would attack Yenice simultaneously, 
 deprive her of her possessions, and divide them 
 amongst themselves. There was no lack of claims 
 and titles to the possessions which were thus to be 
 acquired. The powers of Europe, being judges in 
 their own cause, could easily state their respective 
 pleas and pronounce each other justified. The 
 League of Cambrai,* which was published at the 
 end of 1508, was the first great production of the 
 new system of administering public law in Eu- 
 rope. 
 
 * For the League of Cambria, see below, page 13, note on 
 Julius II. 
 
12 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 Anything more iniquitous could scarcely be con- 
 ceived. Yenice deserved well at the hands of 
 Europe. She had developed a great system of com- 
 merce mth the East ; she was the chief bulwark 
 against the advance of the Turkish power ; she was 
 the one refuge of Italian independence. Those 
 very reasons marked her out for pillage by the 
 powers who, claiming to act in the interests of 
 Europe, interpreted these interests according to 
 their own selfishness. Each power hoped to appro- 
 priate some of the profits of Yenetian commerce ; 
 each power wished for a slice of the domains of 
 Italy. What the Turk did was a matter of little 
 consequence ; he was not the object of immediate 
 dread. 
 
 This League of Cambrai witnessed the assimila- 
 tion by the new system of the relics of the old. Im- 
 perial and papal claims were set in the foreground. 
 Yenice was excommunicated by the Pope, because 
 she had the audacity to refuse to give up to hun 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 Yenice, and consequent- 
 
THE STATE OF EUROPE. 13 
 
 ly Fraince was the chief gainer. Pope Julius II.,* 
 having won from Yenice all that he could claim, 
 looked with alarm on the increase of the French 
 power in Italy. As soon as he had satisfied himself, 
 and had reduced Venice to abject submission, his 
 one desire was to rid himself of his troublesome 
 
 * Julius II. (1443-1513), who previous to his election to 
 the papal chair was known as Giuliano della Rovere, is known 
 to lovers of art chiefly for his sumptuous luxury and his 
 liberal patronage of the great artists of his time, including 
 Michelangelo and Raphael. It was he who, in the last year 
 of his life, laid the corner stone of St. Peter's, in Rome. He 
 was nephew of Pope Sixtus IV., and through his high con- 
 nections, as well as owing to his own talents, he rose rapidly 
 to ecclesiastical honors. At the age of twenty-eight he was 
 bishop of Carpentras, archbishop of Avignon, a cardinal, and 
 he held also eight bishoprics of less prominence. He owed 
 his election to the Papacy, in 1503, to the influence of Caesar 
 Borgia. He was haughty, of a warlike spirit, and his ambi- 
 tion was unbounded ; though the purpose of this ambition 
 was rather the glory of the Church than his own personal 
 aggrandizement. His great aim was to drive the foreigners 
 out of Italy and to free the Papacy from the control of secular 
 powers. He drove Caesar Borgia out of the Romagna, and 
 endeavored unsuccessfully to drive the Venetians out of 
 various parts of his dominions. In 1508 he formed the league 
 of Cambrai, between Louis XII., Maximilian, and Ferdinand 
 of Aragon, against the Venetian republic. Two years later, 
 when the French influence became dominant, he united with 
 the Venetians against them. He gained but little by anj' of 
 his alliances, as the expulsion of one power was only followed 
 by the domination of another power. He formed the Holy 
 League (one of several alliances of that name) between the 
 English, Spaniards, Swiss, and Venetians, in 1511, and in 1513 
 he succeeded in driving the French out of Italy. 
 
14- LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 allies. The papal authority in itself could no longer 
 influence European politics ; but it could give a sanc- 
 tion to new combinations which interested motives 
 might bring about. With cynical frankness the 
 Papacy, powerless in its own resources, used its 
 privileged position to further its temporal objects. 
 We cannot wonder that Louis XII. of France tried 
 to create a schism, and promoted the holding of a 
 general council. We are scarcely surprised that the 
 fantastic brain of the Emperor Maximilian formed a 
 scheme of becoming the Pope's coadjutor, and finally 
 annexing the papal to the imperial dignity. On 
 every side the old landularks of Europe were disap- 
 pearing, and the future was seen to belong to the 
 strong hand and the adventurous wit. 
 
 During the reign of Henry YII. England had 
 stood aloof from these complicated intrigues. In- 
 deed England could not hope to make her voice 
 heard in the affairs of Europe. The weak govern- 
 ment of Henry YI.,^ and the struggles between the 
 
 * Henry VI. (1421-1471), only son of Henry V. of England 
 and Catherine of France, was a contemporary of Joan of 
 Arc, and the first part of his career was signalized by the 
 loss of the English power in France. In 1445 he married 
 Margaret of An jou. In 1451, having lost all his possessions 
 in France, he returned to England. While he was remark- 
 ably gentle and inoffensive, he was weak to the point of im- 
 becility. His reign was at the time of the disastrous civil 
 
THE STATE OF EUROPEJ. 15 
 
 Yorkist and Lancastrian factions, had reduced her to 
 political exhaustion. * While France and Spain had 
 gro^vn into strong kingdoms, England had dwindled 
 
 strife known as the Wars of the Roses, and his life was one 
 long succession of disasters. He was defeated, imprisoned, 
 several times liberated and recaptured, and finally died, or 
 was murdered, in prison. His wife, Queen Margaret, fled to 
 Scotland after the battle of Northampton, in 1460, and from 
 that country she for several years kept up tlie war against 
 the English with a vigor that gave her husband's enemies no 
 little trouble. For a good interpretation of Henry's traits 
 and of the leading events of his reign, the reader is referred 
 to Shakspeare's drama, " Henry VI.," in three parts. 
 
 * The Wars of the Roses were the scourge of England for 
 thirty years. "These ducal ups and downs gradually 
 separated the whole nation into^he two parties of York and 
 Lancaster, and led to those terrible civil wars long known as 
 the Wars of the Red and White Roses, because the Red Rose 
 was the badge of the House of Lancaster, and the White Rose 
 was the badge of the House of York 
 
 "Some of the best men, seeing the danger of these con- 
 stant changes, tried even then to prevent the Red and White 
 Rose Wars. They brought about a great council in London 
 between the two parties. The White Roses assembled in 
 Blackfriars, and the Red Roses in Whitefriars ; and some 
 good priests communicated between them, and made the 
 proceedings known at even to the King and the judges. They 
 ended in a peaceful agreement that there should be no more 
 quarreling ; and there was a great royal possession to St. 
 Paul's, in which the Qaeen walked arm-in-arm with her old 
 enemy, the Duke of York, to show the people how comfort- 
 able they all were. This state of peace lasted half a year, 
 when a dispute between the Earl of Warwick (one of the 
 Duke's powerful friends) and some of the King's servants at 
 Court, led to an attack upon that Earl — who was a White 
 Rose — and to a sudden breaking out of ail the old animosities. 
 
1Q LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 into a third-rate power. Henry YIL* had enough 
 to do in securing his own throne against pretenders, 
 and in reducing the remnants of the feudal nobility 
 to obedience. He so far worked in accordance with 
 the prevailing spirit that he steadily increased the 
 royal power. He fell in with the temper of the 
 
 So, here were greater ups and downs than ever. There were 
 even greater ups and downs than these, soon after." Dickens, 
 Child's History of England, Chapter xxii. 
 
 The cause of these wars was that both parties claimed the 
 right of succession to the tlirone by reason of their descent 
 from Edward III., who died in 1377, leaving the crown to 
 his grandson, Richard II. The wars lasted from 1455 to 1485, 
 and were exceedingly bloody. During their progress the 
 nobility of England was very nearly w^iped out. These wars 
 were brought to an end by the victory of Henry VII., at Bos- 
 worth in 1485. See note on Henry VII. 
 
 * Henry VII. (1456-1509), founder of the line of Tudors 
 and father of Henry VIII., was a son of Edmond Tudor, Earl 
 of Eichmond, and Margaret Beaufort, of the line of John of 
 Gaunt, head of the house of Lancaster. He was leader of the 
 Lancastrian forces against the iniquitous Richard III., and by 
 the defeat and death of Richard at the battle of Bosworth, in 
 1485, he became king. (See Shakspeare's Richard HI.) He 
 was in the main a prudent and vigorous king, but his rapa- 
 cious and grasping disposition was a bar to his popularity 
 even in his own party. His daughter Margaret wedded 
 James IV, of Scotland, and this act was the first step in the 
 union of the two countries. His son Arthur married Katha- 
 rine of Aragon, who was afterwards wife of Henry VIII, 
 Arthur's younger brother. The entire period of the reign of 
 Henry VII. ^vas characterized by momentous changes : two 
 of the most noteworthy events were the discovery of America 
 and the invention of printing. 
 
THE STATE OF EUROPE. 17 
 
 time, and formed matrimonial alliances which might 
 bear political fruits. He gave his daughter in mar- 
 riage to the King of Scotland, in the hopes of there- 
 by bringing the Scottish Crown into closer relation 
 with England. He sought for a connexion with 
 Spain by marrying his eldest son Arthur to Katha- 
 rine,* a daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella, and on 
 Arthur's untunelv death Katharine became the wife 
 of his next son Henry. Further, Henry YII. gave 
 his general approval to the League of 1496 ; he 
 
 * Katharine of Aragon (1486-1536) was married to Arthur, 
 eldest son of Henry VII., and heir apparent to the throne of 
 England, in 1501, both parties being at the time fifteen years 
 of age. Arthur died the next year, and a year later, in 1503, 
 she was affianced to Prince Henry, afterward Henry VIII., 
 Avho M'as six years younger than herself, and the marriage 
 was solemnized soon after he ascended the throne in 1509. 
 Tlie proceedings for the divorce which was finally secured, 
 were begun in 1537. Katharine died in 1536. 
 
 Ludovico Falier, a Venetian ambassador who resided in 
 London from 1528 to 1531, describes Queen Katharine in the 
 following words : — ' ' My lady the queen is low of stature, in- 
 clining to corpulency, a handsome woman, of great repute, 
 upright, and full of goodishness and devotion. She speaks 
 Spanish, Flemish, French, and English. She is beloved by 
 these islanders far more than any queen they have had. She 
 is forty-five years old, thirty of which have passed since the 
 death of her first husband. By the present king she has had 
 two sons and a daughter. One of these sons died at the age 
 of six months. The second lived scarcely long enough to be 
 baptized. There remains only the daughter, sixteen years 
 old, a beautiful, kind, and most accomplished princess, not at 
 all inferior to her mother," 
 2 
 
IS LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 joined it, but would promise no armed aid nor money. 
 In short, lie did enough to claim for England a 
 place in the new system of the European common- 
 wealth, though he himself declined to take any 
 active part in the activity that was consequently de- 
 veloped. He was old before his years, and was un- 
 equal to any additional labor. He had saved his 
 reputation by his cautious and skilful policy at home. 
 The statesmen of Europe respected him for what he 
 had done already, but they did not expect hun to 
 do anything more. He had secured his djniasty, 
 reduced his lands to order, favored its commerce, 
 and secured for it peace. He had lived frugally and 
 had saved money, which was not the fortune of the 
 more adventurous princes. England was looked 
 upon with an eye of condescending favor by the great 
 powers of Europe. Her population was small, about 
 three millions and a half ; her military forces had not 
 been trained in the new methods of European war- 
 fare ; her navy was not kept up on a war footing. 
 She could not rank higher than a third-rate power. 
 So England stood when Henry YII. died, and 
 was succeeded by his son Henry YHI. , a youth of 
 nineteen. We may indulge ourselves, if we choose, 
 in speculations on the probable effects if Henry 
 YIIL had been content to pursue his father's policy. 
 
THE STATE OF EUROPE. 19 
 
 The picture of England, peaceful and contented 
 while the rest of Europe is engaged in wasteful and 
 wicked war, is attractive as an ideal in English 
 politics. England in the sixteenth century might 
 have stood aloof from European affairs, and might 
 have prospered in her own fashion. But one thing 
 is certain, that she would never have become the 
 England of to-day ; the New World, and the pos- 
 sessions of the British Empire, would have been 
 divided between France and Spain; the course of 
 civilization would have been widely different. For 
 good or for evil the fortunes of England were given 
 a decided direction by Henry YIII.'s advance into 
 the sphere of European politics. England took up 
 a position from which she could not afterwards 
 retire. 
 
 It is scarcely worth while to inquire if Henry 
 YIII. could by prudence and caution have continued 
 to keep clear of the complications of European pol- 
 itics, and make England strong by husbanding its 
 resources and developing its commerce. Such a 
 course of action was not deemed possible by any 
 one. All classes alike believed that national pros- 
 perity followed upon the assertion of national power. 
 The commercial interests of England would have 
 had little chance of being respected unless they 
 
20 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 were connected with political interests as well. If 
 Henry YIII. 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 
 YIII. , 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 YIII. 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 YIII. in his early days had been educated 
 with a view to high ecclesiastical preferment, and 
 was a youth of many accomplishments of mind and 
 body. His tall stalwart frame, his fair round face 
 and profusion of light hair, his skill in athletic exer- 
 cises, made the Yenetian envoy pronounce him to be 
 the handsomest and most capable king in Christen- 
 dom."^ He inherited the geniality, the physical 
 
 * Ludovico Falier, as quoted by Lingard, describes Henry 
 Vin. in the following words : 
 
 " His features are, I will not say beautiful ; they are an- 
 gelic. His look is commanding, but gentle. Contrary to the 
 
THE STATE OF EUROPE. 21 
 
 strength, the resoluteness of the Yorkist house, and 
 combined them with the self-restraint and caution 
 
 English fashion, he wears his beard. Who can look at him, 
 when he is in action, without astonishment, so surpassing is 
 the beauty of his person, so winning the ease and graceful- 
 ness of his manner. He sits well on horseback ; he is com- 
 pletelj'- master of his steed ; he tilts, and bears his lance 
 nobly ; he draws the sword and the bow admirably, and plays 
 at tennis with extraordinary skill. He applied to the belles- 
 lettres from his childhood, afterwards to the study of phi- 
 losophy and theolog}^ so that he has acquired the name of a 
 learned and accomplished prince. Besides the Latin and his 
 mother tongue, he learned the Spanish, French, and Italian 
 languages. He is affable, gracious, ver}- polite and courteous ; 
 and liberal in his presents, especially to men of learning. 
 Yet with all his knowledge and acuteness, he allowed himself 
 to fall into amorous pursuits so far that, thinking only of his 
 pleasures, he left the government of his kingdom to his most 
 trusty ministers, till the time when he began to persecute the 
 cardinal of York [Cardinal Wolsey]. From that moment he 
 has been quite enamored with his own management, and is 
 become quite another man. He was generous, is now covet- 
 ous ; and, as formerly no one took leave of him without a satis- 
 factory present, now every one goes away in discontent. He 
 appears to be devout. He generally hears two low masses ; and 
 the high mass also on festivals. He is exceedingly charitable to 
 orphans and widows, to young maidens, and persons wounded 
 or maimed, to the amount of about 10,000 ducats [$22,800.] 
 a 3^ear, He is beloved by all. He is determined on effecting 
 a divorce. His object is to have a legitimate male issue ; and 
 as he has no hope of having such by my lady Katherine, he 
 will assuredly marry his favorite, a daughter of the earl of 
 Wiltshire. There cannot be a doubt that such a marriage 
 will take place ; after which it is possible that his majesty 
 may be troubled with insurrections on the part of those who 
 favor the queen : for she is so much beloved and revered by 
 the people that they begin already to show their discontent." 
 
22 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 of the Lancastrians. JSTo king began his reign with 
 greater popularity, and the belief in the soundness 
 of his head and heart filled all men with hopes of a 
 long period of just and prosperous government. 
 But many hoped for more than this. The reign of 
 Henry YII. had been successful, but inglorious. 
 The strong character and the generous impulses of 
 the new ruler were not likely to be satisfied with 
 the cautious intrigues and petty calculations of his 
 father. England looked forward to a glorious and 
 distinguished future. It believed in its king, and 
 clave to its belief in spite of many disappointments. 
 E'ot all the harsh doings of Henry YIII. exhausted 
 the popularity with which he began his reign, and 
 in the midst of his despotism he never lost his hold 
 upon the people. 
 
 So Henry YIII. carried out the plan which his 
 father had formed for him. He married Katharine, 
 his brother's widow, and so confirmed the alliance 
 with Ferdinand of Spain.* He renewed the marri- 
 
 * This marriage between Henry VIII. and Katharine of 
 Aragon led to momentous consequences a generation later. 
 After Henry put away Katharine, he married Anne Boleyn 
 to whom was born Elizabeth. The Spanish nation could 
 never forgive the insult shown in the divorce of Queen Kath- 
 arine, and it was out of the question for Philip II. of Spain 
 to acknowledge the legitimacy of Elizabeth or to make an 
 alliance with her ; and to his dying day he never gave up th§ 
 
THE STATE OF EUROPE. 23 
 
 age treaty between his sister Mary and Charles, 
 Prince of Castile, heir of the Netherlands, and eld- 
 est grandson of Ferdinand and Maximilian alike. 
 Charles was only a boy of nine, and had great pros- 
 pects of a large heritage. England was likely, if 
 this arrangement were carried out, to be a useful 
 but humble ally to the projects of the houses of 
 Hapsburg and Spain, useful because of its position, 
 which commanded the Channel, and could secure 
 communications between the ]N"etherlands and Spain, 
 humble because it had little military reputation or 
 capacity for dij)lomacy. 
 
 The alliance,* however, between Ferdinand and 
 
 hope of invading that country. It is true that England came 
 out of the conflict with great glory, but it was at the cost of 
 millions of money and many thousands of brave men. 
 
 * The alliance here referred to is the League of Cambrai. 
 But beyond this, the two emperors were allied by the mar- 
 riage between Philip the Handsome, son of Maximilian, and 
 the Infanta of Spain. This marriage, however, was not only 
 an alliance, it was a cause of jealousy ; for it raised questions 
 concerning the succession of both empires, that caused no 
 little anxiety to the two emperors. 
 
 Maximilian I. (1459-1519), emperor of Germany, was one 
 of the most powerful of European monarchs. His first wife 
 was Mary of Burgundy, who left him two children : Philip 
 and Margaret. After the death of Mary of Burgundy, Mar- 
 garet was betrothed to the Dauphin of France, who was 
 afterward Charles VIII., but the latter refused to keep his 
 marriage engagement. This led to a war, and though matters 
 were arranged by negotiation — Charles consenting to pay a 
 
24: LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 Maximilian was by no means close. Ferdinand by 
 his marriage with Isabella had united the kingdoms 
 of Castile and Arragon; but after Isabella's death 
 he had no claim to the Crown of Castile, which 
 passed to his daughter Juana. Already Juana's 
 husband, the Archduke Philip, had claimed the 
 regency of Castile, and Ferdinand was only saved 
 by Philip's death from the peril of seeing much of 
 
 (io^viy — the relations between the two kings never became 
 friendly. Maximilian greatly enlarged the German army and 
 introduced effective discipline. He was a liberal patron of 
 learning. He was succeeded by his grandson, Charles V., 
 who was also grandson of Ferdinand, and who was known 
 also as Don Carlos I., of Spain. 
 
 Ferdinand (1452-1516), surnamed the Catholic, was king of 
 Castile and Aragon. His wife Isabella was the patron of 
 Columbus in his discovery of America. The fame of these 
 two monarchs is sullied by the establishment, or the enlarge- 
 ment, of the Inquisition. On the other hand, they were mu- 
 nificent patrons of learning, and universities were founded 
 throughout the kingdom for tlie education of the Spanish. 
 The conquest of Grenada, and the opening of the newly dis- 
 covered America, with the conquest of Mexico, Peru, etc., 
 gave Spain a glorious empire. It was a warlike age, and 
 Ferdinand, perpetually engaged in one or more of his numer- 
 ous wars, had little chance to enjoy the triumphs of Peace. 
 " As a sovereign, he was brave, affable, indefatigable in busi- 
 ness, temperate in his habits, and strongly attached to the 
 Catholic religion ; but he was bigoted, cruel, selfish in the 
 extreme, and ungenerous to those to whom he was greatly 
 indebted. For shrewdness and policy he excelled every other 
 monarch of his age." He, like Maximilian, was succeeded 
 by his grandson, Charles V. of Germany, who was also Don 
 Carlos I. of Spain. 
 
THE STATE OF EUROPE. 25 
 
 his work undone. The claim to Castile had now 
 passed to the young Charles, and Ferdinand was 
 afraid lest Maximilian should at any time revive it 
 in behalf of his grandson. He Avas unwilling to 
 help in any way to increase Maximilian's power, 
 and rejoiced that in the results of the League of 
 Cambrai little profit fell to Maximilian's share. The 
 Pope gained all that he wished ; Ferdinand acquired 
 without a blow the Venetian possessions in the 
 Neapolitan kingdom ; the French arms were trium- 
 phant in North Italy ; but Yenice continued to offer 
 a stubborn resistance to Maximilian. In vain Maxi- 
 milian implored Ferdinand's help. He was un- 
 moved till the successes of the French awakened in 
 his mind serious alarm. The authors of the League 
 of Cambrai began to be afraid of the catastrophe 
 which they had caused. They did not wish to see 
 the French supreme in Italy, but their combination 
 had gone far to ensure the French supremacy. 
 
 Pope Julius 11. felt himself most directly threatened 
 by the growth of the French power. He resolved 
 to break up the League of Cambrai, and so undo 
 his own work, He tried to gain support from the 
 Swiss and from England. He released Yenice 
 from her excommunication, and showed hunself 
 steadfastly opposed to France. He did his utmost 
 
^0 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 to induce Ferdinand and Maximilian to renounce 
 the League. Ferdinand was cautious, and only gave 
 his secret countenance to the Pope's designs. Maxi- 
 milian, anxious to make good his claims against 
 Yenice, wavered between an alliance with France 
 and a rupture. Louis XII. of France was embar- 
 rassed by the hostility of the Pope, whom he tried 
 to terrify into submission. His troops advanced 
 against Bologna, where Julius II. was residing. 
 The Pope fled, but the French forces did not pur- 
 sue him. Louis was not prepared to treat the Pope 
 as merely a temporal sovereign, and Rome was spared 
 a siege. But Louis was so iU-judging as to attack 
 the Pope on his spiritual side. He raised the old 
 cry of a General Council for the reform of the 
 Church, and drew to his side a few disaffected car- 
 dinals, who summoned a Council to assemble at 
 Pisa. 
 
 This half-hearted procedure was fatal to all hopes 
 of French supremacy. Had Louis XII. promptly 
 dealt with Julius II. by force of arms he would 
 have rendered the Pope powerless to interfere with 
 his political plans, and no one would have inter- 
 posed to help the Pope in his capacity of an Italian 
 prince. But when the French king showed that he 
 was afraid of the papal dignity in temporal matters, 
 
THE STATE OF EUROPE. ^^ 
 
 while lie was ready to attack it in spiritual matters 
 lie entered upon a course of action which was dan- 
 gerous to Europe. Ferdinand was waiting for a 
 good pretext to free himself from further share in 
 the policy of the League of Cambrai, and Louis 
 provided him with the pretext which he sought. 
 Shocked at the danger of a new schism, Ferdinand, 
 in October 1511, entered into a League Avith the 
 Pope and Venice, a League which took the high- 
 sounding title of the Holy League,"^ since it was 
 formed for the protection of the Papacy. 
 
 Of this Holy League Henry YIII. became a 
 member in December, and so stepped boldly into 
 the politics of Europe. He was at first a submis- 
 sive son of King Ferdinand, whose daughter. Queen 
 Katharine, acted as Spanish ambassador at the Eng- 
 lish Court. Henry wished to make common cause 
 
 * The phrase " Holy League " is not uncommon in historj^, 
 and the one here mentioned is one of half a dozen of the 
 same name. The real occasion of this was the success of the 
 League of Cambrai, formed in 1508, or rather, certain results 
 that followed that success. By the latter alliance, the Pope, 
 Julius 11. , had brought the French into his dominions to drive 
 out the Venetians ; but when that object was accomplished, 
 his holiness found the presence of the French quite as dis- 
 agreeable to him as that of the Venetians had been, and so it 
 was necessary to form this new alliance, the Holy League, to 
 drive out the French. This plan of using one nation to drive 
 out another, proved to be very nearly an endless chain. 
 
28 LIFBl OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 with his father-in-law, and trusted implicitly to 
 him for assurances of goodwill. He made a sepa- 
 rate accord with Ferdinand that a combined army 
 should invade Guienne. If the French were de- 
 feated Ferdinand would be able to conquer ]^a- 
 varre, and England would seize Guienne. The 
 gain to England would be great, as Guienne would 
 be a secure refuge for English commerce, and its 
 possession would make the English king an impor- 
 tant personage in Europe, for he would stand be- 
 tween Spain and France. 
 
 The scheme was not fantastic or impossible, pro- 
 vided that Ferdinand was in earnest. Henry be- 
 lieved in his good faith, but he still had the confi- 
 dence of youth. Ferdinand trusted no one, and if 
 others were like himself he was wise in his distrust. 
 Every year he grew more suspicious and fonder of 
 crooked ways. He took no man's counsel; he 
 made fair professions on every side; his only ob- 
 ject was to secure himself at the least cost. His 
 confiding son-in-law was soon to discover that Fer- 
 dinand only meant to use English gold as a means 
 for furthering his own designs against France ; he 
 did not intend that England should have any share 
 in the advantage. 
 
 Unconscious of the selfishness of his ally, Henry 
 
THE STATE OF EUROPE. 29 
 
 YIII. 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. 
 
CHAPTEE II. 
 
 THE FEENCH ALLIANCE. 
 
 1512-1515. 
 
 Thomas Wolsey was born at Ipswich,* probablj^ 
 in March 1471. He was the son of Robert Wolsey 
 ^nd Joan his wife. Contemporary slander, wishing 
 to make his fortunes more remarkable or his pre- 
 sumption more intolerable, represented his father as 
 a man of mean estate, a butcher by trade. How- 
 ever, Robert Wolsey' s will shows that he was a 
 man of good position, probably a grazier and wool 
 merchant, with relatives who were also well-to-do. 
 Thomas seems to have been the eldest of his family, 
 and his father's desire was that he should enter the 
 priesthood. He showed quickness in study; so 
 much so that he went to Oxford at the early age of 
 
 * Ipswich, the birthplace of Cardinal Wolsey, is sixty-six 
 miles northeast of London. It is a very old town, and was 
 twice burnt by the Danes : once in the year 991, and again in 
 1000. William the Conqueror (1025-1087) strengthened it by 
 the building of a castle which has long since gone to ruins. 
 It is, in a small way, an educational centre, having a number 
 of schools ; the grammar school was restored by Wolsey. 
 The present population is about 50,000. 
 
 30 
 
THE FRENCH ALLIANCE. 31 
 
 eleven, and became Bachelor of Arts when he was 
 fifteen. His studies do not seem to have led him in 
 the direction of the new learning;* he was well 
 versed in the theology of the schools, and is said to 
 have been a devoted adherent to the system of St. 
 Thomas Aquinas, f But it was not by the life of a 
 
 * The New Learning was the name given in England to 
 that intellectual awakening of Europe that was led by the 
 Renaissance in Italy. The pre-eminent leader of the intel- 
 lectual, as distinguished from the artistic, phase of this move- 
 ment, was the famous scholar Erasmus (1465?-1536). The 
 leaders in England were Sir Thomas More, Colet, and War- 
 ham, besides Erasmus himself. The latter, though not an 
 Englishman, was welcomed in that country, and he spent, in 
 all, five or six years in forwarding the movement in connec- 
 tion with the universities. More's celebrated book, Utopia 
 (meaning Noivhere), is an excellent exposition of the spirit of 
 the New Learning. See also below, p. 156, note. 
 
 t Thomas Aquinas (1225 ?-1274), called " the Angelic Doc- 
 tor " because of the purity of his life, was born near Naples, 
 studied under Albertus Magnus, and taught and preached in 
 Paris and Rome. His talents brought him many offers of 
 ecclesiastical promotion, all of whicli he modestly and humbly 
 refused. One well-known anecdote illustrates the wit and 
 spii'it of the man. He was once in the presence of Pope In- 
 nocent IV., before whom a large sum of money was spread 
 out. " You see," said the Pope, " the Chm-ch is no longer in 
 that age in which she said, ' Silver and gold liave I none.'" 
 " True, holy father," quickly responded the doctor ; *- neither 
 can she any longer say to the lame. Rise up and walk." 
 Hallam says : "The greatest of the schoolmen were the Do- 
 minican Thomas Aquinas, and the Franciscan Duns Scotus. 
 They were founders of rival sects, which wrangled with each 
 other for two or three centuries." His most important work 
 was entitled Summa TheologicB, or Sum of Theology. 
 
32 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 student or the principles of a philosopher that Wol- 
 sey rose to eminence. If he learned anything in 
 his University career he learned a knowledge of men 
 and of their motives. 
 
 In due course he became a Fellow of Magdalen,* 
 
 * Magdalen (pronounced Maudlin) College in the University 
 of Oxford was founded by William Waynflete, bishop of 
 Winchester. In 1448 he obtained a royal licence for the 
 foundation of an academical hall at Oxford, under the patron- 
 age of St. Mary Magdalen. Just ten years later, the founder 
 issued a formal charter establishing the College of "the blessed 
 Mary Magdalen, commonly called Magdalen College. The 
 foundation stone was laid in 1474, and the building is one of 
 the most beautiful of mediaeval or modern times. 
 
 Wolsey's connection with Oxford dates from an early 
 period of his life, for he was made Bachelor of Arts at fifteen 
 years of age ' which,' Cavendish notes, ' was a rare thing and 
 seldom seen,' and led to his being called ' the Boy Bachelor.' 
 In 1497 his name occurs in a list of Masters of Arts holding 
 Fellowships at Magdalen College, and in the following year 
 he was one of the bursars of that wealthy institution. For 
 six months he acted as master of the school established there 
 by William Waynflete, and he had among his pupils the three 
 sons of the Marquess of Dorset, through whose favor he was 
 destined to obtain his first ecclesiastical benefice. Neverthe- 
 less John Skelton, the poet, does not scruple to deride him as 
 an unlearned man : — 
 
 ' He was but a poor master of art 
 God wot, had little part 
 Of the quadrivals 
 Nor yet of trivials 
 Nor of philosophy. 
 
 His Latin tongue doth hobble. 
 
THE FRENCH ALLIANCE. 33 
 
 and master of the grammar school attached to the 
 College. Soon afterwards, in 1498, he was bursar; 
 
 He doth but clout and cobble 
 In Tully's faculty.' 
 
 A greater poet than Skelton has recorded the opinion of the 
 next generation very differently : — 
 
 ' This Cardinal 
 Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly 
 Was fashion'd to much honor, from his cradle. 
 He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one ; 
 Exceeding wise, fair-spoken, and persuading : 
 Lofty and sour to them that lov'd him not, 
 But, to those men that sought him, sweet as summer.' 
 (Shakspeare, Henry the Eighth, Act iv., sc. 2.) 
 
 " Wolsey was senior bursar of Magdalen College in 1499 and 
 1500, and in the latter year he retired to a living in Somerset- 
 shire. While he was being rapidly promoted from benefice to 
 benefice, he maintained friendly relations with his former col- 
 leagues at Oxford, and in 1510 he took the degree of Bachelor 
 of Divinity. During his brief occupation of the see of Lincoln, 
 the resident graduates of the University began to recognize 
 his growing power in the State, and wrote to solicit his as- 
 sistance in defence of their privileges. A few months later, 
 when he was Archbishop of York, they addressed him as 
 their Maecenas, their intercessor, their patron, their spokes- 
 man, and their special advocate at Court. A little later, they 
 wrote again, saying that their hopes depended on him alone, 
 and that tliey had resolved to raise him to the highest degree 
 in Divinity. In a subsequent letter they spontaneously prom- 
 ised that his name sliould be commemorated by their public 
 preachers at Oxford and in London alike. When at last they 
 found it difficult to devise any new compliments for the all- 
 powerful Cardinal, tliey sought to gratify his vanity by ap- 
 plying to him tlie title of Blajestas, in some cases three or four 
 times in the course of a letter." 
 
 Lyte, History of the University of Oxford, 
 
 , 3 
 
34 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 and tradition has connected with him the building 
 of the graceful tower which is one of the chief arch- 
 itectural ornaments of Oxford. Unfortunately the 
 tower was finished in the year in which Wolsey be- 
 came bursar, and all that he can have done was the 
 prosaic duty of paying the bills for its erection. 
 He continued his work of schoolmaster till in 1500 
 the Marquis of Dorset, whose sons Wolsey had taught, 
 gave him the living of Lymington in Somerset. 
 
 So Wolsey abandoned academic life for the quiet- 
 ness of a country living, which, however, did not 
 prove to be entirely free from troubles. For some 
 reason which is not clear, a neighboring squire, Sir 
 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 pun- 
 ished by confining Sir Amyas to his London house, 
 where he lived for some years in disgrace. If this 
 story be true, it is certainly not to Wolsey' s dis- 
 credit, who can have been moved by nothing but a 
 sense of injustice in thus reviving the remembrance 
 of his own past history. Moreover, Wolsey 's char- 
 
 * Sir Amyas Paulet (died 1538) was brought up a Lancas- 
 trian. He was attainted after Buckingham's rebellion, but 
 was restored in 1485. He held various offices in his own 
 count}'' of Somerset, and became one of the most prominent 
 of the west country gentlemen. 
 
THE FRENCH ALLIANCE. 35 
 
 acter certainly did not suffer at the time, as in 1501 
 he was made chaplain to Dean,"^ Archbishop of 
 Canterbury. After Dean's death in 1503, his capa- 
 city for business was so far established that he was 
 employed by Sir E-ichard Nanfan,f Deputy-Lieu- 
 tenant of Calais, to help him in the duties of a post 
 which advancing years made somewhat onerous. 
 When Nanfan, a few years afterwards, retired 
 from public life, he recommended Wolsey to the 
 king, and Wolsey entered the royal service as chap- 
 lain probably in 1506. 
 
 At Court Wolsey allied himself with Richard 
 Fox, J Bishop of Winchester, Lord Privy Seal, and 
 
 * Henry Deane, Archbishop of Canterbury, was the close 
 friend and councillor of Henry VII., who gave him much 
 employment in affairs of state. His principal success in 
 diplomacy was the arrangement of the marriage of Margaret, 
 King Henry's daughter, with James IV. of Scotland. He was 
 never installed at Canterbury, probably on the ground of 
 expense ; and it is greatly to his credit that, in that age of 
 ecclesiastical luxury, he, the Primate of England, lived and 
 died poor. 
 
 f Sir Richard Nanfan, or Nanphant, received many honors 
 and emoluments under Henry VII. In 1489 he was sent on a 
 mission to Spain and Portugal, and had an interview with 
 Ferdinand and Isabella. Later he was deputy of Calais, 
 where he became patron of Wolsey and made him known to 
 the king. He died in 1507. 
 
 X Richard Fox (1466-1528) was a prominent ecclesiastic and 
 statesman under Henry VIL, whose favor and confidence he 
 maintained until the death of the latter. Previous to 1500 bo 
 
36 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 at first seems to have acted as one of his secre- 
 taries. 
 
 Fox was a well- trained and careful oiScial, who 
 had been in Henry YII.'s employment all through 
 his reign. Cold and cautious by nature, Henry 
 YII. had to pick his way through many difficulties, 
 and took no man unreservedly into his confidence. 
 He was his own minister, and chose to be served by 
 men of distinguished position who were content to 
 do his bidding faithfully, and were free from per- 
 sonal ambition. For this purpose ecclesiastics were 
 best adapted, and Henry YII. did much to secular- 
 ize the Church by throwing the weight of public 
 business into the hands of men like Morton and Fox, 
 whom he rewarded by the highest ecclesiastical 
 offices. In such a school Wolsey was trained as a 
 statesman. He regarded it as natural that the King 
 should choose his ministers for their readiness to 
 serve his purposes, and should reward them by 
 ecclesiastical preferments. The State might gain by 
 such a plan, but the Church undoubtedly lost ; and 
 
 held the bishopric of several sees, and at that date he was 
 appointed to the important see of Winchester. In sympathy 
 with the New Learning, he founded the College of Corpus 
 Christi, Oxford, with a chair of Greek and Latin. As states- 
 man, he was Keeper of the Seal, secretary of state, and several 
 times ambassador to foreign courts. When Henry VIII. be- 
 came king, Fox was succeeded by Wolsey. 
 
THE FRENCH ALLIANCE. 37 
 
 in following the career of "Wolsey there is little to 
 remind us of the ecclesiastic, however much we may 
 admire the statesman. 
 
 It was well for England that Wolsey was trained 
 in the traditions of the policy of Henry YII. , which 
 he never forgot. Henry YII. auued, in the first 
 place, at securing his throne and restoring quiet and 
 order in his kingdom by developing trade and com- 
 merce. For this purpose he strove to turn his for- 
 eign neighbors into allies without adventuring into 
 any military enterprises. He did not aspire to 
 make England great, but he tried to make her 
 secure and prosperous. Wolsey gained so much 
 insight into the means which he employed for that 
 end that he never forgot their utility ; and though 
 he tried to pass beyond the aim of Henry YII., he 
 preferred to extend rather than abandon the means 
 which Henry YII. had carefully devised. Nor was 
 Wolsey merely a spectator of Henry YII.' s diplo- 
 macy ; he was soon employed as one of its agents. 
 In the spring of 1508 he was sent to Scotland to 
 keep King James lY. true to his alliance with Eng- 
 land, and explain misunderstandings that had arisen. 
 In the autumn of the same year he Avas sent to 
 Mechlin to win over the powerful minister of Maxi- 
 milian, the Bishop of Gurk, to a project of mar- 
 
38 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 riage between Henry YII. and Maximilian's daugh- 
 ter Margaret, by which Henry hoped that he would 
 get control of the Low Countries. Here Wolsey 
 learned his first practical lesson of diplomatic meth- 
 ods, and uttered the complaint, which in later years 
 he gave so much reason to others to pour forth, 
 * ' There is here so much inconstancy, mutability, 
 and little regard of promises and causes, that in 
 their appointments there is little trust or surety ; for 
 things surely determined to be done one day are 
 changed and altered the next. ' ' 
 
 Nothing came of "Woisey's embassy, nor can we 
 be sure that Henry YII. was much in earnest in his 
 marriage schemes. However, he died in April next 
 year, and was succeeded by a son whose matrimo- 
 nial hesitations were destined to give Wolsey more 
 trouble than those of his father. Before his death 
 he laid the foundation of Wolsey's clerical fortunes 
 by bestowing on him the rich deanery of Lincoln. 
 
 The accession of Henry YIII. made little change 
 in the composition of the King's Council. The 
 Lady Margaret survived her son long enough to 
 make her influence felt in the choice of her grand- 
 son's advisers. Archbishop Warham,* Bishop 
 
 1 William Warham (1450 ?-1554) was, with Erasmus, Colet, 
 and More, a leader of the New Learning. He was Keeper of 
 
THE FRENCH ALLIANCE. $9 
 
 Fox, and Thomas Howard,* Earl of Surrey, were 
 the men into whose hands public business natu- 
 rally fell. But Warham was somewhat stiff and 
 crabbed, so that he did not commend himself to the 
 young king. Fox represented the opinions of the 
 old officials, while the Earl of Surrey was the 
 natural leader of the old nobility, who could not 
 help resenting the subordinate position into which 
 they had been reduced by Hemy YII. , and hoped 
 that a new reign would give them fresh opportuni- 
 ties. So Fox urged caution and carefulness, while 
 
 the Great Seal from 1502 to 1515. In 1504 he was raised to 
 the archbishopric of Canterbury, the highest ecclesiastical 
 preferment in England. 
 
 * Thomas Howard (1473 ?-1547) was eminent as a soldier 
 and statesman. He was the third Duke of Norfolk, and son 
 of Thomas Howard, the second Duke of Norfolk. *'In 
 1513 he was chosen high admiral of England, and, in co- 
 operation with his father, defeated tlie Scotch at the battle of 
 Flodden. For this service he was made Earl of Surrey, while 
 his father was made Duke of Norfolk. In 1523 he became 
 lord high treasurer, and in 1524, at the death of his father, 
 inherited his title. His devotion to the Church of Rome 
 made him hostile to Anne Boleyn, though she was his 
 own niece. After Henry VIII. had married Catherine 
 Howard, the Duke, who was her uncle, had much influence 
 in the royal councils, and used it for the persecution of the 
 Protestants. In 1547 he was arrested on a charge of treason, 
 and ordered for execution ; but before the fatal day came, 
 the king died. Norfolk was released from prison in 1553, and 
 died the next year. His son, the Earl of Surrey, was executed 
 in 1547." — Lippincott's Pronouncing Biographical Dictionary, 
 
40 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 Surrey favored extravagance and military ambition. 
 Fox felt that he was growing old, and the pres- 
 sure of a continued conflict of opinion was irk- 
 some to him. Much as the ecclesiastics of that 
 time were secular in their lives, they were rarely 
 entirely forgetful of their priestly office, and were 
 genuinely anxious to rid themselves of the burden 
 of affairs and spend their last years in quiet. So 
 Fox chose Wolsey as the man to take his place, 
 perhaps because he saw in him the qualities neces- 
 sary to influence the young king. Besides him he 
 favored Ruthal, another experienced official, who 
 was rewarded by the rich bishopric of Durham, but 
 who was soon eclipsed by the superior genius of 
 Wolsey, which he frankly admitted, and willingly 
 accepted the post of Wolsey' s assistant and subordi- 
 nate. 
 
 So Wolsey was made the king's almoner, and 
 had sundry preferments bestowed on him as marks 
 of the royal favor. He ingratiated himself with 
 the king, and worked with Fox and Ruthal to coun- 
 teract the influence of the Earl of Surrey. Prob- 
 ably in 1511 he was called to the King's Council, 
 but neither he nor Fox had it in their power to 
 shape the king's policy as they wished, or to direct 
 his doings. His warlike ardor was against their 
 
THE FRENCH ALLIANCE. 4.± 
 
 will; but from the beginning of his reign Henry 
 YIII. went his own way, and others had to fol- 
 low. All they could do was to show him that 
 they were the most capable of his servants, and 
 when Henry YIII. had determined on war they 
 were the men to whom he turned to carry out the 
 necessary details. On Wolse}?- as the youngest the 
 chief labor was thrown. England was unprepared 
 for war, and every branch of the military service 
 had to be almost created. "Wolsey had at all events 
 a sufficient opportunity for displaying his practical 
 capacity as an organizer. 
 
 So Wolse}^ worked at providing for the troops 
 who were sent to Guienne in 1512; but the expe- 
 dition itself was a complete failure. Ferdinand 
 played his own game of procrastination, and sent 
 no succors. The Marquis of Dorset was an inca- 
 pable leader. The English troops were not inured 
 to hardships, and soon grew discontented; at last 
 they rose in open mutiny, and clamored to be led 
 back to England. Dorset was driven to retire 
 without striking a blow. The first attempt of Eng- 
 land to assert her prowess ended in disaster. The 
 statesmen of the Continent made merry over the 
 blundering efforts of an upstart power. '' The 
 English, ' ' they said, ' ' are so unaccustomed to war 
 
42 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 that they have no experience to guide them." 
 Henry longed to wipe out this disgrace, and pre- 
 pared to invade the north of France in the next 
 year. "Wolsey was not yet of suiiicient importance 
 to direct the king's policy, and had no experience 
 of war. But he threw himself heart and soul into 
 the task of military organization, and the adminis- 
 trative capacity which he displayed secured his hold 
 on the king's favor. He provided for victualling 
 the fleet, raised the necessary number of ships, 
 selected their captains, and even apportioned the 
 gunners, l^^othing was too trivial for his attention, 
 even down to beer-barrels and biscuits. It is not 
 surprising that his colleague, Bishop Fox, wrote to 
 him, ' ' I pray God send us with speed, and soon 
 deliver you of your outrageous charge and labor. ' ' 
 
 The fleet put to sea in March 1513, under the 
 command of the Lord Admiral Sir Edward Howard. * 
 The French fleet was far superior in numbers, and 
 prepared to prevent the English from landing on 
 
 * Sir Edward Howard (1477 ?-1513) began his naval service 
 at the age of fifteen and rose to the position of Lord High 
 Admiral. " His death was felt as a national disaster," writes 
 one. James IV. of Scotland wrote to the king of England : 
 — ' ' Surely, dearest brother, we think more loss is to you of 
 your late admiral, who deceased to his great honor and laud, 
 than the advantage might have been of the winning of all the 
 French galleys and their equipage." 
 
THE FRENCH ALLIANCE. 43 
 
 the French coast. Sir Edward Howard was burning 
 with desire for a decisive engagement, and on 25th 
 April attacked the French galleys as they lay in 
 shallow water. He boarded them with his boats, and 
 himself leapt on to the ship of the French admiral, 
 but before his men could follow him their cable was 
 cut away, and he was left almost alone. Seeing 
 that there was no hope of support, he took his whis- 
 tle from his neck and cast it into the sea ; then with 
 his gilt target on his arm he fought till the enemy's 
 pikes thrust him overboard and he was drowned. 
 The English attack was driven back ; but its gal- 
 lantry and the bravery of Sir Edward Howard pro- 
 duced a great impression. It was clear that after 
 all the Englishmen had not forgotten how to fight. 
 
 The efforts of the English fleet were successful in 
 securing the peaceful landing of the arm}^ at Calais, 
 where Henry arrived at the end of June. "With 
 him went Wolsey, commanding two hundred men, 
 and now a necessary personage in the king's train. 
 Such confidence was placed in him by Queen Kath- 
 arine that she requested him to write to her fre- 
 quently and inform her of the king's health, while in 
 return she poured her household troubles into his 
 sympathetic ear. ISTo doubt Wolsey 's hands were 
 full of business of many kinds during this brief and 
 
44 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 glorious campaign, glorious in the sense that suc- 
 cess attended its operations, but fruitless because 
 the things done were scarcely worth the doing. 
 The English army took Terouenne, more owing to 
 the feebleness of the French than to their own 
 valor. Louis XII. was prematurely old and ailing ; 
 things had gone against him in Italy, and there was 
 little spirit in the French army. 
 
 The defeat of the French outside Terouenne was 
 so rapid that the battle was derisively called the 
 Battle of Spurs. Henry's desire for martial glory 
 was satisfied by the surrender of Terouenne, and his 
 vanity was gratified by the presence of Maximilian, 
 who in return for a large subsidy brought a few 
 German soldiers, and professed to serve under the 
 English king. From Terouenne he advanced to 
 Tournai, which surrendered at the end of Septem- 
 ber. Maxunilian was delighted at these conquests, 
 of which he reaped all the benefits ; with Tournai 
 in the hands of England, Flanders had a strong pro- 
 tection against France. So Maximilian would 
 gladly have led Henry to continue the campaign in 
 the interests of the Flemish frontier. But Henry 
 had no taste for spending a winter in the field ; he 
 pleaded that his presence was needed in England, 
 and departed, promising to return next year. 
 
THE FRENCH ALLIANCE. 45 
 
 In truth the arms of England had won a greater 
 victory on English ground than anything they had 
 achieved abroad. The war against France awak- 
 ened the old hostility of Scotland, and no sooner 
 was Henry YIII. 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." Eepentance 
 came rapidly on the Field of Flodden,^ where the 
 
 *"The Earl of Surrey . . . setup the standard of St. 
 George at Newcastle ; and with a numerous force- marched 
 on to Alnwick, which he reached on the 3d of September. 
 According to the practice of chivalry Surrey offered battle 
 to James, on the following Friday, in a message which he 
 sent by a pursuivant-at-arms. The king of Scotland cour- 
 teously accepted the challenge. To an insolent defiance from 
 Lord Thomas Howard, that lie had come to justify the death 
 of Andrew Barton, and would neither give nor receive 
 quarter, the king returned no answer. ' The king lay upon 
 the side of a high mountain called Flodden, on the edge of 
 Cheviot, where was but one narrow field for any man to 
 ascend up the said hill to him, and at the foot of the hill lay 
 all his ordnance. On the one side of his army was a great 
 marish, and compassed with the hills of Cheviot, so that he lay 
 too strong to be approached of any side, except that the Eng- 
 lish would have temerariously run on his ordnance.' James 
 was rash ; but he kept his strong position, in spite of a taunt- 
 ing message from Surrey to take up a ground wliere the 
 battle might be fairly tried. The English commander was an 
 experienced soldier ; and he showed his knowledge of 
 strategy by an unexpected and masterly movement. The 
 Till, a branch of the Tweed, lay between the two armies. 
 
4:6 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. / 
 
 Scottish army was almost cut to pieces. This bril- 
 liant victory was greatly due to the energy of Queen 
 Katharine, who wrote to Wolsey, ''My heart is 
 
 Surrey had crossed the river on the 8th of September, at a 
 distant point from Flodden by which manoeuvre he deceived 
 James as to his real intentions ; but on the morning of the 
 9th vsrith his van and cannon, he suddenly re-crossed it at 
 Twissel-bridge, near the junction of the Till w^ith the Tv^^eed, 
 and the remainder of the army passed a ford. Surrey was 
 now in a position in which he could cut off the communica- 
 tion of James with his supplies from Scotland. The English 
 were marching rapidly to secure the eminence of Branksome, 
 when the Scots descended the heights of Flodden to seize this 
 position, setting fire to their tents. The king, who had made 
 no attempt to prevent the English crossing the Till, had now 
 " his enemies before him on a plain field," as his wish is 
 declared to have been. The battle began at four o'clock in 
 the afternoon of the 9th of September. 
 
 '* The English line stretched east and west, 
 And southward were their faces set ; 
 
 The Scottish northward proudly prest, 
 And manfully their foes they met." 
 
 Each of the sons of Surrey commanded a division of the 
 right wing ; Surrey himself was in the centre ; Sir Edward 
 Stanley headed the left wing. The Scottish earls Huntley 
 and Home, who commanded their left wing, attacked the 
 Howards with a vigor that might have decided the battle, 
 had not Lord Dacre come to their aid with the reserve of 
 horse. The Scottish right wing, which consisted chiefly of 
 Highlanders, was unable to stand up against the archers of 
 Lancashire. James and Surrey met in close conflict in the 
 the centres of their armies. Never was king, in the extremity 
 of danger, surrounded by more gallant supporters. But 
 though he and his knights were struggling in no unequal 
 strife with Surrey, whose standard was nearly won, the rapid 
 
THE FRENCH ALLIANCE. 47 
 
 very good to it, and I am horribly busy with mak- 
 ing standards, banners, and badges." She ad- 
 dressed the English leaders before they started for 
 the war, bade them remember that the English 
 courage excelled that of other nations, and that the 
 Lord smiled on those who stood in defence of their 
 own. "With a proud heart she sent her husband the 
 blood-stained plaid of the Scottish king, taken from 
 his corpse. ''In this," she wrote, ''your Grace 
 shall see how I keep my promise, sending you for 
 your banner a king's coat." 
 
 The victory of Elodden Field was of great im- 
 portance, for it delivered England from the fear of 
 a troublesome neighbor, and showed Europe that 
 England could not be muzzled by the need of care 
 
 triumph of Stanley over the right wing enabled him to at- 
 tack the Scottish centre in the rear. James fell within a 
 lance's length of Surrey. None of his division were made 
 prisoners. They all perished with their king. As night 
 came on Surrey drew back his men. Before the dawn the 
 Scots had left the field. The loss of the Scottish army has 
 been computed at ten thousand men ; that of the English at 
 about seven thousand. ' Scarce a family of eminence but has 
 an ancestor killed at Flodden,' says Scott. In the words of 
 the ballad, — 
 
 *The flowers of the forest were a' wede away.' " 
 
 Knight, History of England. 
 The English forces engaged in this battle numbered about 
 32,000 ; the Scottish forces were about 30,000. 
 
48 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 for her own borders. The Scottish power was 
 broken for many years to come, and England was 
 free to act as she would. Europe began to respect 
 the power of England, though there was little 
 reason to rate highly the wisdom of her king. 
 Henry had won little by his campaign; he had 
 gratified his vanity, but he had not advanced to- 
 wards any definite end. 
 
 Henry YIII. was young and simple. He ex- 
 pected to captivate the world by brilliant deeds, and 
 fascinate it by unselfish exploits. He soon found 
 that his pretended allies were only seeking their own 
 advantage. The name of the ' ' Holy League ' ' was 
 the merest pretext. The new Pope, Leo X. , * a sup- 
 ple time-serving intriguer, trained in the deceitful 
 
 *Pope Leo X. was Giovanni de' Medici (1475-1521), son of 
 Lorenzo de' Medici (Lorenzo the Magnificent) of Florence. 
 He ascended the papal chair in 1513 upon the death of Julius 
 n. He continued the policy of his predecessor in patronizing 
 literature and the fine arts, but his patronage was on a scale 
 of unparalleled munificence. Raphael, Michaelangelo, and the 
 galaxy of artists by which they were surrounded, were en- 
 couraged to prosecute the work they had alreadj'^ begun under 
 the patronage of Julius II. The university of Rome was re- 
 stored with its one hundred salaried professors, and a Greek 
 college was founded in the same city. His luxury and munifi- 
 cence demanded a larger revenue than the Church provided, 
 and to meet this demand he sold indulgences in great numbers 
 all over Europe. This indiscriminate sale of indulgences 
 shocked the moral consciousness of large numbers of people, 
 and was the direct cause that led to the Reformation. 
 
THE FRENCH ALLIANCE. 49 
 
 policy of the Medici House, was willing to patch up 
 the quarrel between France and the Papacy. Fer- 
 dinand of Spain wished only to keep things as they 
 were. As he grew older he grew more suspicious, 
 and clung to the power which he possessed. His 
 one dread was lest Charles, the grandson of himself 
 and Maximilian, should demand his maternal heri- 
 tage of Castile. Ferdinand was resolved to keep the 
 two Spanish kingdoms united under his own rule un- 
 til his death, and considered European affairs in the 
 first instance as they were likely to aif ect that issue. 
 He was of opinion that France was no longer formi- 
 dable to Spanish interests in Italy, while English 
 successes on the Flemish frontier might make Charles 
 more powerful than he wished him to be. Accord- 
 ingly he set to work to undermine Henry's position 
 by making an alliance with France. He was still 
 Henry's ally and had promised him to help him to 
 continue the war in the spring of 1514. E^one the 
 less he entered into secret negotiations with France, 
 and cautiously endeavored to persuade Maximilian to 
 join him. Maximilian was still at war with Venice, 
 and was aggrieved that he was the only member of the 
 plundering gang who had not gained by the League of 
 Cambrai. Ferdinand allured him from his interest 
 in Flanders by the prospect of a renewal of the Leaguo 
 4 
 
^0 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 against Yenice in his special behalf, and Maximilian 
 was sanguine enough to listen to the temptation. He 
 faintly stipulated that the consent, of England should 
 be obtained, but was satisfied with Ferdinand's as- 
 surance that Henr}^ would have no objection to a 
 truce with France. Early in April 1514 a truce for 
 a year was made between Louis XII., Maximilian, 
 and Ferdinand. Henry found himself tricked by 
 his father-in-law, and abandoned by the ally whom he 
 had largely subsidized, and had greatly benefited. 
 
 It is no wonder that Henry was greatly angered at 
 this result, and declared that he would trust no man 
 any more. He had taken the measure of the good 
 faith of European rulers, and had learned the futility 
 of great undertakings for the general welfare. In 
 truth, the difficulty of European politics always lies 
 in the fact that the general welfare can only be pro- 
 moted by the furtherance of particular interests, 
 which threaten in their turn to become dangerous. 
 The interests of the sixteenth century were purely 
 dynastic interests, and seem trivial and unworthy. 
 "We are not, however, justified in inferring that dy- 
 nastic interests, because they are concerned with 
 small arrangements, are in their nature more selfish 
 or more iniquitous than interests which clothe them- 
 selves in more fair-sounding phrases. Their selfish- 
 
THE FRENCH ALLIANCE. SI 
 
 ness is more apparent ; it does not follow that it is 
 less profound. 
 
 However that may be, the desertion of Maximilian 
 and Ferdinand put a stop to Henry's warlike pro- 
 jects, and restored England to peace. Henry had 
 had enough of lighting other people's battles. He 
 was willing to pursue his oivn course by the means 
 which others used, and trust henceforth to the blood- 
 less battles of diplomacy. In this new field Wolsey 
 was the English champion, and for the next sixteen 
 years the history of England is the history of Wol- 
 sey's achievements. 
 
 Wolsey's services in the campaign of 1513 gave 
 him a firm hold of the king's favor, and secured 
 for him large rewards. As he was an ecclesiastic 
 his salary was paid out of the revenues of the 
 Church. When Tournai became an English posses- 
 sion its bishopric was conferred on Wolsey and on a 
 vacancy in the bishopric of Lincoln in the beginning 
 of 1514 that see was given him in addition. How 
 the ofiicers 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 Kome 
 was the Archbishop of York, Thomas Bainbridge, 
 who lived as Cardinal in the Papal Court. More- 
 over, an Italian, Silvestro de' Gigli, held the bish- 
 
5^ LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 opric of "Worcester, though he lived habitually in 
 Rome, and devoted his energies to the furtherance 
 of the interests of England. In July 1614 Cardinal 
 Bainbridge died in Rome, poisoned by one of his 
 servants. The Bishop of Worcester was suspected 
 of being privy to the deed for the purpose of re- 
 moving out of the way a troublesome rival. It 
 would seem, however, that the murder was prompted 
 by vengeful feelings and the desire to hide pecula- 
 tions. The Pope investigated the charge against the 
 Bishop of Worcester, and he was acquitted; but 
 the story gives a poor picture of morality and secu- 
 rity of life at Rome. On the death of Bainbridge 
 the vacant archbishopric of York was also con- 
 ferred on Wolsey, who was now enriched by the 
 revenues of three sees, and was clearly marked out 
 as the foremost man in England. 
 
 He rose to this position solely by the king's 
 favor, as the king alone chose his own ministers and 
 counsellors, and there existed no external pressure 
 which could influence his decisions. The Wars of 
 the Roses had seen the downfall of the baronial 
 power, and Henry YII. had accustomed men to 
 see affairs managed almost entirely by a new class 
 of officials. The ministers and counsellors of Henry 
 YIII. were chosen from a desire to balance the 
 
THE FRENCH ALLIANCE. 53 
 
 old and the new system. The remnants of the 
 baronial party were associated with officials, that 
 thev mio^ht be assimilated into the same class. The 
 Duke of Norfolk, as the greatest nobleman in Eng- 
 land, was powerful, and was jealous of the men 
 with whom he found himself called upon to work. 
 Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, was the per- 
 sonal friend of the king, and shared in his private 
 more than in his public life. The Earl of Surrey 
 had done good service at Flodden Field, and was a 
 man of practical capacity. The other ministers 
 were most of them ecclesiastics. Warham, Arch- 
 bishop of Canterbury, was respected rather than 
 trusted. Fox, Bishop of Winchester, was a capa- 
 ble and painstaking official. Ruthal,* Bishop of 
 Durham, was destitute of real insight, and was 
 content to follow Wolsey's lead. Wolsey won his 
 
 * Thomas Ruthall, or Rowthall, bishop of Durham, was 
 educated at Oxford but received his degree of D.D. at Cam- 
 bridge. He was a trusted servant of Henry VII., from whom 
 he received a large number of ecclesiastical preferments. 
 When Buckingham was examined by Henry VIII., in 1521, 
 Ruthall was present as secretary. A story is told of him, that, 
 being asked to make up an account of the kingdom, he did 
 so ; but accidentally he gave in to the king another account 
 treating of his own property, which was very large. His 
 chagrin over this blunder brought on an illness. The bishop 
 was interested in architecture and education, and he furthered 
 by personal effort both causes. From Dictionary of National 
 Biography, 
 
54 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 way by his political genius, his quickness, and his 
 vast power of detailed work. He owed his posi- 
 tion entirely to the king, and was responsible to 
 him alone. The king consulted his Council only 
 about such matters as he thought fit ; foreign affairs 
 were managed almost entirely according to his own 
 will and pleasure. 
 
 The English have never been famous for diplomacy, 
 and "Wolsey was ill supplied with agents for his work. 
 The English residents at foreign Courts were not 
 men of mark or position. John Stile at the Court 
 of Ferdinand, and Thomas Spinelly in Flanders 
 seem to have been merchants carrying on their own 
 business. With Maximilian was a more important 
 man. Sir Kichard Wingfieldj^a Suffolk knight, who 
 was too self-satisfied and too dull-witted to under- 
 stand Wolsey's schemes. For special work special 
 agents had to be sent, who went unwillingly to a 
 thankless and laborious task. They were ill paid 
 
 * Sir Richard Wingfield (1469 ?— 1525) was a soldier, states- 
 man, and scholar of eminence in his day. He served his 
 country aS ambassador on many occasions. In 1524 he was 
 appointed high steward of the university of Cambridge. Sir 
 Thomas More had received from the university the promise of 
 this position, but at the request of the king he withdrew in 
 favor of Wingfield. In 1525 Wingfield was sent by Henry 
 VIII., on an important mission to Spain, and he died in the 
 city of Toledo July 32 of that year. 
 
THE FRENCH ALLIANCE. 55 
 
 and ill supported ; but even here Wolsey knew how 
 to choose the right men, and he managed to inspire 
 them with his own zeal and tenacity of purpose. It 
 is a striking proof of Wolsey 's genius that he knew 
 whom he could trust, and that his trust was never 
 misplaced. 
 
 When Henry YIII. 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 
 mio:ht form a new combination, before which the 
 schemes of Ferdinand would be powerless. 
 
 Wolsey luckily had the means of approaching 
 Louis XII. without attracting attention. Amongst 
 the prisoners taken in the Battle of the Spurs * was 
 
 * There were two battles that are known as Battles of the 
 Spurs. The one here referred to was tlie second and less im- 
 portant one. It was fought near Guinegate in 1513, and the 
 result was an easy victorj'- of the English over the French. 
 It is said to have taken its name from the precipitate flight of 
 
56 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 the young Duke of Longueville, a favorite of the 
 French king. He had been sent to London, to the 
 sore disturbance of Queen Katharine, who, being a 
 sensible woman, thought that the best thing to do 
 with a prisoner was to confine him in the Tower. 
 On Henry's return the Duke of Longueville was 
 released, and amused himself at Court like any one 
 else. Through him Wolsey opened up secret com- 
 munications with Louis XIL, whose domestic cir- 
 cumstances luckily gave a handle for Wolsey's de- 
 signs. In January, 1514, the French queen died; 
 and although the widowed husband had reached the 
 age of fifty -two, it was known that he was looking 
 out for a young bride. 
 
 It has always been one of the most revolting 
 features of dynastic politics that the private relation- 
 ships of members of ruling families have been 
 entirely determined b}^ considerations of dynastic 
 expediency. In the sixteenth century this was emi- 
 nently the case. Alliances were family arrange- 
 ments, and corresponded to motives of family ag- 
 grandizement rather than to national interests. 
 They were sealed by marriages, they were broken 
 by divorces. So great were the responsibilities of 
 
 the Frencli : that is, their chief weapon of defence was their 
 spurs, or the fleetness of their horses. 
 
THE FRENCH ALLIANCE. 57 
 
 royalty that the private life of members of royal 
 houses was entirely sunk in their official position. 
 They were mere counters to be moved about the 
 board at will, and disposed of according to the needs 
 of family politics. Such a victim of circumstances 
 was Henry YIII.'s younger sister, the Princess 
 Mary, a bright and intelligent girl of seventeen. 
 She was betrothed to Charles, Prince of Castile, and 
 it had been arranged that the marriage should take 
 place when he reached the age of fourteen. The 
 time was come for the fulfilment of the promise ; 
 but Ferdinand did not wish to see his troublesome 
 grandson more closely united to England, which had 
 shown such ambitious inclinations. Maximilian, the 
 guardian of Charles, wavered between his desire to 
 please Henry and Ferdinand, and invented one ex- 
 cuse after another for not proceeding with his grand- 
 son' s marriage. 
 
 Wolsey allowed Maximilian to go on with his 
 shifty talk, and was only too glad to see him fall 
 into the trap. His negotiations with France were 
 progressing, and the outward sign of the new alli- 
 ance was to be the marriage of Mary to Louis XII. 
 So secretly were the arrangements made that Europe 
 was taken by surprise when, at the end of July, it 
 was gradually known that the alliance between 
 
58 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 France and England was an accomplished fact. 
 The marriage contract was soon signed, and in Oc- 
 tober Mary went to Abbeville,^ where she was met 
 by her elderly husband. 
 
 The result of this clever diplomacy was to secure 
 England the respect and envy of Europe. It was 
 clear that henceforth England was a power which 
 had to be reckoned with. Ferdinand was taught 
 that he could no longer count on using his dutiful 
 son-in-law as he thought most convenient to him- 
 self. Maximilian sadly reflected that if he needed 
 English gold in the future he must show a little 
 more dexterity in his game of playing fast and loose 
 with everybody. Pope Leo X. was not over- 
 pleased at seeing England develop a policy of her 
 
 * Mary of France (1496-1533) was the daughter of Henry 
 Vn,, and Elizabeth of York, and sister of Henry VIH. 
 She consented to wed the elderly and infirm Louis XII. of 
 France, upon the promise that if she survived him she should 
 have her own choice the next time. The period of her 
 married life was less than three months : her wedding oc- 
 curred October 9, 1514, and Louis died on January 1, 1515. 
 She afterwards married Charles Brandon, duke of Suffolk, 
 and by this marriage she was the mother of Frances, who was 
 the mother of the ill-fated Lady Jane Grey. 
 
 The town of A.bbeville, at which the marriage of Louis XII. 
 and Mary was celebrated, is situated near the coast of the 
 English Channel, about half way between Boulogne and 
 Dieppe. It was one of the gathering places of the crusades. 
 The gorgeous church of St. Walfram was then in process of 
 erection, having been begun in 1488 by Louis XII. 
 
THE FRENCH ALLIANCE. 59 
 
 own, and looked coldly on Wolsey. After the 
 death of Cardinal Bainbridge Henry wrote to the 
 Pope and begged him to make Wolsey cardinal in 
 his room. ' ' Such are his merits, ' ' said the king, 
 ''that I esteem him above my dearest friends, and 
 can do nothing of importance without him. ' ' Leo 
 X. coldly replied that there were great difficulties 
 in the way of creating a cardinal : the title, he re- 
 minded the king, was much sought after, and ad- 
 mitted its bearer to the highest rank : he must wait 
 a more suitable time. It would seem that the Pope 
 wished to have further guarantees of England's 
 good- will, and hinted that Wolsey must give 
 pledges of his good behavior. 
 
 England did not long enjoy the diplomatic vic- 
 tory which Wolsey had won by his brilliant scheme 
 of a French alliance. Henry still had a longing for 
 military glory, with which Wolsey had little sym- 
 pathy. He wished to revenge himself on his per- 
 fidious father-in-law, and proposed to Louis XII. an 
 attack upon Navarre, and even thought of claiming 
 a portion of the kingdom of Castile, as rightfully 
 belonging to Queen Katharine. Whatever projects 
 Henry may have had came to an end on the death 
 of Louis on the 1st of January 1515. The elderly 
 bridegroom, it was said, tried too well to humor 
 
60 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 the social disposition of his sprightly bride. He 
 changed his manner of life, and kept late hours, till 
 his health entirely gave way, and he sank under 
 his well-meant efforts to renew the gallantry of 
 youth. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE UNIVEESAL 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 kins: 
 of France, Francis I.,^ was aged twenty-one, and 
 
 * Francis I. (1494-1547) succeeded Louis XII., who was his 
 uncle and his father-in-law, as king of France January 1, 
 1515. His reign v\'as marked by wars in Italy w^hich, in 
 spite of some brilliant successes, left his power on the 
 whole weaker at the end than when be began. " Super- 
 ficially a man of brilliant parts, Francis had in reality at bot- 
 tom a frivolous, changeable, licentious nature. Nevertheless 
 he greatly fostered learning and art, inviting painters and 
 scholars to his kingdom, founding libraries, opening schools, 
 and building several of the finest palaces in France ; but his 
 
 61 
 
 '% 
 
62 tIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 was as ambitious of distinction as was Henry. The 
 treaty between France and England had not yet 
 been carried out, and it would require much dexter- 
 ity to modify its provisions. The kings of the six- 
 teenth century were keen men of business, and 
 never let money slip through their hands. The 
 widowed Queen of France must, of course, return 
 to England, but there were all sorts of questions 
 about her dowry and the jewels which Louis had 
 given her. Henry claimed that she should bring 
 back with her everything to which any title could 
 be urged : Francis I. Avished to give up as little as 
 possible. The two monarchs haggled like two 
 hucksters, and neither of them had any care of the 
 happiness or reputation of the 3^oung girl round 
 whom they bickered. In the background stood 
 "Wolsey's enemies, who saw that if they could create 
 a rupture between France and England Wolsey's 
 influence Avould be at an end. 
 
 In these dangerous conditions Wolsey had to seek 
 an ally in Charles Brandon,* Duke of Suffolk, and 
 
 persecution of the Vaudois [or Waldenses] and other Protes- 
 tant sects has left a dark stain on his memory which all his 
 patronage of artists and men of letters will not efface." 
 
 * Charles Brandon, the date of whose birth is not even ap- 
 proximately known, was the bearer of the standard of Henry 
 VH. on the field of Bosworth in 1485. He was a great favorite 
 
THE UNIVERSAL PEACE. 63 
 
 had to trust to his private knowledge of the char- 
 acter of Queen Mary. She had the strong will of 
 the Tudors, and had also their craving for admira- 
 tion. These two qualities seem to have drawn her 
 in opposite directions. While her marriage with 
 Prince Charles was talked of she professed the great- 
 est admiration for him, and gazed with rapture on 
 a very bad portrait of her intended husband. But 
 this did not prevent her from being attracted by 
 the personal fascinations of the Duke of Suffolk, as 
 Wolsey knew. When he negotiated the French 
 alliance he had some difficulty in overcoming Mary's 
 repugnance to an old husband ; but she viewed the 
 proposal in a business-like way, and was not indif- 
 ferent to the position of Queen of France. She 
 looked forward to a speedy widowhood, and ex- 
 tracted from Henry a promise that, if she under- 
 took to marry for the first time to please him, she 
 might choose her second husband to please herself. 
 When Mary was free the hopes of the Duke of Suf- 
 folk revived, and Wolsey knowing this, chose him 
 
 of Henry VIII. who created him Duke of Suffolk in 1514. He 
 was employed on many diplomatic missions, and commanded 
 the armies that invaded France in the years 1523 and 1544. 
 He died at Guildford, England, in 1545, and although he ex- 
 pressed in his will the desire to be buried at Tattershall, 
 Lincolnshire, the king did him the honor of causing him to 
 be buried at Windsor at his own charge. 
 
64: UFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 as the best instrument for clearing away the diffi- 
 culties raised by Francis I. , and bringing back Mary 
 honorably to England. 
 
 Francis, on his side, used his knowledge of the 
 current rumor to extract from Mary her confidences 
 about Suffolk, and with this knowledge approached 
 Suffolk as a friend. By alternately encouraging 
 Suffolk and terrifying Mary he turned Wolsey's 
 ambassador into an anxious lover. Still Wolsey 
 trusted that Suffolk would the more bestir himself 
 to bring Mary back, and would make such terms 
 with Francis as would commend his suit to Henry. 
 But Wolsey's enemies led Heury to make exorbi- 
 tant demands, which Francis met by redoubling his 
 persecution of Mary. At last she asked Suffolk to 
 marry her, which he did in secret. After this 
 Francis was free from any further need of concilia- 
 ting Henry, who must take back his sister on any 
 terms, and Wolsey was left to appease Henry as 
 best he could. In April Mary and Suffolk returned 
 to England, and in May the luckless pair were pub- 
 licly married. Wolsey manfully befriended Suffolk 
 in this matter, but the calculations of his diplomacy 
 were hopelessly upset by private feelings and the 
 rashness of passion. 
 
 However, Mary received part of her dowry and 
 
THE UNIVERSAL PEACE. 65 
 
 some of her jewels. Francis I. had no wish to 
 quarrel with England, but only to make the best 
 terms for himself. He was bent upon gathering 
 laurels in Italy, and on 5th April renewed the alli- 
 ance between France and England. This time, 
 however, the treaty was little more than a truce, 
 and many questions were left untouched ; no men- 
 tion was made of the return of Tournai, and the 
 question of Mary's jewels was left undecided. 
 Francis I. counted on keeping England quiet by an 
 alliance which he formed at the same time with 
 Ferdinand, while he w^on over the Flemish counsel- 
 lors of Prince Charles, who betrothed himself to the 
 infant daughter of Louis XII. , Kenee, 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 b}^ 
 Louis XII. In July he set out contentedly, know- 
 ing that Henry was powerless to interfere. He 
 treated England with neglect, and gave Henry no 
 information of his movements. England looked on 
 with growing jealousy while Francis crossed the 
 Alps and in September defeated the Swiss merce- 
 naries who held Milan in the name of the last Sf orza 
 Duke. The battle of Marignano ^ (14tli Septem- 
 
 * Marignano, now called Melegnano, is situated nine miles 
 
 5 
 
QQ LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 ber) was a splendid success for Francis, who there 
 beat back the Swiss infantry, hitherto considered 
 invincible in Europe. The star of France had risen, 
 
 south-east of Milan, Italy. It was about noon of the 13th of 
 September that the Swiss, issuing from Milan, came upon the 
 French army. " The king, who was purposing to sit down to 
 supper, left it on the spot and went straight towards the 
 enemy who were already engaged in skirmishing, which 
 lasted a long while before they were at the great game. The 
 king had great numbers of lanzknechts, the which would 
 fain have done a bold deed in crossing a ditch to go after the 
 Swiss ; but these latter let seven or eight ranks cross and 
 then thrust yon them back in such sort that all that had 
 crossed got hurled into the ditch. The said lanzknechts were 
 mighty frightened ; and, but for the aid of a troop of men-at- 
 arms, amongst the which was the good knight Bayard who 
 bore right down through the Swiss, there had been a sad 
 disaster there, for it was now night, and night knows no 
 shame. A band of Swiss came passing in front of the king, 
 who charged them gallantly. There was heavy fighting 
 there and much danger to the king's person, for his great 
 buffalo [that is, the top of the vizor of his helmet, so called 
 because it was made of the leather of buffalo hide] was 
 pierced so as to let in daylight, by the thrust of a pike. 
 
 " It was now so late that they could not see one another ; 
 and the Swiss were, for the evening, forced to retire on the 
 one side and the French on the other. They lodged as they 
 could ; but well I trow that none did rest at ease. The king 
 of France put as good a face on matters as the least of all 
 his soldiers did, for he remained all night a-horseback like 
 the rest. According to some accounts, however, he had a 
 little sleep, lying on a gun carriage. On the morrow at day- 
 break the Swiss were for beginning again, and they came 
 straight towards the French artillery, from which they had 
 a good peppering. Howbeit, never did men fight better, and 
 the affair lasted three or four good hours. At last they were 
 broken and beaten, and there were left on the field ten or 
 
THE UNIVERSAL PEACE. 67 
 
 and Francis could look round with proud superi- 
 ority. 
 
 The princes of Europe were alarmed beyond 
 measure at the completeness of the French success. 
 They had looked with equanimity at the prepara- 
 tions of Francis, because they expected that he 
 would be delayed, or, if he attacked the Swiss, 
 would be defeated. But his rapid march soon con- 
 vinced men that he was in earnest, and especially 
 excited the fear of Pope Leo X., whose ingenious 
 policy of being secretly allied with everybody was 
 disturbed by this display of unexpected vigor. The 
 alarm of the Pope was useful to "VYolsey. It 
 awakened him to the need of making the English 
 king his friend, and fulfilling his 'desire to have 
 Wolsey created cardinal. Wolsey had not ceased, 
 through his agent, the Bishop of "Worcester, to 
 urge this point upon the Pope, and when Francis 
 was well advanced on his road to Milan the plead- 
 ings of Wolsey were irresistible. '' If the King of 
 England forsake the Pope," wrote "Wolsey to the 
 Bishop of Worcester, ' ' he will be in greater dan- 
 ger on this day two years than ever was Pope 
 
 twelve thousand of them. The remainder withdrew in pretty 
 good order along a high-road to Milan, whitlier they were 
 hotly pursued." [Histoire du bon Chevalier sans Peur et sans 
 Reprochet ii., p. 99 ff.J 
 
68 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 Julius." Leo X. had no wish to run the risks 
 which the impetuous Julius II. faced with unbroken 
 spirit. He prepared to keep himself supplied with 
 allies to protect him against all emergencies, and on 
 10th September (1515) nominated Wolsey cardinal 
 sole, a special mark of favor, as cardinals were gen- 
 erally created in batches at intervals. 
 
 Wolsey' s creation was not popular in the 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 ex- 
 act, and many doubted the expediency of exalting 
 in ecclesiastical authority an English prelate of such 
 far-reaching views as Wolsey was known to hold. 
 An official of the 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 
 
THE UNIVERSAL PEACE. 69 
 
 king, he will not be contented with the Cardinalate 
 alone, but, as is the custom of these barbarians, will 
 wish to have the office of legate over all England. 
 If this be granted the influence of the Eoman Court 
 will be at an end ; if it be not granted the Cardinal 
 will be the Pope's enemy and will favor France. 
 But despite all this the Pope, in whose hands alone 
 the matter was, created him Cardinal on the seventh 
 of September. ' ' 
 
 This elevation of AYolsey was due to the strong 
 expression of desire on the part of Henry, who fur- 
 ther asked that legatine powers should be given to 
 the new cardinal. This Leo refused for the present ; 
 he had done enough to induce Henry to enter into a 
 secret league for the protection of the Church, 
 which meant a convenient pretext for attacking 
 Francis if he became too powerful in Italy. When 
 this was arranged the red hat was sent to England, 
 and its reception gave Wolsey an opportunity of dis- 
 playing his love for magnificent ceremonial.* On 
 
 * " The ostentation of Wolsey, as far as we may infer from 
 the character of his display, was the result rather of policy 
 than of temperament. He filled the two highest offices in 
 the country, secular and ecclesiastical. He had been raised 
 from the ranks of the people to be chancellor and cardinal. 
 He was surrounded by a proud nobility, with whom he was 
 'the butcher's cur.' He exhibited the pomp of his high 
 stations to demand the respect which would have been with- 
 
^0 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 17th E'ovember it was placed on his head by Arch- 
 bishop Warham in Westminster Abbey. 
 
 Ceremonial, however splendid, was but an episode 
 
 held from his talents and learning, under a cloud of the 
 meanness of his birth. It was an age of display, when the 
 king set the example to his court of the most extravagant 
 splendor, which many of the nobles ruined themselves to 
 imitate. The simplicity of private life, of which More, as 
 chancellor, afterwards furnished so admirable a pattern, was 
 scarcely compatible with Wolsey's great position as an 
 ecclesiastic. He was the representative of the pomp and 
 luxury of Leo X. ; and he had the same exalted ideas as the 
 Pope evinced of bestowing a magnificent patronage upon 
 learning and the arts. 'Thus passed the Cardinal,' says 
 Cavendish, ' his life from day to day, and year to year, in. 
 such great wealth, joy, and triumph, and glory, having 
 always upon his side the king's especial favor.' But it was 
 not that alone which upheld Wolsey. His position as the 
 greatest of English ecclesiastics commanded the reverence 
 that might have been denied to his civil abilities ; his just 
 administration in his court of equity ; and the extraordinary 
 influence over a despotic king, by which, for so long a period, 
 he preserved him, with one or tw^o exceptions, from any 
 sanguinary course of jealousy or revenge, or any blood-guilty 
 violation of the rights of the people. Wolsey's real worth 
 was duly estimated by More, a very competent judge, who 
 said of liis administration of the powers of the great 
 seal, — ' he behaves most beautifully.' Still, the sumptuous 
 churchman commanded a respect whicli the wise chancellor 
 might scarcely have propitiated. In his hour of misfortune 
 the Duke of Norfolk said to him, ' I regarded your honor, for 
 that ye were archbishop of York, and a cardinal, whose 
 estate of honor surmounted any duke now living within this 
 realm.' It was this reverence to his spiritual dignity wliich 
 made him capricious and overbearing in his civil relations." 
 
 Knight, History of England, ii. 278. 
 " The king loaded him with new proofs of his favor. The 
 
THE UNIVERSAL PEACE. Yl 
 
 in Wolsey's diplomatic business. The news of the 
 French victory at Marignano was so unpleasant that 
 Henry YIII. for some time refused to believe it to 
 be true. When at last it was impossible to doubt 
 any longer, the necessity became urgent to put a 
 spoke in the wheel of Francis I. England was not 
 prepared to go to war with France without allies, 
 and Wolsey developed his cleverness in attaining his 
 ends by secret means. Nothing could be done by 
 uniting with the cautious Ferdinand ; but the flighty 
 Maximilian was a more hopeful subject. The only 
 troops that could be used against France- were the 
 German and Swiss mercenaries, men who made war 
 a trade, and were trained and disciplined soldiers. 
 The first means of injuring France was to prevent 
 her from hiring Swiss soldiers, and the second was 
 
 revenues of two sees whose tenants were foreigners fell into 
 his hands ; he held the bishopric of Winchester and the 
 abbacy of St. Albans. He spent this vast wealth with 
 princely ostentation. His pomp was almost royal. A train 
 of prelates and nobles followed him as he moved ; his house- 
 hold was composed of five hundred persons of noble birth, 
 and its chief posts were occupied by knights and barons of 
 the realm. Two of the houses he built, Hampton Court and 
 York House, the later Whitehall, were splendid enough to 
 serve at his fall as royal palaces. [The same might be said of 
 his palace in Rome.] Nor was this magnificence a mere 
 show of power. The whole direction of home and foreign 
 affairs rested with Wolsey alone." 
 
 J. R. Green, History of the English People, ii. 111. 
 
72 LIFE OF THOMAS WOI.SEY. 
 
 to induce Maximilian to undertake an Italian ex- 
 pedition in his own interests. As regards the 
 Swiss, it was merely a matter of money, for they 
 were ready to sell themselves to the highest bidder. 
 In like manner it was easy to subsidize Maximilian, 
 but it was difficult to hold him to his promise and 
 be sure that he would spend the money on the right 
 purpose. "Wolsey, however, resolved to try and 
 use Maximilian ; he offered him the aid of a large 
 contingent of the Swiss if he would attack Milan. 
 Knowing the delicacy of the enterprise and the 
 slipperiness of Maximilian, Wolsey entrusted this 
 matter to a man whose pertinacity had been al- 
 ready tried, — Eichard Pace,^ secretary of Cardinal 
 
 1 Richard Pace (1482 ?-1536) was intimately connected with 
 many of the political and diplomatic movements of his day. 
 In the year 1509 he accompanied Cardinal Bainbridge to 
 Rome, where the latter perished by assassination. In 1515 
 he was sent to France " on a difficult and somewhat dangerous 
 mission. Henry had become jealous of the growing power of 
 France. Her prestige had been greatly increased by her 
 victory over the Swiss at the battle of Marignano. The Swiss, 
 sore at their repulse, might possibly be induced to attack 
 afresh the forces of Francis I. on their side of the Alps. Pace 
 was entrusted with a limited amount of English gold and 
 unlimited promises . . . Pace's extant letters graphically 
 describe the incidents of his mission : the insatiable greed of 
 the Swiss, the indiscretion of Sir Robert Wingfield, the 
 caprices and embarrassments of Maximilian, which combined 
 to render abortive the scheme of wresting Milan from the 
 French. His negotiations with the Swiss led more than once 
 
THE UNIVERSAL PEACE. Y3 
 
 Bainbridge, who had stubbornly insisted on an in- 
 vestigation of the circumstances of his master's 
 death, and had annoyed the Koman Court by his 
 watchful care of his master's effects. Pace was 
 sent to hire soldiers amongst the Swiss, and Wol- 
 
 to his imprisonment . . . His tact and untiring energy- 
 were duly appreciated at home, and on his return he was 
 duly appointed secretary of state, besides being rewarded 
 with benefices in the Church." In 1519 he was sent to 
 Germany to further the interests of Henry VIII., as candi- 
 date for the imperial throne left vacant by the death of 
 Maximilian, but the plan met with no success. The following 
 year he accompanied liis king to the Field of the Cloth of Gold, 
 and at the close of the displays, feastings, sports, and merry- 
 makings, he preached a sermon on the blessings of peace. In 
 1521, after the death of Pope Leo X., he was sent to Rome to 
 further the interests of Wolsey as candidate for the vacant 
 papal chair, but this was without substantial result. In 1523, 
 while in Venice, he was engaged in various diplomatic 
 schemes when his health gave way and he was recalled to 
 England. Owing to the continuance of his feeble health he 
 took no further prominent activity in the affairs of state. 
 Lupton says of him that he " was an amiable and accom- 
 plished man. His skill in three learned languages is praised 
 by his contemporaries. He was the friend of More and of 
 Erasmus, and Erasmus in his extant correspondence addresses 
 Pace more frequently than any other correspondent." There 
 is no doubt that Wolsey was jealous of his influence with the 
 king at the time of his recall from Venice. Whether that 
 recall was honestly due to the failure of Pace's health, or 
 whether tlie condition of health was only a convenient excuse 
 to disguise Wolsey's jealousy, cannot now be certainly 
 known. His nature was so sensitive that it is entirely credible 
 that his prolonged ill-health, lasting over a dozen years, may 
 have been caused by worry over Wolsey's jealousy. 
 
Y4 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 sey's ingenuity was sorely tried to supply him with 
 money secretly and safely. 
 
 The hindrances which beset Pace in carrying out 
 his instructions decorously were very many. Not 
 the least troublesome was the want of intelligence 
 displayed by Sir Robert Wingfield, the English en- 
 voy to Maximilian. Wingfield belonged to the old 
 school of English officials, honest and industrious, 
 but entirely incapable of finesse. He did not under- 
 stand what Pace was about ; he could not compre- 
 hend Wolsey's hints, but was a blind admirer of 
 Maximilian, and was made his tool in his efforts to 
 get the gold of England and do nothing in return. 
 But Pace was deaf to the entreaties of Maximilian 
 and to the lofty remonstrances of Wingfield. He 
 raised 17,000 Swiss soldiers, who were to serve 
 under their own general, and whose pay was not to 
 pass through Maximilian's hands. Maximilian was 
 sorely disappointed at this result, but led his troops 
 to join the Swiss in an attack on Milan. On 24th 
 March, 1516, the combined army was a few miles 
 from Milan, which was poorly defended, and vic- 
 tory seemed secure. Suddenly Maximilian began 
 to hesitate, and then drew off his forces and retired. 
 "We can only guess at the motive of this strange 
 proceeding ; perhaps he had never been in earnest, 
 
THE UNIVERSAL PEACE. 75 
 
 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 YIII. to pay 60,000 
 florins.* All this time "Wingfield was convinced 
 that it was Pace's ill-judged parsimony that had 
 wrought this disaster, and he continued to write in 
 a strain of superior wisdom to Wolsey. He even, 
 at Maximilian's bidding, forged Pace's name to re- 
 ceipts for money. Never was diplomat in more 
 hopeless plight than the unlucky Pace. 
 
 Wolsey saw that his plan had failed, but he put a 
 
 good face upon his failure. Maximilian enjoyed the 
 
 advantage which consummate meanness always gives 
 
 for a moment. He put down the failure to niggardli- 
 
 * In this case the florin was worth about forty cents. 
 
76 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 ness in the supplies, and showed his good-will 
 towards Henry by treating him to fantastic propos- 
 als. If Henry would only cross to Flanders with 
 6000 men, Maximilian would meet him with his 
 army, set him up as Duke of Milan, and resign the 
 Empire in his favor. This preposterous scheme did 
 not for a moment dazzle the good sense of the Eng- 
 lish counsellors. Pace, in announcing it to Wolsey, 
 pointed out that the Emperor spoke without the 
 consent of the Electors, that Maximilian was thor- 
 oughly untrustworthy, and that Henry in such an 
 enterprise might imperil his hold upon the English 
 Crown, "which," writes Pace with pardonable 
 pride, "is this day more esteemed than the Em- 
 peror's crown and all his empire." Henry was of 
 the same opinion; and Maximilian failed on this 
 plea ' ' to pluck money from the king craftily. ' ' 
 Pace remained, and jingled English money in Maxi- 
 milian's ear, as a means of preventing him from 
 turning to France; but not a penny was Maxi- 
 milian allowed to touch, to Sir Robert Wingfield's 
 great annoyance. Pace so far succeeded, that 
 when, in November, 1516, Francis I. made an alli- 
 ance Yfith the Swiss, five of the cantons stood aloof. 
 Pace was rewarded for his labors and sufferings by 
 being made a secretary of state. Sir Robert Wing- 
 
THE UNIVERSAL PEACE. Y7 
 
 field received a severe rebuke from the king, which 
 sorely disturbed his self-complacency. But it is 
 characteristic of Wolsey's absence of personal feel- 
 ing that Wingfield was not recalled from his post. 
 Wolsey saw that he had been no more foolish than 
 most other Englishmen would have been in his place. 
 Meanwhile a change had taken place in the affairs 
 of Europe which turned the attention of France and 
 England alike in a new direction. Ferdinand the 
 Catholic died in January 1516, and the prepon- 
 derance of France had so alarmed him that he laid 
 aside his plan of dividing the power of the House 
 of Austria by instituting his second grandson, 
 Ferdinand, King of Spain. After the battle of 
 Marignano he changed his will in favor of his 
 eldest grandson, the Archduke Charles, who now 
 added the Spanish kingdoms to his possession of 
 the l^etherlands. The young prince had just 
 emancipated himself from the tutelage of Maxi- 
 milian, but was under the influence of ministers 
 who pursued a purely Flemish policy, and longed 
 to give peace to the E'etherlands by an alliance 
 with France. England was connected with Flan- 
 ders by commercial interests, and long negotiations 
 had been conducted with the Flemish Govern- 
 ment for a close alliance. But Charles's advisers 
 
78 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 were won over by France, and Charles himself 
 was attracted by the hope of a French marriage. 
 His position was difficult, as he was poor and 
 helpless; he could not even go to take possession 
 of the Spanish Crowns without help from one side 
 or the other. Had he been older and wiser he 
 would have seen that it was safer to accept the gold 
 of Henry YIII. , from whose future projects he had 
 nothing to fear, rather than try and secure a pre- 
 carious peace for the Netherlands by an alliance 
 with France. However, Charles turned a cold ear 
 to the English ambassadors, and his ministers 
 secretly brought about a treaty with France, which 
 was signed at Noyon in August, 1516. 
 
 The Treaty of Noyon was a further rebuff to 
 Wolsey, England was passed by in silence, and a 
 tempting bait was laid to draw Maximilian also into 
 the French alliance, and so leave England entirely 
 without allies. Maximilian had been for some time 
 at war with Venice about the possession of the 
 towns of Brescia and Yerona. The treaty of ]^o- 
 yon provided that the Venetians should pay the 
 Emperor 200,000 crowns* and remain in possession 
 
 * The Austrian crown, whicli is doubtless the one meant in 
 this treaty, was valued at 24^ cents. The English crown was 
 worth $1.31. 
 
THE UNIVERSAL PEACE. 79 
 
 of the disputed territory. Maximilian used this 
 offer to put himself up to auction ; he expressed his 
 detestation of the peace of Noyon, but pleaded that 
 unless Henry came to his help he would be driven 
 by poverty to accept the proffered terms. Henry 
 answered by a proposal that Maximilian should 
 earn the price he fixed upon his services : let him 
 come into the Netherlands, and work the over- 
 throw of the unwouthy ministers who gave such 
 evil advice to their sovereign. Maximilian stipu- 
 lated for the alloAvance 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 YIII. ; at last he secretly signed the Treaty 
 of Koyon in December, and drew his payments 
 from both parties so long as he could keep his game 
 unsuspected. 
 
 But Wolsey was not so much deceived as Maxi- 
 milian thought, and showed no discomfiture when 
 Maximilian's shiftiness at length came to light. If 
 Maximilian would not be faithful it was well that 
 his untrustworthiness should be openly shown, and 
 Francis I. , who was watching his manoeuvres, could 
 not feel proud of his new ally. He knew what he 
 
go LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 had to expect from Maximilian when the 200,000 
 crowns were spent. The money that had been 
 spent on Maximilian was not wasted if it gave him 
 an encouragement to display his feebleness to the 
 full. 
 
 So Henry maintained a dignified attitude, and 
 showed no resentment. He received Maximilian's 
 excuses with cold politeness, and waited for Francis 
 I. to discover the futility of his new alliances. 
 Maximilian was clearly of no account. Charles had 
 gained all that he could gain from his League with 
 France towards quieting the I^etherlands ; for his 
 next step, a journey to Spain, he needed the help 
 of England, and soon dropped his attitude of indif- 
 ference. After thwarting England as much as he 
 could, he was driven to beg for a loan to cover the 
 expenses of his journey, and England showed no 
 petty resentment for his past conduct. The loan 
 was negotiated, Charles's ambassadors were honor- 
 ably received, it was even proposed that he should 
 visit Henry on his way. This honor Charles cau- 
 tiously declined on the ground of ill health ; but all 
 the other marks of Henry's good- will were accepted 
 with gratitude, and in September, 1517, Charles set 
 out on his voyage to Spain, where he found enough 
 to employ his energies for some time. 
 
THE UNIVERSAL PEACE. 81 
 
 This conciliatory attitude of England was due to 
 a perception that the time had come when simple 
 opposition to France was no longer useful. Eng- 
 land had so far succeeded as to prevent the French 
 ascendency from being complete ; she had stemmed 
 the current, had shown Francis I. the extent of her 
 resources, and had displayed unexpected skill. 
 Moreover, she had made it clear that neither she 
 nor France could form a combination sufficiently 
 powerful to enable the one to crush the other, and 
 had given Francis I. a lesson as to the amount of 
 fidelity he might expect from his allies. .When it 
 was clear to both sides that there was no hope for 
 far-reaching schemes, it was natural for the two 
 powers to draw together, and seek a reasonable re- 
 dress for the grievances which immediately affected 
 them. 
 
 Chief amongst these on the French side was the 
 
 possession of Tournai by the English, glorious, no 
 
 doubt, as a troph}^ of English valor, but of very 
 
 doubtful advantage to England. Negotiations about 
 
 its restoration were begun as early as March, 1517, 
 
 and were conducted with profound secrecy. Of 
 
 course Charles hoped to get Tournai into his own 
 
 hands, and did not wish it to be restored to France. 
 
 It was necessary to keep him in ignorance of what 
 6 
 
82 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 was going on, and not till he had sailed to Spain 
 were there any rumors of what was passing. 
 
 "Wolsey and Henry YIII. deceived the ambassa- 
 dors of Charles and of Venice by their repeated pro- 
 fessions of hostility against France, and Charles's re- 
 monstrances were answered by equivocations, so that 
 he had no opportunity for interfering till the matter 
 had been agreed upon as part of a close alliance be- 
 tween England and France. The negotiations for 
 this purpose were long and intricate, and form the 
 masterpiece of Wolsey 's diplomatic skill. They 
 were made more difficult by the outbreak in Eng- 
 land of a pestilence, the sweating sickness, before 
 which Henry fled from London and moved uneasily 
 from place to place. Wolsey was attacked by it in 
 June so seriously that his life was despaired of; 
 scarcely was he recovered when he suffered from a 
 second attack, and soon after went on a pilgrimage 
 to Walsingham to perform a vow and enjoy change 
 of air. But with this exception, he stuck manfully 
 to his work in London, where, beside his manifold 
 duties in internal administration, he directed the 
 course of the negotiations with France. 
 
 In fact Wolsey alone was responsible for the 
 change of policy indicated by the French alliance. 
 He had thoroughly carried the king with him ; but 
 
THE UNIVERSAL PEACE. 83 
 
 he was well aware that his course was likely to be 
 exceedingly unpopular, and that on him would fall 
 the blame of any failure. Henry did not even in- 
 form his Council of his plans. He knew that they 
 would all have been opposed to such a sudden change 
 of policy, which could only be justified in their eyes 
 by its manifest advantage in the end. "Wolsey was 
 conscious that he must not only conclude an alliance 
 with France, but must show beyond dispute a clear 
 gain to England from so doing. 
 
 Wolsey 's difficulties were somewhat lessened by 
 the birth of an heir to the French Crown in. February, 
 1518. France could now offer, as a guarantee for 
 her close alliance with England, a proposal of marri- 
 age between the Dauphin and Henry's only daughter 
 Mary. Still the negotiations cautiously went on 
 while Wolsey drove the hardest bargain that he 
 could. They were not finished till September, 
 when a nmnerous 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 YIII. received his new allies. 
 Even the French nobles admitted that it was be- 
 yond their power to describe. Wolsey entertained 
 the company at a sumptuous supper in his house at 
 Westminster, 'Hhe like of which," says theYene- 
 
84 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 tian envoy, " was never given by Cleopatra or Cali- 
 gula, the whole banqueting hall being decorated with 
 huge vases of gold and silver. ' ' After the banquet 
 a band of mummers, wearing visors on their faces, 
 entered and danced. There were twelve ladies and 
 twelve gentlemen, attended by twelve torch-bearers ; 
 all were clad alike "in fine green satin, all over 
 covered with cloth of gold, undertied together with 
 laces of gold." They danced for some time and 
 then removed their masks, and the evening passed 
 in mirth. Such were the festivities of the English 
 Court, which Shakespeare has produced, accurately 
 enough, in his play of Henry VIII. 
 
 But these Court festivities were only preliminary 
 to the public ceremonies whereby Wolsey impressed 
 the imagination of the people. The proclamation of 
 the treaty and the marriage of the Princess Mary by 
 proxy were both the occasions of splendid ceremo- 
 nies in St. Paul's Cathedral. The people were de- 
 lighted, by pageantry and good cheer ; the opposi- 
 tion of old-fashioned politicians was overborne in 
 the prevailing enthusiasm; and men spoke only of 
 the triumph of a pacific policy which had achieved 
 results such as warfare could not have won. Indeed, 
 the advantages which England obtained were sub- 
 stantial. France bought back Tournai for 600,000 
 
teE UNIVERSAL PEACE. 85 
 
 crowns,* and entered into a close alliance with Eng- 
 land, which cut it olf from interference in the affairs 
 of Scotland, which Avas included in the peace so 
 long as it abstained from hostilities. But more im- 
 portant than this was the fact that Wolsey insisted 
 on the alliance between France and England being 
 made the basis of a universal peace. The Pope, the 
 Emperor, the King of Spain, were ail invited to 
 join, and all complied with the invitation. 
 
 None of them, however, complied with good-will, 
 least of all Pope Leo X. , whose claim to be the of- 
 ficial pacifier of Europe was rudely set aside by the 
 audacious action of "Wolsey. Leo hoped that the 
 bestowal of a cardinal's hat had established a hold 
 on Wolsey 's gratitude; but he soon found that he 
 was mistaken, and that his cunning was no match 
 for "VVolsej^'s force, l^o sooner had Wolsey ob- 
 tained the cardinalate than he pressed for the fur- 
 ther dignity of papal legate in England. ]^ot un- 
 naturally Leo refused to endow with such an office 
 a minister already so powerful as to be almost inde- 
 pendent ; but Y^olsey made him pay for his refusal. 
 Leo wanted money, and the pressure of the Turk 
 on Southern Europe lent a color to his demand of 
 
 * If English crowns are intended here, the suixi would amount 
 to more than $675,000, 
 
86 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 clerical taxation for the purposes of a crusade. In 
 1517 he sent out legates to the chief kings of Chris- 
 tendom ; but Henry refused to admit Cardinal Cam- 
 peggio,* saying that ''it was not the rule of this 
 
 * The legatus a latere (legate from the side) is of two kinds : 
 the first is called ordinary, and governs provinces ; the second 
 is extraordinary, and is sent to foreign countries on extraor- 
 dinary occasions, to all intents and purposes the same as 
 minister plenipotentiary. ' ' Such a legate was entrusted 
 with powers almost as full as those of the Pope himself ; his 
 jurisdiction extended over every bishop and priest, it over- 
 rode every privilege or exemption of abbey or cell, while his 
 court superseded that of Rome as the final court of ecclesias- 
 tical appeal for the realm." 
 
 " Lorenzo Campeggio (1472-1539), cardinal, and although a 
 foreigner, bishop of Salisbury, occupied on his second mission 
 to England the utterly unprecedented position of a judge 
 before whom the King of England consented to sue in per- 
 son. . . . He was sent to England as legate to incite Henry 
 Vni. to unite with other princes in a crusade against the 
 Turks. He was detained some time at Calais before being al- 
 lowed to cross, Henry VIII. having insisted with the Pope that 
 his favorite, Cardinal Wolsey, should be invested with equal 
 legatine functions before he landed. ... In 1527 he was be- 
 sieged with Pope Clement VII. at Rome, in the castle of St. 
 Angelo. Next year he was sent into England on his most 
 celebrated mission, in w^hich Wolsey was again joined with 
 him as legate, to hear the divorce suit of Henry VIII. against 
 Katharine of Arragon. On this occasion he suffered much, 
 both physically and mentall3^ He was severely afflicted 
 with gout, and had to be carried about in a litter ; and, while 
 he was pledged to the Pope in private not to deliver judgment 
 without referring the matter to Rome, he was pressed by 
 Wolsey to proceed without delay. Some of his ciphered de- 
 spatches from London at tliis time have been deciphered 
 within the last few years, and show a very creditable deter- 
 mination on his part not to be made the instrument of injus- 
 tice, whatever might be the cost to himself. The cause, as is 
 
THE UNIVERSAL PEACE. 87 
 
 realm to admit legates a latere. ' ^ Then Wolsey in- 
 tervened and suggested that Campeggio might come 
 if he would exercise no exceptional powers, and if 
 his dignity were shared by himself. Leo was forced 
 to jrield, and Campeggio' s arrival was made the oc- 
 casion of stately ceremonies which redounded to 
 Wolsey's glorification. Campeggio got little for the 
 crusade, but served to grace the festivities of the 
 French alliance, and afterwards to convey the Pope's 
 adhesion to the universal peace. Wolse^^ had taken 
 matters out of the Pope's hand, and Leo was driven 
 to follow his lead with what grace he could muster. 
 Perhaps as he sighed over his discomfiture he con- 
 soled himself with the thought that the new peace 
 would not last much longer than those previously 
 made ; if he did, he was right in his opinion. 
 
 well known, was revoked to Rome, and so his mission ter- 
 minated. On leaving the kingdom he was treated with 
 singular discourtesy by the officers of customs, who insisted 
 on searching his baggage ; and on his complaining to the 
 king, it was clear that the insult was premeditated, and it 
 was really a petty-minded indication of the royal displeasure. 
 Five years later he was deprived of the bishopric of Salisbury 
 by act of parliament, on the ground that he was an alien and 
 non-resident, though the king had certainly never expected 
 him to keep residence when he gave him the bishopric. He 
 died at Rome in 1539." — James Gairdner, in Dictionary of 
 National Biography. At Nuremberg, in 1524, Campeggio 
 tried to win Luther back to the Catholic Church. At the 
 Diet of Augsburg, in 1530, he advised Charles V. to adopt a 
 relentless policy toward the Protestants of Germany. 
 
CHAPTEE lY. 
 
 THE FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD. 
 1518-1520. 
 
 The object of Wolsey's foreign policy had been 
 attained by the universal peace of 1518. England 
 had been set up as the mediator in the politics of 
 Europe. The old claims of the empire and the 
 papacy had passed away in the conflict of national 
 and dynastic interests, in which papacy and empire 
 were alike involved. England, by virtue of its 
 insular position, was practically outside the objects 
 of immediate ambition which distracted its Conti- 
 nental neighbors ; but England's commercial inter- 
 ests made her desirous of influence, and Henry YIII. 
 was bent upon being an important personage. It 
 was Wolsey's object to gratify the king at the least 
 expense to the country, and so long as the king 
 could be exalted by peaceful means, the good of 
 England was certainly promoted at the same time. 
 The position of England as the pacifier of Europe 
 was one well qualified to develop a national con- 
 
 88 
 
THE FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD. 89 
 
 sciousness of great duties to perform ; and it may 
 be doubted if a countr}^ 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 
 diflBcult to maintain the position which he had won. 
 It was one thing to proclaim a peace ; it was an- 
 other to contrive that peace should be kept. One 
 important question was looming in the distance 
 when Wolsey's peace was signed, — the succession 
 to the empire on Maximilian's death. Unfortu- 
 nately this question came rapidly forward for deci- 
 sion, as Maximilian died suddenly on 12th January, 
 1519, and the politicians of Europe waited breath- 
 lessl}^ to see who would be chosen as his successor. 
 
 The election to the empire rested with the seven 
 electors, the chief princes of Germany ; but if they 
 had been minded on this occasion to exercise freely 
 their right, it would have been difficult for them to 
 do so. The empire had for a century been with 
 the house of Austria, and Maximilian had schemed 
 eagerly that it should pass to his grandson Charles. 
 It is true that Charles was already King of Spain, 
 Lord of the ]S"etherlands, and King of JSTaples and 
 Sicily, so that it seemed dangerous to increase still 
 further his great dominions. But Charles urge<i 
 
00 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 his claim, and his great rival, Francis I. of France, 
 entered the lists against him. Strange as it may 
 seem that a French king should aspire to rule over 
 Germany, Francis I. could urge that he was almost 
 as closely connected with Germany as was Charles, 
 whose interests were bound up with those of Spain 
 and the E'etherlands. In the face of these two 
 competitors, it was hard for the electors to find a 
 candidate of a humbler sort who would venture to 
 draw upon himself the wrath of their disappoint- 
 ment. Moreover, the task of ruling Germany was 
 not such as to attract a small prince. The Turks 
 were threatening its borders, and a strong man was 
 needed to deal with many pressing problems of its 
 government. The electors, however, were scarcely 
 guilty of any patriotic considerations ; they quietly 
 put up their votes for auction between Francis and 
 Charles, and deferred a choice as long as they could. 
 Both competitors turned for help to their allies, 
 the Pope and the King of England, who found 
 themselves greatly perplexed. Leo X. did not 
 wish to see French influence increased, as France 
 was a dangerous neighbor in Italy ; nor did he 
 wish to see the empire and the kingdom of J^aples 
 both held by the same man, for that was against 
 the immemorial policy of the Papacy. So Leo in- 
 
THE FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD. 91 
 
 trigued and prevaricated to such an extent that it 
 is almost impossible to determine what he was 
 aiming at. He managed, however, to throw hin- 
 drances in Wolsey's path, though we cannot be sure 
 that he intended to do so. 
 
 Wolsey's plan of action was clear, though it was 
 not dignified. 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 divaga- 
 tions, commissioned his legate to suggest to Henry 
 YIII. that it might be possible, after all, to find 
 some third candidate for the empire, and that he 
 was ready to try and put off the election for that 
 purpose, if Henry agreed. Henry seems to have 
 considered this as a hint from the Pope to become 
 a candidate himself. He remembered that Maxi- 
 milian had offered to resign the empire in his favor, 
 but he forgot the sufficient reasons which had led 
 him to dismiss the proposal as fantastic and absurd. 
 His vanity was rather tickled with the notion of 
 rivalling Charles and Francis, and he thought that 
 if the Pope were on his side, his chances would be 
 as good as theirs. 
 
92 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 We can only guess at Wolsey's dismay when his 
 master laid this project before him. Whatever 
 Wolsey thought, he knew that it was useless to 
 offer any opposition. However much he might be 
 able to influence the king's opinions in the making, 
 he knew that he must execute them when they were 
 made. If Henry had made up his mind to become 
 a candidate for the empire, a candidate he must 
 be. All that could be done Avas to prevent his 
 determination from being hopelessly disastrous. 
 So Wolsey pointed out that great as were the ad- 
 vantages to be obtained by gaining the empire, 
 there were dangers in being an unsuccessful candi- 
 date. It was necessary first to make sure of the 
 Pope, and then to prosecute Henry's candidature 
 by fair and honorable means. Francis was spend- 
 ing money lavishly to win supporters to his side ; 
 and Charles was reluctantly compelled to follow 
 his example lest he should be outbid. It would be 
 unwise for Henry to squander his money and simply 
 raise the market price of the votes. Let him make 
 it clear to the greedy Germans that they would not 
 see the color of England's money till the English 
 king had been really elected. 
 
 So Wolsey sent the most cautious instructions to 
 his agent in Eome to see if the Pope would take the 
 
THE FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD. 93 
 
 responsibility of urging Henry to become a candidate ; 
 but Leo was too cautious, and affected not to under- 
 stand the hint. Then in May, Pace, who was now the 
 king's secretary, was sent to Germany to sound the 
 electors with equal care. He was to approach the elec- 
 tors who were on Francis's side, as though Henry 
 were in favor of Francis,' and was to act similarly 
 to those who were in favor of Charles ; then he was 
 to hint cautiously that it might be well to choose 
 some one more closely connected with Germany, 
 and if they showed any acquiescence, was to suggest 
 that Henry was ^'of the German tongue," and 
 then was to sing his praises. Probably both Pace 
 and Wolsey knew that it was too late to do any- 
 thing serious. Pace reported that the money of 
 France and Spain was flowing on all sides, and was 
 of opinion that the empire was ' ' the dearest mer- 
 chandise that ever was sold," and would prove 
 " the Avorst that ever was bought to him that shall 
 obtain it. ' ' Yet still he professed to have hopes, 
 and even asked for money to enter the lists of cor- 
 ruption. But this was needless, as the election at 
 last proceeded quickly. The Pope came round to 
 the side of Charles as being the least of two evils, 
 and Charles was elected on 28th June. 
 
 Thus Wolsey succeeded in satisfying his master's 
 
94 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 demands without committing England to any breach 
 with either of her allies. Henry YIII. could 
 scarcely be gratified at the part that he had played, 
 but Wolsey could convince him that he had tried 
 his best, and that at any rate no harm had been 
 done. Though Henry's proceedings were known 
 to Francis and Charles, there was nothing at which 
 they could take offence. Henry had behaved with 
 duplicity, but that was only to be expected in those 
 days; he had not pronounced himself strongly 
 against either. The ill-will that had long been sim- 
 mering between Charles Y. and Francis I. had risen 
 to the surface, and the long rivalr}^- between the 
 two monarchs was now declared. Each looked for 
 allies, and the most important ally was England. 
 Each had hopes of winning over the English king, 
 and Wolsey wished to keep alive, without satisfy- 
 ing, the hopes of both, and so establish still more 
 securely the power of England as holding the bal- 
 ance of the peace of EurojDe. 
 
 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 
 
THE FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD. 95 
 
 of government. Wolsey was responsible to no one 
 but the king, and so had a better opportunity than 
 has a statesman who serves a democracy to obtain 
 permission to carry out a consecutive policy. But, 
 on the other hand, he was more liable to be 
 thwarted and interrupted in matters of detail by 
 the interference of a superior. Wolsey's far-see- 
 ing policy was endangered by the king's vanity 
 and obstinacy ; he could not ask for time to justify 
 his own wisdom, but was forced to obey. Yet 
 even then he would not abandon his own position 
 and set himself to minimize the inconvenience. It 
 is impossible to know how often Wolsey was at 
 other times obliged to give way to the king and 
 adopt the second-best course; but in this case we 
 find clear indications of the process. When 
 he was driven from his course, he contrived that 
 the deviation should be as unimportant as possi- 
 ble. 
 
 Wolsey's task of maintaining peace by English 
 mediation was beset with difficulties now that the 
 breach between Francis I. and Charles Y. was clearly 
 made. It was necessary for England to be friendly 
 to both, and not to be drawn by its friendliness to- 
 wards either to offend the other. In the matter of 
 the imperial election English influence had been 
 
96 1^5^ OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 somewhat on the side of Charles, and Francis was 
 now the one who needed propitiation. The treaty 
 with France had provided for a personal interview 
 between the two kings, and Francis was anxious 
 that it should take place at once. For this purpose he 
 strove to win the good offices of Wolsey . He assured 
 him that in case of a papal election he could com- 
 mand fourteen votes which should be given in his 
 favor. Moreover, he conferred on him a signal mark 
 of his confidence by nominating him his plenipo- 
 tentiary for the arrangements about the forthcoming 
 interview. By this all difficulties were removed, 
 and Wolsey stood forward before the eyes of Europe 
 as the accredited representative of the kings of Eng- 
 land and France at the same time. It is no wonder 
 that men marvelled at such an unheard-of position 
 for an English subject. 
 
 But nothing that Francis had to give could turn 
 Wolsey away from his own path. 'No sooner did he 
 know that the French interview was agreed upon 
 than he suggested to Charles that it would be well 
 for him also to have a meeting with the English 
 king. The proposal was eagerly accepted, and 
 "Wolsey conducted the negotiations about both inter- 
 views side by side. Barely did two meetings cause 
 such a flow of ink and raise so many knotty points, 
 
THE FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD. 97 
 
 At last it was agreed that Charles should visit Henry 
 in England in an informal way before the French 
 interview took place. It was difficult to induce the 
 punctilious Spaniards to give way to Wolsey's re- 
 quirements. It was a hard thing for one who bore 
 the high-sounding title of Emperor to agree to visit 
 a King of England on his own terms. But Wolsey 
 was resolute that everything should be done in such 
 a way as to give France the least cause of complaint. 
 When the Spanish envoys objected to his arrange- 
 ments or proposed alterations, he brought them to 
 their bearings by sajdng, ' ' Yery well ; then do not do 
 it and begone. ' ' They were made to feel their depen- 
 dence on himself. The interview was of their seek- 
 ing, and must be held on terms which he proposed, 
 or not at aU. This, no doubt, was felt to be very 
 haughty conduct on Wolsey's part; but he had set 
 on foot the scheme of this double interview, by which 
 Henry was to be glorified and England's mediatorial 
 position assured. It was his business to see that his 
 plan succeeded. So he turned a deaf ear to the offers 
 of the Spanish ambassadors. He was not to be 
 moved By the promise of ecclesiastical revenues in 
 Spain. Even when the influence of Spain was prof- 
 fered to secure his election to the Papacy, he coldly 
 refused. 
 7 
 
98 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 It has been said that Wolsey was open to bribes, 
 and his seemingly tortuous policy has been accounted 
 for by the supposition that he inclined to the side 
 which promised him most. This, however, is an 
 entire mistake. Wolsey went his own way ; but at 
 the same time he did not disregard his personal 
 profit. He was too great a man to be bribed ; but 
 his greatness entailed magnificence, and magnificence 
 is expensive. He regarded it as natural that sover- 
 eigns who threw work upon his shoulders should 
 make some recognition of his labors. This was the 
 custom of the time ; and Wolsey was by no means 
 singular in receiving gifts from foreign kings. 
 The chief lords of Henry's Court received pensions 
 from the King of France; and the lords of the 
 French Court were similarly rewarded by Henry. 
 This was merely a complimentary custom, and was 
 open and avowed. Wolsey received a pension from 
 Francis I. , and a further sum as compensation for 
 the bishopric of Tournai, which he resigned when 
 Tournai was returned to France. In like manner, 
 Charles Y. rewarded him by a Spanish bishopric ; 
 but Wolsey declined the office of bishop, and pre- 
 ferred to receive a fixed pension secured on the rev- 
 enues of the see. This iniquitous arrangement was 
 carried out with the Pope's consent 5 and suchlike 
 
I 
 
 THE FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD. 99 
 
 arrangements were by no means rare. They were 
 the natural result of the excessive wealth of the 
 Church, which was diverted to the royal uses by a 
 series of fictions, more or less barefaced, but all 
 tending to the weakening of the ecclesiastical 
 organization. Still the fact remains that Wolsey 
 thought no shame of receiving pensions from Francis 
 and Charles alike ; but there was nothing secret nor 
 extraordinary in this. "Wolsey regarded it as only 
 obvious that his statesmanship should be rewarded 
 by those for whom it was exercised ; but the Em- 
 peror and the King of France never hoped that by 
 these pensions they would attach Wolsey to their 
 side. The promise by which they tried to win him 
 was the promise of the Papacy ; and to this Wolsey 
 turned a deaf ear. ' ' He is seven times more power- 
 ful than the Pope," wrote the Venetian ambas- 
 sador ; and perhaps Wolsey himself at this time was 
 of the same opinion. 
 
 Meanwhile Francis Avas annoyed when he heard 
 of these dealings with Charles, and tried to coun- 
 teract them by pressing for an early date of his 
 meeting with Henry YIII. 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 
 a.ofC. 
 
100 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 for his queen to be present to welcome Katharine ; 
 but she was expecting her confinement, and if the 
 interview did not take place soon she would be un- 
 able to appear. / "Wolsey replied with equal concern 
 for family affairs, that the Emperor was anxious to 
 visit his aunt, whom he had never seen, and Henry 
 could not be so churlish as to refuse a visit from his 
 wife's relative. Katharine, on her side, was over- 
 joyed at this renewal of intimacy with the Spanish 
 Court, to whose interests she was strongly attached, 
 and tried to prevent the understanding with France, 
 by declaring that she could not possibly have her 
 dresses ready under three months. In her dislike 
 of the French alliance Queen Katharine expressed 
 the popular sentiment. The people had long re- 
 garded France as the natural enemy of England, 
 and were slow to give up their prejudices. The 
 nobles grew more and more discontented with Wol- 
 sey' s policy, which they did not care to understand. 
 They only saw that their expectations of a return to 
 power were utterly disappointed ; Wolsey, backed 
 by officials such as Pace, was all-powerful, and they 
 were disregarded. Wolsey was working abso- 
 lutely single-handed. It is a remarkable proof of 
 his skill that he was able to draw the king to fol- 
 low him unhesitatingly, at tjie sacrifice of his per- 
 
THE FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD. IQl 
 
 sonal popularity, and in spite of the representations 
 of those who were immediately around him. 
 
 Moreover, Wolsey, in his capacity of representative 
 of the Kings of England and France, had in his hands 
 the entire management of all concerning the coming 
 interview. He fixed the place with due regard to 
 the honor of England, almost on English soil. The 
 English king was not to lodge outside his own ter- 
 ritory of Calais ; the spot appointed for the meeting 
 was on the meadows between Guisnes and Ardres, 
 on the borderland of the two kingdoms. Wolsey 
 had to decide which of the English nobles and gen- 
 try were to attend the king, and had to assign to 
 each his office and dignity. The king's retinue 
 amounted to nearly 4000, and the queen's was 
 somewhat over 1000. A very slight knowledge of 
 human nature will serve to show how many people 
 Wolsey must necessarily have offended. If the 
 ranks of his enemies were large before, they must 
 have increased enormously when his arrangements 
 were made known. 
 
 Still Wolsey was not daunted, and however much 
 every one, from Francis and Charles, felt aggrieved 
 by his proceedings, all had to obey ; and everything 
 that took place was due to Wolsey 's will alone. 
 The interview with Charles was sunple. On 26th 
 
102 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 May, 1520, lie landed at Dover, and was met by 
 "Wolsey ; next morning Henry rode to meet him and 
 escort him to Canterbury, which was his head- 
 quarters; on the 29th Charles rode to Sandwich, 
 where he embarked for Flanders. What subjects 
 the two monarchs discussed we can only dhnly 
 guess. Each promised to help the other if attacked 
 by France, and probably Henry undertook to bring 
 about a joint-conference of the three sovereigns to 
 discuss their common interests. The importance of 
 the meeting lay in its display of friendliness ; in the 
 warning which it gave to France that she was not 
 to count upon the exclusive possession of England's 
 good- will. 
 
 E"o 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 
 Eenaissance was used to deck medieval pageantry. 
 It is enough to say that stately palaces of wood 
 clothed the barren stretch of flat meadows, and that 
 every ornament which man's imagination could de- 
 vise was employed to lend splendor to the scene. 
 No doubt it was barbaric, wasteful, and foolish; 
 but men in those days loved the sight of magnifi- 
 cence, and the display was as much for the enjoy- 
 
THE FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD. 103 
 
 ment of countless spectators as for the self-glorifica- 
 tion of those who were the main actors. In those 
 days the solace of a poor man's life was the oc- 
 casional enjoyment of a stately spectacle ; and after 
 all, splendor gives more pleasure to the lookers-on 
 than to the personages of the show. 
 
 Most splendid among the glittering throng was 
 the figure of Wolsey, who had to support the 
 dignity of representative of both kings, and spared 
 no pains to do it to the full. But while the jousts 
 went on, Wolsey was busy with diplomacy ; there 
 were many points relating to a good understanding 
 between France and England, which he wished to 
 arrange, — the projected marriage of the Dauphin 
 with Mary of England, the payment due from 
 France to England on several heads, the relations 
 between France and Scotland and the like. More 
 important than these was the reconciliation of 
 Charles with Francis, which Wolsey pressed to the 
 utmost of his persuasiveness, without, however, 
 reaching any definite conclusion. Charles was 
 hovering on the Flemish border, ready at a hint 
 from Wolsey to join the conference; but Wolsey 
 could find no good reasons for giving it, and when 
 the festivities came to an end on 24:th June, it might 
 be doubted if much substantial good had resulted 
 
104 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 from the interview. 'No doubt the French and 
 English fraternized, and swore friendship over their 
 cups ; but tournaments were not the happiest means 
 of allaying feelings of rivalry, and the protestations 
 of friendship were little more than lip-deep. Yet 
 "Wolsey cannot be blamed for being over-sanguine. 
 It was at least a worthy end that he had before him, 
 — the removal of long-standing hostility, the settle- 
 ment of old disputes, the union of two neighboring 
 nations by the assertion of common aims and com- 
 mon interests. However we may condemn the 
 methods which "Wolsey used, at least we must admit 
 that his end was in accordance with the most en- 
 lightened views of modern statesmanship. 
 
 When Henry had taken leave of Francis, he 
 waited in Calais for the coming of Charles, whose 
 visit to England was understood to be merely pre- 
 liminary to further negotiations. Again Henry 
 held the important position; he went to meet 
 Charles at Gravelines, where he stayed for a night, 
 and then escorted Charles as his guest to Calais, 
 where he stayed from 10th to 14:th July. The re- 
 sult of the conference was a formal treaty of alliance 
 between the two sovereigns, which Charles proposed 
 to confirm by betrothing himself to Henry's daugh- 
 ter Mary. As she was a child of four years old^ 
 
THE FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD. 105 
 
 such an undertaking did not bind him to much ; but 
 Mary was already betrothed to the Dauphin, while 
 Charles was also alread}^ betrothed to Charlotte of 
 France, so that the proposal aimed at a double breach 
 of existing relationships and treaties. Henry listened 
 to this scheme, which opened up the way for fur- 
 ther negotiation, and the two monarchs parted with 
 protestations of friendship. It was now the turn of 
 Francis to hang about the place where Henry was 
 holding conference with his rival, in hopes that he 
 too might be invited to their discussions. He had 
 to content himself with hearing that Henry rode a 
 steed which he had presented to him, and that his 
 face did not look so contented and cheerful as when 
 he was on the meadows of Guisnes. In due time 
 he received from Henry an account of what had 
 ]3assed 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 displaj^, this ingenious schem- 
 ing, and this deceit seem ludicrously small. The 
 upshot, however, was that Wolsey's ideas still re- 
 mained dominant, and that the position which he 
 
l06 LIf'E OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 had marked out for England was still maintained. 
 He had been compelled to change the form of his 
 policy, but its essence was unchanged. European 
 affairs could no longer be directed by a universal 
 peace under the guarantee of England ; so Wolsey 
 substituted for it a system of separate alliances with 
 England, by which England exercised a mediating 
 influence on the policy of the two monarchs, whose 
 rivalry threatened a breach of European peace. He 
 informed Francis of the schemes of Charles, that he 
 might show him how much depended on English 
 mediation. He so conducted matters that Charles 
 and Francis should both be aware that England 
 could make advantageous terms with either, that 
 her interests did not tend to one side rather than 
 the other, that both should be willing to secure her 
 good- will, and should shrink from taking any step 
 which would throw her on the side of his adversary. 
 It was a result worth achieving, though the position 
 was precarious, and required constant watchfulness 
 to maintain."^ 
 
 * " This meeting," writes Guizot, " has remained celebrated 
 in history far more for its royal pomp and for the personal 
 incidents which were connected with it than for its political 
 results. It was called The Field of the Cloth of Gold; and the 
 courtiers who attended the two sovereigns felt bound to 
 almost rival them in sumptuousness, 'insomuch that many 
 bore their mills, their forests, and their meadows on their 
 
THE FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD. 107 
 
 backs.' Henry VIII. had employed eleven hundred work- 
 men, the most skilful of Flanders and Holland, in building a 
 quadrangular palace of wood, 128 feet long every way ; on 
 one side of the entrance gate was a fountain, covered with 
 gilding and surmounted by a statue of Bacchus, round which 
 there flowed through subterranean pipes all sorts of wines, 
 and which bore, in letters of gold, the inscription. Make good 
 CHEER, WHO WILL ; and on the other side a column, supported 
 by four lions, was surmounted by a statue of Cupid armed 
 with bow and arrows. Opposite the palace was erected a 
 huge figure of a savage wearing the arms of his race, with 
 this inscription chosen by Henry VIII., He whom I back 
 WINS. The f runtage was covered outside With canvas painted 
 to represent freestone ; and the inside was hung with rich 
 tapestries. Francis I., emulous of equaling his royal neighbor 
 in magnificence, had ordered to be erected close to Ardres an 
 immense tent, upheld in the middle by a colossal pole firmly 
 fixed in the ground and with pegs and cordage all around it. 
 Outside, the tent in the shape of a dome, was covered with 
 cloth of gold ; and inside, it represented a sphere witli a ground 
 of blue velvet and studded with stars like the firmament. At 
 each angle of the large tent was a small one, equally richly 
 decorated. But before the two sovereigns exchanged visits, 
 in the midst of all these preparations, there arose a violent 
 hurricane which tore up the pegs and split the cordage of 
 the French tent, scattered them over the ground and forced 
 Francis I. to take up his quarters in an old castle near Ardres. 
 When the two kings' two chief councillors. Cardinal Wolsej^ 
 on one side and Admiral Bonniveton tlie other, had regulated 
 the formalities, on the 7th of June, 1520, Francis I. and Henry 
 VIII. set out on their way at the same hour and the same 
 pace for their meeting in the valley of Ardres, where a tent 
 had been prepared for them." 
 
 The meeting of the two kings is described by Miss Pardee 
 in the following words : " The Due de Bourbon, as Connetable 
 of France, bore his drawn sword in front of his sovereign, 
 which Henry VIII. no sooner remarked than he desired the 
 Marquis of Dorset, who carried his own sword of state, to 
 unsheath it in like manner ; and this done, the monarchs 
 
108 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 rode into the valley, where they at length met face to face at 
 the head of two of the most brilliant assemblages of nobility 
 which had ever been seen in Europe. For a brief instant, 
 both paused as they surveyed each other with astonishment 
 and admiration ; for they were at that period, beyond all 
 parallel, the two most comely princes in Christendom. Fran- 
 cis was the taller and the more slender of the two ; and was 
 attired in a vest of cloth of silver damasked with gold, and 
 edged with a border of embossed work in party-colored silks. 
 Over this he wore a cloak of brocaded satin, with a scarf of 
 gold and purple crossing over one shoulder, and buttoned to 
 the waist, richly set with pearls and precious stones ; while 
 his long hair escaped from a coif of damasked gold set with 
 diamonds, and gave him a noble and graceful aj)pearance 
 which his splendid horsemanship, and handsome, although 
 strongly defined, features, his bushy whiskers, and ample 
 mustache, tended to enhance. 
 
 " Henry, on his side, wore a vest of crimson velvet slashed 
 with white satin, and buttoned down the chest with studs 
 composed of large and precious jewels ; and his round velvet 
 toque or hat was surmounted by a profuse plume which floated 
 on the wind, save where it was confined by a star of brilliants. 
 His figure, although more bulky than that of his brother 
 monarch, was still well proportioned ; his movements were 
 elastic and unembarrassed ; and his face attractive from the 
 frankness of its expression, the singular brightness of his 
 eyes, and the luxuriance of his hair and beard, which he wore 
 in a dense fringe beneath his chin, and which was at that 
 period less red than golden. 
 
 " The mutual scrutiny of the two young sovereigns lasted 
 only a moment ; in the next they were in each other's arms, 
 each straining from the saddle to embrace his brother mon- 
 arch. The horse of Henry swerved for an instant, impatient 
 of the impediment, but the hand of Francis firmly grasped 
 the rein which its rider had suffered to escape him ; and after 
 a renewed exchange of courtesies, the attendant equerries 
 were summoned to hold the stirrups of their royal masters as 
 they alighted. On gaining their feet, the two kings ex- 
 changed another embrace ; and then, arm-in-arm, they pro- 
 
THE FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD. 109 
 
 ceeded to the pavilion of audience, followed each by his 
 selected witnesses." 
 
 If the reader desires a further description of this gorireous. 
 but nearly useless, spectacle, he is referred to a remarlcabiy 
 picturesque passage in "■Monk and Knight: an Historical 
 Study in Fiction," by Dr. Frank W. Gunsaulus. 
 
CHAPTER Y. 
 
 THE CONFERENCE OF CALAIS. 
 1520-1521. 
 
 The most significant point in the mediatorial 
 policy of 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 combat- 
 ant against the other. Charles's ambassador was 
 not wrong in saying that Leo hated Wolsey more 
 than any other man ; and Leo tried to upset his 
 plans by drawing nearer to the imperial side. 
 
 110 
 
THE CONFERENCE OF CALAIS. HI 
 
 It required very little to provoke war between 
 Francis and Charles ; either would begin the attack 
 if the conditions were a little more favorable, or if 
 he could secure an ally. But Charles was weak 
 owing to the want of unity of interest in his un- 
 wieldy dominions. Germany was disturbed by the 
 opinions of Luther;* Spain was disturbed by a re- 
 
 * Martin Luther (1483-1546) was the originator and leader 
 of the German reformation. He was born at Eisleben, the 
 son of a miner, and was very poor. While in the university 
 of Erfurt, he manifested absorbing interest in the solitary 
 copy of the Bible that was in the library, chained there for 
 safe-keeping. An experience of a dangerous illness, and the 
 sudden death of a friend who was killed by a stroke of light- 
 ning, touched his conscience, and he vowed to give himself 
 to the monastic life. Accordingly in 1505 he entered the 
 Augustinian monastery at Erfurt. He was later appointed 
 professor of philosophy in the university of Wittenberg. In 
 1510 he visited Rome, and the luxury and vice which he saw 
 abounding in that city, where he had imagined everytliing to 
 be holy and apostolic, were a great shock to his feelings, and 
 lie more fully adopted the theology of Augustine, from whom 
 the monastic order derived its name, and especially the 
 cardinal principle of salvation by faith. In 1517 one Tetzel, 
 a commissioner of Pope LeoX., was selling indulgences in a 
 way that roused all of Luther's indignation ; for, in order to 
 increase the sale of his spiritual wares, Tetzel claimed that 
 these indulgences absolved the purchasers from all conse- 
 quences of sin, both here and hereafter. Following the 
 customs of the universities of the day, Luther wrote out 
 ninety-five theses in opposition to the doctrine of indulgences, 
 posted them upon the door of the church, offering to defend 
 the same in public debate against all comers. This may be 
 called the beginning of Protestantism, for it was the most 
 conspicuous and emphatic protest of that age against the 
 
112 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 volt of the cities against long-standing misgovern- 
 ment. Charles was not ready for war, nor was 
 Francis much better provided. His coffers were 
 
 doctrines and practices of the Catholic Church. The opening' 
 of this question involved Luther in violent controversies. 
 
 Luther was summoned to Rome to answer charges of 
 heresy, but he refused to go. The Pope issued a bull con- 
 demning Luther's teachings, but Luther, in the presence of a 
 great crowd of professors, students, and others, ostentatiously 
 burned the bull and with it the decretals and canons relating 
 to the Pope's supreme authority. The breach between him 
 and the authorities of the Church was now too wide to be re- 
 paired. He was summoned for trial before the Diet of 
 Worms. Though warned that it would be unsafe for him to 
 go, he sturdily replied, "Though the devils in Worms were 
 as thick as the tiles on the roofs, yet I would go ! " When 
 called upon to recant, he refused to do so unless it could be 
 shown from the Scriptures that he was in error. ' ' Thereon I 
 stand," he said, "and cannot do otherwise. God help me. 
 Amen." 
 
 On his return from Worms he was captured by a band of 
 masked men who confined him in the castle of Wartburg. 
 This was an act of his friends, who adopted this device as a 
 means of protecting him. He remained in that castle nearly 
 a year, which gave him time to i3ush forward his work of 
 translating the Scriptures into the German tongue, and to 
 arrange his system of theology. Luther's translation of the 
 Bible is regarded as the fixing of the standard of German 
 literature. In 1525, having previously withdrawn from the 
 monastic order, he married Catharine von Bora, an ex-nun. 
 
 The influence of Luther's teachings spread rapidly over the 
 neighboring countries of Europe, including Denmark, 
 Sweden, Moravia, and Bohemia. But the Protestants were 
 weak in neglecting to present a united front against the 
 Catholic power. The German reformers did not act in unison 
 with the followers of Zwingli in Switzerland, or the Hugue- 
 nots of France ; while the Pope, on the other hand, was al- 
 
THE CONFERENCE OF CALAIS. 113 
 
 empty through his lavish expenditure, and his 
 Government was not popular. Eeally, though both 
 wished for war, neither was prepared to be the ag- 
 gressor; both wanted the vantage of seeming to 
 fight in self-defence. 
 
 It was obvious that Charles had made a high bid 
 for the friendship of England when he offered him- 
 self as the husband of the Princess Mary. Wolsey 
 had taken care that Francis was informed of this 
 offer, which necessarily led to a long negotiation 
 with the imperial Court. Really Charles's mar- 
 riage projects were rather complicated ; he was be- 
 trothed to Charlotte of France; he had made an 
 offer for Mary of England ; but he wished to marry 
 Isabella of Portugal for no loftier reason than the 
 superior attractions of her dowry. His proposal for 
 Mary of England was prompted by nothing save the 
 
 ways able to command the full powers and resom'ces of the 
 Church. This is the real cause of the arrest of the progress 
 of the Reformation. 
 
 Luther died at Eisleben in the sixty-third year of his age. 
 Since his death, the Protestants of Europe have held their 
 own, but they have made little progress territorially. An 
 indirect but most important result of his influence is the 
 moral and spiritual improvement of the Catholic Church 
 which, in the period of more than 350 years that have elapsed 
 since his time, has never again sunk to a moral level so low 
 as it maintained at that time. While other influences were 
 at work, much of this beneficent result is undoubtedly due to 
 the emphatic protest of Luther and his followers, 
 8 
 
114 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 desire to have Henry as his ally against France ; if he 
 could manage by fair promises to induce Henry to 
 go to war his purpose would be achieved, and he 
 could still go in quest of the Portuguese dower. 
 So when Tunstal, the Master of the Eolls, went as 
 English envoy to discuss the matter, Charles's Coun- 
 cil raised all sorts of difficulties. Let the English 
 king join a league with the Pope and the Emperor 
 against France; then the Pope would grant his 
 dispensation, which was necessary, owing to the 
 relationship between Charles and Mary. Tunstal 
 was bidden by Wolsey to refuse such conditions. 
 England would not move until the marriage had 
 been concluded, and would not join in any league 
 with the Pope till his dispensation was in Henry's 
 hand. The separate alliance of England and the 
 Emperor must be put beyond doubt to England's 
 satisfaction before anything else could be consid- 
 ered. Wolsey commissioned Tunstal to adopt a 
 lofty tone. ' ' It would be great folly, ' ' he says, 
 '' for this young prince, not being more surely set- 
 tled in his dominions, and so ill-provided with treas- 
 ure and good councillors, the Pope also being so 
 brittle and variable, to be led into war for the 
 pleasure of his ministers. ' ' Truly Wolsey thought 
 he had taken the measure of those with whom he 
 
THE CONFERENCE OF CALAIS. 115 
 
 dealt, and spoke with sufficient plainness when oc- 
 casion needed. But Charles's chancellor, Gatti- 
 nara, a Piedmontese, who was rising into power, 
 was as obstinate as Wolsey, and rejected the Eng- 
 lish proposals with equal scorn. '^ Your master," 
 he said to Tunstal, ''would have the Emperor 
 break with France, but would keep himself free; 
 he behaves like a man with two horses, one of 
 which he rides, and leads the other by the hand." 
 It was clear that nothing could be done, and Wol- 
 sey with some delight recalled Tunstal from his em- 
 bassy. The closer alliance with the Emperor was 
 at an end for the present; he had shown again 
 that England would only forego her mediating 
 position on her own terms. 
 
 At the same time he dealt an equal measure of 
 rebuff to France. Before the conference at Guisnes 
 Francis had done some work towards rebuilding 
 the ruined walls of Ardres * on the French frontier. 
 After the conference the work was continued till 
 England resented it as an unfriendly act. Francis 
 was obliged to give way, and order the building to 
 stopped. Neither Francis nor Charles were allowed 
 
 * Ardres is a small village about ten miles south-east of 
 Calais. Near it was the Field of the Cloth of Gold. Its pop- 
 ulation at present is a little over 2,000. 
 
116 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 to presume on the complacency of England, nor 
 use their alliance with her to further their own pur- 
 poses. 
 
 The general aspect of affairs was so dubious that 
 it was necessary for England to be prepared for 
 any emergency, and first of all Scotland must be 
 secured as far as possible. Since the fall of James 
 TV. at Flodden Eield, Scotland had been internally 
 unquiet. Queen Margaret gave birth to a son a 
 few months after her husband's death, and, to se- 
 cure her position, took the unwise step of marrying 
 the Earl of Angus. The enemies of Angus and 
 the national party in Scotland joined together to 
 demand that the Kegency should be placed in 
 firmer hands, and they smnmoned from France the 
 Duke of Albany,^ a son of the second son of James 
 
 * Queen Margaret's second marriage took place August 6, 
 1514, or within a year of the battle of Flodden Field where 
 her husband, James IV. , was slain. "The Scottish Lords," 
 says Froude, "could not tolerate in one of themselves the 
 position of husband of the regent, and a second parliament 
 immediately pronounced her deposition, and called in as her 
 successor the late king's cousin, the Duke of Albany, who, in 
 the event of the deaths of the two princes, stood next in 
 blood to the crown. Albany, who had lived from his infancy 
 on the continent, — French in his character and French in his 
 sympathies, — brought with him a revolution inimical in every 
 way to English interests. His conduct soon gave rise to the 
 greatest alarm. The royal children were taken from the 
 custody of their mother, who with her husband was obliged 
 
THE CONFERENCE OF CALAIS. 117 
 
 III., who bad been born in exile, and was French 
 in all the traditions of his education. When Albany 
 came to Scotland as Regent, Queen Margaret and 
 Angus were so assailed that Margaret had to flee to 
 England for refuge, 1515, leaving her son in 
 
 to find refuge for a time in England ; and the Duke of Roth- 
 say, the younger of the two, dying immediately after, sus- 
 picions of foul play were naturally aroused. The prince was 
 openly said to have been murdered ; the remaining brother, 
 who remained between Albany and the crown, it was ex- 
 pected would soon follow ; and a tragedy would be repeated 
 which England as well as Scotland had too lately witnessed 
 [i.e. the death of the princes who were murdered in the Tower 
 by order of Richard III.] . . . The Queen sent warning [to 
 the Scottish nobles through Surrey] that the life of the young 
 king was in danger. In tlie beginning of December it was 
 expected either that he would be poisoned or that Albany 
 would carry him away to France. On the 27th a stormy 
 council was held at Stirling, where Albany attempted his 
 usual shift in difficulty, and required five months' leave of 
 absence to go to Paris, This time the nobles refused to be 
 left to bear the consequences of the regent's weakness. If he 
 went again his departure should be final ; nor should he 
 depart at all unless the French garrisons were withdrawn. 
 The duke, ' in marvelous great anger and foam,' agreed to 
 remain ; but his cause sank daily and misfortunes thickened 
 about him. He was without the means to support the French 
 auxiliaries. They were obliged to shift as they could for 
 their own security. Some escaped to their own country ; 
 others, sent away in unsea worthy vessels, were driven among 
 the Western Islands, engaged in pirac3% and were destroyed 
 in detail. At length, for the last time, on the 20th May, 
 [1524] Albany turned his back upon the country with which 
 he had connected himself only to his own and others' misery. 
 He sailed away, and came again no more. 
 
118 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 Albany's care. She stayed in England till the 
 middle of 1517, when she was allowed to return to 
 Scotland on condition that she took no part in public 
 affairs. About the same time Albany returned to 
 France, somewhat weary of his Scottish charge. 
 By his alliance with Francis Henry contrived tha.t 
 Albany should not return to Scotland ; but he could 
 not contrive to give his sister Margaret the political 
 wisdom which was needed to draw England and 
 Scotland nearer together. Margaret quarrelled 
 with her husband Angus, and only added another 
 element of discord to those which previously ex- 
 isted. The safest way for England to keep Scot- 
 land helpless was to encourage forays on the 
 Border. The Warden of the "Western Marches, 
 Lord Dacre of E"a worth, was admirably adapted to 
 work with Wolsey for this purpose. Without 
 breaking the formal peace which existed between 
 the two nations, he developed a savage and syste- 
 matic warfare, waged in the shape of Border raids, 
 which was purposely meant to devastate the Scot- 
 tish frontier, so as to prevent a serious invasion 
 from the Scottish side. Still Henry YIII. was most 
 desirous to keep Scotland separate from France ; but 
 the truce with Scotland expired in ]N"ovember, 1520. 
 Wolsey would gladly have turned the truce into a. 
 
THE CONFERENCE OF CALAIS. 119 
 
 perpetual peace; but Scotland still clung to its 
 French alliance, and all that Wolsey could achieve 
 was a prolongation of the truce till 1522. He did 
 so, however, with the air of one who would have 
 preferred war ; and Francis I. was induced to urge 
 the Scots to sue for peace, and accept as a favor 
 what England was only too glad to grant. 
 
 At the same time an event occurred in England 
 which showed in an unmistakable way the deter- 
 mination of Henry to go his own way and allow no 
 man to question it. In April, 1520, the Duke of 
 Buckingham, one of the wealthiest of the English 
 nobles, was imprisoned on an accusation of high 
 treason. In May he was brought to trial before 
 his peers, was found guilty, and was executed. The 
 charges against him were trivial if true ; the wit- 
 nesses were members of his household who bore 
 him a grudge. But the king heard their testimony in 
 his Council, and committed the dul^e to the Tower. 
 Kone of the nobles of England dared differ from 
 their imperious master. If the king thought fit 
 that Buckingham should die, they would not run 
 the risk of putting any obstacle in the way of the 
 royal will. Trials for treason under Henry YIII. 
 were mere formal acts of registration of a decision 
 already formed. 
 
120 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 The Duke of Buckingham, no doubt, was a weak 
 and foolish man, and may have done and said 
 many foolish things. He was in some sense justi- 
 fied in regarding himself as the nearest heir to the 
 English throne if Henry left no children to succeed 
 him. Henry had been married for many years, and 
 as yet there was no surviving child save the Prin- 
 cess Mary. It was unwise to talk about the suc- 
 cession to the Crown after Henry's death; it was 
 criminal to disturb the minds of Englishmen who 
 had only so lately won the blessings of internal 
 peace. If the Duke of Buckingham had really 
 done so, he would not be undeserving of punish- 
 ment ; but the evidence against him was slight, and 
 its source was suspicious. 'No doubt Buckingham 
 was incautious, and made himself a mouthpiece of 
 the discontent felt by the nobles at the French alli- 
 ance and their own exclusion from affairs. No 
 doubt he denounced "Wolsey, who sent him a mes- 
 sage that he might say what he liked against him- 
 self, but warned him to beware what he said against 
 the king. It does not seem that Wolsey took 
 any active part in the proceedings against the 
 Duke, but he did not do anything to save him. 
 The matter was the king's matter, and as such it 
 was regarded by all. The nobles, who probably 
 
THE CONFERENCE OF CALAIS. 121 
 
 agreed with Buckingham's opinions, were unani- 
 mous in pronouncing his guilt; and the Duke of 
 Norfolk, with tears streaming down his cheeks, con- 
 demned him to his doom. The mass of the people 
 were indifferent to his fate, and were willing that 
 the king should be sole judge of the precautions 
 necessary for his safety, with which the internal 
 peace and outward glory of England was entirely 
 identified. Charles and Francis stood aghast at 
 Henry's strong measures, and were surprised that 
 he could do things in such a high-handed manner 
 with impunity. If Henry intended to let the states- 
 men of Europe know that he was not to be diverted 
 from his course by fear of causing disorders at home 
 he thoroughly succeeded. The death of Bucking- 
 ham was a warning that those who crossed the 
 king's path and hoped to thwart his plans by petu- 
 lant opposition were playing a game which would 
 only end in their own ruin.* 
 
 * "In 1515, when Giustiniani, the Venetian ambassador 
 was at court, the Dukes of Buckingham, of Suffolk, and 
 of Norfolk, were also mentioned to him as having each of 
 them hopes of the crown. Buckingham, meddling prema- 
 turely in the dangerous game, lost his life for it." — Froude. 
 
 "In the spring of 1521, the world was startled by the arrest, 
 trial, and execution (11 May) of the Duke of Buckingham for 
 treason. As the crime imputed to him, even in the indict- 
 ment, was mainly that he listened to prophecies of the king's 
 
122 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 Free from any fear of opposition at home, Wol- 
 sey could now give his attention to his difficult task 
 abroad. Charles Y. had been crowned at Aachen, 
 and talked of an expedition to Eome 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 ISTavarre to enter 
 his inheritance. War seemed now inevitable ; but 
 Wolsey remained true to his principles, and urged 
 upon both kings that they should submit their dif- 
 ferences to the mediation of England. Charles was 
 busied with the revolt of the Spanish towns, and 
 was not unwilling to gain time. After a show of 
 reluctance he submitted to the English proposals ; 
 but Francis, rejoicing in the prospect of success in 
 Luxembourg and J^avarre, refused on the ground 
 that Charles was not in earnest. Still Francis was 
 afraid of incurring England's hostility, and quailed 
 before Wolsey's threat that if France refused medi- 
 ation, England would be driven to side with the 
 
 death and his own succession to the crown, his fate proved 
 the king's excessive jealousy and power. From that day the 
 jiobility were completely cowed." — Gairdner. 
 
THE CONFERENCE OF CALAIS. 123 
 
 Emperor. In June, 1521, he reluctantly assented to 
 a conference to be held at Calais, over which Wol- 
 sey should preside, and decide between the pleas 
 urged by representatives of the two hostile mon- 
 archs. 
 
 If Wolsey triumphed at having reached his goal, 
 his triumph was of short duration. He might dis- 
 play himself as a mediator seeking to establish 
 peace, but he knew that peace Avas well-nigh im- 
 possible. While the negotiations were in progress 
 for the conference which was to resolve differences, 
 events were tending to make war inevitable. When 
 "Wolsey began to broach his project, Francis was 
 desirous of war and Charles was anxious to defer it ; 
 but Charles met with some success in obtainino^ 
 promises of help from Germany in the Diet of 
 Worms, '^ and when that was over, he heard welcome 
 
 * " On the 6th of January, 1521, Charles assembled his first 
 diet at Worms, where he presided in person ... In 
 order to direct the affairs of the empire during the absence 
 of Charles, a council of regency was established ... At the 
 same time an aid of 20.000 foot and 4,000 horse was granted, 
 to accompany the emperor in his expedition to Rome ; but 
 the diet endeavored to prevent him from interfering, as 
 Maximilian had done, in the affairs of Italy, by stipulating 
 that these troops were only to be employed as an escort, and 
 not for the purpose of aggression," — Coxe. 
 
 The most important fact about this diet was the appearance 
 before it of Martin I^uther, who was sunmioned to answer 
 charges of heresy. See above, p. Ill, note. 
 
124 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 news wliich 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 
 JSTavarre. His embarrassments were certainly dis- 
 appearing on all sides. More than this, Pope Leo 
 X., after long wavering, made up his mind to take 
 a definite course. 'No doubt he was sorely vexed to 
 find that the position which he hankered after was 
 occupied by England ; and if he were to step back 
 into the politics of Europe, he could not defer a de- 
 cision much longer. He had wavered between an 
 alliance with France and Yenice on the one side, or 
 with the Emperor on the other. The movement of 
 Luther in Germany had been one of the questions 
 for settlement in the Diet of Worms, and Luther 
 had been silenced for a time. Leo awoke in some 
 degree to the gravity of the situation, and saw the 
 advantage of making common cause with Charles, 
 whose help in Germany was needful. Accordingly 
 he made a secret treaty with the Emperor for mu- 
 tual defence, and was anxious to draw England to 
 the same side. The religious question was begin- 
 ning to be of importance, and Francis I. was 
 regarded as a favorer of heretics, whereas Henry 
 YIII. was strictly orthodox, was busy in suppress- 
 
THE CONFERENCE OF CALAIS. 125 
 
 ing Lutheran opinions at home, and was preparing 
 his book which should confute Luther forever.* 
 
 Another circumstance also greatly affected the at- 
 titude of Charles, the death of his minister Chidvres, 
 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. 
 Chidvres 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 Y. entered on a 
 new course of action. He felt himself for the first 
 
 * Luther had published a book entitled The Babylonian 
 Captivity. In reply to this Henry VIII. published, in 1521, 
 his Defence of the Sacraments, which was translated into the 
 German and " filled the whole Christian world with joy and 
 admiration." In recognition of this work, the Pope reward- 
 ed the English king with the title of Fidel Defensor, Defender 
 of the Faith. The initial letters F.D. are stamped on all the 
 coins of Great Britain to tliis day, though the sovereigns are 
 no longer defenders of the faith in the sense intended by Leo 
 X. It may be added tlmt Luther published a rejoinder in 
 which he called his opponent a fool and described him as the 
 Pharaoh of England. 
 
126 ' LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 time his own master, and took his responsibilities 
 upon himself. He seems to have admitted to him- 
 self that the advice of 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, Mercu- 
 rino della Gattinara, whose diplomatic skill was now 
 of great service to the Emperor. Gattinara was a 
 man devoted to his master's interests, and equal to 
 "Wolsey in resoluteness and pertinacity. Hitherto 
 Wolsey had had the strongest will amongst the 
 statesmen of Europe, and had reaped all the advan- 
 tages of his strength. In Gattinara he met with an 
 opponent who was in many ways his match. It is 
 true that Gattinara had not "Wolsey 's genius, and 
 was not capable of Wolsey 's far-reaching schemes ; 
 but he had a keen eye to the interests of the mo- 
 ment, and could neither be baffled by finesse nor 
 overborne by menaces. His was the hand that first 
 checked Wolsey' s victorious career. 
 
 So it was that through a combination of causes 
 the prospects of peace suddenly darkened just as 
 
THE CONFERENCE OF CALAIS. 127 
 
 "Wolsey was preparing to stand forward as the 
 mediator of Europe. Doubtless he hoped, when 
 first he put forward the project of a conference, 
 that it might be the means of restoring his original 
 design of 1518, a European peace under the guaran- 
 tee of England. Since that had broken down he 
 had been striving to maintain England's influence 
 by separate alliances ; he hoped in the conference 
 to use this position in the interests of peace. But 
 first of all the alliance with the Emperor must be 
 made closer, and the Emperor showed signs of de- 
 manding that this closer alliance should be pur- 
 chased by a breach with France. If war was in- 
 evitable, England had most to gain by an alliance 
 with Charles, to whom its friendship could offer 
 substantial advantages, as England, in case of war, 
 could secure to Charles the means of communicat- 
 ing between the Netherlands and SjDain, which 
 would be cut off if France were hostile and the 
 Channel were barred by English ships. Moreover 
 the prospect of a marriage between Charles and the 
 Princess Mary was naturally gratifying to Henry ; 
 while English industry would suffer from any breach 
 of trading relations with the Netherlands, and the 
 notion of war with France was still popular with, 
 the English, 
 
128 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 So Wolsey started for Calais at the beginning of 
 August with the intention of strengthening Eng- 
 land's alliance with the Emperor, that thereby Eng- 
 land's influence might be more powerful. Charles 
 on the other hand was resolved on war ; he did not 
 wish for peace by England's mediation, but he 
 wished to draw England definitely into the league 
 between himself and the Pope against France. 
 "Wolsey knew that much depended on his own 
 cleverness, and nerved himself for the greatest cau- 
 tion, as Francis was beginning to be suspicious of 
 the preparations of Charles, and the attitude of 
 affairs was not promising for a pacific mediation. 
 
 This became obvious at the first interview of 
 "Wolsey with the imperial envoys, foremost amongst 
 whom was Gattinara. They were commissioned 
 to treat about the marriage of Charles with the 
 Princess Mary, and about a secret undertaking for 
 war against France ; but their mstructions contained 
 nothing tending to peace. The French envoys 
 were more pacific, as war was not popular in France. 
 
 On 7th August the conference was opened under 
 Wolsey 's presidency; but Gattinara did nothing 
 save dwell upon the grievances of his master against 
 France ; he maintained that France had been the ag- 
 gressor in breaking the existing treaty ; he had no 
 
THE CONFERENCE OF CALAIS. 129 
 
 powers to negotiate peace or even a truce, but de- 
 manded England's help, which had been promised 
 to the party first aggrieved. The French retorted 
 in the same strain, but it was clear that they were 
 not averse to peace, and were willing to trust to 
 Wolsey's mediation. Wolsey saw that he could 
 make little out of Gattinara. He intended to visit 
 the Emperor, who had come to Bruges for the 
 purpose, as soon as he had settled with the impe- 
 rial envoys the preliminaries of an alliance ; now he 
 saw that the only hope of continuing the conference 
 lay in winning from Charles better terms, than the 
 stubborn Gattinara would concede. So he begged 
 the French envoys to remain in Calais while he vis- 
 ited the Emperor and arranged with him personally 
 for a truce. As the French were desirous of peace, 
 they consented. 
 
 On 16th August Wolsey entered Bruges in royal 
 state, with a retinue of 1000 horsemen. Charles 
 came to the city gate to meet him and receive him 
 almost as an equal. Wolsey did not dismount from 
 his horse, but received Charles's embrace seated. 
 He was given rooms in Charles's palace, and the 
 next day at church Charles sat by Wolsey' s side 
 and shared the same kneeling stool with him. Their 
 private conferences dealt solely with the accord be- 
 9 
 
130 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 tween England and the Emperor. Wolsey saw that 
 it was useless to urge directly the cause of peace, 
 and trusted to use for this purpose the advantages 
 which his alliance would give. He succeeded, 
 however, in considerably modifying the terms which 
 had been first proposed. He diminished the amount 
 of dowry which Mary was to receive on her mar- 
 riage, and put off her voyage to the Emperor till she 
 should reach the age of twelve, instead of seven, 
 which was first demanded. Similarly he put off 
 the period when England should declare war against 
 France till the spring of 1523, though he agreed 
 that if war was being waged between Francis and 
 Charles in ISTovember, England should send some 
 help to Charles. Thus he still preserved England's 
 freedom of action, and deferred a rupture with 
 France. Every one thought that many things 
 might happen in the next few months, and that 
 England was pledged to little. Further, Wolsey 
 guarded the pecuniary interests of Henry by insisting 
 that if France ceased to pay its instalments for the 
 purchase of Tournai, the Emperor should make 
 good the loss. He also stipulated that the treat}^ 
 should be kept a profound secret, so that the proceed- 
 ings of the conference should still go on. 
 
 Wolsey was impressed by Charles, and gave a 
 
THE CONFERENCE OF CALAIS. 131 
 
 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 Den- 
 mark, Charles's brother-in-law, was in Bruges, and 
 sought an interview with Wolsey, who answered 
 that it was unbecoming for him to receive in his 
 chamber any king to whom he was not commissioned ; 
 if the King of Denmark wished to speak with him, 
 let him meet him, as though by accident, in the 
 garden of the palace. 
 
 When the provisions of the treaty had been 
 drafted, Wolsey set out for Calais on 26th August, 
 and was honorably escorted out of Bruges by the 
 Emperor himself. On his return the business of the 
 conference began, and was dragged on through 
 three weary months. The imperial envoys natu- 
 rally saw nothing to be gained by the conference 
 except keeping open the quarrel with France till 
 November, when Henry was bound to send help to 
 the Emperor if peace were not made. Wolsey re- 
 
132 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 mained true to his two principles : care for English 
 interests, and a desire for peace. He secured pro- 
 tection for the fishery of the Channel in case of war, 
 and he cautiously strove to lead up both parties to 
 see their advantage in making a truce if they could 
 not agree upon a peace. It was inevitable that 
 these endeavors should bring on Wolsey the suspi- 
 cions of both. The French guessed something of the 
 secret treaty from the warlike appearance which 
 England began to assume, and cried out that they 
 were being deceived. The imperial envoys could 
 not understand how one who had just signed a 
 treaty with their master, could throw obstacles in 
 their way and pursue a mediating policy of his own. 
 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 
 
THE CONFERENCE OF CALAIS. 133 
 
 a truce till that period was reached ; then all would 
 be straightforward. So "Wolsey adjourned the 
 public sittings of the conference, and negotiated 
 privately with the two parties. The French saw in 
 a year's truce only a means of allowing the Em- 
 peror to prepare for war, and demanded a sub- 
 stantial truce for ten years. Wolsey used all his 
 skill to bring about an agreement, and induced 
 Gattinara to accept a truce for eighteen months, 
 and the French to reduce their demands to four 
 years. But Charles raised a new difficulty, and 
 clauned that all conquests made in the w;ar should 
 be given up. The only conquest was Fontarabia, 
 on the border of l^avarre, which was still occupied 
 by the French. Francis not unnaturally declined 
 to part with it solely to obtain a brief truce, as 
 Charles had no equivalent to restore. Wolsey used 
 every argument to induce the Emperor to withdraw 
 his claim ; but he was obstinate, and the conference 
 came to an end. It is true that Wolsey tried to 
 keep up appearances by concluding a truce for 
 a month, that the Emperor might go to Spain 
 and consult his subjects about the surrender of 
 Fontarabia. 
 
 So Wolsey departed from Calais on 25th Novem- 
 ber, disappointed and worn out. As he wrote him- 
 
134 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 self, ' ' I have been so sore tempested in mind by 
 the untowardness of the chancellors and orators on 
 every side, putting so many difficulties and obstacles 
 to condescend to any reasonable conditions of truce 
 and abstinence of war, that night nor day I could 
 have no quietness nor rest." There is no doubt 
 that Wolsey wrote what he felt. He had labored 
 hard for peace, and had failed. If he hoped that 
 the labors of the conference might still be continued 
 by his diplomacy in England, that hope was de- 
 stroyed before he reached London. On 1st Decem- 
 ber the imperial troops captured Tournai, which they 
 had been for some time besieging, and news came 
 from Italy that Milan also had fallen before the 
 forces of the Emperor and the Pope. Charles had 
 seemed to Wolsey unreasonable in his obstinacy. 
 He had refused a truce which he had every motive 
 of prudence for welcoming ; and now events proved 
 that he was justified. I^Tot only had Francis been 
 foiled in his attempts to embarrass his rival, but suc- 
 cess had followed the first steps which Charles had 
 taken to retaliate. The time for diplomacy was 
 past, and the quarrel must be decided by the 
 sword. 
 
 So Wolsey saw his great designs overthrown. 
 He was a peace minister because he knew that Eng- 
 
THE CONFERENCE OF CALAIS. 135 
 
 land had nothing to gain from war. He had 
 striven to keep the peace of Europe by means of 
 England's mediation, and his efforts had been so far 
 successful as to give England the first place in the 
 councils of Europe. But Wolsey hoped more from 
 diplomacy than diplomacy could do. Advice and 
 influence can do something to check the outbreak 
 of war when war is not very seriously designed ; but 
 in proportion as great interests are concerned, at- 
 tempts at mediation are useless unless they are backed 
 by force. England was not prepared for war, and 
 had no troops by whom she could pretend to enforce 
 her counsels. When the two rival powers began 
 to be in earnest, they admitted England's mediation 
 only as a means of involving her in their quarrel. 
 "Wolse^^ was only the first of a long series of English 
 ministers who have met with the same disappoint- 
 ment from the same reason. England in Wolsey's 
 days had the same sort of interest in the affairs of 
 the Continent as she has had ever since. Wolse}^ 
 first taught her to develop that interest by pacific 
 counsels, and so long as that has been possible, Eng- 
 land has been powerful. But when a crisis comes 
 England has ever been slow to recognize its inevi- 
 tableness ; and her habit of hoping against hope for 
 peace has placed her in an undignified attitude for 
 
136 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 a time, has drawn upon her reproaches for duplicity, 
 and has involved her in war against her will. 
 
 This was now the net result of Wolsey's endeavors, 
 a result which he clearly perceived. His efforts of 
 mediation at Calais had been entirely his own, and 
 he could confide to no one his regret and his disap- 
 pointment. Henry was resolved on war when Wol- 
 sey first set forth, and if Wolsey had succeeded in 
 making a truce, the credit would have been entirely 
 his own. He allowed Henry to think that the con- 
 ference at Calais was merely a pretext to gain time for 
 military preparations ; if a truce had been made he 
 would have put it down to the force of circumstan- 
 ces ; as his efforts for a truce had failed, he could take 
 credit that he had done all in his power to establish the 
 king's reputation throughout Christendom, and had 
 fixed the blame on those who would not follow his 
 advice. It is a mark of "Wolsey's conspicuous skill 
 that he never forgot his actual position, and never was 
 so entirely absorbed in his own plans as not to leave 
 himself a ready means for retreat. His schemes 
 had failed ; but he could still take credit for having 
 furthered other ends which were contrary to his own. 
 Henry was well contented with the results of Wol- 
 sey's mission, and showed his satisfaction in the cus- 
 tomary way of increasing Wolsey's revenues at the 
 
THE CONFERENCE OF CALAIS. 13^ 
 
 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. 
 
CHAPTEE YI. 
 
 THE IMPEEIAIi ALLIANCE. 
 
 1521-1523. 
 
 The failure of Wolsey's plans was due to the 
 diplomacy of Gattinara and to the obstinacy of 
 Charles Y. , who showed at the end of the negotia- 
 tions at Calais an unexpected readiness to appreciate 
 his obligations towards his dominions as a whole, by 
 refusing to abandon Fontarabia lest thereby he 
 should irritate his Spanish subjects. It was this 
 capacity for large consideration that gave Charles 
 Y. his power in the future ; his motives were hard 
 to discover, but they always rested on a view of his 
 entire obligations, and were dictated by reasons 
 known only to himself. Even Wolsey did not un- 
 derstand the Emperor's motives, which seemed to 
 him entirely foolish. He allowed himself to take 
 up a haughty position, which deeply offended 
 Charles, who exclaimed angrily, ' ' This cardinal 
 wiU do everything his oAvn way, and treats me as 
 
 138 
 
THE IMPERIAL ALLIANCE. 139 
 
 though I were a prisoner." Charles treasured up 
 his resentment, of which "Wolsey was entirely un- 
 conscious, and was determined not to allow so mas- 
 terful a spirit to become more powerful. 
 
 He soon had an opportunity of acting on this 
 determination, as the unexpected death of Pope Leo 
 X. on 1st December naturally awakened hopes in 
 Wolsey' s breast. It was impossible that the fore- 
 most statesman in Europe should not have had the 
 legitimate aspiration of reaching the highest office 
 to which he could attain. But though Wolsey was 
 ready when the opportunity came to press his own 
 claims with vigor, it cannot be said with fairness 
 that his previous policy had been in anyway di- 
 rected to that end, or that he had swerved in the 
 least from his own path to further his chances for 
 the papal office. Indeed he had no reason for so 
 doing, as Leo was only forty-six years old when he 
 died, and his death was entirely unforeseen. More- 
 over, we know that when the Spanish envoys 
 offered Wolsey the Emperor's help towards the 
 Papacy in 1520, Wolsey refused the offer; since 
 then Charles at Bruges had repeated the offer with- 
 out being asked. Now that a vacancy had arisen, 
 it was natural for Wolsey to attach some weight to 
 this promise, and Henry expressed himself warmly 
 
140 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 in favor of Wolsey's election, and urged his im- 
 perial ally to work by all means for that end. He 
 sent to Rome his favorite secretary Pace to further 
 it by pressing representations to the cardinals. 
 
 lb does not seem that Wolsey was very sanguine 
 in his expectations of being elected. Leo X. had 
 died at a moment of great importance for Charles 
 Y. ; in fact his death had been brought about by 
 the imprudence which he showed in manifesting his 
 delight at the success of the imperial arms against 
 Milan, and his prospect of the overthrow of France. 
 It was necessary for Charles that a Pope should be 
 elected who would hold to Leo's policy, and would 
 continue the alliance with England. The man who 
 held in his hand the threads of Leo X.'s numerous 
 intrigues was his cousin. Cardinal Giulio de' Medici, 
 and Wolsey admitted the advantages to be gained 
 by his election. Wolsey at once declared that he 
 submitted his candidature to the decision of Henry 
 YIII. and the Emperor ; if they thought that he 
 was the best person to promote their interests he 
 would not shrink from the labor; but he agreed 
 that if his candidature were not likely to be accept- 
 able to the cardinals, the two monarchs should unite 
 in favor of Cardinal Medici. Charles's ambassador 
 wrote him that it would be well to act carefully, as 
 
THE IMPERIAL ALLIANCE. I4.I 
 
 Wolsey was watching to see how much faith he 
 could put in the Emperor's protestations of good- 
 will. 
 
 So Charles was prepared, and acted with ambigu- 
 ous caution. He put off communicating with 
 Henry as long as he could ; he regretted that he 
 was in the ^Netherlands instead of Germany, whence 
 he could have made his influence felt in Rome ; he 
 secretly ordered his ambassador in Eome to press 
 for the election of Cardinal Medici, but gave him no 
 definite instructions about any one else ; finally he 
 wrote a warm letter in favor of Wolsey, which he 
 either never sent at all, or sent too late to be of any 
 use, but which served as an enclosure to satisfy 
 Henry YIII. "Wolsey was not deceived by this, 
 and knew how papal elections might be influenced. 
 He told the Spanish ambassador that, if his master 
 were in earnest, he should order his troops to ad- 
 vance against Rome, and should command the cardi- 
 nals to elect his nominee; he offered to provide 
 100,000 "'^ ducats to cover the expenses of such ac- 
 tion. When it came to the point Wolsey was a 
 very practical politician, and was under no illusions 
 about the fair pretences of free choice which sur- 
 rounded a papal election. He treated it as a matter 
 
 * §228,000. 
 
142 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 to be settled by pressure from outside, according to 
 the will of the strongest. There is something re- 
 voltingly cynical in this proposal. No doubt many 
 men thought like Wolsey, but no one else would 
 have had the boldness to speak out. Wolsey 's out- 
 spokenness was of no avail at the time, but it bore 
 fruits afterwards. He taught Henry YIH. to con- 
 ceive the possibility of a short way of dealing with 
 refractory popes. He confirmed his willing pupil 
 in the belief that all things may be achieved by the 
 resolute will of one who rises above prejudice and 
 faces the world as it is. When he fell he must have 
 recognized that it was himself who trained the arm 
 which smote him. 
 
 In spite of Wolsey 's advice Charles did not allow 
 Spanish influence to be unduly felt in the proceed- 
 ings of the conclave. Barely 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 tl^e 
 
The meeting of Hc,„,y VIII. aud Francis I. on Tlie Field i)f the Cloth of Gold. 
 
 Page 107. Life of Thomas Wolsey. 
 
THE IMPERIAL ALLIANCE. 14g 
 
 election of some one who would be favorable to the 
 Emperor. At last in weariness the cardinals turned 
 their thoughts to some one who was not present. 
 Wolsey was proposed, and received seven votes; 
 but Medici was waiting his time, and put forward 
 Cardinal Adrian of Utrecht, who had been Charles's 
 tutor, and wa* then governing Spain in his master's 
 name. Both parties agreed on him,* chiefly be- 
 
 * " No man could be more earnest than was Adrian VI. in 
 his desire to ameliorate the grievous condition into which 
 Christendom had fallen at his accession . . . But to reform 
 the world is not so light a task ; the good intentions of an in- 
 dividual, however high his station, can do but little towards 
 such a consummation. . . . The Pope could make no step to- 
 wards reform without seeing himself assailed by a thousand 
 difficulties. . . . Adrian was in Rome a stranger by birth, 
 nation, and the habits of his life, to the element in which he 
 was called on to act ; this he could not master because it was 
 not familiar to him he did not comprehend the concealed im- 
 pulses of its existence. He had been welcomed joyfully, for 
 the people told each other that he had some five thousand 
 vacant benefices to bestow, and all were willing to hope for 
 a share. But never did a Pope show himself more reserved 
 in this particular. Adrian would insist on knowing to wliom 
 it was that he gave appointments and intrusted with offices. 
 He proceeded with scrupulous conscientiousness, and disap- 
 pointed innumerable expectations. By the first decree of his 
 pontificate he abolished the reversionary rights formerly an- 
 nexed to ecclesiastical dignities ; even those which had 
 already been conceded, he revoked. The publication of this 
 edict in Rome could not fail to bring a crowd of enemies 
 against him. Up to his time a certain freedom of speech and 
 of writing had been suffered to prevail in the Roman court : 
 this he would no longer tolerate. The exhausted state of the 
 
144: LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 cause he was personally unknown to any of the 
 cardinals, had given no offence, was well advanced 
 in years, and was reckoned to be of a quiet dis- 
 position, so that every one had hopes of guiding 
 his counsels. It was clear that the imperialists 
 were strongest in the conclave, and of all the im- 
 perialist candidates Adrian was the least offensive 
 to the French. One thing is quite clear, that 
 Charles 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 alli- 
 
 papal exchequer, and the numerous demands on it, obliged 
 him to impose new taxes. This was considered intolerable 
 on the part of one who expended so sparingly. Whatever he 
 did was unpopular and disapproved. He felt this deeply, 
 and it reacted on his character ... It becomes obvious that 
 not to Adrian personally, must it be solely attributed, if his 
 times were so unproductive of results. The papacy was en- 
 compassed by a host of conflicting claimants — urgent and 
 overwhelming difficulties that would have furnished infinite 
 occupation, even to a man more familiar with the medium of 
 action, better versed in men, and more fertile in expedients, 
 than Adrian VI."— Von Ranke. 
 
THE IMPERIAL ALLIANCE. 145 
 
 ance between England and the Emperor would not 
 be of long duration, as there was no real identity 
 of interests. Henry YIII. was dazzled for a mo- 
 ment with the prospect of asserting the English 
 claims on France ; he was glad to find himself at 
 one with his queen, who was overjoyed at the pros- 
 pect of a family alliance with her own beloved 
 land of Spain. The English nobles rejoiced at an 
 opportunity to display their prowess, and hoped in 
 time of war to recover the influence and position of 
 which they had been deprived by an upstart priest. 
 The sentiment of hostility to France was still strong 
 amongst the English people, and the allurements of 
 a spirited foreign policy were many. But as a mat- 
 ter of fact England was ill prepared for war ; and 
 though the people might throw up their caps at first, 
 they would not long consent to pay for a war which 
 brought them no profits. And the profits were not 
 likely to be great, for Charles had no wish to see 
 England's importance increased. He desired only 
 English help to achieve his own purposes, and was 
 no more trustworthy as an ally than had been his 
 grandfather Ferdinand. 
 
 However, war had been agreed upon, and all 
 that Wolsey could do was to try and put off its dec- 
 laration until he had secured sufficient assurance 
 
 lO 
 
146 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 that English money was not to be spent to no pur- 
 pose. Charles Y., who was in sore straits for 
 money, asked for a loan from England, to which 
 Wolsey answered that England could not declare 
 war till the loan was repaid. He insisted that no 
 declaration of war should be made till the Emperor 
 had fulfilled his promise to pay a visit to England, 
 a promise which Charles's want of money rendered 
 him unable for some time to keep. 
 
 But however much Wolsey might try to put off 
 the declaration of war, it was inevitable. Francis 
 could not be expected, for all Wolsey 's fine promises, 
 to continue his payments for Tournai to so doubtful 
 an ally as Henry, nor could he resist from crippling 
 England as far as he could. The Duke of Albany 
 went back to Scotland; and in the beginning of 
 May Francis ordered the seizure of goods lying at 
 Bordeaux for shipment to England. This led to re- 
 taliation on the part of England, and war was de- 
 clared against France on 28th May, 1522. 
 
 This coincided with the visit of Charles Y. to 
 London, where he was magnificently entertained for 
 a month, while the treaty of alliance was being 
 finally brought into shape by Wolsey and Gattinara. 
 Wolsey contented himself with providing that the 
 alliance did not go further than had been agreed at 
 
THE IMPERIAL ALLIANCE. I47 
 
 Bruges, and that England's interests were secured 
 by an undertaking from Charles that he would pay 
 the loss which Henry YIII. sustained by the with- 
 drawal of the French instalments for Tournai. 
 When the treaty was signed it Avas Wolsey who, as 
 papal legate, submitted both princes to ecclesiastical 
 censures in case of a breach of its provisions. More- 
 over, Charles granted Wolsey a pension of 9000 
 crowns * in compensation for his loss from Tournai, 
 and renewed his empty promise of raising him to the 
 Papacy. 
 
 It was one thing to declare war and .another to 
 carry it on with good effect. England, in spite of 
 all the delays which Wolsey had contrived to inter- 
 pose, was still unprepared. It was late in the 
 autumn before forces could be put in the field, and 
 the troops of Charles Y. were too few for a joint 
 undertaking of any importance. The allies content- 
 ed themselves with invading Picardy, where they 
 committed useless atrocities, burning houses, devasta- 
 ting the country, and working all the mischief that 
 they could. They did not advance into the center 
 of France, and no army met them in the field ; in 
 the middle of October they retired ingloriously. It 
 is hard to discover the purpose of such an expedi- 
 
 * $108,900. 
 
148 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 tion. The damage done was not enough to weaken 
 France materially, and such a display of barbarity 
 was ill suited to win the French people to favor 
 Henry YIII.'s claim to be their rightful lord. If 
 Francis I. had been unpopular before, he was now 
 raised to the position of a national leader Avhose help 
 was necessary for the protection of his subjects. 
 
 The futile result of this expedition caused mutual 
 recriminations between the new allies. The imper- 
 ialists complained that the English had come too 
 late ; the English answered that they had not been 
 properly supported. There were no signs of mutual 
 confidence; and the two ministers, Wolsey and 
 Gattinara, were avowed enemies, and did not con- 
 ceal their hostility. The alliance with the Emperor 
 did not show signs of prospering from the begin- 
 ning. 
 
 The proceedings of the Earl of Surrey and the 
 direction of the campaign were not Wolsey's con- 
 cern. He was employed nearer home, in keeping 
 a watchful eye on Scotland, which threatened to be 
 a hindrance to Henry YIII.'s great undertakings 
 abroad. The return of the Duke of Albany in De- 
 cember, 1621, was a direct threat of war. Albany 
 was nominally regent, but had found his office 
 troublesome, and had preferred to spend the last 
 
THE IMPERIAL ALLIANCE. I49 
 
 five years in the gaieties of the French Court rather 
 than among the rugged nobles of Scotland. They 
 were years when France was at peace with England 
 and had little interest in Scottish affairs ; so Queen 
 Margaret might quarrel with her husband at leisure, 
 while the Scottish lords distributed themselves be- 
 tween the two parties as suited them best. But 
 when war between France and England was ap- 
 proaching, the Duke of Albany was sent back by 
 Francis I. to his post as agent for France in Scot- 
 tish affairs. Queen Margaret welcomed him with 
 joy, hoping that he would further her plan of gain- 
 ing a divorce from the Earl of Angus. Before this 
 union of forces the English party in Scotland was 
 powerless. It was in vain that Henry YIII. tried 
 by menaces to influence either his sister or the Scot- 
 tish lords. As soon as the English forces sailed for 
 France Albany prepared to invade England. 
 
 It was lucky for Henry YIII. that he was well 
 served on the Borders by Lord Dacre of ]^a worth, 
 who managed to show the Scots the measure of 
 Albany's incapacity. Dacre began negotiations 
 with Albany, to save tune; and when, in Sep- 
 tember, the Scottish forces passed the Border, 
 Albany was willing to make a truce. As a matter 
 of fact, England was totally unprepared to repel an 
 
150 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 invasion, and Albany might have dictated his own 
 terms. But Daore, in Carlisle, which he could not 
 defend, maintained his courage, and showed no signs 
 of fear. He managed to blind Albany to the real 
 state of affairs, and kept him from approaching to 
 the crumbling walls of Carlisle. He advanced to 
 the Debatable Land to meet him, and '' with a high 
 voice" demanded the reason of his coming; and 
 the parley thus begun ended in the conclusion of a 
 month's truce. Wolsey was overjoyed at this re- 
 sult, but yet found it necessary to intercede with the 
 king for Dacre's pardon, as he had no authority to 
 make terms with the enemy; and Dacre 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 mili- 
 tary reputation ; and Wolsey determined to be se- 
 cure on the Scottish side for the future. The Earl 
 of Surrey, on his return from his expedition in 
 France, was put in charge of the defences of the 
 Border, and everything was done to humor Queen 
 Margaret, and convince her that she had more to 
 
THE IMPERIAL ALLIANCE. 151 
 
 gain from the favor of her brother than from the 
 help of the Duke of Albany. Moreover, Wolsey, 
 already convinced of the uselessness of the war 
 against France, was still ready to gain from it all 
 that he could, and strove to use the threat of danger 
 from Scotland as a means of withdrawing from war 
 and gaining a signal triumph. Francis I. , unable 
 to defend himself, tried to separate his enemies, 
 and turned to Charles 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. Gatti- 
 nara answered that Henry wished to use his forces 
 for his private advantage, and neglected the com- 
 mon interest of the alliance. Again bitter com- 
 plaints were made of Wolsey' s lukewarmness. 
 Again the two allies jealously watched each other 
 lest either should gain an advantage by making a 
 
152 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 separate alliance with France. And while they 
 were thus engaged the common enemy of Christen- 
 dom was advancing, and Rhodes fell before the 
 Turkish arms. It was in vain that Adrian YI. 
 lamented and wept ; in vain he implored for suc- 
 cors. Fair promises alone were given him. Europe 
 was too much intent on the duel between Francis 
 and Charles to think seriously of anything else. 
 The entreaties of the Pope were only regarded by 
 all parties as a good means of enabling them to 
 throw a decent veil over any measure which their 
 own interests might prompt. They might declare 
 that it was taken for the sake of the holy war ; 
 they might claim that they had acted from a desire 
 to fulfil the Pope's behest. 
 
 So things stood in the beginning of 1523, when 
 an unexpected event revived the military spirit of 
 Henry YIII., and brought the two half-hearted 
 allies once more closely together, by the prospect 
 which it afforded of striking a deadly blow at 
 France. The chief of the nobles of France, the 
 sole survivor of the great feudatories, the Constable 
 of Bourbon, was most unwisely affronted by Francis 
 I. , at a time when he needed to rally all his sub- 
 jects round him. Not only was Bourbon affronted, 
 but also a lawsuit was instituted against him, which 
 
THE IMPERIAL ALLIANCE. l5g 
 
 threatened to deprive him of the greater part of his 
 possessions. Bourbon, who could bring into the 
 field 6000 men, did not find his patriotism strong- 
 enough to endure this wrong. He opened up se- 
 cret negotiations with Charles, who disclosed the 
 matter to Henry. Henry's ambition was at once 
 fired. He saw Francis I., hopelessly weakened b}^ 
 a defection of the chief nobles, incapable of with- 
 standing an attack upon the interior of his land, so 
 that the English troops might conquer the old prov- 
 inces which England still claimed, and victory 
 might place upon his head the crown of France. 
 
 Wolsey was not misled by this fantastic prospect, 
 but as a campaign was imminent, took all the pre- 
 cautions he could that it should be as little costly as 
 possible to England, and that Charles should bear 
 his full share of the expense. He demanded, more- 
 over, that Bourbon should acknowledge Henry 
 YIII. as the rightful King of France — a demand 
 which was by no means acceptable to Charles. He 
 sent an envoy of his own to confer with Bourbon, 
 but his envoy was delayed on the way, so that the 
 agreement was framed in the imperial interests 
 alone, and the demands of Henry were little heeded. 
 The agreement was that Bourbon should receive 
 the hand of one of the Emperor's sisters, and should 
 
154 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 receive a subsidy of 200,000 crowns* to be paid 
 equally by Henry and Charles ; the question of the 
 recognition of Henry as rightful King of France 
 was to be left to the decision of the Emperor. 
 
 The plan of the campaign was quickly settled. 
 Charles, with 20,000 men, was to advance into 
 Guienne; Henry, with 15,000 English, supported 
 by 6000 J^etherlanders, was to advance through 
 Picardy ; 10,000 Germans were to advance through 
 Burgundy; and Bourbon was to head a body of 
 dissatisfied nobles of France. It was an excellent 
 plan on paper ; and, indeed, the position of France 
 seemed hopeless enough. Francis I. had squan- 
 dered his people's money, and was exceedingly un- 
 popular; Wolsey's diplomacy had helped to win 
 over the Swiss to the imperial alliance ; and the in- 
 defatigable secretary Pace had been sent to Venice 
 to detach the republic from its connection with 
 France. It was believed that Wolsey was jealous 
 of Pace's influence with Henry YIIL, and con- 
 trived to keep him employed on embassies which 
 removed him from the Court. At all events, he 
 certainly kept him busily employed till his health 
 gave way under the excessive pressm^e. To lend 
 greater weight to Pace's arguments, "Wolsey de- 
 
 *$ 242,000. 
 
THE IMPERIAL ALLIANCE. I55 
 
 scended to an act of overbearing insolence. Some 
 Venetian galleys trading with Flanders put in at 
 Plymouth during a storm ; they were laid under an 
 embargo, and were detained on many flimsy pretexts. 
 It was in vain that the Venetian ambassador re- 
 monstrated ; Wolsey always had a plausible answer. 
 Probably he wished to show Venice that its trading 
 interests required the friendship of England. At 
 all events the galleys were not released till Venice 
 was on the point of joining the imperial alliance. 
 Even then Wolsey had the meanness to carry off a 
 couple of guns from each vessel, and Venice had to 
 make a present of them to the English king with 
 as much grace as the circumstances allowed. This 
 little incident certainly shows Wolsey 's conduct at 
 its Avorst, and confirms the impression of contem- 
 poraries, that he had to some degree the insolence 
 of an upstart, and sometimes overrode the weak in 
 a way to leave behind a bitter feeling of resent- 
 ment. 
 
 However, Venice joined the Emperor, and Pope 
 Adrian VL, who had pursued hitherto a policy of 
 pacification, was at last overborne by the pressure 
 of England and the Emperor, so that he entered 
 into a defensive league against France. Thus 
 France was entirely isolated. Distrusted at home 
 
156 LIFE OF THOMAS WOI.SEY. 
 
 and unbefriended abroad, she seemed to be a prey 
 to her enemies; and Henry's hopes rose so high 
 that he gleefully looked forward to being recognized 
 as "governor of France," and that "they should 
 by this means make a way for him as King Eich- 
 ard did for his father." Wiser men shook their 
 heads at the king's infatuation. " I pray God," 
 wrote More to Wolsey, "if it be good for his Grace 
 and for this realm that then it may prove so ; and 
 else in the stead thereof I pray God send his grace 
 an honorable and profitable peace. "^ 
 
 * Sir Thomas More (1480?— 1535) was one of the most 
 illustrious Englishmen of his times, eminent as a man of 
 letters, a statesman, and a wit. In the university of Oxford, 
 where he was educated, he was one of the first Englishmen 
 to study the Greek language, and he had also the good for- 
 tune to form there a lasting friendship with Erasmus. After 
 leaving Oxford he studied law, but at this time he was 
 "seized with a violent access of devotional rapture," and, 
 resolving to become a monk, he spent several years as a lay 
 brother in a convent in London. While in the convent he 
 pursued vigorously the study of the classics, the French 
 language, and, for recreation, music. In the practice of the 
 law he rose rapidly to distinction. His first notable act of 
 political leadership was in parliament when he led the opposi- 
 tion against the demand of Henry VII. for an extravagant 
 subsidy upon the occasion of the marriage of the king's 
 daughter. The monarch, enraged at being " thwarted by a 
 beardless boy," sought vengeance ; and this he found in 
 maliciously prosecuting More's father, imprisoning him in the 
 tower, and fining him heavily. More was about to seek 
 safety in flight in foreign parts, when the death of his royal 
 enemy removed his anxiety. 
 
THE IMPERIAL ALLIANCE. 157 
 
 The spirit that breathes through this prayer is not 
 a martial spirit, and no doubt More's feelings rep- 
 resented those of Wolsey, who, though carried 
 
 Upon the accession of Henry VIII., More's talents were 
 brought into the royal service. He commanded the highest 
 confidence both of the king and of Cardinal Wolsey. He 
 was frequently sent on embassies, and was appointed to 
 various high offices in rapid succession. About the year 1516 
 he wrote his most famous work, Utopia, meaning " Nowhere" 
 modeled somewhat after Plato's Republic. In this he de- 
 scribes an imaginary island in the sea, where the ideal laws 
 are a model for England. 
 
 Upon the fall of Wolsey, More was appointed lord chan- 
 cellor. Though he was hostile to the teachings of Luther, 
 and even wrote a treatise attacking the great reformer, his 
 administration of the government was just and he was in- 
 dulgent towards the Protestants. Erasmus declared that no 
 Protestant was put to death for "these pestilent dogmas" 
 while More was lord chancellor. Certain it is that he was 
 not responsible for such persecution as then prevailed. 
 
 In the year 1532, Sir Thomas resigned the great seal be- 
 cause he could not conscientiously sanction Henry's divorce 
 from Katharine. Henry was loath to give him up, and sent 
 him a special invitation to attend the coronation of Anne 
 Boleyn, and with it the gift of £20 to purchase clothes for the 
 occasion. More, refusing to attend the ceremony, was 
 marked out for the royal vengeance. He refused to accept 
 the act of supremacy, which parliament passed in 1534, 
 making Henry the head of the church. Nor would he con- 
 sent to the act of succession which excluded the daughter of 
 Katharine from the throne in favor of the issue of Anne 
 Boleyn. This was with him a matter of conscience. He 
 was arrested upon the charge of constructive high treason 
 and imprisoned in the tower for more than a year. At his 
 trial he would have been acquitted had it not been for the 
 perjury of one Rich, solicitor general, who quitted the bar 
 and offered himself as witness for the crown, and swore that 
 
158 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 away by the king's military zeal, had little hopes of 
 any great success, and such hopes as he had were 
 rapidly destroyed. The campaign did not begin till 
 the end of September; the contingent from the 
 ISTetherlands was late in appearing and was ill sup- 
 plied with food. Till the last moment Wolsey 
 urged, as the first object of the campaign, the siege 
 of Boulogne, which, if successful, would have given 
 England a second stronghold on the French coast ; 
 but Wolsey was overruled, and an expedition into 
 the interior of France was preferred. It was a rep- 
 etition of the raid made in the last year, and was 
 equally futile. The army advanced to Montdidier, 
 
 in private conversation he had heard Sir Thomas say that 
 parliament could not make the king supreme head of the 
 church. He was thereupon condemned to be beheaded. His 
 wit could not be suppressed even at the grewsome act of his 
 execution. "The scaffold," says Froude, "had been awk- 
 wardly erected, and shook as he placed his foot upon the 
 ladder. ' See me safe up,' he said to Kingston ; ' for my 
 coming down I can shift for myself.' . . . The fatal blow was 
 about to fall when he signed for a moment's delay, while he 
 moved aside his beard. ' Pity that should be cut,' he mur- 
 mured ; ' that has not committed treason.' With which 
 strange words, — the strangest perhaps ever uttered at such a 
 time, — the lips most famous through Europe for eloquence 
 and wisdom closed for ever." 
 
 Of More's History of Eichard III., written about 1513, 
 Hallam says: " It appears to me the first example of good 
 English language, pure and perspicuous, well chosen, with- 
 out vulgarisms or pedantry." 
 
THE IMPERIAL ALLIANCE. I59 
 
 and expected tidings of its confederate ; but nothing 
 was to be heard of Bourbon ; his lanzknechts began 
 to devastate France and then disbanded. The 
 army of Charles Y. contented itself with taking 
 Fontarabia, and did not co-operate with the Eng- 
 lish forces. After the capture of Montdidier the 
 troops, who were attacked by sickness, and had 
 difficulty in finding provisions, withdrew to the 
 coast ; and the Duke of Suffolk brought back his 
 costly army without having obtained anything of 
 service to England. This expedition, which was to 
 do so much, was a total failure — there was positively 
 nothing to be shown in return for all the money 
 spent. 
 
 Again the wisdom of Wolsey's policy was fully 
 justified. He was right in thinking that England 
 had neither troops nor generals who were sufficient 
 for an expedition on the Continent, where there 
 was nothing tangible to be gained. So long as 
 England was a neutral and mediating power she 
 could pursue her own interests ; but her threats were 
 more efficacious than her performances. She could 
 not conquer unaided, and her allies had no intention 
 of allowing her to win more than empty glory. 
 Even this had been denied in the last campaigns. 
 England had incurred debts which her people could, 
 
160 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 ill afford to pay, and had only lowered her reputa- 
 tion by a display of military incompetence. More- 
 over, her expedition against France involved her in 
 the usual difficulties on the side of Scotland. Again 
 there was a devastating war along the Border; 
 again the Duke of Albany was sent from France and 
 raised an army for the invasion of England. But 
 this time Wolsey had taken his precautions, and the 
 Earl of Surrey was ready to march against him. 
 When in ISTovember Albany crossed the Tweed and 
 besieged the Castle of Wark, Surrey took the field, 
 and again Albany showed his incapacity as a leader. 
 He retired before Surrey's advance, and wished to 
 retire to France, but was prevented by the Scottish 
 lords. Again the Border raids went on with their 
 merciless slaughter and plunder, amidst which was 
 developed the sternness and severity which still 
 mark the character of the northern folk. 
 
 Still, though the Scots might be defeated in the 
 field, their defeat and suffering only served to 
 strengthen the spirit of national independence. The 
 subjugation of Scotland to England was hindered, 
 not helped, by the alliance with the Emperor, which 
 only drew Scotland nearer to France, and kept alive 
 the old feeling of hostility. It was hard to see 
 what England had to gain from the imperial alliance^ 
 
THE IMPERIAL ALLIANCE. 161 
 
 and events soon proved that Charles Y. pursued his 
 own interests without much thought of the wishes 
 of Henry YIII. 
 
 On 14:th September died Pope Adrian YI., a 
 weary and disappointed man. Again there was a 
 prospect of Wolsey's election to the papacy; again 
 it might be seen how much Charles Y. would do for 
 his English ally. Wolsey had little hope of his 
 good offices, and was his own negotiator in the mat- 
 ter. He was not sanguine about his prospects of 
 success, as he knew that Cardinal Medici was pow- 
 erful in Rome ; and the disasters of the pontificate 
 of Adrian YI. led the cardinals to wish for a return 
 to the old policy of Leo X. , of which Medici held 
 the threads. So two letters were sent to the Eng- 
 lish representatives in Eome, one in behalf of "Wol- 
 sey, the other in behalf of Medici. If things were 
 going for Medici, Wolsey was not to be pressed ; 
 only in case of a disagreement was Wolsey to be 
 put forward, and then no effort was to be spared ; 
 money was to be of no object, as Henry would 
 make good any promises made on his behalf to se- 
 cure Wolsey' s election. 
 
 The conclave was protracted; it sat from 1st 
 October to ITth November, and there was ample 
 opportunity for Charles to have made his influence 
 
162 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 felt in Wolsey's behalf. He professed to Henry 
 that he was doing so. He wrote a letter recom- 
 mending Wolsey to his envoy in Eome, and then 
 gave orders that the courier who carried the letter 
 should be detained on the way. Eeally his influ- 
 ence was being used for Medici, and though a strong 
 party in the conclave opposed Medici's election, it 
 does not appear that Wolsey was ever put forward 
 as a competitor. The cardinals would hear nothing 
 of a foreigner, and the stubbornness of Medici's 
 party was at length rewarded by his election. 
 There is no trace that Wolsey was keenly disap- 
 pointed at this result. In announcing it to Henry 
 YIII., he wrote, '' For my part, as I take God to 
 record, I am more joyous thereof than if it had for- 
 tuned upon my person, knowing his excellent quali- 
 ties most meet for the same, and how great and sure 
 a friend your Grrace and the Emperor be like to have 
 of him, and I so good a father. ' ' 
 
 Few popes came to their office amid greater ex- 
 pectations, and few more entirely disappointed them 
 than did Gruilio de' Medici. Clement YII. , whose 
 election Charles, Henry, and "Wolsey united in 
 greeting with joy, suffered in a brief space entire 
 humiliation at the hands of Charles, caused the 
 downfall of Wolsey, and drove Henry to sever the 
 
THE IMPERIAL ALLIANCE. 163 
 
 bond between the English Church and the Holy 
 See. It is impossible not to think how different 
 would have been the course of events if Wolsey had 
 presided over the destinies of the Church. 
 
CHAPTEK YII. 
 
 RENEWAL OF PEACE. 
 
 1523-1527. 
 
 The events of the year 1523 had practically made 
 an end of the imperial alliance. Henry YIII. was 
 not in a position to go to war again, and his confidence 
 in Charles Y.'s good intentions towards him was 
 dispelled. Charles and Francis had had enough of 
 war, and both of them secretly desired peace, but 
 neither would make the first move towards it. Wol- 
 sey watched their movements keenly, and strove 
 that English interests should not be entirely sacrificed 
 in the pacification which seemed imminent. He 
 strove to induce Charles to allow proposals of peace 
 to proceed from England, which should arbitrate on 
 the differences between him and Francis. He urged 
 that in any negotiations which Charles himself under- 
 took he was bound to consider how Henry could be 
 recompensed for his losses. Moreover, he secretly 
 opened up negotiations of his own with the French 
 
 164 
 
RENEWAL OF PEACE. 166 
 
 Court, and used the imperial alliance as a means to 
 heighten England's value to France. 
 
 The more Wolsey watched events the more he be- 
 came convinced that the best thing was to make a 
 separate peace with France, yet in such a way as to 
 avoid an open breach with the Emperor. There 
 were other reasons besides the failure of military ex- 
 peditions, and the distrust in any good result from 
 their continuance, which impelled Wolsey to a paci- 
 fic policy. He knew only too well that war was 
 impossible, and that the country could not bear the 
 continued drain on its resources. If Henry YII. 
 had developed the royal power by a parsimony which 
 enabled him to be free from parliamentary control, 
 Henry YIIL had dazzled his people by the splen- 
 dor of royalty, and had displayed his magnificence 
 to such an extent that Englishmen were beginning 
 to doubt if they could afford much longer to be so 
 important, or rather if England's importance in 
 Continental affairs were worth all the money that it 
 cost. Of late years the weight of taxation had be- 
 come oppressive, and the expenses of the last cam- 
 paign were difficult to meet. 
 
 There was no difference between the national rev- 
 enue and the royal revenue in Wolsey's days. The 
 king took all the money he could get, and spent it 
 
106 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 as lie thought good ; if he went to war he expected 
 his people to pay for it. In an ordinary way the 
 king was well provided for by his feudal dues and 
 the proceeds of customs, tonnage and poundage,* 
 and the tax on wool, wool-fells, and leather. When 
 extraordinary expenses were incurred Parliament 
 was summoned, and granted taxes to the king. 
 Their vote was reckoned on an old assessment of 
 tenths and fifteenths of the value of chattels pos- 
 sessed by the baronage and the commons ; and when 
 Parliament made this grant the clergy in their con- 
 vocation granted a tenth of clerical incomes. The 
 value of a tenth and fifteenth was £30,000; of a 
 clerical tenth £10,000; so that the usual grant in 
 case of any emergency amounted to £40,000 from 
 
 * " Tonnage and poundage were customs duties anciently 
 imposed upon exports and imports, the former being a duty 
 upon all wines imported in addition to prisage and butlerage, 
 the latter a duty imposed ad valorem at the rate of twelve 
 pence in the pound on all merchandise imported or exported. 
 The duties were levied at first by agreement with merchants 
 (poundage in 1302, tonnage in 1347), then granted by parlia- 
 ment in 1373, at first for a limited period only. They were 
 considered to be imposed for defence of the realm. From the 
 reign of Henry VI. until that of James I. they were usually 
 granted for life. They were not granted to Charles I. . . . 
 After the Restoration they were granted to Charles II. and 
 his two successors for life. By acts of Anne and George I. 
 the duties were made perpetual, and mortgaged for the public 
 debt. In 1787 they were finally abolished, and other modes 
 of obtaining revenue were substituted." 
 
RENEWAL OF PEACE. 167 
 
 the whole realm. For his expedition of 1513 Henry 
 obtained a vote of two tenths and fifteenths, besides 
 a subsidy of a graduated income and property tax 
 which was estimated to produce £160,000, and this 
 had to be supplemented by a further grant of tenths 
 and fifteenths in 1515. 
 
 It was in 1515 that Wolsey became Chancellor, 
 and with that office assumed the entire responsibil- 
 ity for all affairs of state. He managed to intro- 
 duce some order into the finances, and during the 
 years of pacific diplomacy things went tolerably 
 well. But the French expeditions were costly, and 
 in April, 1523, Parliament had to be summoned to 
 pay the king's debts. The war against France was 
 popular, and men were willing to contribute. 
 
 So on 15th April Henry YIII. opened Parlia- 
 ment, and Tunstal,"^ Bishop of London, delivered 
 the usual oration in praise of the king and grief over 
 
 * Cuthbert Tunstall, or Tonstall, (1475?— 1559) was an En- 
 glish prelate, man of letters, and statesman. A Catholic in 
 that age of intolerance and persecution, he was conspicuous 
 for his humanity and allowed no burning of heretics during 
 his administration. He became bishop of London in 1522, 
 lord privy seal in 1523, and bishop of Durham in 1530. Under 
 Edward VI. he was degraded from office and imprisoned in 
 the tower, but under Bloody Mary he was restored to his 
 bishopric. He refused to take the oath of supremacy after 
 Elizabeth ascended the throne, and was again deprived of his 
 see. He wrote on theological and scientific subjects. 
 
168 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 the evils of the time. The Commons departed, and 
 elected as their Speaker Sir Thomas More, who had 
 already abandoned the quiet paths of literature for 
 the stormy sea of politics. The king's assent was 
 given in the usual manner to his appointment, and 
 the session was adjourned. The Commons doubt- 
 less began to take financial matters under their con- 
 sideration, but it was thought desirable that they 
 should have a definite statement of the national 
 needs. On 29th April Wolsey went to the House, 
 and after urging the importance of the interests at 
 stake in the war, proposed a subsidy of £800,000, 
 to be raised according to an old method, by a tax of 
 four shillings in the pound on all goods and lands. 
 Next day there was much debate on this proposal ; 
 it was urged that the sudden withdrawal of so large 
 an amount of ready money would seriously affect 
 the currency, and was indeed almost impossible. 
 A committee was appointed to represent to Wolsey 
 that this was the sense of the House, and beg him 
 to induce the king to moderate his demands. Wol- 
 sey answered that he would rather have his tongue 
 pulled out with red-hot pincers than carry such a 
 message to the king. 
 
 The Commons in a melancholy mood renewed 
 their debate till Wolsey entered the House and de- 
 
RENEWAL OF PEACE. 1^9 
 
 sired to reason with those who opposed his de- 
 mands. On this Sir Thomas More, as Speaker, de- 
 fended the privilege of the House by saying, " That 
 it was the order of that House to hear and not to 
 reason save among themselves. ' ' Whereupon Wol- 
 sey was obliged to content himself with answering 
 such objections as had come to his ear. He argued, 
 it would seem with vigor, that the country was 
 much richer than they thought, and he told them 
 some unpleasant truths, which came with ill grace 
 from himself, about the prevalence of luxury. 
 After his departure the debate continued till the 
 House agreed to grant two shillings in the pound on 
 all incomes of £20 a year and upwards ; one shill- 
 ing on all between £20 and £2 ; and fourpence on 
 all incomes under £2 ; this payment to be extended 
 over two years. This was increased by a county 
 member, who said, ''Let us gentlemen of £50 a 
 year and upwards give the king of our lands a shill- 
 ing in the pound, to be paid in two years. ' ' The 
 borouo^h members stood aloof, and allowed the land- 
 holders to tax themselves an extra shilling in the 
 pound if they chose to do so. This was voted on 
 21st May, and Parliament was prorogued till 10th 
 June. Meanwhile popular feeling was greatly 
 moved by rumors of an unprecedented tax, and 
 
itO LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 what was really done was grossly exaggerated on 
 all sides. As the members left the House an angry 
 crowd greeted them with jeers. "We hear say 
 that you will grant four shillings in the pound. 
 Do so, and go home, we advise you. ' ' Really the 
 members had done the best they could, and worse 
 things were in store for them. For when the ses- 
 sion was resumed the knights of the shire showed 
 some resentment that they had been allowed to 
 outdo the burgesses in liberality. They proposed 
 that as they had agreed to pay a shilling in the 
 pound on land assessed over £50 in the third year, 
 so a like payment should be made in the fourth 
 year on all goods over the value of £50. There 
 was a stormy debate on this motion; but Sir 
 Thomas More at length made peace, and it was 
 passed. Thus Wolsey on the whole, had contrived 
 to obtain something resembling his original pro- 
 posal, but the payments were spread over a period 
 of four years. After this Wolsey, at the proro- 
 gation of Parliament, could afford to thank the Com- 
 mons on the king's behalf, and assure them that 
 ' ' his Grace would in such wise employ their loving 
 contribution as should be for the defence of his 
 realm and of his subjects, and the persecution and 
 pressing of his enemy. ' ' 
 
RENEWAL OF PEACE. 171 
 
 Yet, however Wolsey might rejoice in his suc- 
 cess, he knew that he had received a serious warn- 
 ing, which he was bound to lay to heart. He had 
 been faithful to the king, and had done his best to 
 carry out his views. The war with France was 
 none of his advising, and he had no hopes of any 
 advantage from it ; yet he was willing to take all 
 the blame of measures which inwardly he disap- 
 proved. He stood forward and assumed the un- 
 popularity of taxation, whose necessity he deplored. 
 Henry spent the nation's money at his pleasure, and 
 "Wolsey undertook the ungrateful task of squeezing 
 supplies from a reluctant Parliament, while the 
 king sat a benevolent spectator in the background. 
 Henry took all the glory, and left Wolsey to do all 
 the unpleasant work. Wolsey stood between the 
 national temper and the king ; he felt that he could 
 not stand under the odium of accomplishing many 
 more such reconciliations. England had reached 
 the limit of its aspirations after national glory. 
 Eor the future Wolsey must maintain the king's 
 honor without appealing to the national pocket. 
 
 There was no prospect of obtaining further sup- 
 plies from Parliament, and the best way to pay the 
 expenses of a futile war was by making a lucrative 
 peace. Wolsey tried to induce Francis I. to renew 
 
172 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 his financial agreement with Henry YIII. which 
 the war had broken off ; and to bring pressure to 
 bear upon him for this purpose, was willing to con- 
 tinue with Charles Y. negotiations for a fresh under- 
 taking. 
 
 So in June the unwearied Pace was sent to Bour- 
 bon's * camp to promise England's help on terms 
 which Wolsey knew were sure to be refused. Eng- 
 land would again join in a campaign against France 
 in the north, provided Bourbon, by an invasion of 
 Provence, succeeded in raising a rebellion against 
 Francis I. , and would take an oath of allegiance to 
 the English king as lord of France. Bourbon sorely 
 needed money, and did all he could to win over 
 Pace. He secretly took an oath of fidelity, not of 
 
 * Charles, duke of Bourbon (1490-1527), commonly called 
 Constable Bourbon, was the ablest general of his day in 
 France. To his skill was due the victory of the French over 
 the Swiss, who were considered invincible up to that time, at 
 the battle of Marignano (see above, p. 38, note) . He later quar- 
 relled with his king, Francis I., on account of the machinations 
 of Louise of Savoy. He then entered the service of Charles V., 
 raised an army of Germans, and won the battle of Pa via in 
 1525. As Charles, possibly jealous of Bourbon's growing 
 power, refused to pay the German troops, the general re- 
 solved to recoup them in his own way, by the spoils of vic- 
 tory. He led them through a hostile country to the city of 
 Rome, which they captured by assault. He was the first to 
 mount the wall, and was among the first slain. After his 
 death, the excesses of the soldiers were without restrain and 
 terrible. See below, p. 302. 
 
RENEWAL OF PEACE. 1^3 
 
 allegiance ; and Pace was impressed with admiration 
 of his genius and believed in his chancer of success. 
 "Wolsey was coldly cautious towards Pace's enthu- 
 siasm, and the result was a breach between them. 
 Pace openly blamed Wolsey, as Wingfield had done 
 before, and pressed for money and an armed de- 
 monstration. Wolsey soberly rebuked his lack of 
 judgment by setting before him a well-considered 
 survey of the political chances. His caution proved 
 to be justified, as Bourbon's invasion of Provence 
 was a failure. Wolsey gained all that he needed 
 by his pretence of helping Bourbon ; he induced the 
 French Court to undertake negotiations seriously by 
 means of secret envoys who were sent to London. 
 
 Still Wolsey did not hide from himself the diffi- 
 culties in the way of an alliance with France which 
 would satisfy Henry YIII. or bring substantial ad- 
 vantage to the country. However, on one point 
 he managed to obtain an immediate advantage. He 
 always kept his eye on Scotland, and now used the 
 first signs of returning friendliness on the part of 
 France to further his scheme of restoring English 
 influence in that country. In June the Duke of 
 Albany was recalled to France, and Wolsey set to 
 work to win back Queen Margaret to her brother's 
 cause. He seems to have despaired of blandish- 
 
174 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 ments, and contrived a way to have a more power- 
 ful weapon. Margaret's husband, the Earl of An- 
 gus, had been*sent by Albany to France, where he 
 was carefully guarded. On the first signs of re- 
 newed friendliness between England and France a 
 hint from Wolsey procured him an opportunity of 
 escaping to England. With Angus at his disposal 
 Wolsey urged Margaret to be reconciled to her hus- 
 band, and terrified her by the prospect of restoring 
 him to Scotland in case she refused reconciliation. 
 By playing cleverly on her personal feelings, "Wol- 
 sey led her by degrees to accept his own plan for 
 freeing Scotland from Albany and French interfer- 
 ence. He urged that the young king was now old 
 enough to rule for himself, and promised Margaret 
 help to secure her supremacy in his council. At 
 the same time he won over the Scottish lords by the 
 prospect of a marriage between James and Mary of 
 England [commonly known in history as ' ' Bloody 
 Mary], who was still Henry YIII.'s heir. In Au- 
 gust James Y. was set up as king, and the Scot- 
 tish Parliament approved, of the English marriage. 
 Again Wolsey won a signal triumph, and accom- 
 plished by diplomacy what the sword had been un- 
 able to achieve. 
 
 We need not follow the complicated diplomacy 
 
RENEWAL OF PEACE. I'^S 
 
 of the year 1524, which was transferred to Italy, 
 whither Francis I. had pursued Bourbon and was 
 engaged in the siege of Pavia. It is enough to say 
 that Wolsey pursued a cautious course : if Francis 
 won the day in Italy he was ready to treat with 
 him liberally : if the imperial arms prevailed, then 
 he could sell England's alliance more dearly. But 
 this cautious attitude was displeasing to Charles, 
 whose ambassador in London, de Praet, complained 
 without ceasing of the growing coldness of Henry 
 and Wolsey. Wolsey kept a sharp watch on De 
 Praet, and resented his keen-sightedness ; finally, 
 in February 1525, De Praet 's despatches were inter- 
 cepted, and he was called before the Council, when 
 Wolsey charged him with untruth. De Praet an- 
 swered by complaining that his privileges as an am- 
 bassador had been violated. He was ordered to 
 confine himself to his own house till the king had 
 written to the Emperor about his conduct. 
 
 This was indeed an unheard-of treatment for the 
 ambassador of an ally, and we can scarcely attribute 
 it merely to personal spite on the part of so skilled 
 a statesman as Wolsey. Perhaps it was a deliberate 
 plan to cause a personal breach between Henry and 
 the Emperor. No doubt Henry's own feelings 
 were towards Charles rather than Francis, and it 
 
176 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 seems probable that Wolsey wished to show his 
 master that Charles was only trying to make use of 
 his friendship for his own purposes. The des- 
 patches of Charles's envoy were opened and their 
 contents made known to Henry for some time be- 
 fore Wolsey took any open action. He acted when 
 he saw his master sufficiently irritated, and he prob- 
 ably suggested that the best way to give Charles a 
 lesson was by an attack upon his ambassador. This 
 proposal agreed with the high-handed manner of 
 action which Henry loved to adopt. It gave him 
 a chance of asserting his own conception of his 
 dignity, and he challenged Charles to say if he 
 identified himself with his ambassador's sentiments. 
 
 Under any circumstances it was an audacious step, 
 and as things turned out it was an unfortunate one. 
 Within a few days the news reached England that 
 Francis had been attacked at Pa via by the imperial 
 forces, had been entirely routed, and was a prisoner 
 in the hands of Charles. Though Wolsey was pre- 
 pared for some success of the imperial arms, he was 
 taken aback at the decisiveness of the stroke. His 
 time for widening the breach between Charles and 
 Henry had not been well chosen. 
 
 However, Charles saV that he could not pursue 
 his victory without money, and to obtain money he 
 
RENEWAL OF PEACE. I77 
 
 must adopt an appearance of moderation. So he 
 professed in Italy willingness to forget the past, and 
 he avoided a quarrel with England. He treated 
 the insult to his ambassador as the result of a per- 
 sonal misunderstanding. Henry complained of De 
 Praet's unfriendly bearing; Charles assured him 
 that no oifence was intended. Both parties saved 
 their dignity ; De Praet was recalled, and another 
 ambassador was sent in his stekd. 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 
 w^ar of which his judgment disapproved. 
 
 Indeed Wolsey knew that war was absolutely im- 
 possible for want of money ; but it was useless to 
 say so to the king. He was bound to try and raise 
 supplies by some means or other, and his experience 
 
 of the last Parliament had shown him that there 
 12 
 
178 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 was no more to be obtained from that source. In 
 his extremity Wolsey undertook the responsibility 
 of reviving a feudal obligation which had long been 
 forgotten. He announced that the king purposed 
 to pass the sea in person, and demanded that the 
 goodwill of his subjects should provide for his 
 proper equipment. But the goodwill of the people 
 was not allowed the privilege of spontaneous gener- 
 osity. Commissioners were appointed in every shire 
 to assess men's property, and require a sixth part of 
 it for the king's needs. Wolsey himself addressed 
 the citizens of London. When they gave a feeble 
 assent to his request for advice, " whether they 
 thought it convenient that the king should pass 
 the sea with an army or not," he proceeded, 
 '' Then he must go like a prince, which cannot be 
 without your aid." He unfolded his proposals 
 for a grant of 3s. 4d. in the pound on £50 and up- 
 wards, 2s. 8d. on £20 and upwards, and Is. in the 
 pound on £1 and upwards. Some one pleaded that 
 the times were bad. ''Sirs," said Wolsey, "speak 
 not to break what is concluded, for some shall not 
 pay even a tenth; and it were better that a few 
 should suffer indigence than the king at this time 
 should lack. Beware, therefore, and resist not, nor 
 ruffle not in this case ; otherwise it may fortune to 
 
RENEWAL OF PEACE. 179 
 
 cost some their heads." This was indeed a high- 
 handed way of dealing Tvith a public meeting, Avhich 
 was only summoned to hear the full measure of the 
 coming calamity. We cannot wonder that ' ' all 
 people cursed the cardinal and his adherents as sub- 
 verters of the laws and liberty of England." Nor 
 was Wolsey ignorant of the unpopularity which he 
 incurred; but there was no escape possible. He 
 rested only on the king's favor, and he knew that 
 the king's personal affection for him had groAvn 
 colder. He was no longer the king's friend and 
 tutor, inspiring him with his own lofty ideas and 
 slowly revealing his far-reaching schemes. Late 
 years had seen Wolsey immersed in the business of 
 the State, while the king pursued his own pleasures, 
 surrounded by companions who did their utmost to 
 undermine Wolsey 's influence. They advocated 
 war, while he longed for peace ; they encouraged 
 the royal extravagance, while he worked for 
 economy; they favored the imperial alliance and 
 humored Henry's dreams of the conquest of France, 
 while Wolsey saw that England's strength lay in a 
 powerful neutrality. The king's plans had deviated 
 from the lines which Wolsey had designed, and the 
 king's arbitrary temper had grown more impatient 
 of restraint. Wolsey had imperceptibly slipped 
 
180 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 from the position of a friend to that of a servant, and 
 he was dimly conscious that his continuance in the 
 royal service depended on his continued usefulness. 
 "Whatever the king required he was bound to provide. 
 So Wolsey strained every nerve to fill the royal 
 coffers by the device of an ''Amicable Loan," 
 which raised a storm of popular indignation. Men 
 said with truth that they had not yet paid the sub- 
 sidy voted by Parliament, and already they were 
 exposed to a new exaction. Coin had never been 
 plentiful in England, and at that time it was ex- 
 ceptionally scarce. The commissioners in the 
 different shires all reported the exceeding difficulty 
 which they met with in the discharge of their un- 
 pleasant duty. It soon became clear to "Wolsey 
 that his demand had overshot the limits of prudence, 
 and that money could not be raised on the basis of 
 the parliamentary assessment without the risk of 
 a rebellion. Accordingly Wolsey withdrew from 
 his original proposal. He sent for the mayor and 
 corporation of London and told them, in the fic- 
 titious language in which constitutional procedure 
 is always veiled, ''I kneeled down to his Grace, 
 showing him both your good minds towards him 
 and also the charge you continually sustain, the 
 which, at my desire and petition, was content to 
 
RENEWAL OF PEACE. 181 
 
 call in and abrogate the same commission. ' ' The 
 attempt to raise money on the basis of each man's 
 ratable value was abandoned, and the more usual 
 method of a benevolence was substituted in its stead. 
 
 This, however, was not much more acceptable. 
 Again Wolsey summoned the mayor and corpora- 
 tion ; but they had now grown bolder, and pleaded 
 that benevolences had been abolished by the statute 
 of Richard III. Wolsey angrily answered that Rich- 
 ard was a usurper and a murderer of his nephews ; 
 how could his acts be good ? ' ' An it please your 
 Grace, ' ' was the answer, ' ' although he did evil, 
 yet in his time were many good acts made not by 
 him only, but by the consent of the body of the 
 whole realm, which is Parliament." There was 
 nothing more to be said, and "Wolsey had to con- 
 tent himself with leaving every man to contribute 
 privily what he would. It did not seem that this 
 spontaneous liberality went far to replenish the 
 royal exchequer. 
 
 What happened in London was repeated in dif- 
 ferent forms in various parts of England. In Nor- 
 wich there was a tumult, which it needed the pres- 
 ence of the Duke of Norfolk to appease. He asked 
 the confused assembly who was their captain, and 
 bade that he should speak. Then out spake one 
 
182 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 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 IN'ecessity 
 have brought us to this doing. For all these per- 
 sons and many more live not of ourselves, but we 
 live by the substantial occupiers of this country ; 
 and yet they give us so little wages for our work- 
 manship that scarcely we be able to live ; and thus 
 in penury we pass the time, we, our wives and chil- 
 dren : and if they, by whom we live, be brought in 
 that case that they of their little cannot help us to 
 earn our living, then must we perish and die mis- 
 erably. I speak this, my lord: the clothmakers 
 have put away all their people, and a far greater 
 number, from work. The husbandmen have put 
 away their servants and given up household ; they 
 say the king asketh so much that they be not able 
 to do as they have done before this time, and 
 then of necessity must we die wretchedly. ' ' 
 
 John Greene's speech expressed only too truly the 
 condition of affairs in a period of social change. 
 The old nobility had declined, and the old form of 
 life founded on feudalism was slowly passing away. 
 Trade was becoming more important than agricul- 
 ture ; the growth of wool was more profitable than 
 the growth of corn. It is true that England as a 
 
IlENEWAL OF PEACE. 183 
 
 whole was growing richer, and that the standard of 
 comfort Avas rising ; but there was a great displace- 
 ment of labor, and consequent discontent. The 
 towns had thriven at the expense of the country ; 
 and in late years the war with France had hindered 
 trade with the ^Netherlands. The custom duties 
 had diminished, the drain of bullion for war ex- 
 penses had crippled English commerce. There had 
 been a succession of bad seasons, and every one had 
 begun to diminish his establishment and look more 
 carefully after his expenditure. 
 
 All this was well known to the Duke of ^Norfolk, 
 and was laid before the king. The commissions were 
 recalled, pardons were granted to the rioters, and the 
 loan was allowed to drop. But Wolsey had to bear all 
 the odium of the unsuccessful attempt, while the king 
 gained all the popularity of abandoning it. Yet 
 Henry YIII. resented the failure, and was angry 
 with Wolsey for exposing him to a rebuff. In spite 
 of his efforts Wolsev was ceasino^ to be so useful as 
 he had been before, and Henry began to criticise his 
 minister. Brave and resolute as Wolsey was, his 
 labors and disappointments began to tell u2)on him. 
 Since the failure of the Conference of Calais he had 
 been Avorking not at the development of a policy 
 which he approved, but at the uncongenial task of 
 
184 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 diminishiiig the dangers of a policy which he disap- 
 proved. The effects of this constant anxiety told 
 upon his health and spirits, and still more upon his 
 temper. He might be as able and as firm as ever, 
 but he no longer had the same confidence in him- 
 self. 
 
 It was perhaps this feeling which led Wolsey to 
 show the king the extremity of his desire to serve 
 him by undertaking the desperate endeavor to wring 
 more money from an exhausted people. Wolsey 
 had done his utmost to satisfy the king ; he had ac- 
 cepted without a murmur the burden of popular ha- 
 tred which the attempt was sure to bring. There is 
 a pathos in his words, reported by an unfriendly 
 hand, addressed to the council ; ' ' Because every 
 man layeth the burden from him, I am content to 
 take it on me, and to endure the fume and noise of 
 the people, for my goodwill towards the king, and 
 comfort of you, my lords and other the king's coun- 
 cillors ; but the eternal God knoweth all. " ISTor was 
 it enough that he submitted to the storm ; he wished 
 to give the king a further proof of his devotion. 
 Though others might withhold their substance, yet 
 he would not. He offered the king his house at 
 Hampton Court, which he had built as his favorite 
 retreat, and had adorned to suit his taste. It was 
 
RENEWAL OF PEACE. 185 
 
 indeed a royal gift, and Henry had no scruple in ac- 
 cepting it. But the offer seems to show an uneasy 
 desire to draw closer a bond which had been gradu- 
 ally loosened, and renew an intimacy which was per- 
 ceptibly diminishing. 
 
 However, in one way Wolsey had a right to feel 
 satisfaction even in his ill-success. If money was 
 not to be had, war was impossible, and Wolsey 
 might now pursue his own policy and work for 
 peace. He had to face the actual facts that England 
 was allied to Charles, who had won a signal victory 
 over Francis, and had in his hands a mighty hostage 
 in the person of the King of France. His first ob- 
 ject was to discover Charles Y.'s intentions, and pre- 
 vent him from using his advantage solely for his 
 own profit. Bishop Tunstal and Sir Richard Wing- 
 field were sent to Charles with orders to put on a 
 bold face, and find whether Charles thought of de- 
 throning Francis or releasing him for a ransom. In 
 the first case, they were to offer military aid from 
 England; in the second, they were to claim for 
 England a large share in the concessions to be wrung 
 out of Francis. The English demands were so ex- 
 orbitant that though they may have satisfied the 
 fantastic aspirations of Henry, Wolsey must have 
 known them to be impossible. Under cover of a 
 
186 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 friendly proposal to Charles he was really preparing 
 the way for a breach. 
 
 Charles on his side was engaged in playing a similar 
 game. In spite of his success at Pavia he was really 
 helpless. He had no money, and the captivity of the 
 ^French king awakened so much alarm in Europe that 
 he felt compelled to use his advantage moderateh^. 
 As a first measure he needed money, and saw no 
 chance of obtaining it save by marrying Isabella 
 of Portugal, who would bring him a dowry 
 of 1,000,000 golden crowns."^ For this purpose he 
 must free himself from the engagement of the treaty 
 of Windsor, by which he was betrothed to Mary of 
 England. So he acted as Wolsey was acting. He 
 professed a great desire to carry out his engagement 
 as a means of getting rid of it, and sent ambas- 
 sadors to ask that Mary and her dowry should be 
 given up to him, with a further loan of 200,000 
 ducats, t 
 
 The two embassies had crossed on the way, and 
 Henry received Charles's communication as an an- 
 swer to his demands. In this way it served "Wolsey's 
 purpose admirably, for it showed clearly enough 
 that the interests of Henry and Charles were not 
 
 * The golden crown of Portugal is valued at $10.78. 
 f The ducat is valued at $3.28, 
 
RENEWAL OF PEACE. 187 
 
 the same. Charles was bent upon pursuing his own 
 advantage, and was still willing to use Henry as a 
 useful ally ; but Henry saw nothing to be gained 
 from the alliance, and the time had come when 
 some tangible gain was to be secured from all his 
 expenditure. Hitherto he had been personally on 
 Charles's side, but in his conferences with the im- 
 perial envoys in the month of June he made it clear 
 that his patience was exhausted. Henceforth he 
 accepted Wolsey's views of peace with France. If 
 Charles was striving to make what he could out of 
 the captivity of the French king, then England 
 might as well join in the scramble. The misfortune 
 of France was England's opportunity. If Charles 
 was not willing to share his gains with Henry, then 
 Henry must pick up what he could for himself. It 
 was an unwelcome conclusion for Charles, who hoped 
 to bring the pressure of irresistible necessity to bear 
 on his captive. If England also joined in the bid- 
 ding its competition would run down his price. 
 
 Moreover, this resolution of Henry made a great 
 change in his domestic relations. Queen Katharine 
 was devoted to her nephew's interests, and had ex- 
 ercised considerable influence over her husband. 
 They talked together about politics, and Henry 
 liked to move amidst acquiescent admiration. All 
 
188 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 that was now at an end, as Katharine could not 
 change her sympathies, and had not the tact to dis- 
 guise her disapprobation. From this time forward 
 Henry did not treat her with the affection and fam- 
 iliarity which had been his wont, and when he 
 made up his mind he did not scruple to emphasize 
 his decision by his acts. He had not been a faith- 
 ful husband, but hitherto his infidelity had not been 
 a cause of domestic discord. He had an illegitimate 
 son, Henry Fitzroy, by Elizabeth Blunt, one of the 
 Queen's ladies-in-waiting; and on 15th June he 
 created this boy of six years old Duke of Richmond . 
 This he did with a display of pomp and ceremony 
 which must have been very offensive to the Queen ; 
 nor was the offence diminished when, a month after- 
 wards, the boy was created Lord High Admiral of 
 England. Such an act was, to say the least, a taunt 
 to Katharine that she had borne no son ; it was a 
 public proclamation of the king's disappointment 
 and discontent with his matrimonial lot. The luck- 
 less Katharine could make no complaint, and was 
 forced to submit to the king's will; but we cannot 
 doubt that she put down to Wolsey what was not 
 his due, and that Wolsey had to bear the hatred 
 of her friends for the king's change of policy, and 
 all that flowed from it. 
 
RENEWAL OF PEACE. 189 
 
 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 
 
 * $3,420,000. 
 
lOO LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 old claims of England for compensation from 
 France, but Wolsey knew the necessity of the mo- 
 ment, and carried all his points. 
 
 When the terms were agreed upon there was an- 
 other discussion about the security to be given. 
 Francis was a prisoner in Spain, and though his 
 mother was regent, a doubt might be thrown upon 
 her capacity to ratify such an important treaty. 
 "Wolsey would admit no doubts in the matter. He 
 knew that peace with France would not be popular, 
 but he was determined that his master should see 
 its advantage in the substantial form of ready 
 money with good security for its payment. Besides 
 ratification by the regent he demanded the personal 
 security of several French nobles, of towns and local 
 estates. At length he was satisfied. The treaty 
 was signed on 30th August, and was published on 
 6th September. Henry was to receive 2,000,000 
 crowns in annual instalments of 50,000; the treaty 
 included Scotland as an ally of France, and it was 
 stipulated that the Duke of Albany was not to 
 return. Scotland, left unprotected, was bound to 
 follow France, and in Januar}^, 1526, peace was 
 signed with Scotland to the satisfaction of both 
 countries. 
 
 Wolsey could congratulate himself on the result 
 
RENEWAL OF PEACE. 1^1 
 
 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 equilibrimn of Europe. This had 
 been achieved solely by Wolsey's diplomacy. 
 Charles Y. had received a blow which he could 
 neither parry nor resent. The French treaty with 
 England deprived Charles of the means of exercis- 
 ing irresistible pressure upon Francis, and en- 
 couraged the Italian States to form an alliance 
 against the Emperor. Francis, weary of ' his long 
 captivity, signed the treaty of Madrid, and obtained 
 his freedom in February, 1526. But he previously 
 protested against it as extorted by violence, and re- 
 fused to surrender an inch of French territory not- 
 withstanding his promises. Charles gained little by 
 his victory at Pa via. His hands were again full, as 
 the Turks invaded Hungary, and Francis joined the 
 Italian League against him. He still had every 
 motive to keep on good terms with England, and 
 "Wolsey had no desire to precipitate a breach. 
 
 So Wolsey's policy for the future was one of cau- 
 tion and reserve. The king withdrew more and 
 more from public affairs, and spent his time in hunt- 
 ing. His relations with Katharine became day by 
 
192 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 day more irksome, and he tried to forget his domes- 
 tic life by leading a life of pleasure. Wolsey strove 
 to hold the balance between Charles and Francis 
 without unduly inclining to either side. Both 
 wished to be on good terms with England, for 
 neither was free from anxiety. The sons of Francis 
 were hostages in Spain, and Charles was hampered 
 by the opposition of the Italian League. Of this 
 League Henry YIII. was a member, but he declined 
 to give it any active support. The Italians, as 
 usual, were divided, and Clement YII. was not the 
 man to direct their distracted councils successfully. 
 In September, 1526, a small force of Spaniards, 
 aided by a party amongst the Roman barons, sur- 
 prised Eome, sacked the papal palace, and filled 
 Clement with terror. Charles Y. disavowed any 
 share in this attack, and excused himself before 
 Henry's remonstrances. But as Clement did not 
 entirely amend his ways, the experiment was re- 
 peated on a larger scale. In May, 1527, the imperial 
 troops under the Duke of Bourbon and the German 
 general George Frundsberg captured and plundered 
 Rome, and took the Pope Clement YII. prisoner. * 
 
 * " The Germans stood in battalions. But when they saw 
 the Spaniards broken up and plundering, the desire was 
 aroused in them also ; and now a spirit of emulation appeared, 
 as to which nation could outdo the other in cruelty. ThQ 
 
RENEWAL OF PEACE. 193 
 
 This unwonted deed filled Europe with horror. It 
 seemed as if the Emperor had joined the enemies of 
 the Church. 
 
 Spaniards, it is asserted by impartial Italians, carried the day. 
 There had been no siege, no bombardment, no flight of any 
 great extent ; but as if the earth had opened, and had dis- 
 gorged a legion of devils, so suddenly came these hosts. 
 Everything was in a moment abandoned to them. We must 
 endeavor to conceive what kind of men these German soldiers 
 were. They formed an intermediate class between the prime 
 and the refuse of the people. Gathered together by the hope 
 of booty, indifferent to what end was assigned them, rendered 
 wild by hunger and tardy pay, left without a master after 
 the death of their commander [Bourbon was slain upon the 
 walls of the city] , they found themselves unrestrained in the 
 most luxurious city of the world — a city abounding with gold 
 and riches, and at the same time decried for centuries in Ger- 
 many, as the infernal nest of popes, who lived there as incarnate 
 devils, in the midst of their Babylonian doings. The opinion 
 that the pope of Rome, and Clement VII. in particular, was 
 the devil, prevailed not only in Germany, but in Italy and 
 in Rome the people called him so. . . . Prisoners of war 
 were at that time regarded as slaves ; they were carried away 
 as personal property, or a ransom was extorted. . . . This 
 system was carried to a great pitch in Rome. The possessors 
 of palaces wero obliged to purchase their ransom, the Spanish 
 cardinals as well as the Italian — no difference was made. 
 Thus at least escape was possible. . . . And as the people 
 were treated, so were the things. Upon the inlaid marble 
 floor of the Vatican, where the Prince of Orange took up his 
 abode — the command of the army devolving upon him after 
 Bourbon's death — the soldiers lighted their fire. The splendid 
 stained glass windows, executed by William of Marseilles, 
 were broken for the sake of the lead. Raphael's tapestries 
 were pronounced excellent booty ; in the paintings on the 
 walls the eyes were put out ; and valuable documents were 
 given as straw to the horses which stood in the Sistin^ 
 
 13 
 
194: LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 During this period Wolsey had been cautiously 
 drawing nearer to France. At first he only con- 
 templated strengthening the ties which bound the 
 two countries together; but in the beginning of 
 1527 he was willing to form a close alliance with 
 France, which must lead to a breach with the Em- 
 peror. French commissioners came to London, and 
 a proposal was made that Francis should marry 
 Mary, then a child of ten, though he was betrothed 
 to the Emperor's sister Eleanor. Wolsey 's demands 
 were high: a perpetual peace between the two 
 countries, a perpetual pension of 50,000 crowns to 
 the English king, a tribute of salt, and the sur- 
 render of Boulogne and Ardres. In the course of 
 the discussion the son of Francis, the Duke of Or- 
 leans, was substituted for the father as Mary's hus- 
 band ; on all other points Wolsey had his will, and 
 never did he show himself a more consummate 
 master of diplomacy. The treaty was signed on 
 
 Chapel. The statues in the streets were thrown down ; the 
 images of the Mother of God in the churches were broken to 
 pieces. For six months the city thus remained in the power 
 of the soldiery, who had lost all discipline. Pestilence and 
 famine appeared. Rome had more than 90,000 inhabitants 
 under Leo X. ; when Clement VII. returned a year after the 
 conquest, scarcely a third of that number then existed — 
 poor, famished people who had remained behind, because 
 they knew not whither to turn." — Herman Grimm. 
 
RENEWAL OF PEACE. 195 
 
 30th April. . The debts of Charles were transferred 
 to Francis, and Wolsey could show that he had 
 made a substantial gain. 
 
 Doubtless Wolsey intended that this peace with 
 France should form the basis of a universal peace, 
 which he never ceased to pursue. The success of 
 Charles Y. in Italy, and subsequent events at home, 
 rapidly dispelled his hopes. Already the self will of 
 Henry YIII. had driven him to consent to meas- 
 ures which were against his judgment; the same 
 self will, turned to domestic and personal affairs, 
 was already threatening to involve "VYolsey in a 
 matter whose far-reaching effects no man could 
 foresee. 
 
CHAPTEE YIII. 
 
 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, 
 bj which he was endeavoring to assure England's 
 power on the Continent, not by means of war but 
 by skilful diplomacy. In doing this he had to 
 guard the commercial relations of England with 
 the Netherlands, and had also to bow before the 
 selfwill of the king, who insisted on pursuing fan- 
 tastic designs of personal aggrandizement. Still he 
 steered a careful course amid many difficulties, 
 though when he looked back upon his labors of 
 thirteen years he must have owned to serious dis- 
 appointment. Perhaps he sometimes asked him- 
 self the question, if foreign policy was worthy of 
 the best attention of an English minister, if he had 
 not erred in adventuring on such large schemes 
 abroad. There was much to do at home; many 
 useful measures of reform awaited only a conve- 
 
 196 
 
WOLSEY'S DOMESTIC POLICY. I97 
 
 nient season. He had hoped, when first he began 
 his course, to have seen England long before this 
 time peaceful and powerful, the arbiter of Euro- 
 pean affairs, a pattern to other kingdoms, dealing 
 honestly and sagaciously with the pressing needs 
 of the time. He had labored incessantly for that 
 end, but it was as far off as ever. The year 1527 saw 
 England exhausted by useless wars, and Europe 
 plunged in irreconcilable strife. Wolsey's dream 
 of a united Europe, cautiously moved by England's 
 moderating counsels, had vanished before forces 
 which he could not control. 
 
 Meanwhile domestic reforms had been thrust into 
 the background. Wolsey was keenly alive to their 
 unportance, and had a distinct policy which he 
 wished to carry out. He had carefully gathered 
 into his hands the power which would enable him 
 to act, but he could not find the time for definite 
 action. Something he contrived to do, so as to 
 prepare the way for more ; but his schemes were 
 never revealed in their entirety, though he trained 
 the men who afterwards carried them out though in 
 a crude and brutal shape. 
 
 England was passing through a period of social 
 change which necessitated a re-adjustment of old 
 institutions. The decay of feudalism in the Wars 
 
198 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 of the Roses had been little noticed, but its results 
 had been profound. In the sphere of government 
 the check exercised bv the barons on the Crown 
 was destroyed. Henry YII. carefully depressed 
 the baronage and spared the pockets of the people, 
 who were willing to have the conduct of affairs in 
 the hands of the king so long as he kept order and 
 guarded the commercial interests, which were more 
 and more absorbing national energies. The nation 
 wished for a strong government to put down an- 
 archy and maintain order ; but the nation was not 
 willing to bear the cost of a strong government on 
 constitutional principles. Henry YII. soon found 
 that he might do what he liked provided he did not 
 ask for money ; he might raise supplies by uncon- 
 stitutional exactions on individuals provided he did 
 not embarrass the bulk of the middle classes, who 
 were busied with trade. The nobles, the rich land- 
 owners, the wealthv merchants, were left to the 
 king's mercies; so long as the pockets of the com- 
 mons were spared they troubled themselves no 
 further. 
 
 Henry YII. recognized this condition of national 
 feeling, and pursued a policy of levelling class 
 privileges and cautiously heeding the popular inter- 
 ests ; by these means he established the royal power 
 
WOLSEY'S DOMESTIC POLICY. 199 
 
 on a strong basis, and carried on his government 
 through capable officials, who took their instruc- 
 tions from himself. Some of the old nobles held 
 office, but they were gradually reduced to the same 
 level as the other officials with whom they con- 
 sorted. The power of the old nobility passed 
 silently away. 
 
 With this political change a social change cor- 
 responded. The barons of former years were great 
 in proportion to the number of their retainers and 
 the strength of their castles. J^ow retainers were 
 put down by the Star Chamber; and the feudal 
 lord was turned into the country gentleman. Land 
 changed hands rapidly; opulent merchants pos- 
 sessed themselves of estates. The face of the 
 country began to wear a new look, for the new 
 landlords did not desire a numerous tenantry but a 
 large income. The great trade of England was 
 wool, which was exported to Flanders. Tillage 
 lands were thrown into pasture; small holders 
 found it more difficult to live on their holdings; 
 complaints were heard that the country was being 
 depopulated. England was slowly passing through 
 an economic change which involved a displacement 
 of population, and consequent misery on the labor- 
 ing classes. No doubt there was a great increase 
 
200 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 in national prosperity ; but prosperity was not uni- 
 versally diffused at once, and men were keenly con- 
 scious of present difficulties. Beneath the surface 
 of society there was a widespread feeling of discon- 
 tent. 
 
 Moreover, among thinking men a new spirit was 
 beginning to prevail. In Italy this new spirit was 
 manifest by quickened curiosity about the world 
 and life, and found its expression in a study of 
 classical antiquity. Curiosity soon led to criticism ; 
 and before the new criticism the old ideas on which 
 the intellectual life of the Middle Ages was built 
 were slowly passing away. Ehetoric took the place 
 of logic, and the study of the classics superseded 
 the study of theology. This movement of thought 
 slowly found its way to England, where it began to 
 influence the higher minds. 
 
 Thus England was going through a crisis politi- 
 cally, socially, and intellectually, when Wolsey 
 undertook the management of affairs. This crisis 
 was not acute, and did not call for immedipcte 
 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 
 
WOLSEY'S DOMESTIC POLICY. ^01 
 
 great achievements abroad, and Wolsey was hope- 
 ful of success. He may be pardoned for his lofty 
 aspirations, for if he had succeeded England would 
 have led the way in a deliberate settlement of many 
 questions which concerned the wellbeing of the 
 whole of Christendom. But success eluded Wol- 
 sey's grasp, and he fell from power before he had 
 time to trace decidedly the lines on which England 
 might settle her problems for herself; and when 
 the solution came it was strangely entangled in the 
 personal questions which led to Wolsey's fall from 
 power. Yet even here we may doubt if the meas- 
 ures of the English Eeformation would have been 
 possible if Wolsey's mind had not inspired the king 
 and the nation with a heightened consciousness of 
 England's power and dignity. Wolsey's diplomacy 
 at least tore away all illusions about Pope and Em- 
 peror, and the opinion of Europe, and taught Henry 
 YIIL 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 YIIL inherited a 
 strong monarchy, Wolsey made the basis of mon- 
 archical power still stronger. It was natural that 
 he should do so, as he owed his own position entire- 
 ly to the royal favor. But never had any king so 
 
202 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 devoted a servant as had Henry YIII. , in Wolsey ; 
 and this devotion was not entirely due to motives of 
 selfish calculation or to personal attraction. Wol- 
 sey saw in the royal power the only possible means 
 of holding England together and guiding it through 
 the dangers of impending change. In his eyes the 
 king and the king alone could collect and give ex- 
 pression to the national will. England itself was 
 unconscious of its capacities, and was heedless about 
 the future. The nobles, so far as they had any 
 policy, were only desirous to win back their old 
 position. The Church was no longer the inspirer 
 of popular aspirations or the bulwark of popular 
 freedom. Its riches were regarded with a jeal- 
 ous eye by the middle classes, who were busied 
 with trade ; the defects of its organization had been 
 deplored by its most spiritually-minded sons for a 
 century ; its practices, if not its tenets, awakened 
 the ridicule of men of intelligence ; its revenues sup- 
 plied the king with officials more than they supplied 
 the country with faithful pastors ; its leaders were 
 content to look to the king for patronage and pro- 
 tection. The traders of the towns and the new 
 landlords of the country appreciated the growth of 
 their fortunes in a period of internal quiet, and 
 dreaded anything that might bring back discord. 
 
WOLSEY'S DOMESTIC POLICY. 203 
 
 The laboring classes felt that redress of their griev- 
 ances was more possible from a far-off king than from 
 landlords who» in their eyes, were bent upon extor- 
 tion. Every class looked to the king, and was con- 
 fident in his good intentions. We cannot wonder 
 that Wolsey saw in the royal power the only pos- 
 sible instrument strong enough to work reforms, and 
 set himself with goodwill to make that instrument 
 efficacious. 
 
 So Wolsey was in no sense a constitutional min- 
 ister, nor did he pay much heed to constitutional 
 forms. Parliament was only summoned once dur- 
 ing the time that he was in office, and then he tried 
 to browbeat Parliament and set aside its prerogatives. 
 In his view the only function of Parliament was to 
 grant money for the king's needs. The king should 
 say how much he needed, and Parliament ought only 
 to advise how this sum might most conveniently be 
 raised. We have seen that Wolsey failed in his at- 
 tempt to convert Parliament into a submissive in- 
 strument of royal despotism. lie under-estimated 
 the strength of constitutional forms and the influence 
 of precedent. Parliament was willing to do its ut- 
 most to meet the wishes of the king, but it would 
 not submit to Wolsey' s high-handed dictation. The 
 habits of diplomacy had impaired Wolsey 's sagacity 
 
204 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 in other fields ; lie had been so busy in managing 
 emperors and kings that he had forgotten how to 
 deal with his fellow-countrymen. He was unwise 
 in his attempt to force the king's will upon Parlia- 
 ment as an unchangeable law of its action. Henry 
 YIII. looked on and learned from Wolsey's failure, 
 and when he took the management of Parliament 
 into his own hands he showed himself a consummate 
 master of that craft. His skill in this direction has 
 scarcely been sufficiently estimated, and his success 
 has been put down to the servility of Parliament. 
 But Parliament was by no means servile under 
 "Wolsey's overbearing treatment. If it was sub- 
 servient to Henry the reason is to be found in his 
 skilful tactics. He conciliated different interests at 
 different times ; he mixed the redress of acknowl- 
 edged grievances with the assertion of far-reaching 
 claims ; he decked out selfish motives in fair-sound- 
 ing language ; he led men on step by step till they 
 were insensibly pledged to measures more drastic 
 than they approved; he kept the threads of his 
 policy in his own hands till the only escape from 
 utter confusion was an implicit confidence in his wis- 
 dom ; he made it almost impossible for those who 
 were dissatisfied to find a point on which they could 
 establish a principle for resistance. He was so skilful 
 
WOLSEY'S DOMESTIC POLICY. 205 
 
 that Parliament at last gave him even the power 
 over the purse, and Henry, without raising a mur- 
 mur, imposed taxes which Wolsey would not have 
 dared to suggest. It is impossible not to feel that 
 Henry, perhaps taught in some degree by Crom- 
 well,^ understood the temper of the English people 
 far better than Wolsey ever did. He established 
 the royal power on a broader and securer basis than 
 Wolsey could have erected. Where Wolsey would 
 have made the Crown independent of Parliament, 
 Henry YIII. 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 YIII. so worked 
 the constitutional machinery that it became an addi- 
 tional source of power to his monarchy. 
 
 * Thomas Cromwell (1490 ?-1540) was in early life a friend 
 of Wolsey. He became an adherent of the reformation 
 and was a friend of Cranmer. Entering the service of Henry 
 Vin. he rose rapidly to prominence. In 1535 he was ap- 
 pointed secretary of state and keeper of the seal. In 1536 the 
 king's supremacy over the church was delegated to him with 
 the title of Vicar-General. He was created earl of Essex 
 about 1540. His agency in the marriage of Henry VIII. to 
 Anne of Cleves entangled him in fatal toils. He was executed 
 for alleged treason and heresy. His character is differently 
 estimated by different historians, some praising him higlily, 
 and others regarding him as only a selfish and rapacious 
 courtier. Hume says that he was " worthy of a better master 
 and a better fate," which will hardly be denied. 
 
206 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 But though "Wolsey was not successful in his 
 method of making the royal power supreme over 
 Parliament, he took the blame of failure upon 
 himself, and saved the king's popularity. Wolsey 's 
 devotion to his master was complete, and cannot be 
 assigned purely to selfish motives. "Wolsey felt that 
 his opinions, his policy, his aspirations had been 
 formed through his intercourse with the king ; and 
 he was only strong when he and his master were 
 thoroughly at one. At first the two men had been 
 in complete agreement, and it cost Wolsey many a 
 pang when he found that Henry did not entirely 
 agree with his conclusions. After the imperial alli- 
 ance was made Wolsey lost much of his brilliancy, 
 Ms 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 Avere no longer in ac- 
 cord. Like many other strong men, Wolsey was 
 sensitive. He did not care for popularity, but he 
 felt the need of being understood and trusted. He 
 gave the king his aff'ection, and he craved for a re- 
 turn. There was no one else who could understand 
 him or appreciate his aims, and when he felt that 
 he was valued for his usefulness rather than trusted 
 for what he was in himself, the spring of his life's 
 energy was gone. 
 
WOLSEY'S DOMESTIC POLICY. 20Y 
 
 Still "Wolsey labored in all things to exalt the 
 royal power, for in it he saw the only hope of the 
 future, and England endorsed his opinion. But 
 AYolsey was too great a man to descend to servility, 
 and Henry always treated him with respect. In fact 
 Wolsey always behaved vf ith a strong sense of his 
 personal dignity, and carried stickling for decorum 
 to the verge of punctiliousness. Doubtless he had 
 a decided taste for splendor and magnificence, but 
 it is scarcely fair to put this down to the arrogance 
 of an upstart, as was done by his English contem- 
 poraries. Wolsey believed in the influence of out- 
 ward display on the popular mind, and did his 
 utmost to throw over the king a veil of unapproach- 
 able grandeur and unimpeachable rectitude. He 
 took upon himself the burden of the king's respon- 
 sibilities, and stood forward to shield him against 
 the danger of losing the confidence of his people. 
 As the king's representative he assumed a royal 
 state; he wished men to see that they were 
 governed from above, and he strove to accustom 
 them to the pomp of power. In his missions 
 abroad, and in his interviews with foreign ambas- 
 sadors, he was still more punctilious than in the 
 matters of domestic government. If the king was 
 always to be regarded as the king, Wolsey, as the 
 
208 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSE^. 
 
 mouthpiece of the royal will, never abated his 
 claims to honor only less than royal ; but he acted 
 not so much from self-assertion as from policy. At 
 home and abroad equally the greatness of the royal 
 power was to be unmistakably set forth, and osten- 
 tation was an element in the game of brag to which 
 a spirited foreign policy inevitably degenerates. It 
 was for the king's sake that Wolsey magnified him- 
 self; he never assumed an independent position, 
 but all his triumphs were loyally laid at the king's 
 feet. In this point, again, Wolsey overshot the 
 mark, and did not understand the English people, 
 who were not impressed in the manner which he 
 intended. When Henry took the government more 
 directly into his own hands he managed better for 
 himself, for he knew how to identify the royal will 
 with the aspirations of the people, and clothed his 
 despotism with the appearance of paternal solici- 
 tude. He made the people think that he lived for 
 them, and that their interests were his, whereas 
 Wolsey endeavored to convince the people that the 
 king alone could guard their interests, and that 
 their only course was to put entire confidence in 
 him. Henry saw that men were easier to cajole 
 than to convince ; he worked for no system of royal 
 authority, but contented himself with establishing 
 
WOLSEY'S DOMESTIC POLICY. 209 
 
 his own will. In spite of the disadvantage of a 
 royal education, Henrj was a more thorough Eng- 
 lishman than Wolsey, though "Wolsey sprang from 
 the people. 
 
 It was Wolsey' s teaching, however, that pre- 
 pared Henry for his task. The king who could 
 use a minister like Wolsey and then throw him 
 away when he was no longer useful, felt that there 
 was no limitation to his self-sufficiency. 
 
 Wolsey, indeed, was a minister in a sense which 
 had never been seen in England before, for he held 
 in his hand the chief power alike in Church and 
 State. Not only was he chancellor, but also Arch- 
 bishop of York, and endowed beside with special 
 legatine powers. These powers were not coveted 
 merely for purposes of show : Wolsey intended to 
 use them, when opportunity offered, as a means 
 of bringing the Church under the royal power as 
 completely as he wished to subject the State. He 
 had little respect for the ecclesiastical organization 
 as such ; he saw its obvious .weaknesses, and wished 
 to provide a remedy. If he was a candidate for 
 the Papacy it was from no desire to pursue an ec- 
 clesiastical policy of his own, but to make the papal 
 power subservient to England's interests. He was 
 sufficiently clear-sighted to perceive that national 
 
210 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 aspirations could not much longer be repressed by 
 the high-sounding claims of the Papacy; he saw 
 that the system of the Church must be adapted to 
 the conditions of the time, and he wished to avert a 
 revolution by a quiet process of steady and reason- 
 able reform. He was perhaps honest in saying that 
 he was not greatly anxious for the Papacy ; for he 
 knew that England gave him ample scope for his 
 energies, and he hoped that the example of Eng- 
 land would spread throughout Europe. So at the 
 beginning of his career he pressed for legatine 
 powers, which were grudgingly granted by Leo X. , 
 first for one year, and afterwards for five ; till the 
 gratitude of Clement YII. conferred them for life. 
 Clothed with this authority, and working in con- 
 cert with the king, "VYolsey was supreme over 
 the English Church, and perhaps dreamed of a fu- 
 ture in which the Koman Pontiff would practically 
 resign his claims over the northern churches to an 
 English delegate, who might become his equal or 
 superior in actual power. 
 
 However this might be, he certainly contemplated 
 the reform of the English Church by means of a 
 judicious mixture of royal and ecclesiastical author- 
 ity. Everything was propitious for such an under- 
 taking, as the position of the Church was felt to be 
 
WOLSEYS DOMESTIC POLICY. 211 
 
 in many ways anomalous and antiquated. The ris- 
 ing middle class had many grievances to complain of 
 from the ecclesiastical courts; the new landlords 
 looked with contempt on the management of mo- 
 nastic estates ; the new learning mocked at the ignor- 
 ance of the clergy, and scoffed at the superstitions 
 of a simpler past which had sur\dved 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. N^ow the State was powerful and 
 enjoyed men's confidence ; they looked to the king 
 to satisfy their material aspirations, and the Church 
 had not been very successful in keeping their spirit- 
 ual aspirations alive. It was not that men were 
 opposed to the Church, but they judged its privi- 
 leges to be excessive, its disciplinary courts to be 
 vexatious, its officials to be too numerous, and its 
 wealth to be devoted to purposes which had ceased 
 to be of the first importance. There was a general 
 desire to see a re-adjustment of many matters in 
 which the Church was concerned ; and before this 
 popular sentiment churchmen found it difficult to 
 assert their old pretensions, and preferred to rest 
 contentedly under the protection of the Crown. 
 A trivial incident shows the general condition of 
 
212 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 affairs with sufficient clearness. One of the claims 
 which on the whole the clergy had maintained was 
 the right of trial before ecclesiastical courts; and 
 the greater leniency of ecclesiastical sentences had 
 been a useful modification of the severity of the 
 criminal law, so that benefit of clergy had been per- 
 mitted to receive large extension of interpretation. 
 Further, the sanctity of holy places had been per- 
 mitted to give rights of sanctuary to criminals flee- 
 ing from justice or revenge. Both of these expedi- 
 ents had been useful in a rude state of society, and 
 had done much to uphold a higher standard of hu- 
 manity. But it was clear that they were only tem- 
 porary expedients which were needless and even 
 harmful as society grew more settled and justice 
 was regularly administered. Henry YII. had felt 
 the need of diminishing the rights of sanctuary, 
 which gave a dangerous immunity to the numerous 
 rebels against whom he had to contend, and he ob- 
 tained a bull for that purpose from Pope Innocent 
 YIII. The example which he set was speedily fol- 
 lowed, and an Act was passed by the Parliament of 
 1511, doing away with sanctuary and benefit of 
 clergy in the case of those who were accused of 
 murder. 
 
 It does not seem that the Act met with any de- 
 
WOLSEY'S DOMESTIC POLICY. 213 
 
 cided opposition at the time that it was passed; 
 but there were still sticklers for clerical immunities, 
 who regarded it as a dangerous innovation, and 
 during the session of Parliament in 1515 the Abbot 
 of Winchcombe * preached a sermon in which he 
 denounced it as an impious measure. Henry YIII. 
 adopted a course which afterwards stood him in 
 good stead in dealing with the Church; he sub- 
 mitted the question to a commission of divines and 
 temporal peers. In the course of the discussion 
 Standishjf the Warden of the Friars Minors, put 
 
 * The Abbot ofWinchcombe, Gloucestershire, was Richard 
 Kedermyster. He was educated at Oxford. In 1487 was 
 elected lord abbot of the monasteryof Winchcombe, of which 
 he was a member, and during his administration the institu- 
 tion fiourislied like a little university, it was said. About 
 1500, he resided for a year in Rome, after which he became a 
 person of influence in the court of Henry VIII. When par- 
 liament, in 1513, enacted that all robbers and murderers 
 should be denied the benefit of the clergy, except such as 
 were within the holy orders of a bishop, priest or deacon, the 
 abbot, in a vigorous sermon, declared that the act was 
 contrary to the law of God and the liberties of the holy 
 church. Kedermyster died about 1531. 
 
 f Henry Stand ish, the date of whose birth is unknown, 
 studied at both Oxford and Cambridge and was later appointed 
 warden of the Franciscan house, Greyfriars, London. He 
 obtained the favor of Henry VIII, and frequently preached 
 before the court. In the controversy over the benefit of 
 clergy he opposed Kedermyster who championed the side of 
 the clergy, and for his opposition he narrowly escaped the 
 vengeance of the brethren. It was only the king's interven- 
 
214 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 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 commis- 
 
 tion that saved him. Except in this one point, Standish sided 
 with the Church in opposition to Colet and Erasmus, and in 
 the persecution of heretics. He was appointed bishop of St. 
 Asaph in 1518. At the beginning of the proceedings of the 
 divorce of the king from Katharine, Standish was council for 
 the queen, but he afterwards took a part in the ceremonies of 
 the coronation of Anne Boleyn. On June 1, 1535, being then a 
 very old man, he formally renounced allegiance to the Cath- 
 olic Church, and he died on July 9, of the same year. 
 
WOLSEY'S DOMESTIC POLICY. 215 
 
 sion decided against the Abbot of Winchcombe and 
 ordered him to apologize. 
 
 The bishops vented their anger on Standish, and 
 summoned him to answer for his conduct before 
 Convocation, whereon he appealed to the king. 
 Again Henry appointed a commission, this time ex- 
 clusively of lajnnen, to decide between Standish 
 and his accusers. They reported that Convocation, 
 by its proceeding against one who was acting as a 
 royal commissioner, had incurred the penalties of 
 praemunire, and they added that the king could, if 
 he chose, hold a parliament without the lords spirit- 
 ual, who had no place therein save by virtue of 
 their temporal possessions. Probably this was in- 
 tended as a significant hint to the spirituality that 
 they had better not interfere unduly with parlia- 
 mentary proceedings. Moreover, at the same time 
 a case had occurred which stirred popular feeling 
 against the ecclesiastical courts. A London mer- 
 chant had been arrested by the chancellor of the 
 Bishop of London on a charge of heresy, and a few 
 days after his arrest was found hanging dead in 
 his cell. Doubtless the unhapp}^ man had com- 
 mitted suicide, but there was a suspicion that his 
 arrest was due to a private grudge on the part of 
 the chancellor, who was accused of having made 
 
216 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 away with him privily. Popular feeling waxed 
 high, and the lords who gave their decision so 
 roundly against Convocation knew that they were 
 sure of popular support. 
 
 Henry was not sorry of an opportunity of teach- 
 ing the clergy their dependence upon himself, and 
 he summoned the bishops before him that he might 
 read them a lesson. Wolsey's action on this occa- 
 sion is noticeable. He seems to have been the only 
 one who saw the gravity of the situation, and he 
 strove to effect a dignified compromise. Before the 
 king could speak "Wolsey knelt before him and in- 
 terceded for the clergy. He said that they had 
 designed nothing against the king's prerogative, but 
 thought it their duty to uphold the rights of the 
 Church; he praj^ed that the matter might be re- 
 ferred to the decision of the Pope. Henry answered 
 that he was satisfied with the arguments of Stand- 
 ish. Fox, Bishop of Winchester, turned angrily on 
 Standish, and Archbishop War ham plucked up his 
 courage so far as to say feebly, " Many holy men 
 have resisted the law of England on this point and 
 have suffered martyrdom. ' ' But Henry knew that 
 he had not to deal with a second Becket, and that the 
 days of Becket had gone by forever. He would 
 have nothing to say to papal intervention or to 
 
WOLSEY'S DOMESTIC POLICY. 217 
 
 clerical privilege ; the time had come for the asser- 
 tion of royal authority, and Henry could use his 
 opportunity as skilfully as the most skilful priest. 
 " We," said he, '' are by God's grace king of Eng- 
 land, and have no superior but God ; we will main- 
 tain the rights of the Crown like our predecessors ; 
 your decrees you break and interpret at your pleas- 
 ure : but we will not consent to your interpretation 
 any more than our predecessors have done. ' ' The 
 immemorial rights of the English Crown were 
 vaguer and more formidable than the rights of the 
 Church, and the bishops retired in silence. Henry 
 did not forget the service rendered him by Standish, 
 who was made Bishop of St. Asaph in 1518. 
 
 In this incident we have a forecast of the subse- 
 quent course of events — the threat of prsemunire, 
 the assertion of the royal supremacy, the submission 
 of the clergy. J^othing was wanting save a suffi- 
 cient motive to work a revolution in the ancient re- 
 lations betAveen Church and State. Wolsey alone 
 seems to have seen how precarious was the existing 
 position of the Church. He knew that the Church 
 was wrong, and that it would have to give way, 
 but he wished to clothe its submission with a sem- 
 blance of dignity, and to use the papal power, not 
 as a means of guarding the rights of the Church, 
 
218 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 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 Avas loyal to the Church 
 as an institution, and did not wish it to fall unre- 
 servedly to the tender mercies of the king. He saw 
 that this was only to be avoided by a judicious 
 pliancy on the Church's part, which could gain a 
 breathing-space for carrying out gradual reforms. 
 
 The fact that Wolsey was a statesman rather than 
 an ecclesiastic gave him a clear view of the direction 
 which a conservative reformation should pursue. 
 He saw that the Church was too wealthy and too 
 powerful for the work which it was actually doing. 
 The wealth and power of the Church were a herit- 
 age from a former age, in w^hich the care for the 
 higher interests of society fell entirely into the 
 hands of the Church because the State was rude and 
 barbarous, and had no machinery save for the dis- 
 charge of rudimentary duties. Bishops were the 
 only officials who could curb the lawlessness of feu- 
 dal lords; the clergy were the only refuge from 
 local tyranny ; monks were the only landlords who 
 cleared the forests, drained the marshes, and taught 
 the pursuits of peace ; monastery schools educated 
 the sons of peasants, and the universities gave young 
 
WOLSEY'S DOMESTIC POLICY. 219 
 
 men of ability a career. All the humanitarian 
 duties of society were discharged by the Church, 
 and the Church had grown in wealth and importance 
 because of its readiness to discharge them. But as 
 the State grew stronger, and as the power of Par- 
 liament increased, it was natural that duties which 
 had once been delegated should be assumed by the 
 community at large. It was equally natural that 
 institutions which had once been useful should out- 
 last their usefulness and be regarded with a jealous 
 eye. By the end of the reign of Edward I. (130T) 
 England had been provided with as many monastic 
 institutions as it needed, and the character of mon- 
 asticism began to decline. Benefactions for social 
 purposes from that time forward were mainly de- 
 voted to colleges, hospitals, and schools. The fact 
 that so many great churchmen were royal ministers 
 shows how the energy of the Church was placed at 
 the disposal of the State and was by it absorbed. 
 The Church possessed revenues, and a staff of officials 
 which were too large for the time, in which it was 
 not the only worker in the field of social welfare. 
 It possessed rights and privileges which were neces- 
 sary for its protection in days of anarchy and law- 
 lessness, but which were invidious in days of more 
 settled government. Moreover, the tenure of so 
 
^26 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 much land by ecclesiastical corporations like monas- 
 teries, was viewed with jealousy in a time when 
 commercial competition was becoming a dominant 
 motive in a society which had ceased to be mainly 
 warlike. 
 
 From this point of view Wolsey was prepared for 
 gradual changes in the position of the Church ; but 
 he did not wish those changes to be revolutionary, 
 nor did he wish them to be made b}^' 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 alil^e. 
 
 He did not, however, deceive himself about the 
 practical difficulties in the way of a conservative re- 
 form, which should remove the causes of popular 
 discontent, and leave the Church an integral part of 
 the State organization. He knew that the ecclesias- 
 tical system, even in its manifest abuses, was close- 
 ly interwoven with English society, and he knew 
 the strength of clerical conservatism. He knew 
 also the dangers which beset the Church if it came 
 across the royal will and pleasure. If any reform 
 were to be carried out it mustbe by raising the stan- 
 dard of clerical intelligence. Already many things 
 
WOLSEY'S DOMESTIC POLICY. 221 
 
 which h?A accorded with the simpler minds of an 
 earlier age had become objects of mockery to edu- 
 cated laymen. The raillery of Erasmus at the relics 
 of St. Thomas of Canterbury and the Yirgin's milk 
 preserved at Walsingham * expressed the difference 
 which had arisen between the old practices of relig- 
 ion and the belief of thoughtful men. It would be 
 well to divert some of the revenues of the Church 
 from the maintenance of idle and ignorant monks 
 to the education of a body of learned clergy. 
 
 This diversion of monastic property had long been 
 projected and attempted. William of Wykeham f 
 
 * Matthew xxiii : 27 reads as follows : *' Woe unto you, 
 scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites ! for ye are like unto whited 
 sepulchres, which indeed appear beautiful outward, but are 
 within full of dead men's bones and of all uncleanness." The 
 comment of Erasmus was : " What would Jerome say could 
 he see the Virgin's milk exhibited for money, with as much 
 honor paid to it as to the consecrated body of Christ ; the mi- 
 raculous oil ; the portions of the true Cross, enough if they 
 were collected to freight a large ship ? Here we have the 
 hood of St. Francis, there Our Lady's petticoat, or St. Anne's 
 comb, or St. Thomas of Canterbury's shoes ; not presented as 
 innocent aids to religion, but as the subtance of religion itself 
 — and all through the avarice of priests and the hypocrisy of 
 monks playing on the credulity of the people. Even bishops 
 play their parts in these fantastic shows, and approve and 
 dwell on them in their rescripts." It is not in the least sur- 
 prising that Ignatius Loyola, the founder of the Jesuits, 
 should say that " he read a little and could not go on ; it 
 checked his devotional emotions." 
 
 f William of Wykeham (1324-1404) rose from obscure be-* 
 
222 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 endowed his l^ew College at Oxford with lands 
 which he purchased from monasteries. Henry YI. 
 endowed Eton and King's College with revenues 
 which came from the suppression of alien priories. 
 In 1497 John Alcock, Bishop of Elj^, obtained leave 
 to suppress the decrepit nunnery of St. Ehadegund 
 in Cambridge and use its site for the foundation 
 of Jesus College. Wolsey only carried farther and 
 made more definite the example which had pre- 
 viously been set when in 1524 he obtained from 
 Pope Clement YII. permission to convert into a 
 college the monastery of St. Frideswyde in Oxford. 
 Soon after he obtained a bull allowing him to sup- 
 press monasteries with fewer than seven inmates, 
 and devote their revenues to educational purposes. 
 Nor was Wolsey the only man who was of opin- 
 ion that the days of monasticism were numbered. 
 
 ginnings to such influence that " everything was done by him 
 and nothing without him." In 1364 he was appointed by 
 Edward III. keeper of the privy seal and secretary to the 
 King. In 1367 he was made Bishop of Winchester and Clian- 
 cellor of England. In 1380 he begun New College, Oxford, 
 and in 1387 Winchester school. In 1394, being then about 
 seventy years of age, he be:,;an the reconstruction of the 
 cathedral of Winchester, a splendid piece of work, and per- 
 sonally supervised untiM403. Wyciiffe spoke of him as " a 
 builder of castles," but he founded his colleges " first for the 
 glory of God and the promotion of divine service, and second- 
 arily for scholarships." He has been called the father of the 
 public school system of England, See also above, p. 19, note. 
 
WOLSEY'S DOMESTIC POLICY. 223 
 
 In 1515 Bishop Fox of Winchester contemplated the 
 foundation of a college at Oxford in connection 
 with the monastery of St. Swithin at Winchester. 
 He was dissuaded from making his college depend- 
 ent on a monastery by his brother bishop, Oldham 
 of Exeter, who said, " Shall we build houses and 
 provide livelihoods for a company of bussing monks, 
 whose end and fall we ourselves may live to see? 
 No, no : it is meet to provide for the increase of 
 learning, and for such as by learning shall do good 
 to Church and commonwealth." Oldham's advice 
 prevailed, and the statutes of Fox's college of 
 Brasenose were marked by the influence of the new 
 learning as distinct from the old theology. 
 
 Still Wolsey's bull for the wholesale dissolution 
 of small monasteries was the beginning of a pro- 
 cess which did not cease till all were swept away. 
 It introduced a principle of measuring the utility of 
 old institutions and judging their right to exist by 
 their power of rendering service to the community. 
 Relig-ious houses whose shrunken revenues could not 
 support more than seven monks, according to the 
 rising standard of monastic comfort, were scarcely 
 likely to maintain serious discipline or pursue any 
 lofty end. But it was the very reasonableness of 
 this method of judgment which rendered it exceed- 
 
224 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 ingly dangerous. Tried by this standard, who 
 could hope to escape ? Fuller scarcely exagger- 
 ates when he says that this measure of Wolsey's 
 ' ' made all the forest of religious foundations in 
 England to shake, justly fearing that the king 
 would fell the oaks when the cardinal had begun 
 to cut the underwood. ' ' It would perhaps have re- 
 quired too much wisdom for the monks to see that 
 submission to the cardinal's pruning-knife was the 
 only means of averting the clang of the royal axe. 
 
 The method which Wolsey pursued was after- 
 wards borrowed by Henry YIII. Commissioners 
 were sent out to inquire into the condition of small 
 monasteries, and after an unfavorable report their 
 dissolution was required, and their members were 
 removed to a larger house. The work was one 
 which needed care and dexterity as well as a good 
 knowledge of business. Wolsey was lucky in his 
 agents, chief amongst whom was Thomas Crom- 
 well, an attorney whose cleverness Wolsey quickly 
 perceived. In fact most of the men who so cleverly 
 managed the dissolution of the monasteries for 
 Henry had learned the knack under "Wolsey, who 
 was fated to train up instruments for purposes 
 which he would have abhorred. 
 
 The immediate objects to which Wolsey devoted 
 
WOLSEY'S DOMESTIC POLICY. 225 
 
 the money which he obtamed 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 vfith 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 integrit}^, for on Wolsey's fall his works were 
 not completed, and were involved in his forfeiture. 
 Few things gave him more grief than the threatened 
 check of this memorial of his greatness, .and owing 
 to his earnest entreaties his college at Oxford was 
 spared and was refounded. Its name, however, was 
 changed from Cardinal College to Christ Church,* 
 
 * Henry VIII., in 1530, announced his intention of dissolv- 
 ing Cardinal College and seizing its property to his own use. 
 " Thus," says Dr. Brewer, " one of the noblest foundations 
 for education, so much needed for the eastern counties, was 
 brought to desolation by the avarice of the King and the 
 greed of his favorites." Cardinal College was totally sup- 
 pressed, and when, nearly two years later, another institution 
 was set up in its stead, under the title of " King Henry the 
 Eighth's College," provision was made for no more than a 
 dean and twelve canons, not necessarily connected with the 
 university, and a few clerks and choristers. This purely ec- 
 clesiastical body was in its turn suppressed in 1545, to make 
 way for the grander foundation w^hich still flourishes under 
 the name of Christ Church. Thus, after many vicissitudes, 
 the venerable minister of St. Frideswyde, one of the few re- 
 maining memorials of pre-academic Oxford, now serves as 
 
 15 
 
226 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 and it was not entirely identified with "Wolsey's 
 glory. The college at Ipswich fell into abeyance. 
 
 Wolsey's design for Cardinal College was on a 
 magnificent scale. He devised a large court sur- 
 rounded by a cloister, with a spacious dining-hall 
 on one side. The hall was the first building which 
 he took in hand, and this fact is significant of his 
 idea of academic life. He conceived a college as an 
 organic society of men living in common, and by 
 their intercourse generating and expressing a power- 
 ful body of opinion. Contemporaries mocked and 
 said, ' ' A fine piece of business ; this cardinal pro- 
 jected a college and has built a tavern. ' ' They did 
 not understand that Wolsey was not merely adding 
 to the number of Oxford colleges, but was creating 
 a society which should dominate the University, and 
 be the center of a new intellectual movement. For 
 this purpose Wolsey devised a foundation which 
 should be at once ecclesiastical and civil, and should 
 set forward his own conception of the relations be- 
 tween the Church and the intellectual and social life 
 of the nation. His foundation consisted of a dean, 
 sixty canons, six professors, forty petty canons, 
 
 \ 
 the chapel of the largest college in the university and as the 
 Cathedral church of the diocese. — See History of the Univer- 
 sity of Oxford, by H. C, Maxwell Lyte, 
 
WOLSEY'S DOMESTIC POLICY. 227 
 
 twelve chaplains, twelve clerks, and sixteen choris- 
 ters ; and he proposed to fill it with men of his own 
 choice, vfho would find there a fitting sphere for 
 their energies. 
 
 Wolsey was a man well adapted to hold the bal- 
 ance between the old and the new learning. He 
 had been trained in the theology of the schools, and 
 was a student of St. Thomas Aquinas ; but he had 
 learned by the training of life to understand the 
 new ideas; he grasped their importance, and he 
 foresaw their triumph. He was a friend of the 
 band of English scholars who brought to Oxford the 
 study of Greek, and he sympathized with the in- 
 tellectual aspirations of Grocyn,* Colet, More, and 
 Erasmus. Perhaps he rather sympathized than un- 
 derstood ; but his influence was cast on their side 
 when the opposition to the new learning broke out 
 in the University and the Trojans waged a des- 
 perate and at first a successful war against the 
 
 * William Grocyn (1442?-1519) was a warm friend of Erasmus. 
 About 1489 he went to Rome and studied the Greek language. 
 Returning to England lie was appointed to the professorship 
 of Greek in Oxford University, and was the first professor of 
 that language in England. Sir Thomas More was one of his 
 early pupils. Erasmus describes him as an incomparable man, 
 and an accurate scholar, skilled in various branches of learn- 
 ing. He publislied nothing and liis fame rests entirely on his 
 lectures delivered in Oxford and Loudon. 
 
228 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 Greeks. The more ignorant among the clerical 
 teachers objected to any widening of the old studies, 
 and resented the substitution of biblical or patristic 
 theology for the study of the schoolmen. They 
 dreaded the effects of the critical method, and were 
 not reassured when Grocyn, in a sermon at St. 
 Paul's Cathedral, declared that the writings at- 
 tributed to Dionysius the Areopagite ^ were spurious. 
 A wave of obscurantism swejDt over Oxford, and, 
 as Tyndale puts it, ^'the barking curs, Dun's dis- 
 ciples, the children of darkness, raged in every 
 pulpit against Greek, Latin, and Hebrew. ' ' 
 
 Wolsey used the king's authority to rebuke the 
 assailants of learning ; but the new teachers with- 
 drew from Oxford, and Wolsey saw that if the 
 
 • 
 
 * Dionysius the Areopagite was a convert of the apostle 
 Paul (see Acts xvii : 34) and was reputed to be the first 
 bishop of Athens. The writings attributed to him emanated 
 from an Alexandrian in the sixth century. The writings are 
 the expression of the Neo-Platonism and Christian mysticism 
 of the time. They gradually made their way in Europe, and 
 in the middle ages exercised an incalculable influence in the 
 Church. It the ninth century, John Scotns Erigena (Duns 
 Scotus) translated these works into Lathi and in this tongue 
 they were more accessible. "The Florentine Platonists of 
 the fifteenth century studied them with ardor, as did the 
 English humanists, Colet and Grocyn. Their influence is 
 plainly traceable in Dante's Divine Comedy. The authenti- 
 city of these writings is still maintained here and there, in 
 spite of the overwhelming evidence to the contrary." 
 
WOLSEY'S DOMESTIC POLICY. 229 
 
 new learning was to make way it must have a se- 
 cure footing. Accordingly he set himself to get 
 the universities into his power, and in 1517 pro- 
 posed to found university lectureships in Oxford. 
 Hitherto the teaching given in the universities had 
 been voluntary; teachers arose and maintained 
 themselves by a process of natural selection. Ex- 
 cellent as such a system may seem, it did not lead 
 to progress, and already the Lady Margaret, Coun- 
 tess of Richmond, Henry YII.'s mother, had 
 adopted the advice of Bishop Fisher, and founded 
 divinity professorships in the two universities. 
 "Wolsey wished to extend this system and organize 
 an entire staff of teachers for university purposes. 
 We do not know how far he showed his intention, 
 but such was his influence that Oxford submitted its 
 statutes to hmi for revision. Wolsey' s hands were 
 too full of other work for him to undertake at once 
 so delicate a matter ; but he meant undoubtedly to 
 reorganize the system of university education, and 
 for this purpose prevailed on Cambridge also to 
 entrust its statutes to his hands. Again he had 
 prepared the v/ay for a great undertaking, and had 
 dexterously used his position to remove all obsta- 
 cles, and prepare a field for the work of reconstruc- 
 tion. Again he was prevented from carrying out 
 
230 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 Ms designs, and his educational reform was never 
 actually made. "We can only trace Ms 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 staif of teachers chosen from the 
 first scholars of Europe. 
 
 Another matter gives another indication of Wol- 
 sey's desire to remove the grievances felt against 
 the Church. If the monasteries were survivals of a 
 time when the Church discharged the humanitarian 
 duties of society, the ecclesiastical courts were in a 
 like manner survivals of a time when the civil 
 courts were not yet able to deal with ma.ny points 
 which concerned the relations between man and 
 man, or which regulated individual conduct. Thus 
 marriage was a religions ceremony, and all ques- 
 tions which arose from the marriage contract were 
 decided in the ecclesiastical courts. Similarly 
 
 * Juan Luis Vives (1492-1'540) studied at the university of 
 Louvain and became professor of Latin in that institution. 
 He went to England as tutor of princess Mary. When Henry 
 was suing for divorce from Katharine, the suit was opposed 
 by Vives who, for this offence was imprisoned. On his release 
 he settled at Bruges, in Belgium, where he became the in- 
 timate friend of Erasmus and Budssus, "The three have 
 been called a triumvirate in the republic of letters, equally 
 eminent for talents and learning." 
 
WOLSEY'S DOMESTIC POLICY. 231 
 
 wills were recognized by the Church, as resting on 
 the moral basis of mutual confidence, long before 
 the State was prepared to acknowledge their valid- 
 ity. Besides these cases which arose from contract, 
 the Church exercised a disciplinary supervision over 
 its members for the good of their souls, and to avoid 
 scandals in a Christian community. On all these 
 points the principles of the Church had leavened 
 the conceptions of the State, and the civil jurisdic- 
 tion had in many matters overtaken the ecclesias- 
 tical. But the clerical courts stood stubbornly upon 
 their claim to greater antiquity, and the activity of 
 ecclesiastical lawyers found plenty of work to do. 
 Disciplinary jurisdiction was unduly extended by a 
 class of trained officials, and was resented bv the 
 .growing independence of the rising middle class. 
 ]^o doubt the ecclesiastical courts needed reform, 
 but the difficulties in the way of reforming legal 
 procedure are always great. "VYolsey faced the 
 problem in a way which is most characteristic of 
 his statesmanship. He strove to bring the question 
 to maturity for solution by getting the control of 
 the ecclesiastical courts into his own hands. For 
 this purpose he used his exceptional position as 
 Papal Legate, and instituted a legatine court which 
 should supersede the ordinary jurisdiction. Natur- 
 
232 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 ally enough this brought him into collision with 
 Archbishop Warham, and his fall prevented him 
 from developing his policy. His attempt only left 
 the ecclesiastical courts in worse confusion, and 
 added to the strength of the opposition, which soon 
 robbed them of most of their powers. It added 
 also to Wolsey's unpopularity, and gave a shadow 
 of justice to the unworthy means which were used 
 for his destruction. 
 
 In fact, wherever we look, we see that in domes- 
 tic affairs "Wolsey had a clear conception of the ob- 
 jects to be immediately pursued by a conservative 
 reformer. But a conservative reformer raises as 
 much hostility as does a revolutionist, for the mass 
 of men are not sufficiently foreseeing or sufficiently 
 disinterested willingly to abandon profitable abuses. 
 They feel less animosity against the open enemy 
 who aims avowedly at their destruction, than 
 against the seeming friends, who would deprive 
 them of what they consider to be their rights. The 
 clergy submitted more readily to the abolition of 
 their privileges by the king than they would have 
 submitted to a reform at the hands of Wolsey. 
 They could understand the one; they could not 
 understand the other. This was natural, for Wolsey 
 had no lofty principles to set before them ; he had 
 
WOLSEY'S DOMESTIC POLICY. 238 
 
 only the wisdom of a keensighted statesman, who 
 read the signs of the times. Indeed he did not 
 waste his time in trying to persuade others to see 
 with his eyes. He could not have ventured to 
 speak out and say that the Church must choose 
 between the tender mercies of the royal power and 
 submission to the discretion of one who, standing 
 between the king and the Pope, was prepared to 
 throw a semblance of ecclesiastical recognition over 
 reforms which were inevitable. It is clear that 
 Wolsey was working for the one possible com- 
 promise, and he hoped to effect it by his own 
 dexterity. Secure of the royal favor, secure through 
 his political importance of the papal acquiescence 
 in the use which he made of his legatine power, 
 standing forward as the chief ecclesiastic in Eng- 
 land, he aimed at accomplishing such reforms as 
 would have brought into harmon}^ the relations be- 
 tween Church and State. He did not hope to do 
 this by persuasion, but by power, and had taken 
 steps to lay his hand cautiously on different parts 
 of the ecclesiastical organization. With this idea 
 before him we may safely acquit Wolsey of any 
 undue ambition for the papal office; he doubted 
 whether his influence would be increased or not by 
 its possession. 
 
234 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 In everything that Wolsey did he played for the 
 highest stakes, and risked all upon the hope of ulti- 
 mate success. He trusted to justify himself in the 
 long-run, and was heedless of the opposition which 
 he called forth. Besting solely upon the royal 
 favor, he did not try to conciliate, nor did he pause 
 to explain. Men could not understand his ends, 
 but they profoundly disliked his means. The sup- 
 pression of small monasteries, which might be use- 
 less but served to provide for ^^ounger sons or 
 dependants of country families, was very unpopular, 
 as coming from a cardinal who enjoyed the revenues 
 of many ecclesiastical offices whose duties he did 
 not discharge. The setting up of a legatine court 
 was hateful to the national sentiment of English- 
 men, who saw in it only another engine of ecclesi- 
 astical oppression. The pomp and magnificence 
 wherewith "Wolsey asserted a greatness which he 
 mainly valued as a means of doing his country ser- 
 vice, was resented as the vulgar arrogance of an 
 upstart. Wolsey' s ideas were too great to pay any 
 heed to the prejudices of Englishm_en which, after 
 all, have determined the success of all English min- 
 isters, and which no English statesman has ever been 
 powerful enough to disregard. 
 
CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 THE king's DIVOKCB. 
 
 1527-1529. 
 
 If Wolsey hoped that the peace with France, 
 which he had so successfully concluded in the begin- 
 ning of 1527, would enable him to reassert Eng- 
 land's influence on the Continent, and would give 
 him an opportunity for the work of domestic re- 
 form, he was sorely disappointed. A new matter 
 arose, not entirely unexpected, but which widened 
 into unexpected issues, and consumed "Wolsey's 
 energies till it led to his fall. The project of the 
 king's divorce was suddenly mooted; and this per- 
 sonal matter, before it was ripe for settlement, 
 gradually drew into its sphere all the questions con- 
 cerning England's foreign and domestic policy 
 which Wolsey's statesmanship had been trying to 
 solve by wise and well-considered means. Wolsey 
 had been gathering into his hands the threads of a 
 complicated policy, each one of which required dex- 
 terous handling, in accordance with a great design. 
 
 He found himself suddenly called upon to act pre- 
 
 235 
 
236 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 cipitately for the accomplishment of a small matter, 
 which brought all the difficulties of his position 
 prominently forward, and gave him no time for that 
 skilful diplomacy in which he excelled. Moreover, 
 when the project was started neither Henry nor 
 Wolsey could have foreseen the complications which 
 would arise ; still less could Wolsey have known the 
 obstinacy which the faintest opposition to the royal 
 will would develop in the king, or the extent to 
 which he could persuade himself that the satisfac- 
 tion of the royal pleasure was the sole purpose of 
 the existence of the power of the State. At first 
 Henry had sympathized with Wolsey 's far-reaching 
 schemes. Latterly he had at all events been willing 
 to allow Wolsey to have his own way on the whole. 
 The time came when he showed himself a hard task- 
 master, and demanded that Wolsey should at all 
 costs satisfy his personal desires in a matter which 
 he persuaded hunself was all-important to the nation 
 at large. 
 
 Yiewed according to the general notions of the 
 time, there was nothing very surprising in the fact 
 that Henry YIII. should wish for a divorce. 
 Royal marriages were made and unmade from mo- 
 tives of expediency ; it was only a question of ob- 
 taining a decent plea. The sons of Katharine had 
 
THE KING'S DIVORCE. 237 
 
 died in infancy, and Mary was the only heir of the 
 English throne; it was a matter of importance to 
 the future of England that the succession to the 
 throne should be clearly established. If Henry had 
 remained attached to his wife this consideration 
 would not have been put forward ; but Henry was 
 never famed for constancy. He was in the prime 
 of life, while Katharine was over forty.* He had 
 developed in character, not for the better, while she 
 remained true to the narrow traditions of her early 
 training. She was an excellent housewife, con- 
 scientious, decorous, and capable ; but . she was 
 devoted to the political interests of Spain, and 
 admired her nephew Charles. While the imperial 
 alliance was warmly pursued by Henry she was 
 happy; when Henry's zeal for Charles began to 
 fade she felt offended, and was not judicious in the 
 display of her political bias. Henry was more and 
 more annoyed by his wife's discontent, and the 
 breach between them rapidly widened. When 
 Henry broke with Charles and allied himself with 
 France he seems to have felt that his domestic peace 
 was at an end, and he was not the man to shrink 
 from the effort to re-establish it upon another basis. 
 Perhaps none of these considerations would have 
 * Henry was about six years younger than Katharine. 
 
238 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 moved Henry to take prompt action if his desires 
 had not been kindled by a new object of his affec- 
 tion. He had not been a faithful husband, and 
 Katharine seems to have been indulgent to his in- 
 fidelities. In the course of 1526 he was captivated 
 by the charms of Anne Boleyn, as he had formerly 
 been captivated by her sister Mary. But Anne 
 had learned that the king was fickle, and she 
 resolved that she would not be so easily won as to 
 be lightly abandoned. She skilfully managed to 
 make herself agreeable to the king ^ till his passion 
 for her became so violent that he was prepared to 
 accept her terms and make her his lawful wife. 
 
 Wolsey was not in favor of this plan ; but he was 
 not opposed to getting rid of the political influence 
 of Katharine, and he believed that the king's fancy 
 for Anne Boleyn would rapidly pass away. What- 
 ever his own personal opinion might be, he did not 
 venture to gainsay the king in a matter on which he 
 was resolved, and he lent himself to be an instru- 
 ment in a matter which involved him in measures 
 which became more and more discreditable. The 
 first idea of the king was to declare his marriage 
 with Katharine unlawful, on the ground that 
 she had previously been his brother's wife; but 
 he was cognizant of that when he married her 
 
THE KING'S DIVORCE. 239 
 
 and had applied for a papal dispensation to remedy 
 that source of invalidity. Doubtless some plea 
 might be discovered to enable the' Pope to set 
 aside the dispensation granted bv his predecessor. 
 But whatever technical grounds might be used to 
 justify the Pope's decision in the king's favor, the 
 Pope could not be expected to act in such a manner 
 as to offend the Powers of Europe and shock the 
 moral sense of Englishmen. Wolsey did not hide 
 from himself that there were three hindrances in the 
 way of legalizing the king's divorce. The opinion 
 of England was not in its favor ; Charles Y . was 
 likely to resent the affront which it would put upon 
 his aunt, and the Pope could not afford to alienate 
 one who was becoming all-powerful in Italy that he 
 might win the distant friendship of the English 
 king ; Francis I. had just made a treaty with Henry 
 YIIL , by which the hand of Mary had been prom- 
 ised to his son, and he was not likely to wish to 
 see Mary declared to be illegitimate. These were 
 serious elements of opposition, which it would re- 
 quire considerable skill to overcome. 
 
 The first measure which suggested itself to Henry 
 and "Wolsey was to put the king's plea into shape, 
 and endorse it with the authority of the English 
 Church. For this purpose a suit was secretly insti- 
 
240 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 tuted against the king in Wolsey's legatine court. 
 Henry was solemnly informed that a complaint had 
 been made to Wolsey, as censor of public morals, 
 that he had cohabited for eighteen years with his 
 brother's wife. Henry consented that Archbishop 
 "Warham should be joined with Wolsey as assessor, 
 and named a proctor who should plead his cause. 
 Three sessions of this court were held with the pro- 
 f oundest secrecy in May ; but in spite of all the at- 
 tempts at secrecy the imperial ambassador discovered 
 what was going on. The object of this procedure 
 seems to have been to produce a sentence from the 
 legate's court in England which should be con- 
 firmed by the Pope without right of appeal. If the 
 Pope had been a free agent he might conceivably 
 have adopted this course ; but the news soon reached 
 England that Rome had been sacked by Bourbon, 
 and that the Pope was trembling before Charles Y. 
 In this turn of affairs it was useless to proceed 
 farther on the supposition that he would unhesitat- 
 ingly comply with the wishes of Henry and Wolsey. 
 A court sitting in secret would have no influence on 
 English opinion, and Wolsey proposed that its sit- 
 tings should be suspended, and the opinions of the 
 English bishops be taken as a means of educating 
 public opinion. 
 
THE KING'S DIVORCE. 241 
 
 But Katharine had been informed of the king's 
 intentions concerning her, and showed a purpose of 
 defending her rights. It would be very awkward 
 if she were the first to make the matter public, and 
 were to appeal to the Pope or her kinsman Charles. 
 The question would then become a political ques- 
 tion, and Henry was not prepared with allies. So 
 on 2 2d June the king broached his difficulties to 
 Katharine. He told her of his scruples, and of his 
 intentions of submitting them to the decision of can- 
 onists and theologians ; meanwhile they had better 
 live apart. Katharine burst into tears, and the king 
 vaguely tried to assure her that all was being done 
 for the best, and begged her to keep the matter 
 secret. His only object was to prevent her from 
 taking any open steps till he had assured himself of 
 the countenance of the French king to his plans. 
 For this purpose Wolsey was sent on an embassy, 
 ostensibly to settle some questions raised by the 
 French treaty, really to concert with Francis I. a 
 scheme for bringing to bear upon the Pope a pres- 
 sure which should be strong enough to counteract 
 the influence of Charles Y. 
 
 So, on 3d July, Wolsey left London on his last 
 
 diplomatic mission. Men who saw Wolsey set out 
 
 with more than his accustomed state, escorted by 
 i6 
 
242 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 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 tal- 
 ents for a bad end, and that all patriotism and no- 
 bility had vanished from his aim. On his way to 
 Dover he had a conference with Archbishop War- 
 ham, whom he instructed about the conduct to be 
 observed towards the queen. Then at Kochester 
 he sounded Bishop Fisher,* the most holy and up- 
 right of the English bishops, who had already been 
 asked by Katherine to give her counsel, though, she 
 had not ventured to tell him what was the subject 
 
 * John Fisher (1459?-1535) was educated at Cambridge, 
 where he subsequently held several important offices. In 
 1503 he was appointed, by the Countess of Richmond, pro- 
 fessor of divinity in the two universities (see above, p. 145). 
 From this time he rose rapidly to distinction. Though he 
 was courteous and deferential to Wolsey, yet, " being a man 
 of strict life," he •' hated Wolsey for his vices." He was in 
 sympathy with the spirit of the new learning and with the 
 then modern biblical criticism, and he lent his influence to 
 promote the scholarly work of Erasmus. His native con- 
 servatism, which increased as he grew older, made him hostile 
 to the teachings of Luther, against whom he preached and 
 wrote. He incurred the hatred of Henry VIII. in opposing 
 the doctrine of supremacy, refusing to recognize the validity 
 of the decree of divorce of Katharine, and in standing out 
 against the Act of Supremacy passed in 1534. He was then 
 
THE KING'S DIVORCE. 243 
 
 on which she wished for his advice. So Wolsey 
 told his own story ; that the king's conscience was 
 disquiet, and that he wished to have his scruples set 
 at rest by the opinions of learned men. He repre- 
 sented that Katharine by her hastiness was throw- 
 ing difficulties in the way of the king's considerate 
 procedure, and threatened to publish the matter, 
 and so create an open scandal. Fisher believed 
 Wolsey's tale, and was beguiled into a belief of the 
 king's good intentions, which the queen could not 
 understand. About the validity of Henry's mar- 
 riage Wolsey could not get from Fisher an opinion 
 contrary to the authority of a papal dispensation ; 
 but he contrived to alienate Fisher from sympathy 
 with Katharine, and so left the queen without a 
 friend while he proceeded to machinate against her 
 in France. 
 
 "We have from one of Wolsey's attendants, George 
 Cavendish, his gentleman- usher, a full account of 
 Wolsey's journey in France. On one point he gives 
 us valuable insight into Wolsey's character where 
 
 subjected to relentless persecution which ended in his death, 
 which was plainly a case of judicial murder. He was be- 
 headed June 22d, 1535, juft two weeks before the execution 
 of More, and his head was exposed to view on London Bridge. 
 More said of him that " in this realm no one man in wisdom, 
 learning, and long approved vertue together, mete to be 
 matched and compared with him." 
 
244 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. ' 
 
 "Wolsey has been much, misrepresented. He tells us 
 how at Calais he summoned his attendants and ad- 
 dressed them about their behavior. He explained 
 that the services which he required from them were 
 not personal but official, and his words were those 
 of a statesman who understood, but did not over- 
 estimate, the value of external things. ^'Ye shall 
 understand," he said, ''that the king's majesty, 
 upon certain weighty considerations, hath for the 
 more advancement of his royal dignity assigned me 
 in this journey to be his lieutenant-general, and 
 what reverence belongeth to the same I will tell 
 you. That for my part I must, by virtue of my 
 commission of lieutenantship, assume and take upon 
 me, in all honors and degrees, to have all such ser- 
 vice and reverence as to his highness' s presence is 
 meet and due, and nothing thereof to be neglected 
 or omitted by me that to his royal estate is appur- 
 tenant. And for my part, ye shall see me that I 
 will not omit one jot thereof." Then he added 
 some wise advice about the courtesies to be observed 
 in their intercourse with the French. 
 
 When matters of etiquette had thus been arranged, 
 Wolsey rode out of Calais on 2 2d July, and pursued 
 his journey to Abbeville, where he awaited the ar- 
 rival of Francis I. at Amiens. On 4th August he 
 
THE KING'S DIVORCE. 245 
 
 entered Amiens, and was received with royal honors. 
 His interviews Avhich Francis and the queen-mother 
 were most satisfactory on matters of general policy : 
 the English alliance was firmly accepted, and all 
 questions between the two Crowns were in a fair 
 way towards settlement. Wolsey waited till the 
 political alliance was firmly established before he 
 broached the personal matter of the divorce. 
 Meanwhile he meditated on the schemes which might 
 be pursued by the allied kings to satisfy Henry's 
 desires. He proposed that they should join in de- 
 manding from Charles Y. that he should restore the 
 Pope's independence, in the hope that the Pope 
 when freed from constraint would be willing to 
 show his gratitude by complying with Henry's de- 
 mands. If they failed in procuring the Pope's re- 
 lease, they should declare the papal power to be in 
 abeyance, and summon the cardinals to meet at 
 Avignon, where, under Wolsey' s presidency, they 
 should transact such business as the Pope in his cap- 
 tivity was unable to discharge. 
 
 Either of these methods was technically decorous ; 
 but they did not much commend themselves to Henry 
 YIIL, whose passion for Anne Boleyn daily in- 
 creased, and who was impatient of any procedure 
 that involved delay. So Henr^^ listened coldly to 
 
246 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 Wolsey's proposals for a "■ sure, honorable, and 
 safe" termination of the "king's matter," as 
 the divorce was now called : he wished for a '' good 
 and brief conclusion," and gave ear to the advice 
 of Anne Boleyn and her friends. It was easy for 
 them to point out that Wolsey was an old-fashioned 
 statesman, full of prejudice where the Church was 
 concerned. They urged that the king could do bet- 
 ter for himself, and could deal more expeditiously 
 with the Pope than could a churchman who was 
 bound to adopt a humble attitude towards his eccle- 
 siastical superior. So Henry determined to take 
 the matter into his own hands, and send his secretary 
 Knight to negotiate with the Pope without Wolsey's 
 intervention. 
 
 "Wolsey, meanwhile, in ignorance of the King's 
 intentions, but distressed at the difficulties which he 
 foresaw, followed the French Court to Compiegne, 
 where he divided his time between diplomatic con- 
 flicts, festivities, and the despatch of business. One 
 morning. Cavendish tells us, '' He rose early about 
 four of the clock, sitting down to write letters into 
 England unto the king, commanding one of his chap- 
 lains to prepare him to mass, insomuch that the said 
 chaplain stood revested until four of the clock at 
 afternoon ; all which season my lord never rose once 
 
THE KING'S DIVORCE. 247 
 
 even to eat any meat, but continually wrote his let- 
 ters, with his own hands, having all that time his 
 nightcap and kerchief on his head. And about the 
 hour of four of the clock, at afternoon, he made an 
 end. of writing, and commanded one Christopher 
 Gunner, the king's servant, to prepare him without 
 delay to ride empost into England with his letters, 
 whom he despatched away or ever he drank. And 
 that done he went to mass, and said his other divine 
 service with his chaplain, as he was accustomed to 
 do ; and then went straight into a garden ; and after 
 he had walked the space of an hour or more, and 
 said his evensong, he went to dinner and supper all 
 at once ; and making a small repast, he went to his 
 bed, to take his rest for the night. ' ' 
 
 While Wolsey was thus laboring in this thorny 
 matter, he received a visit from Knight on his way 
 to Rome. Knight's instructions were to demand 
 from the Pope a dispensation for Henry to marry 
 again before the divorce from Katharine had been 
 pronounced ; failing this, to marry immediately after 
 his marriage with Katharine was declared invalid. 
 Further, he was to ask the Pope to issue a bull 
 delegating his spiritual authority to Cardinal Wolsey 
 during his captivity, l^o doubt this was an expedi- 
 tious way to cut existing difficulties ; but it was too 
 
248 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 expeditious to suit the traditions of the Papal Court, 
 Its obvious clumsiness showed that it was not the 
 work of Wolsey's hand; and it was unwise for the 
 king to inform the Pope that he was trying to act 
 without Wolsey's knowledge. 
 
 Though Wolsey was left in ignorance of the 
 nature of Knight's instructions, he could not but 
 suspect that the king was acting without his full 
 knowledge. He finished his work at Compiegne 
 and returned to England at the end of September. 
 He at once repaired to the Court at Richmond, and 
 sent to tell the king of his arrival. Hitherto the 
 king had always retired to a private room when he 
 received the cardinal alone. ISTow 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 favorites. Serious talk was out 
 of the question. Wolsey was no longer first in the 
 king's confidence. He went away feeling that 
 Anne Boleyn was his political rival, whom he could 
 only overcome by serving better than she could 
 serve herself. Henceforth he had two masters in- 
 
THE KING'S DIVORCE. 24^ 
 
 stead of one, and he did not deceive himself that 
 the continuance of his power depended solely on 
 his usefulness in the matter of the divorce. 
 
 As Wolsey showed himself compliant, Anne 
 Boleyn treated him graciously while she waited to 
 hear the result of Knight's mission to Rome. It 
 was not easy for him to enter the city, which was 
 in possession of the Spaniards, and when he entered 
 it he could not hold any personal communication 
 with Clement YII., 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 Henr3^'s conscientious scruples, and learned that 
 he was moved solely by a desire to marry Anne 
 Boleyn, a connection which could not be excused 
 by any paramount reasons of political expediency. 
 However anxious the Pope might be to oblige the 
 English king, there were limits to his complacency, 
 and Knight had not the wits to cast a fair appear- 
 ance over a disgraceful matter. Yet Clement did 
 not wish to offend Henry by refusing his request 
 at once. The demand for a dispensation empower- 
 
250 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 ing the king to marry at once had abeady been 
 dropped at Wolsey's instance. Knight carried with 
 him a form of dispensation allowing Henry to marry 
 as soon as his marriage with Katharine was dis- 
 solved. This form was amended by one of the car- 
 dinals, and was signed by the Pope. Knight 
 started back to England, convinced that he had 
 done his business excellently, and was bearing to 
 the king the permission which he desired. 
 
 "When the docmnents were placed in Wolsey's hands 
 he saw at once that they were worthless. What 
 Henry wanted was permission for Wolsey to decide 
 the question in the Pope's behalf, and permission 
 for himself to act at once as soon as Wolsey's de- 
 cision was pronounced. The documents which he 
 received did not bar Katharine's right of appeal ; 
 consequently "Wolsey's decision would be of no 
 effect, and the king could not lawfully marry again 
 pending the appeal. In fact, the Pope reserved 
 the entu'e decision of the matter in his own hand. 
 
 It was a small matter for Wolsey to triumph over 
 a man like Knight ; but Knight's failure showed 
 Henry and Anne Boleyn that they must put their 
 confidence in Wolsey after all. So in February, 
 1528, "Wolsey had to begin again from the begin- 
 ning, and had to undo the mischief which I^ight's 
 
THE KING'S DIVORCE. 251 
 
 bungling had made. He chose as his agents his secre- 
 tary, Stephen Gardiner,* and Edward Foxe, one of 
 the king's chaplains. They were instructed to ask 
 that the Pope would join with "Wolsey some special 
 legate, and give them power to pronounce a final 
 judgment. For this purpose they were to plead 
 Henry's cause with all earnestness, and say that the 
 king was moved only by the scruples of his con- 
 science ; at the same time they w^ere to praise the 
 virtues of Anne Boleyn, and say that the king was 
 
 * Stephen Gardiner (1483?-1555) whose talents made him 
 always prominent, and whose career extended through the 
 reigns of Henry VIII., and Edward VI., and into that of 
 Bloody Mary, experienced many reverses of fortune. Under 
 Henry he was in high favor, and under Edward he was 
 thrown into tlie tower where he was confined for five years. 
 He was an extreme Catholic and an enemy of Cranmer, 
 whom he tried unsuccessfully to convict of heresy, and he 
 took a leading part in the proceedings that led to the burning 
 of Bradford and Rogers. He held to the validity of the 
 marriage of Henry VIII. to Katharine, and consequently to 
 the illegitimacy of Elizabeth. *'His whole treatment of 
 Elizabeth remains oneof tlie most sinister features of his later 
 career," writes Mullinger. Froude says that "there was 
 something in Gardiner's character which was not wholly 
 execrable. For thirty years he worked unweariedly in the 
 service of the public ; his judgment as a member of the 
 council was generally excellent. . . . He was vindictive, 
 ruthless, treacherous; but his courage was indomitable." 
 His ecclesiastical office was Bishop of Winchester, to whose 
 magnificent building he added a beautiful chantry. He died 
 at an advanced age of the gout, and was buried in Winchester 
 Cathedral. 
 
252 Life of thomas wolsey. 
 
 solely moved by considerations of his duty to his 
 country in his desire to marry her. Further, they 
 were to insist on the dishonor which would be done 
 to the Holy See if the Pope, through fear of Charles 
 Y., were to refuse to do justice. If the king could 
 not obtain justice from the Pope he would be com- 
 pelled to seek it elsewhere, and live outside the 
 laws of Holy Church; and however reluctant, he 
 would be driven to this for the quiet of his con- 
 science. 
 
 Truly these pleas were sorely contradictory. 
 Henry was ready to acknowledge to the fullest ex- 
 tent the papal power of granting dispensations, and 
 was ready to submit to the justice of the Pope as 
 the highest justice upon earth. But this was solely 
 on condition that the Pope gave decision according 
 to his wishes. He regarded the Papacy as an ex- 
 cellent institution so long as it was on his own side. 
 If it refused to see the justice of his pleas, then he 
 fell back as strenuously as did Luther on the neces- 
 sity of satisfj^ing 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 vfas supposed 
 when Wolsey could hold such language to the Pope. 
 He did not know what a terrible reality that curious 
 
THE KING'S DIVORCE. 253 
 
 conscience of Henry would become. His words 
 were a truer prophecy than he dreamed. 
 
 However, this line of argument was stubbornly 
 pursued by Gardiner even in the Pope's presence. 
 Clement at Orvieto was not surrounded by the pomp 
 and splendor customary to his office. The English 
 envoys found him in a little room, seated on a 
 wooden bench which was covered with ''an old 
 coverlet not worth twenty pence. ' ' But he did not 
 see his way to a restoration of his dignity by an un- 
 hesitating compliance with the demands of the Eng- 
 lish king; on the other hand, the mere fact that his 
 fortunes had sunk so low demanded greater circum- 
 spection. He was not likely to escape from depend- 
 ence on Charles Y. by making himself the tool of 
 Francis I. and Henry YIII. ; 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 Plenry YIII. '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 
 
254: LIFE OF THOMAS WOI.SEY. 
 
 Papacy friendly to himself. So Clement resolved 
 to adopt a congenial course of temporizing, in the 
 hope that he might see his advantage in some turn 
 of affairs. No doubt he thought that Henry's 
 matter would soon settle itself ; either his passion 
 for Anne Boleyn would pass away, or he would 
 make her his mistress. The stubbornness of Henry, 
 his strange hold upon formal morality while pur- 
 suing an immoral course of conduct, his imperious 
 self-will, which grew by opposition — these were 
 incalculable elements which might have upset the 
 plans of wiser men than Clement YII. 
 
 So the Pope acted the part of the good simple 
 man who wishes to do what is right. He lamented 
 his own ignorance, and proposed to consult those 
 who were more learned in canon law than himself. 
 When Gardiner said that England asked nothing 
 but justice, and if it were refused would be driven 
 to think that God had taken away from the Holy 
 See the key of knowledge, and would begin to 
 adopt the opinion of those who thought that pontif- 
 ical laws, which were not clear to the Pope him- 
 self, might well be committed to the flames, Cle- 
 ment sighed, and suggested a compromise. Then 
 he added, with a smile, that though canonists said 
 <' the Pope has all laws in the cabinet of his breast," 
 
THE KING'S DIVORCE. 255 
 
 yet God had not given him the key to open that 
 cabinet ; he could only consult his cardinals. 
 
 Gardiner's outspoken remonstrances were useless 
 against one who pleaded an amiable incompetence. 
 Against the churnings of Henry's conscience Clement 
 set up the churnings of his own conscience, and no 
 one could gainsay the Pope's right to a conscience 
 as much as the English king. After pursuing this 
 course during the month of March the Pope at 
 length with sighs and tears devised a compromise, 
 in which he feared that he had outstepped the 
 bounds of discretion. He accepted one of the docu- 
 ments which the English envoys had brought, the 
 permission for the king to marry whom he would as 
 soon as his marriage with Katharine had been dis- 
 solved. He altered the terms of the other docu- 
 ment, which provided for the appointment of a com- 
 mission with plenary powers to pronounce on the 
 validity of the king's marriage; he granted the 
 commission, but did not give it plenary power ; at 
 the same time he chose as the commissioner who was 
 to sit with Wolsey Cardinal Campeggio, who was 
 the protector of England in the Papal Court, and 
 who was rewarded for his services by holding the 
 bishopric of Hereford. In this way he showed 
 every mark of goodwill to Henry short of acquies- 
 
^56 LI^E OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 cing entirely in the procedure which he proposed ; 
 but he kept the final decision of the matter in his 
 own hands. 
 
 Gardiner was not wholly pleased with this result 
 of his skill and firmness : after all his efforts to ob- 
 tain a definite solution the Pope had managed to es- 
 cape from giving any binding promise. Still, Foxe 
 put a good face on Gardiner's exploits when he re- 
 turned to England in the end of April. Henry and 
 Anne Boleyn were delighted, and Wolsey, though 
 he was more dissatisfied than Gardiner, thought it 
 best to be hopeful. He tried to bind the Pope more 
 firmly, and instructed Gardiner to press that the 
 law relating to Henry's case should be laid down in 
 a papal decretal, so that the legates should only have 
 to determine the question of fact ; this decretal he 
 promised to keep entirely secret; besides this, he 
 urged that there should be no delay in sending Cam- 
 peggio. 
 
 During these months of expectancy "Wolsey conde- 
 scended to ingratiate himself with Anne Boleyn, 
 who had become a political personage of the first 
 importance. Anne was sure of Wolsey's devotion 
 to her interests so long as they were also the king's, 
 and could not dispense with "Wolsey's skill. So she 
 was kindly, and wrote friendly letters to "Wolsey, 
 
THE KING'S DIVORCE. 257 
 
 and asked for little gifts of tunny-fish and shrimps. 
 The English Court ag?an resembled an amiable 
 family party, whose members were all of one mind. 
 In the course of the summer they were all thrown 
 into terror by an outbreak of the " Sweating Sick- 
 ness, ' ' Avhich devastated the country. Anne Boleyn 
 was attacked, though not severely; and Henry 
 showed that his devotion to her did not proceed to 
 the length of risking his own precious life for her 
 sake. He fled to Waltham, and Anne was left with 
 her father ; Henry protested by letter his unalter- 
 able affection, but kept out of harm's way till all 
 risk of infection was past. At the same time he 
 showed great solicitude for Wolsey's health, as did 
 also Anne Bolejm. It seemed as though A¥olsey 
 were never more useful or more hio^hlv 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 
 1/ 
 
258 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 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 ofiice. He therefore pro- 
 posed to confer it on the prioress, Isabella Jordan. 
 It would seem, however, that Eleanor's friends were 
 determined to efface in some degree the scandal 
 which their unwise haste had occasioned, and they 
 retaliated by spreading reports injurious to the char- 
 acter of the prioress. "Wolsey did not believe these 
 reports ; but Anne Boleyn and the king agreed that 
 if their nominee was to be set aside, the cardinal's 
 nominee should be set aside likewise, and Wolsey 
 was informed of the king's decision. Perhaps Wol- 
 sey failed to understand the secret motives which 
 were at work ; perhaps he had so far committed 
 himself before receiving the king's message that he 
 could not well go back ; perhaps he conscientiously 
 did what he thought right. Anyhow, he appointed 
 Isabella Jordan, and sent her appointment to the 
 king for confirmation ; further, he gave as his ex- 
 cuse that he had not understood the king's will in 
 the matter. 
 
 To his extreme surprise and mortification the king 
 took the opportunity thus afforded of reading him a 
 lecture on his presumption, and reminding him that 
 he was expected to render implicit obedience. 
 
THE KING'S DIVORCE. 259 
 
 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 laAv. When Henry took his pen 
 in hand he assumed the mantle of royal dignity, 
 and he now gave Wolsey a sample of the royal way 
 of putting things which was so effectual in his later 
 dealings with his Parliament. He began by assur- 
 ing "Wolsey that the great love he bore him led him 
 to apply the maxim, ' ' Whom I love I chasten ; ' ' 
 he spoke therefore not in displeasure but for Wol- 
 sey 's good. He could not but be displeased that 
 Wolsey had acted contrary to his orders ; he was 
 the more displeased that Wolsey had pleaded igno- 
 rance as an excuse for his disobedience. He over- 
 whelmed him with quotations from his letters on 
 the subject, and went on, " Ah, my lord, it is a 
 double offence both to do ill and color it too ; but 
 with men that have wit it cannot be accepted so. 
 Wherefore, good my lord, use no more that wa}'' 
 with me, for there is no man living that more hateth 
 it. ' ' He then went on to tell Wolsey that there were 
 many rumors current about the means which he was 
 employing to raise money from religious houses for 
 the foundation of his new colleges ; he told him this 
 because '' I dare be bolder with you than many that 
 
260 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 mumble it abroad. ' ' He showed that he had not 
 forgotten the refusal of the monasteries to help in 
 the Amicable Grant : why should they now give 
 money to Wolsey unless they had some interested 
 motive in doing so? He advised Wolsey to look 
 closely into the matter, and ended, "I pray you, 
 my lord, think not that it is upon any displeasure 
 that I write this unto you. For surely it is for my 
 discharge afore God, being in the room that I am 
 in ; and secondly, for the great zeal I bear unto you, 
 not undeserved on your behalf. Wherefore, I pray 
 you, take it so ; and I assure you, your fault ac- 
 knowledged, there shall remain in me no spark of 
 displeasure ; trusting hereafter you shall recompense 
 that with a thing much more acceptable to me. ' ' 
 
 This letter came upon Wolsey as a sudden revela- 
 tion of his true position. It showed him the reality 
 of all the vague doubts and fears which he had for 
 some time been striving to put from him. He was 
 crushed into abjectness, which he did not even strive 
 to conceal from others. He took the immediate 
 matters of complaint seriously to heart, and wished 
 to annul the appointment of Isabella Jordan, which 
 the king ruled to be unnecessary ; on that point he 
 was satisfied with having asserted a principle. But 
 he advised Wolsey to receive no more gifts for his 
 
THE KING'S DIVORCE. 2C1 
 
 colleges from religious houses, and Wolsey promised 
 not to do so. " Thereby I trust, nor by any other 
 thing hereafter unlawfully taken, your poor cardi- 
 nal's conscience shall not be spotted, encumbered, 
 or entangled; purposing, with God's help and your 
 gracious favor, so to order the rest of my poor life 
 that it shall appear to your Highness that I love and 
 dread God and also your Majesty." This was a 
 lamentable prostration of the moral authority of the 
 chief churchman in England before the king, and 
 showed Wolsey's weakness. He knew that he had 
 not demeaned himself as befitted his priestly office ; 
 and though he may have felt that no man in Eng- 
 land had less right than the king to reprove his con- 
 duct on moral grounds, still he could not plead that 
 he w^as 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 ofier. 
 He had disregarded the criticisms of others that he 
 might serve the king more faithfully; but if the 
 
262 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 king took upon himself the office of critic he had 
 nothing to urge. It was because Henry had taken 
 the measure of churchmen such as Wolsey that he 
 ventured in later times to hold such lofty language 
 in addressing the clergy. Henry was always su- 
 perior to the weakness of imagining that his own 
 conduct needed any defence, or his own motives 
 any justification. 
 
 "Wolsey, though forgiven with royal graciousness, 
 was profoundly depressed, and could not recover his 
 sense of security. The future was to him big with 
 menaces, and perhaps he looked most sadly upon his 
 designs which yet remained unrealized. He saw 
 that his activity must henceforth work in a smaller 
 sphere, and that he must make haste to finish what 
 he had on hand. The ugly business of the divorce 
 looked to him still uglier. Either he would fail 
 in his efforts to move the Pope, in which case he 
 lost his hold upon the king at once, or, if he suc- 
 ceeded, he saw that the reign of Anne Boleyn 
 meant the end of his own uncontested influence. 
 The king's letter was at least significant of that : he 
 would never have raised a question about so trivial 
 a matter if he had not wished to justify his abso- 
 lute power in the eyes of one who was to him all- 
 important. 
 
THE KING'S DIVORCE. 263 
 
 So "Wolsey faced the future ; he put his aspira- 
 tions on a lower level, and wished only to garner 
 certainly some of the fruits of his life-long labor. 
 He told the French ambassador, De Bellay, " that 
 if God permitted him to see the hatred of these 
 two nations (France and England) extinguished, and 
 firm amity established, as he hopes it will shortly 
 be, with a reform of the laws and customs of the 
 country, such as he would effect if peace were 
 made, and the succession of the kingdom assured, 
 especially if this marriage took place, and an heir 
 male were born of it, he would at once retire, and 
 serve God for the rest of his life ; and that, with- 
 out any doubt, on the first honorable occasion he 
 could find, he would give up politics. ' ' Doubtless 
 Wolsey was genuine in these utterances, and felt 
 that he was resigning much when he reduced his de- 
 signs within the limits which he here set forth. 
 But limited as they were, they still contained an 
 entire scheme for the reconstruction of English poli- 
 tics. Wolsey 's plans remained complete, however 
 much he might be willing to reduce them ; he was 
 incapable of being a mere attendant upon chance. 
 
 For the present he was awaiting with growing 
 anxiety the coming of Cardinal Campeggio, which 
 was delayed, according to the Pope's policy of pro- 
 
264 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 crastination. First the cardinal had to contend 
 against the difficulties created by the disorderly 
 state of Italy ; then he was delayed by an attack 
 of the gout, which made his movements slow ; and 
 he did not reach London till 8th October. When 
 he came he was not prepared to act at once, nor 
 did he treat Wolsey as an equal but rather as a 
 subordinate in the work of the commission. In 
 fact, Campeggio behaved as judge, and Wolsey as 
 the king's advocate. Campeggio' s instructions were 
 first to try and persuade the king to lay aside his 
 purpose of a divorce. He soon saw that this was 
 useless, and YT'olsey plainly warned him with pro- 
 phetic instinct. ' ' Most reverend lord, beware lest, 
 in like manner as the greater part of Germany, 
 owing to the harshness and severity of a certain 
 cardinal, has become estranged from the Apostolic 
 See and the faith, it should be said that another 
 cardinal has given the same occasion to England, 
 with the same result. ' ' 
 
 Failing to shake the king's determination, the 
 next course which Campeggio vfas ordered to pur- 
 sue was to persuade the queen to comply with the 
 king's wishes. Katherine was still treated with 
 outward respect, but was cut off from all friends 
 and advisers, and subjected to a secret and galling 
 
THE KING'S DIVORCE. 265 
 
 persecution. Still she maintained a resolute spirit, 
 and withstood the pleadings of Wolsey and Cam- 
 peggio, who urged her to give way and withdraw 
 to a monastery, for the quieting of the king's con- 
 science. Katherine replied that there was nothing 
 of which his conscience need be afraid, and that she 
 intended ' ' to live and die in the estate of matri- 
 mony to which God had called her. ' ' The obsti- 
 nacy of Katherine was as invincible as the obstinacy 
 of Henry ; and Katharine had right on her side. 
 
 Nothing remained save for the legates to proceed 
 to the trial of the case ; and in the trial Campeg- 
 gio's instructions bade him procrastinate to the ut- 
 most in hopes the king might give way before the 
 long dela}^. 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 in- 
 structed to show the king, but keep in his own 
 hands, so that it was useless for Wolsey' s purpose. 
 His first object was to get hold of this decretal, and 
 he wrote urgently to the Pope asking that it should 
 be delivered into the king's hands, and shoT\Ti to 
 the Privy Council. "Without the Pope's compli- 
 ance," he sadly wrote, "I cannot bear up against 
 this storm. ' ' But Clement YII. felt that he was 
 
266 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEf . 
 
 more dependent on Charles Y. than on Henry YIII. , 
 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 
 comisellors. When he was further pressed he tossed 
 his arms and said, with great agitation, " I do con- 
 sider the ruin that hangs over me ; I repent what I 
 have done. If heresies arise, is it my fault? My 
 conscience acquits me. ]N"one of you have any rea- 
 son to complain. I have performed my promise, 
 and the king and the cardinal have never asked 
 anything in my power which I have not granted 
 with the utmost readiness; but I will do no vio- 
 lence to my conscience. Let them, if they like, 
 send the legate back again, on the pretext that he 
 will not proceed in the cause, and then do as they 
 please, provided they do not make me responsible 
 for injustice. ' ' 
 
 Here the Pope touched upon a noticeable feature 
 of the case. Henry was bound upon a course which 
 was neither legally nor morally right, though na- 
 tional interests might to some degree be pleaded in 
 its behalf. He was, however, resolved to be legally 
 and morally justified in his own eyes and in the 
 eyes of others. He would not content himself with 
 setting aside the law, and leaving it to others iq 
 
THE KING'S DIVORCE. 267 
 
 prove him in the wrong. The Papal Court was 
 slow to justify him ; it would have been slower to 
 condemn him. Most men would have been satis- 
 fied with this knowledge, and would have acted 
 upon it. But Henry was not only minded to do 
 what he wished, but was resolved that what he 
 wished should be declared absolutely right. He 
 was determined that there should be no doubt about 
 the legitimacy of his children by Anne Boleyn; 
 and some recognition is due to him for not allow- 
 ing his desires to overcome his patriotism and leave 
 to England the deplorable legacy of a disputed suc- 
 cession. As a man, Henry did not strive to subject 
 his desires to the law of right ; as a king, he was 
 bent upon justifying his own caprice so that it 
 should not do hurt to his royal office, or offend his 
 duty to his kingdom. Henry sinned, but he was 
 bent on sinning royally, and believed that so he 
 could extenuate his sin. 
 
 ITot only was Campeggio ordered not to part 
 with the decretal, but he was bidden to destroy 
 it. Meanwhile a new feature of the case emerged. 
 It became known that, besides the bull of dispen- 
 sation granted to Henry YII. , an ampler brief had 
 been issued in confirmation of it to Ferdinand of 
 Spain, of which the original was contained in the 
 
^68 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 Spanish archives. Henrj YIII. insisted on its pro- 
 duction, in the hopes of destroying it or casting 
 doubts on its authenticity, and new negotiations 
 were begun about this brief, which had the effect 
 of wasting time and deferring the trial of the case. 
 Further, on Clement YII.'s return to Eonie in 
 May he was attacked by illness, and his death was 
 reported, l^fothing could be done by the legates 
 till they were assured of his recovery. 
 
 Meanwhile Henry was growing more and more 
 impatient, and made it clear to Wolsey that if the 
 proceedings did not lead to his divorce all the blame 
 would be laid at "Wolsey's door. Anne Boleyn also 
 began to suspect Wolsey's good intentions towards 
 herself, and thought that he was responsible for 
 these repeated delays. Wolsey could no longer 
 doubt that his all was staked on the issue of the 
 trial, which at length began at Blackfriars on 18th 
 June, 1529. Katharine appeared, and protested 
 against the jurisdiction of the court. For the pur- 
 pose of deciding this point it was necessary that 
 both parties should appear in person ; and on 21st 
 June Ilenry and Katharine both were present. 
 The king demanded instant judgment for the eas- 
 ing of his conscience ; Katharine first knelt before 
 the king and asked for pity, then she appealed to 
 
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THE KING'S DIVORCE. 269 
 
 Eome, where only the cause could be decided with- 
 out partiality or suspicion. The legates overruled 
 her appeal, and on her non-appearance declared her 
 contumacious. 
 
 The summoning of the king and queen was merely 
 a formal incident in the procedure of the court, but 
 it strangely impressed itself upon men's minds. 
 The king, whom they regarded as the fountain of 
 law, was called to plead before one of his own sub- 
 jects and a foreign priest. Apart from any thought 
 of the question at issue, or its rights and wrongs. 
 Englishmen marvelled at this indignity, and felt 
 that ecclesiastical law was some foreign thing which 
 they could not fathom. ]S"o 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 
 
270 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 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 Yf olsey was striving to over- 
 come. 
 V Bienry grew more and more angry at the signs of 
 opposition to his will which met him on every side, 
 and Wolsey had to bear the brunt of the royal 
 wrath. Cavendish tells how one day "Wolsey left 
 the king's presence and took his barge. The 
 Bishop of Carlisle, who was with him, remarked 
 that the day was hot. ' ' 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 unto the queen at Bridewell, 
 into her chamber, to persuade her by their wisdoms, 
 advising her to surrender the whole matter unto the 
 king's hands by her own will and consent, which 
 should be much better to her honor than to stand 
 to the trial of law and be condemned, which would 
 seem much to her slander and defamation." Wol- 
 sey vainly complained of the folly of the lords of 
 
THE KING'S DIVORCE. 271 
 
 the Council in putting such fancies into the king's 
 head : he was bound to rise and obey. Sadly he 
 sought Campeggio, and with a sense of deep humil- 
 iation the two judges set out to make another at- 
 tempt to browbeat an accused who had already re- 
 fused to submit to their judicial authority. 
 
 On 23d July it was expected that the court would 
 give its decision. The king was present in a gal- 
 lery, and after the reading of the pleas his counsel 
 demanded judgment. Campeggio rose and declared 
 that as the vacation of the Eoman courts began at 
 the end of July and lasted till October, he must fol- 
 low that custom, and adjourn the sittings of the 
 court for two months. On this the Duke of Suffolk 
 slapped the table and exclauned, '' 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 car- 
 dinals : for if I, a simple cardinal, had not been, you 
 should have had at this present no head upon your 
 shoulders, wherein you should have a tongue to 
 make any such report of us, who intend you no man- 
 ner of displeasure. ' ' 
 
 But though Wolsey could still wear a bold face 
 
272 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 when attacked, he knew that the future was hope- 
 less. His enemies were daily gaining ground. 
 His place, as the king's trusted counsellor, was taken 
 by Stephen Gardiner, whom he had trained, and 
 who was now the king's secretary and Anne's 
 Boleyn's chief agent. The old nobles, headed by 
 the Duke of J^orf oik, had made common cause with 
 the relations of Anne Boleyn, and saw their oppor- 
 tunity of avenging themselves for all the slights 
 which Wolsey had put upon them. Henry was un- 
 willing to abandon all hopes of his divorce through 
 the legatine court, and spared Wolsey for a time ; 
 but "Wolsey knew that the ground was slipping from 
 under him. The Pope resolved to revoke the cause 
 to Rome, and recall the powers granted to the leg- 
 ates; it required all Wolsey' s efforts to prevent 
 the issue of a citation to Henry to appear before the 
 Roman court. 
 
 Moreover, Wolsey had the additional pang of 
 seeing all the fruits of his diplomatic activity aban- 
 doned before the absorbing interest of this miser- 
 able matter of the king's domestic life. If there 
 was one object which was dear to Wolsey 's heart, 
 it was to secure England's power in Europe by a 
 close alliance with France. For this purpose he 
 had made great sacrifices, and he thought that he 
 
THE KING'S DIVOECE. 273 
 
 had some claim on Francis I. 's gratitude. Yet 
 Francis was negotiating for peace with Charles Y . , 
 and a conference was being held at Cambrai between 
 his mother Louise and Charles's aunt Margaret. 
 Wolsey sorely longed to be present at that confer- 
 ence and protect the interests of England ; but 
 Henry YIII. 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 Y. Henry YIII. was appeased by a trans- 
 ference of the debt of Charles Y. 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 
 i8 
 
274: LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 its provisions. If a testimony were needed that 
 entirely English diplomacy depended upon Wolsey, 
 it would be found in Henry's short-sightedness at 
 this time. He did not try to influence the proceed- 
 ings at Cambrai, but allowed hunself to be hood- 
 winked by Francis I. , even in the point about which 
 he was most interested. The peace of Cambrai left 
 Charles Y. supreme in Italy, and restored in name 
 the authority of the Pope, which the two sovereigns 
 declared themselves resolved to maintain. Its 
 practical result was to make the Pope more anxious 
 to please Charles, who was now most closely con- 
 nected with his political interests, and to free him 
 from the dread of an alliance between Henry and 
 Francis, which might have brought pressure to bear 
 upon his action in the divorce. Clement had now 
 no special motive for trying to conciliate the Eng- 
 lish king, and it was clear to all Europe that 
 Wolsey no longer guided England's policy. 
 
 It was not only that Wolsey had failed in the 
 matter of the divorce, but his failure had brought 
 to light the true nature of the policy which he was 
 pursuing, and had shown that it wa.s not adapted to 
 the turn which affairs were taking under the influ- 
 ence of the king's personal desires. Wolsey had 
 planned a conservative reform, to be carried out 
 
THE KING'S DIVORCE. 275 
 
 gracluallj. England, respected on the Continent, 
 and holding the balance bet^yeen France and the 
 Empire, was gradually to assert its power and in- 
 dependence by setting up a strong monarchy which 
 should overawe the Papacy, and without any for- 
 mal breach with past traditions, should remodel its 
 ecclesiastical institutions, and put its relations to the 
 Papacy on a ncAV 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 
 Welshes 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 
 Avas framed for large operations on a large field ; it 
 was not suited for the petty task which w^as sud- 
 denly imposed upon him. Yet if. it failed there it 
 was sure to be condemned altogether, and the future 
 
276 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 would belong to the more revolutionary forces 
 which he had been trying to hold in check. 
 
 So in proportion as Wolsey failed about the 
 divorce, the threads of his different but converging 
 schemes fell from his hands. What was the profit 
 to Henry of Wolsey's intricate foreign policy if it 
 did not allow him to get a divorce when he pleased? 
 Why should he deal tenderly with the papal au- 
 thority when it threw such obstacles in his way? 
 Why should he spare the Church when its bishops 
 protested against him? Why should he permit the 
 slow transformation of the monasteries when with 
 a little trouble their spoil would fall into his hands? 
 Why should he trust to Wolsey, who had already 
 failed him in his need, when he had men like Gar- 
 diner, with clear heads about matters of details, 
 to serve him at his need ? Above all, why should 
 Wolsey's fine-drawn plans stand between him and 
 his people's affections, and lead him to do what 
 Englishmen neither understood nor approved ? 
 These were the questions with which Henry was 
 plied. Wolsey had been only too successful and too 
 consistent. If his policy was abandoned in aught, 
 it must be abandoned in all. When Henry let fall 
 Wolsey's foreign policy, and made no effort to in- 
 fluence the peace of Cambraij there was no further 
 
THE KING'S DIVORCE. 277 
 
 need of Wolsey in England's councils, and his rule 
 was practically at an end. 
 
 Still Wolsey was permitted to retain his offices. 
 Campeggio had not yet departed ; something might 
 still be done. The king had for some time avoided 
 seeing Wolsey, and was engaged in wandering from 
 place to place in the company of Anne Boleyn. At 
 last, in the middle of September, Campeggio pre- 
 pared to return to Kome, and accompanied by Wol- 
 sey went to take leave of the king, who was then at 
 Grafton in Northamptonshire. There they arrived 
 on 19th September, and Campeggio was shown to 
 his room, but Wolsey was informed that there was 
 no room provided for him. He was relieved from 
 his astonishment by a groom of the stole, who said, 
 ' ' I assure you, sir, here is very little room in this 
 house, scantly sufficient for the king. However, I 
 beseech your grace to accept mine for a season. ' ' 
 When Wolsey and Campeggio were ushered into the 
 king's presence they found the lords of the Council 
 eagerly watching the king's behavior. If they ex- 
 pected any signs of the royal displeasure they were 
 disappointed, as Henry received Wolsey most 
 graciously, and drew him aside into a window, 
 where he talked with him privately. 
 
 The king dined privately with Anne Boleyn, and 
 
27S LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 "Wolsey dined with the lords of the Council. In 
 course of conversation he hinted at his own inten- 
 tions for the future by saying, ' ' It were well done 
 if the king would send his chaplains and bishops to 
 their cures and benefices. " The Duke of I^orfolk 
 eagerly assented, and Wolsey went on to say that he 
 would gladly go to his bishopric of Winchester. 
 Then N^orf oik showed his fears by saying, ''Nay, 
 to your see of York, whence comes both your great- 
 est honor and charge." Already Wolsey 's foes 
 were scheming to remove him as far as possible from 
 the royal presence. 
 
 Every one was eagerly watching and listening for 
 the smallest indications of the royal pleasure ; and 
 Cavendish was told that Anne Boleyn at dinner with 
 the king showed her dissatisfaction at Wolsey' s 
 kindly reception. She denounced the cardinal in 
 no measured terms, but without any immediate re- 
 sult, as after dinner the king called Wolsey into his 
 private room and talked with him for some time ; 
 ^^the which blanked his enemies very sore, and 
 made them to stir the coals, being in doubt what 
 this matter would grow into, having now none other 
 refuge to trust to but Mistress Anne, in whom was 
 all their whole and firm trust and affiance. ' ' Wol- 
 sey rode off to ''Master Empson's house, called 
 
THE KING'S DIVORCE. 279 
 
 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. 
 
 ISText 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 Gampeggio, and 
 then rode awaj^ with Anne, while the . legates re- 
 turned to London. Gampeggio did not reach Dover 
 till 8 til October, and before he was allowed to 
 embark his luggage was ransacked by the king's 
 officials. 
 
 This extraordinary viola,tion 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 Gampeggio' s papers the 
 Pope's decretal about the law of the divorce. If he 
 had found it Wolsey might still have been useful. 
 He might have been compelled to continue the pro- 
 ceedings of the legatine court, and give judgment in 
 Henry's favor, sheltering himself under the terms of 
 the commission, and applying the interpretation of 
 
280 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 the decretal. In this way the first measures wrung 
 out of the Pope when he wished to be conciliating 
 might have been used in a high-handed fashion 
 against the conclusions of his settled policy. But 
 Campeggio had already been instructed by the Pope 
 to burn the decretal. Nothing was found as the 
 result of the search, which only revealed the cardi- 
 nal' s poverty. He had come to England ill provided, 
 and had gained nothing from the royal bounty. 
 
 This unworthy device seems to have been of 
 Henry's own devising; and as soon as he heard of 
 its failure Wolsey's doom was sealed. The king 
 had treated him graciously, to the dismay even of 
 Anne Boleyn, a few days before; now he aban- 
 doned him to his enemies, who had their weapons 
 of attack in readiness. On 9th October the king's 
 attorney sued for a writ oi ^rcBmunire against Wol- 
 sey, on the ground that his acts done as legate were 
 contrary to the statute. After this Wolsey's ruin 
 was a foregone conclusion. 
 
CHAPTEK X. 
 
 THE FALL OF WOLSET. 
 
 1529-1530. 
 
 "When the storm broke over his head Wolsey had 
 no hope of escape. His position as an English min- 
 ister AYas due entirely to the king's favor, and when 
 that favor was withdrawn he was entirely helpless. 
 Outside the king there was no motive power in Eng- 
 lish politics at this period. There was no party in 
 the State strong enough to bring any influence to 
 bear upon him : he was likely to be moved by noth- 
 ing save the dread of a popular rising, and there 
 was no chance of a popular rising in Wolsey 's favor. 
 On the other hand, Wolsey had been contented to 
 take upon his own shoulders the responsibility of all 
 that was most unpopular in the king's proceedings. 
 The demands created by the king's extravagance 
 were put down to his extortionate nature ; the debts 
 incurred by a policy which he disapproved were sup- 
 posed to be the results of his influence ; even the 
 
 281 
 
282 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 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 f eAV friends and many enemies. His ene- 
 mies were powerful, his friends were powerless. 
 No one in England could lend him any help. 
 
 It is true that the charge brought against him 
 was most iniquitous. He had obtained his legatine 
 authority through the king's urgent request; he had 
 used it soloiy at the king's orders, and in the king's 
 behalf. But he knew that such a plea would not 
 be regarded, as the king's courts would simply reg- 
 ister the king's will. There was no other course 
 than entire submission, and before the king Wolsey 
 had no thought of personal dignity. He wrote to 
 Henry as a lowly suppliant, ^'For surely, most 
 gracious king, the remembrance of my foUy^ with 
 the sharp sword of your Highness 's displeasure, hath 
 so penetrated my heart that I cannot but lament- 
 ably cry, It is enough; now stay, most merciful 
 king, 3^ourhand." Such loyalty, such entire sub- 
 mission, is to our minds inconceivable, and only 
 shows how the possession of absolute power debases 
 not only those who are invested with it but those 
 who are brought in contact with them. Wolsej 
 might indeed lament his ' ' folly ' ' in putting any 
 
THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 283 
 
 trust in princes ; he had served his master only too 
 well, and met with the basest ingratitude for all the 
 sacrifices of his own wishes and his own principles. 
 
 Still he hoped by his submission to save some- 
 thing. If sentence were pronounced against hun, 
 under the charge oi jprmmunire^ 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 ho could not foresee. There would be open 
 war between Henry and the Papacy, ^vaged with 
 new weapons and fraught with danger to the Eng- 
 lish 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 powder to 
 check its excesses. 
 
 His submission led to no immediate results. On 
 16th October the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk de- 
 manded the surrender of the great seal, and ordered 
 Wolsey to depart to his house at Esher. Wolsey 
 would humble himself before the king, but not be- 
 fore others, and calmly asked them for their au- 
 
284 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 thority. 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 Avhereof 
 I have the king's letters-patent to show." High 
 words were used by the dukes, but in the end they 
 departed, and reappeared next day with letters from 
 the king. On reading them Wolsey delivered up 
 the seal, and expressed himself content to withdraw 
 to Esher. 
 
 Before departing he made an inventory of all his 
 plate and tapestries, that it might be ready for the 
 king to take possession. He further signed an in- 
 denture acknowledging that on the authority of 
 bulls obtained from Rome, which he published 
 in England contrary to the statute, he had unlaw- 
 fully vexed the prelates of the realm and other of 
 the king's subjects, thereby incurring the penalties 
 of prminunire^ by which also he deserved to suffer 
 perpetual imprisonment at the king's pleasure, and 
 to forfeit all his lands, offices, and goods. He be- 
 sought the king, in part recompense of his offences, 
 to take into his hands all his temporal possessions. 
 Then he entered his barge in the presence of a 
 
THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 285 
 
 crowd, which was sorely disappointed not to see 
 him take the way to the Tower. 
 
 When Wolsey arrived at Putney he was greeted 
 by a messenger from the king, who brought him as 
 a token a ring, with a message ' ' that the king bade 
 him be of good cheer, for he should not lack. Al- 
 though the king hath dealt with you unkindly, he 
 saith that it is for no displeasure that he beareth 
 you, but only to satisfy the minds of some which he 
 knoweth be not your friends. Also ye know right 
 well that he is able to recompense you with twice 
 as much as your goods amounteth unto : and all 
 this he bade me that I should show you. There- 
 fore, sir, take patience ; and for my part, I trust to 
 see you in better estate than ever ye were. ' ' When 
 Wolsey heard this he dismounted from his mule and 
 knelt in the mud in sign of thankfulness. He gave 
 a present to the messenger, and grieved that he had 
 no worthy gift to send to the king. Presently he 
 bethought himself of a jester belonging to his house- 
 hold. "If ye would at my request present the 
 king with this poor fool, I trust his Highness would 
 accept him well, for surely for a nobleman's pleas- 
 ure he is worth a thousand pounds." It is a re- 
 lief to find in this dismal story some signs of hu- 
 man feeling. ' ' The poor fool took on so, and 
 
286 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 fired so in such a rage when he saw that he must 
 needs depart from my lord," that six tall yeomen 
 had to be sent as an escort to convey him safely to 
 the Court. 
 
 It is needless to seek for a motive for Henry's 
 conduct in sending this delusive message ; probably 
 he did it through an amiable desire to make himself 
 generally agreeable. JSTo man likes to feel that he 
 is acting villainously; perhaps Henry's conscience 
 felt all the pleasure of having performed a virtu- 
 ous action when he heard of Wolsey's gratitude for 
 such a small mercy. Henry YIII. was nothing if 
 he was not conscientious ; but he made large drafts 
 on his conscience, and paid them back in small 
 coin. Probabl}^ we have here the record of such a 
 payment. 
 
 Certainly Henry did nothing to give his good- 
 will towards Wolsey any practical expression; he 
 did not even send him any money to provide his 
 household with the necessaries of life. For a month 
 they remained ''without beds, sheets, tablecloths, 
 cups, and dishes to eat their meat or lie in," and 
 ultimately had to borrow them. What most dis- 
 tressed Wolsey, who had been accustomed to munifi- 
 cence, was that he had not even money to pay the 
 wages of his household before he dismissed them 
 
THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 287 
 
 sadly from his service. In his straits one of his 
 officials came to his aid, and showed his tact and 
 management in affairs of business. Thomas Crom- 
 well, the son of a London citizen, spent an adven- 
 turous youth in business on the Continent, and set- 
 tled in London as a small attorney and a money- 
 lender. Wolsey had found out his ability, and em- 
 ployed him to manage the dissolution of the monas- 
 teries, and transact the business connected with the 
 foundation of his colleges. JSTo doubt this gave him 
 opportunities of spreading his own business, and 
 making himself useful friends. In anticipation of 
 the future he contrived to get himself elected as 
 member of the Parliament for which Henry YIII. 
 issued writs upon the suspension of the legatine 
 court. 
 
 Cromwell accompanied Wolsey to Esher, and 
 was much moved by the thought of the loss which 
 his patron's fall was likely to inflict upon himself. 
 On 1st November Cavendish found him leaning in 
 the window '^with a primer in his hand, saying 
 our Lady mattins. He prayed not more earnestly 
 than the tears distilled from his eyes. ' ' He la- 
 mented that he was in disdain with most men for his 
 master's sake, and surely without just cause; but 
 he was resolved that afternoon to ride to London, 
 
288 LIFE OF THOMAS WOIiSEY. 
 
 and so to the Court, '' where I will either make or 
 mar, or I come again." After dinner he talked 
 with Wolsey about his household, and then showed 
 his power of gaining popularity at the expense of 
 others. "Have you not," he exclaimed, "a 
 number of chaplains, to whom ye have departed 
 very liberally with spiritual promotions ? and yet 
 have your poor servants taken much more pains for 
 you in one day than all your idle chaplains have 
 done in a year. Therefore if they will not freely 
 and frankly consider your liberality, and depart 
 with you of the same goods gotten in your service, 
 now in your great indigence and necessity, it is 
 pity that they live." Wolsey agreed; he sum- 
 moned his household, and addressed them in a dig- 
 nified speech; he gave them a month's holiday, 
 that they might seek some more profitable service. 
 Then Cromwell said that they lacked money, and 
 himself tendered five pounds towards their pay- 
 ment, adding, "l^ow let us see what you chap- 
 lains will do. ' ' The example was contagious, and 
 contributions poured in. The household was paid, 
 and departed full of thankfulness to Cromwell. 
 Then, after a private conversation with Wolsey, 
 Cromwell rode off to London to ' ' make or mar. ' ' 
 Parliament met on 3d I^ovember, and Wolsey 's 
 
THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 289 
 
 enemies hoped that its first business would be 
 Wolsey's impeachment. For this, however, Henry 
 yill. was not prepared, though he did not openly 
 forbid it. He Avas not sure of the capacit}^ 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 poAver. They were bound together rather 
 by opposition to Wolsey than by any agreement 
 amongst themselves ; and Henry was not very san- 
 guine about their administrative success. The 
 Duke of l^orfolk, the uncle of Anne Boleyn, was 
 president of the Council, and Suffolk was vice- 
 president. The chancellorship was given to Sir 
 Thomas More, who was well fitted by his literary 
 reputation and high character to calm the fears of 
 moderate men, and show Europe that the English 
 king had no lack of eminent servants. The chan- 
 cellorship of the duchy of Lancashire was given to 
 the treasurer of the household, Sir William Fitz- 
 william, a capable official. Gardiner preferred an 
 ecclesiastical post, and succeeded to the bishopric 
 of Winchester, which Wolsey was bidden to resign. 
 It still remained to be seen if l^orfolk, Suffolk, and 
 More could fill the place of Wolsey. 
 
 Parliament was opened by the king; and thQ 
 19 
 
290 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 chancellor, according to custom, made a speech. In 
 the course of it More showed that a man of letters 
 does not necessarily retain his literary taste in poli- 
 tics, and that high character does not save a states- 
 man from the temptation to catch a passing cheer 
 by unworthy taunts at his defeated adversary. He 
 spoke of the king as shepherd of his people, and 
 went on, ' ' As you see that amongst a great flock 
 of sheep some be rotten and faulty, which the 
 good Shepherd sendeth from the good sheep, so 
 the great wether which is of late fallen, as you 
 all know, so craftily, so scabbedly, yea, and so un- 
 truly juggled with the king, that all men must 
 needs guess and think that he thought in him- 
 self that he had no wit to perceive his crafty doing, 
 or else that he presumed that the king would not 
 see nor know his fraudulent juggling and attempts. 
 But he was deceived; for his Grace's sight was so 
 quick and penetrating that he saw him, yea, and 
 saw through him, both within and without, so that 
 all things to him were open ; and according to his 
 deserts he hath had a gentle correction. ' ' 
 
 This speech of More served as introductory to a 
 Bill which was brought into the Upper House for 
 disabling Wolsey from being restored to his former 
 dignities and place in the king's Council, It was 
 
THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 291 
 
 founded upon a series of articles which had been 
 drawn up by his enemies long before, and were a 
 tissue of frivolous or groundless charges. The bill 
 passed the Lords, but on its introduction into the 
 Commons was opposed by Cromwell, who knew 
 that the king did not wish it to be passed. It an- 
 swered its purpose of casting a stigma on Wolsey, 
 and justifying Henry's conduct towards him; but 
 Henry did not intend to deprive himself of the 
 power of employing Wolsey again if he should 
 prove useful. So Cromwell served the king while 
 he served Wolsey, and served himself at the same 
 time by a display of zeal for his fallen master which 
 raised him in men's esteem, " so that at length, for 
 his honest behavior in his master's cause, he grew 
 into such estimation in every man's opinion, that 
 he was esteemed to be the most faithfullest servant 
 to his master of all others, wherein he was of all 
 men greatly commended. ' ' Moreover, he managed 
 to make friends by the sure tie of self-interest. He 
 advised Wolsey to buy off the hostility of important 
 men by granting them pensions out of the revenues 
 of his see : as he chose the recipients of the money 
 and negotiated the grants he gained more gratitude 
 than Wolsey gained profit out of the transaction. 
 Wolsey believed that his prospects depended on 
 
292 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 Cromwell's zeal, and the great cardinal became sub- 
 missive to the direction of one whom he had raised. 
 He abode at Esher in a state of feverish anxiety, 
 sometimes receiving a present and a gracious mes- 
 sage from the king, often irritated by Cromwell, 
 who deluded him by a cheap display of zeal, griev- 
 ing most of all at the uncertainty of the fortunes of 
 his great colleges, which he still wished to leave as 
 a memorial to posterity of the schemes which he 
 intended. v 
 
 Parliament was prorogued in the middle of De- 
 cember, and the Bill against "Wolsey was allowed 
 to drop. The king and Anne Boleyn were delighted 
 with the cardinal's house at York Place, of which 
 they took possession, and Wolsey was still left in 
 uncertainty about his future. Anxiety preyed upon 
 his health, and at Christmas he fell ill. The news 
 of his illness seems to have brought some remorse 
 to Henry, who sent his own physician, and eagerly 
 asked for tidings, saying, ' ' I would not lose him for 
 twenty thousand pounds. ' ' Doctor Buttes answered, 
 '' Then must your Grace send him some comfort- 
 able message as shortly as is possible. ' ' The king 
 gave Buttes a favorite ring from his own finger, 
 saying, ' ' Tell him that I am not offended with him 
 in my heart nothing at all, and that shall he per- 
 
THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 293 
 
 ceive, and God send him life very shortly. ' ' He 
 asked Anne Boleyn to send also a ' ' token with 
 comfortable words," and Anne at his command 
 obeyed, overcoming her reluctance by the thought 
 that the cardinal was on his deathbed. 
 
 Doctor Buttes's prescription was a good one, and 
 with revived hopes Wolsey speedily recovered. On 
 2d February, 1530, the king sent him some furniture 
 for his house and chapel. On 12th February he 
 received a full pardon for his offences, and on 14th 
 February was restored to the archbishopric of York 
 and its possessions excepting York Place, which the 
 king retained for himself. He entreated to be al- 
 lowed to keep also the bishopric of Winchester and 
 the Abbey of St. Alban's; but Gardiner had his 
 eye on Winchester, and the Dukes of ]!^orfolk and 
 Suffolk were anxious that Wolsey should not hold a 
 post which might bring him into the neighborhood of 
 the king. He was compelled to resign both these 
 offices, and recognized in this the power of his foes. 
 
 The damp air of Esher was hurtful to his health, 
 and he received permission to change his residence 
 to Richmond Lodge. There he stayed until the 
 state of the roads allowed him to take his journey 
 northwards, which the Dulve of Norfolk pressed him 
 to do in forcible language. ' ' Show him, ' ' be said. 
 
294: LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 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 
 neighboring gentry, and I made himself popular 
 amongst them. He lived simply, and applied him- 
 self to the discharge of the duties of his office with 
 great success. A pamphlet published in 1536 says 
 of him : ' ' Who was less beloved in the north than 
 my lord cardinal before he was amongst them? 
 Who better beloved after he had been there a while? 
 He gave bishops a right good example how they 
 might win men's hearts. There were few holy days 
 but he would ride &ve or six miles from his house, 
 now to this parish church, now to that, and there 
 
THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 295 
 
 cause one or other of his doctors to make a sermon 
 unto the people. He sat amongst them and said 
 mass before all the parish ; he saw why churches were 
 made ; he began to restore them to their right and 
 proper use ; he brought his dinner with him, and 
 bade divers of the parish to it. He inquired whether 
 there were any debate or grudge between any of 
 them. If there were, after dinner he sent for the 
 parties to the church and made them all one. ' ' It 
 is an attractive picture of episcopal activity which is 
 here set before us. We wish that Wolsey had been 
 great enough to realize the pleasure of these simple 
 duties so thoroughly as to wean himself from the 
 allurements of political ambition. But Wolsey in 
 his retirement was something like Machiavelli in 
 exile : he found some satisfaction for his activity in 
 the doings of peasants, but he went home and han- 
 kered for the great life of politics which was denied 
 him. He meditated still how he could overthrow 
 his enemies and return to the more complex prob- 
 lems in which he had been trained. 
 
 At the end of the summer Wolsey removed from 
 Southwell to another manor-house at Scrooby, 
 where he continued the same mode of life. All this 
 time his actions were jealously watched by his ene- 
 mies, who suspected him of trying to gain popu- 
 
296 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 larity and raise up a party in his favor. They did 
 their best to keep him in perpetual annoyance by 
 threats of legal proceedings touching the possessions 
 of the see of York. The king paid no heed to him 
 save to exact all the money he could from his for- 
 feiture. Amongst other things which the king 
 claimed was the payment of Wolsey's pension from 
 the French king; and his care for Wolsey's health 
 at Christmas may have been, due to the fact that he 
 thought that Wolsey's life had a pecuniary value to 
 himself. He presently dissolved Wolsey's college 
 at Ipswich, and seized all its lands and possessions. 
 It was a bitter blow to Wolsey to see his plans thus 
 overthrown. He had hoped to found an institution 
 which should promote education where it was sore- 
 ly needed in the eastern counties. It was the be- 
 ginning of a project which would have led to the 
 foundation of local universities, which it has been 
 reserved to our own day to revive. If Wolsey had 
 remained in power monastic revenues would have 
 been increasingly diverted to educational purposes, 
 and England would have been provided with col- 
 leges which would have grown with local needs. 
 The dissolution of the college at Ipswich checked 
 this process at the beginning, and negatived any 
 scheme for the slow transformation of the monas- 
 
THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 297 
 
 teries into institutions which were in accordance 
 with national needs. 
 
 Cardinal College at Oxford met with better for- 
 tune. Wolsey pleaded hard for its preservation, 
 and the authorities of the college made a stand in 
 its behalf. The king was not yet prepared to seize 
 the lands of the dissolved monastery of St. Frides- 
 wyde, or of the old Canterbury Hall, which had 
 been absorbed, and it could be shown that he would 
 lose as much as he would gain by attempting an ac- 
 curate division of the property of the college. He 
 agreed to '' have an honorable college there, but 
 not so great and of such magnificence as my lord 
 cardinal intended to have, for it is not thought meet 
 for the common weal of our realm. ' ' The site of 
 the college and a portion of its revenues were saved 
 from the commissioners who were realizing Wolsey's 
 forfeiture ; but the name of Christ Church obliter- 
 ated that of Cardinal College, and Henry YIII. en- 
 deavored as far as he could to associate the founda- 
 tion with himself and dissociate it from Wolsey. 
 
 This persistent disregard of the ideas which Wol- 
 sey had striven to put forward weighed heavily on 
 his spirits. ' ' I am put from my sleep and meat, ' ' 
 he wrote, ' ' for such advertisements as I have had 
 of the dissolution of my colleges. ' ' It was not only 
 
298 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 the sense of personal disappointment whicli afflicted 
 him ; it was the hopeless feeling that all his policy 
 was being reversed. "Wolsey was in his way a 
 churchman, and hoped as a statesman to bring the 
 Church into accordance with the national needs. 
 He saw that only in this way could the existing re- 
 sources of the Church be saved from the hand of the 
 spoiler. The king's desire to seize upon the reve- 
 nues of his colleges showed him that Henry had cast 
 away the principles which Wolsey had striven to 
 enforce, that he had broken through the limits which 
 "Wolsey had endeavored to set, and that when once 
 he had tasted his prey his appetite was likely to be 
 insatiable. This taught Wolsey that his own fu- 
 ture was hopeless. On the lower level to which the 
 king had sunk he was not likely to need the car- 
 dinal's aid. "Wolsey' s great schemes for the future 
 were to make way for a policy mainly dictated by 
 present greed. Henry YIII. 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 fiU up with use- 
 ful work the remainder of his days. His poverty 
 tad prevented him from taking possession of his 
 
THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 299 
 
 cathedral, as he had no money to defray the ex- 
 penses of his installation. By the end of September 
 he had managed to scrape together £1500, and set 
 out from Scrooby to York. On his way he was 
 busied with confirmations. At St. Oswald's Abbey 
 he confirmed children from eight in the morning till 
 noon ; after dinner he returned to the church at one, 
 and continued his confirmation till four, when he 
 was constrained for weariness to sit down in a chair. 
 Next morning before his departure he confirmed a 
 hundred children more ; and as he rode on his way 
 he found at Ferrybridge two hundred children wait- 
 ing for confirmation at a stone cross standing upon 
 the green. It was late in the evening before he 
 reached Cawood Castle, seven miles from York. 
 There he was visited by the Dean of York, and 
 made arrangements for his installation. 
 
 This ceremony, however, was not to take place. 
 Wolsey's enemies were implacable, especially the 
 Duke of Norfolk, who was alarmed at the renewal 
 of Wolsey's popularity in the north, and at the 
 signs of vigor which he showed. His actions were 
 jealously watched and eagerly criticised to find some 
 opportunity for a charge against him, which was at 
 last found in Wolsey's communications with foreign 
 envoys. It would seem that Wolsey could not recon- 
 
goo LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 cile himself to political inactivity, and trusted that 
 the influence of Francis I., for whom he had done 
 so much, would be used in his favor. But Francis 
 treated Wolsey with the proverbial ingratitude of 
 politicians. Wolsey had been a friend of France, 
 but his friendship had been costly, and Francis I. 
 found that the new ministers were equally friendly 
 to France, and did not demand so much in return. 
 In truth, Henry, though he had abandoned Wolsey 
 for his failure in the matter of the divorce, had not 
 been better served by his new advisers, who had no 
 other course to follow than that which Wolsey had 
 marked out — to use the close alliance with France 
 as a means of bringing pressure to bear upon the 
 Pope. So Norfolk was obsequious to Francis, who 
 preferred to deal with a man of J^orf oik's calibre 
 rather than acknowledge a master in Wolsey. 
 
 Of this Wolsey was ignorant ; and he no longer 
 showed his old dexterity in promoting his own in- 
 terests. He made the mistake of trusting to the old 
 methods of diplomacy when his position was no 
 longer that of a minister, and when he had been re- 
 moved from actual touch of current affairs. He 
 opened up communications with the French envoy 
 by means of a Yenetian physician, Agostino, who 
 was a member of his household. He even com- 
 
THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 301 
 
 municated with the imperial envoy as well. How- 
 ever harmless these communications might be, they 
 were certainly indiscreet, and were capable of being 
 represented to the king as dangerous. Korfolk 
 gained some information, either from the French 
 envoy or from Agostino, and laid before the king 
 charges against Wolsey, ' ' that he had written to 
 Home to be reinstated in his possessions, and to 
 France for its favor; and was returning to his 
 ancient pomp, and corrupting the people. ' ' There 
 was not much in these charges ; but Norfolk was 
 afraid of Wolsey in the background, and quailed 
 before the king's bursts of petulance, in which he 
 said that the cardinal knew more about the business 
 of the State than any of his new advisers. Henry 
 was quite satisfied with the proceeds of spoiling 
 Wolsey, and was glad to keep him in reserve ; but the 
 suggestion that Wolsey was intriguing with foreign 
 Courts sorely angered him, and he gave orders that 
 "Wolsey be brought to trial to answer for his conduct. 
 So Sir Walter Walshe was sent with a warrant 
 to the Earl of JSTorthumberland, and arrived as 
 Wolsey was busied at Cawood with the prelimi- 
 naries of his installation. On 4th November, when 
 Wolsey had retired from dinner and was sitting in 
 his own room over his dessert, the Earl of North- 
 
302 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 umberland appeared, and demanded the keys of the 
 castle from the porter. He entered the hall, and 
 posted his servants to guard all the doors. Wol- 
 sey, in ignorance of what was in store for him, met 
 Northumberland and offered him hospitality, ex- 
 pressing his delight at the unexpected visit. When 
 they were alone the Earl, ' ' 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 war- 
 rant, which ^Northumberland had not brought with 
 him. As he was speaking Sir Walter Walshe opened 
 the door and thrust into the room the physician 
 Agostino, whom he had made prisoner. "Wolsey 
 asked him about the warrant, and when he recog- 
 nized him as one of the gentlemen of the king's 
 privy chamber, he submitted to the royal com- 
 mands without asking further for the production of 
 the warrant. Then he delivered up his keys to 
 Northumberland. 
 
 Agostino was at once sent to London tied under 
 a horse's belly — a mode of conveyance which was 
 doubtless calculated to refresh his memory. When 
 he arrived in London he was taken to the Duke of 
 Norfolk's house, and showed himself ready to bear 
 
THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 30S 
 
 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 J^orf oik's house like a prince, and is sing- 
 ing the tune they wished. ' ' 
 
 There was not the same need of haste in bringing 
 Wolsey to London, for even with Agostino's help 
 l^orfolk was doubtful if the evidence against Wol- 
 sey would be sufficient to ensure his condemnation 
 to death ; and he did not wish to give Wolsey the 
 opportunity of a trial when he might still be for- 
 midable. His imprisonment in the Tower at the 
 royal pleasure would only bring him nearer to the 
 king, who might at any moment make use of him 
 as he threatened. Really, IN^orfolk was somewhat 
 embarrassed at the success of his scheme ; and Wol- 
 sey, in a conversation with Cavendish, showed a 
 flash of his old greatness. ' ' If I may come to my 
 answer," he said, "I fear no man alive; for he 
 liveth not upon the earth that shall look upon this 
 face and shall be able to accuse me of any untruth ; 
 and that know my enemies full well, which Avill be 
 an occasion that I shall not have indifferent justice, 
 but they will rather seek some other sinister way to 
 destroy me. 
 
 5) 
 
a04 LIF^ OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 It was this thouglit that unnerved Wolsey, worn 
 out as he was by disappointment, humiliated by his 
 helplessness, and harassed by a sense of relentless 
 persecution. Still he retained his dignity and kind- 
 liness, and when on the evening of 7th [NTovember he 
 was told to prepare for his journey, he insisted upon 
 bidding farewell to his household. The Earl of 
 ]^orthumberland wished to prevent this, and only 
 gave way through fear of a tumult if he persisted in 
 his refusal. The servants knelt weeping before Wol- 
 sey , who ' ' gave them comfortable words and worthy 
 praises for their diligent faithfulness and honest 
 truth towards him, assuring them that what chance 
 soever should happen unto him, that he was a true 
 man and just to his sovereign lord. ' ' Then shaking 
 each of them by the hand he departed. 
 
 Outside the gate the country folk had assembled 
 to the number of three thousand, who cried, " God 
 save your grace. The foul evil take all them that 
 hath thus taken you from us ; we pray God that a 
 very vengeance may light upon them. ' ' Thus they 
 ran crying after him through the town of Cawood, 
 they loved him so well. After this moving fare- 
 well Wolsey rode through the gathering darkness 
 to Pomfret, where he was lodged in the abbey. 
 Thence he proceeded through Doncaster to Sheffield 
 
THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 305 
 
 Park, where he Avas kindly received by the Earl of 
 Shrewsbury, whose guest he was for eighteen days. 
 Once a day the earl visited him and tried to com- 
 fort him, but Wolsey refused all human comfort and 
 applied himself diligently to prayer. While he was 
 at Sheffield Park his health, which never had been 
 good, began to give way, and he suffered from dys- 
 entery, which was aggravated by an unskilful 
 apothecary. 
 
 As he was thus ailing there arrived Sir William 
 Kingston, Constable of the Tower, Avith a guard of 
 twenty -four soldiers ; he had received a commission 
 from the king to bring Wolsey as a prisoner to the 
 Tower. It would seem from this that Agostino'S 
 confessions had been skilfully raised to fan the 
 royal wrath, and Henry gave this sign that he was 
 prepared to treat his former minister as a traitor. 
 The Earl of Shrewsbury did his best to treat the 
 coming of Kingston as a trivial incident, and sent 
 Cavendish to break the news gently to his master. 
 Cavendish gave the message as he was bidden. 
 '' Forsooth my lord of Shrewsbury, perceiA^ng by 
 your often communication that ye were always de- 
 sirous to come before the king's Majesty, and now 
 as your assured friend, hath travailed so with his 
 
 letters imto the king, that the king hath sent for 
 20 
 
306 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 you by Master Kingston and twenty-four of the 
 guard to conduct you to his Highness." Wolsey 
 was not deceived. ^'Master Kingston," he re- 
 peated, and smote his thigh. "When Cavendish 
 made a further attempt to cheer him he cut him 
 short by saying, ' ' I perceive more than you can im- 
 agine or can know. Experience hath taught me." 
 When Kingston was introduced and knelt before 
 him, Wolsey said, ' ' I pray you stand up, and leave 
 your kneeling unto a very wretch replete with mis- 
 ery, not worthy to be esteemed, but for a vile ob- 
 ject utterly cast away, mthout desert ; and there- 
 fore, good Master Kingston, stand up, or I will my- 
 self kneel down by you. ' ' After some talk Wolsey 
 thanked Kingston for his kind words. ' ' Assure 
 yourself that if I were as able and as lusty as I have 
 been but of late, I would not fail to ride with you 
 in post. But all these comfortable words which ye 
 have spoken be but for a purpose to bring me to a 
 fool's paradise; I know what is provided forme." 
 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 
 
"¥ 
 
THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 307 
 
 hands, and divers times by the way as he rode he 
 would talk with them, sometime with one and some- 
 time with another. ' ' That night he reached Hard- 
 wick Hall, in Notts, a house of the Earl of Shrews- 
 bury, and the next day rode to Nottingham. On the 
 way from thence to Leicester he was so feeble that he 
 could scarcely sit upon his mule. It was dark on 
 Saturday night when he reached Leicester Abbey, 
 where the abbot greeted him by torchlight. 
 ' ' Father Abbot, ' ' he said, ' ' I am come hither to 
 leave my bones among you." Kingston had to 
 carry him upstairs to his bed, which he never 
 quitted again. 
 
 All Sunday his malady increased, and on Monday 
 morning Cavendish, as he watched his face, thought 
 him drawing fast to his end. ' ' He perceiving my 
 shadow upon the wall by his bedside asked who 
 was there. ' Sir, I am here, ' quoth I. ' What is 
 it of the clock?' said he. 'Forsooth, sir,' said 
 I, ' it is past eight of the clock in the morning. ' — 
 ' Eight of the clock, eight of the clock, ' said he, re- 
 hearsing divers times. ' Nay, nay, it cannot be eight 
 of the clock ; for by eight of the clock ye shall lose 
 your master, for my time draweth near that I must 
 depart out of this world. ' ' ' 
 
 But the dying man was not to depart without a 
 
308 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 reminder of the pitiless character of the master 
 whom he had served so well. When Wolsey left 
 Cawood the Earl of ^Northumberland remained be- 
 hind to examine his papers ; amongst them he found 
 a record that Wolsey had in his possession £1500, 
 but he reported to the king that he could not find 
 the money. Such was Henry's keenness as his own 
 minister of finance that he could not await Wolsey's 
 arrival in London, but wrote off instantly to King- 
 ston, bidding him examine Wolsey how he came by 
 the money, and discover where it was. In obedi- 
 ence to the royal command Kingston reluctantly 
 visited the dying man, who told him that he had 
 borrowed the money of divers friends and depen- 
 dants whom he did not wish to see defrauded ; the 
 money was in the keeping of an honest man, and 
 he asked for a little time before disclosing where it 
 was. 
 
 In the night he often swooned, but rallied in the 
 morning and asked for food. Some chicken broth 
 was brought him, but he remembered that it was a 
 fast-day, being St. Andrew's Eve. "What though 
 it be, ' ' said his confessor, ' ' ye be excused by rea- 
 son of your sickness." — "Yea," said he, "what 
 though ? I ^vill eat no more. ' ' After this he made 
 his confession, and about seven in the morning 
 
THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 309 
 
 Kingston entered to ask further about the money. 
 But seeing how ill "Wolsey was, Kingston tried to 
 comfort him. "Well, well," said Wolsej, ''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 m}'- worldly diligence and pains that I 
 had to do him service, only to satisfy his vain pleas- 
 ure, not regarding my godly duty. Wherefore, I 
 pray you, T\nth all my heart, to have me most hum- 
 bly commended unto his royal Majesty, beseeching 
 him in my behalf to call to his most gracious re- 
 membrance all matters proceeding between him and 
 me from the beginning of the world unto this day, 
 and the progress of the same, and most chiefly in 
 the weighty matter now depending {i.e. the divorce) ; 
 then shall his conscience declare whether I have 
 offended him or no. He is sure a prince of a royal 
 courage, and hath a princel}^ heart ; and rather than 
 he will either miss or want any part of his will or 
 appetite he will put the loss of one-half of his realm 
 in danger. For I assure you I have often kneeled 
 before him in his privy chamber on my knees the 
 space of an hour or two, to persuade him from his 
 will and appetite ; but I could never bring to pass 
 
310 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 to dissuade him therefrom. Therefore, Master 
 Kingston, if it chance hereafter you to be one of his 
 Privy Council, as for your wisdom and other qual- 
 ities ye are meet to be, I warn you to be well ad- 
 vised and assured what matter ye put in his head, 
 for ye shall never put it out again." He went on 
 to bid him warn the king against the spread of the 
 pernicious sect of Lutherans as harmful to the royal 
 authority and destructive of the order of the realm. 
 Then as his tongue failed him he gasped out, 
 " Master Kingston, farewell. I can no more, but 
 wish all things to have good success. My time 
 draweth on fast. I may not tarry with you. And 
 forget not, I pray you, what I have said and 
 charged you withal, for when I am dead ye shall 
 perad venture remember my words much better." 
 His breath failed him and his eyes grew fixed. The 
 abbot came to administer supreme unction, and as 
 the clock struck eight Wolsey passed away. ' * And 
 calling to our remembrance his words the day be- 
 fore, how he said that at eight of the clock we 
 should lose our master, one of us looked upon an- 
 other supposing that he prophesied of his depart- 
 
 ure." 
 
 Kingston sent a message to tell the king of Wol- 
 sey' s death, and hastened the preparations for his 
 
THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 311 
 
 funeral. His body was placed in a coffin of boards, 
 vested in his archiepiscopal robes, with his mitre, 
 cross, and ring. It lay in state till five in the after- 
 noon, when it was carried into the church and was 
 placed in the Lady Chapel, where it was watched 
 all night. At four in the morning mass was sung, 
 and by six the grave had closed over the remains of 
 Wolsey. 
 
 It would be consoling to think that a pang of 
 genuine sorrow was felt by Henry YIII. when he 
 heard of the death of Wolsey ; but unfortunately 
 there is no ground for thinking so, and' all that is 
 on record shows us that Henry's chief care still was 
 to get hold of the £1500, which was all that re- 
 mained of "VYolsev's fortune. Cavendish was taken 
 by Kingston to Hampton Court, where he was smn- 
 moned to the king, who was engaged in archery in 
 the park. As Cavendish stood against a tree sadly 
 musing Henry suddenly came behind him and 
 slapped him on the back, saying, ' * I will make an 
 end of my game, and then I will talk with you. ' ' 
 Soon he finished his game and went into the garden, 
 but kept Cavendish waiting for some time outside. 
 The interview lasted more than an hour, ^ ' during 
 which time he examined me of divers matters con- 
 cernmg my lord, wishing that liever than twenty 
 
312 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 thousand pounds that he had lived. Then he asked 
 me for the fifteen hundred pounds which Master 
 Kingston moved to my lord before his death." 
 Cavendish told him what he knew about it, and 
 said that it was deposited with a certain priest. 
 *'Well, then," said the king, ''let me alone, &nd 
 keep this gear secret between yourself and me, and 
 let no man be privy thereof ; for if I hear more of 
 it, then I know by whom it is come to knowledge. 
 Three may keep counsel if two be away ; and if I 
 thought that my cap knew my counsel I would cast 
 it into the fire and burn it." Henry spoke freely, 
 and these words disclose the secret of his strength. 
 Every politician has a method of his own by which 
 he hides his real character and assumes a personality 
 which is best fitted for his designs. Henry YIII. 
 beneath an air of frankness and geniality concealed 
 a jealous and watchful temperament, full of crafty 
 designs for immediate gain, resolute, avaricious, 
 and profoundly self-seeking. 
 
 As we have been so much indebted to Cavendish 
 for an account of Wolsey's private life, especially 
 in his last days, it is worth while to follow Caven- 
 dish's fortunes. The king promised to take him 
 into his own service, and to pay him his wages for 
 the last year, amounting to £10. He bade him ask 
 
THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 313 
 
 it of the Duke of ISTorfolk. 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 
 Avhat he said. " He spoke many idle words, as 
 men in such extremities do, the which I cannot 
 now remember." He referred them to Kingston's 
 more accurate memory. It is a dismal picture of 
 Court life which is here presented to us. On every 
 side was intrigue, suspicion, and deceit. Wolsey's 
 last words were consigned to oblivion; for the 
 frankness that was begotten of a retrospect in one 
 who had nothing more to hope or fear was danger- 
 ous in a place whence truth was banished. 
 
 When the Council was over Norfolk talked with 
 Cavendish about his future. Cavendish had seen 
 enough of public life, and had no heart to face its 
 dangers. The figure of Wolsey rose before his eyes, 
 and he preferred to carry away into solitude his 
 memories of the vanity of man's ambition. His 
 
314 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 only request was for a cart and a horse to carry 
 away his own goods, which had been brought with 
 Wolsey's to the Tower. The king was gracious, 
 and allowed him to choose six cart-horses and a cart 
 from Wolsey's stable. He gave him five marks for 
 his expenses, paid him £10 for arrears of wages, 
 and added £20 as a reward. '^ I received all these 
 things accordingly, and then I returned into my 
 country. ' ' 
 
 It says much for "Wolsey that he chose as his per- 
 sonal attendant a man of the sweet, sensitive, retir- 
 ing type of George Cavendish, though it was not till 
 after his fall from power that he learned the value 
 of such a friend. 'No less significant of the times is 
 the profound impression which Wolsey's fate ex- 
 cited on the mind of Cavendish, who in the retire- 
 ment of his own county of Suffolk lived with in- 
 creasing sadness through the changes which befell 
 England and destroyed many of the memories which 
 were dearest to his heart. No one then cared to 
 hear about Wolsey, nor was it safe to recall the 
 thought of the great Cardinal of England to the 
 minds of men who were busied in undoing his work. 
 Not till the days of Mary did Cavendish gather to- 
 gether his notes and sketch the fortunes of one 
 whose figure loomed forth from a distant past, mel- 
 
THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 315 
 
 lowed by the mists of time, and hallowed by the 
 pious resignation which was the only comfort that 
 reflection could give to the helpless recluse. The 
 calm of a poetic sadness is expressed in the pages of 
 Cavendish's Memoir. Wolsey has become to him 
 a type of the vanity of human endeavor, and points 
 the moral of the superiority of a quiet life with God 
 over the manifold activities of an aspiring ambition. 
 But Cavendish did not live to see the time when 
 such a sermon, preached on such a text, was likely 
 to appeal to many hearers. His work remained in 
 manuscript, of which copies circulated amongst a 
 few. One such copy, it is clear, must have reached 
 the hands of Shakespeare, who, with his usual quick- 
 ness of perception, condensed as much as his public 
 could understand into his portrait of Wolsey in the 
 play of Henry VIII. When the Memoir was first 
 printed in 1641 it was garbled for party purposes. 
 The figure of Wolsey was long left to the portrai- 
 ture of prejudice, and he was regarded only as the 
 type of the arrogant ecclesiastic whom it was the 
 great work of the Eeformation to have rendered im- 
 possible in the future. Wolsey, the most patriotic 
 of Englishmen, was branded as the minion of the 
 Pope, and the upholder of a foreign despotism. 
 When Fiddes, in 1724, attempted, on the strength 
 
316 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 of documents, to restore Wolsey to his due position 
 amongst England's worthies, he was accused of 
 Popery. IsTot till the mass of documents relating to 
 the reign of Henry YIII. was published did it be- 
 come possible for Dr. Brewer ^ to show the signifi- 
 cance of the schemes of the great cardinal, and to 
 estimate his merits and his faults. 
 
 * John Slierren Brewer (1810-1879) was educated at Ox- 
 ford, where he was famous for the wide range of his reading. 
 After various employments, which included tutoring, a 
 chaplaincy, and work in the British Museum, he was in 1839 
 appointed lecturer in classical literature at King's College, 
 London, and in 1855 he succeeded his friend F. D. Maurice 
 as professor of the English language and literature and 
 lecturer in modern history, in the same institution. In 1865 
 he was commissioned to prepare a calendar of the state papers 
 of Henry VIII., a work of great labor and for which he had 
 peculiar fitness. In this work he continued till the day of 
 his death. To him therefore England is largely indebted for 
 general and accurate information upon the events of that 
 period. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE WOKK OF WOLSEY. 
 
 <* No statesman of such eminence ever died less 
 lamented," is Dr. Brewer's remark on Wolsev's 
 death. Indeed, the king had forgotten his old ser- 
 vant; his enemies rejoiced to be rid of a possible 
 rival; the men whom he had trained in politics 
 were busy in seeking their own advancement, which 
 was not to be promoted by tears for a fallen minis- 
 ter ; the people had never loved him, and were in- 
 different about one who was no longer powerful. 
 In a time of universal uncertainty every one was 
 speculating on the future, and saw that the future 
 was not to be determined by Wolseyorby 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 
 
 317 
 
318 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 its problems, but within its limits he took a wider 
 and juster view of the problems of his time than 
 any English statesman has ever done. For politics 
 in the largest sense, comprising all the relations of 
 the nation at home and abroad, Wolsey had a capac- 
 ity which amounted to genius, and it is doubtful if 
 this can be said of any other Englishman. There 
 have been many capable administrators, many ex- 
 cellent organizers, many who bravely faced the diffi- 
 culties of their time, many who advocated particu- 
 lar reforms and achieved definite results. But Wol- 
 sey aimed at doing all these things together and 
 more. Taking England as he found her, he aimed 
 at developing all her latent possibilities, and leading 
 Europe to follow in her train. In this project there 
 was nothing chimerical or fantastic, for Wolsey' s 
 mind was eminently practical. Starting from the 
 existing condition of affairs, he made England for a 
 time the center of European politics, and gave her 
 an influence far higher than she could claim on ma- 
 terial grounds. Moreover, his far-reaching schemes 
 abroad did not interfere with strict attention to the 
 details of England's interests. His foreign policy 
 was to promote English trade, facilitate the union of 
 Scotland, keep peace at small expense, prepare the 
 way for internal re-organization, and secure the right 
 
THE WORK OF WOLSEY. 319 
 
 of dealing judiciously with ecclesiastical reform. 
 Wolsey's plans all hung together. However ab- 
 sorbed he might be in a particular point it was only 
 part of a great design, and he used each advantage 
 which he gained as a means of strengthening Eng- 
 land's position for some future undertaking. He 
 had a clear view of the future as a Avhole ; he knew 
 not only what he wished to make of England but of 
 Europe as well. He never worked at a question 
 from one motive only ; what failed for one purpose 
 was made useful for another ; his resources were not 
 bounded by the immediate result. 
 
 Politics to him was not a pursuit, it was a pas- 
 sion. He loved it as an artist loves his art, for he 
 found in it a complete satisfaction for his nature. 
 All that was best, and all that was worst, in Wolsey 
 sprang from this exceptional attitude towards state- 
 craft, which he practised with enthusiasm, not in 
 the spirit of cold calculation. The world is accus- 
 tomed to statesmen who clothe the results of calcu- 
 lation in the language of enthusiasm; Wolsey's 
 language was practical and direct, his passionate as- 
 pirations were restrained within his own bosom. 
 
 Thus there is a largeness and distinction about 
 Wolsey's aims, a far-reaching patriotism, and an 
 admirable lucidity. He was indeed a political artist, 
 
320 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 who worked with a free hand and a certain touch. 
 He was absorbed in his art as a painter over his 
 picture, and he did not shrink as the full size of his 
 canvas was gradually unrolled. He set himself to 
 dominate Europe, and was fearless and self-con- 
 tained. He gave himself entirely to his work, and 
 in his eyes the nobility of his end justified any 
 means. But he was sensitive, as all artists are, 
 and could not work under cramped conditions. 
 When he was restricted to the small matter of the 
 divorce his hand lost its cunning. He was, though 
 he knew it not, fitted to serve England, but not 
 fitted to serve the English king. He had the aims 
 of a national statesman, not of a royal servant. 
 
 Wolsey's misfortune was that his lot was cast 
 on days when the career of a statesnian was not 
 distinct from that of a royal servant. He owed 
 his introduction to politics solely to royal favor, and 
 neither had nor could obtain any other warrant for 
 his position. For good or evil England was identi- 
 fied with her king, and it was long before it could be 
 otherwise. Certainly Wolsey had no wish that it 
 should be otherwise, and his subservience to the 
 royal will seems to us to be unworthy of his great- 
 ness. But Wolsey associated his political life with 
 the king's goodwill, and Henry was to him a sym- 
 
THE WORK OF WOLSEY. 321 
 
 bol of all that was best and most intelligent in Eng- 
 land. His deviations from his own policy in obedi- 
 ence to the king were not more degrading or more 
 inevitable than are the calculations of the modern 
 statesman about the exact limits of the field of prac- 
 tical politics. A statesman has not only to form 
 projects, he has to secure a force behind him which 
 will enable him to give them effect. Each age 
 recognizes this fact, and acts accordingly. There 
 is nothing more intrinsically base in Wolsey's sub- 
 servience to the royal will than in the efforts of 
 modern statesmen to bid against one another for 
 an opportunity of carrying out what they think to 
 be the will of the people. ISTo politician has a 
 complete command of his field of action ; his 
 high-mindedness and purity must be tested by the 
 degree of compromise Avhich consciously or uncon- 
 sciously he makes between his love of power and 
 his knowledge or his conscience. The utmost that 
 can be demanded of him is that he should not, to 
 keep his place, deliberately act contrary to what he 
 believes to be wise or knows to be right. 
 
 In his general conduct of politics Wolsey was true 
 to his principles, and though occasionally thwarted, 
 he still pursued the same ends. The matter of the 
 divorce was sprung upon him, and it would have 
 
 21 
 
322 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 been well for Wolsey's fame if he had retired rather 
 than involve himself in the unworthy proceedings to 
 which it led. But the temptation to all men to 
 think themselves necessery in the sphere which they 
 have made their own is a subtle one; and those who 
 begin by hoping that they may minimize inevitable 
 mischief, end by being dragged into the mire. To 
 a statesman this temptation is great in proportion to 
 the largeness of his ultimate aim. He resents that 
 his schemes should be ruined by a temporary de- 
 rangement of the perspective of affairs ; he believes 
 that his practised hand can easily solve a trumpery 
 difficulty; the excellence of his intentions in the 
 long-run justifies an occasional sacrifice on the 
 shrine of present necessity. If he does some things 
 amiss, after all he is not responsible for them ; they 
 are disagreeable incidents in his tenure of office. 
 
 So Wolsey regarded the divorce ; and he is not 
 greatly to be blamed for agreeing to promote it. 
 He saw great national advantages in a divorce ; he 
 knew that it would be well for England if Henry 
 YIII. 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 
 
THE WORK OF WOLSEY. 323 
 
 if he could have done so with safety. Not even 
 Wolsey could foresee the king's obstinacy and tenac- 
 ity of purpose, the depth of meanness to which he 
 would sink, and to which he would drag all around 
 him. Wolsey found himself powerless to resist, and 
 the growing consciousness of moral turpitude 
 practised to no purpose degraded him in his own 
 eyes and robbed him of his strength. When once 
 the divorce question was started Wolsey was pushed 
 on to his ruin by a power of imperious wickedness 
 which debased others without losing its own self- 
 respect. The dictates of public opinion are, after 
 all, not so very different from the commands of an 
 absolute king. Both may destroy their victims, 
 and go on their own way with heads erect. 
 
 So when we speak of the fall of Wolsey we mean 
 more than his irrevocable loss of power. He had 
 lost his inner strength, and no longer kept his hold 
 upon affairs. He knew that he was sullied and un- 
 nerved; that he had sunk from the position of a 
 leader to that of one who tremblingly follows and 
 devises shifty plans that he may still exercise the 
 semblance of his old authority. He knew that in 
 his negotiations about the divorce he staked every- 
 thing that he had gained, and that the result, what- 
 ever it was, would be disastrous to his great designs. 
 
324: LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 If he had succeeded he would have degraded the 
 Papacy; and when Henry had once learned how 
 easy it was for him to get his own way, he would 
 have used his knowledge to the full, and "Wolsey 
 would have been powerless to direct him. When 
 Wolsey became the instrument of the king's self- 
 will, he hoped that a few disappointments would 
 wear out his obstinacy ; when he saw Henry's grow- 
 ing resoluteness and complete self-will he knew that 
 for himself the future was hopeless. Still he had 
 not the magnanimity to resign himself to his disap- 
 pointment. He clung to power when power had 
 ceased to be useful for his plans. He clung to 
 poAver, because the habits of ofl&ce had become to 
 him a second nature. He vainly strove to find 
 satisfaction in the discharge of his episcopal duties ; 
 he vainly tried to content himself with the simple 
 affairs of simple men. He had given himself en- 
 tirely to the material world, and had estranged him- 
 self from the spiritual world, which was to him thin 
 and unsubstantial to the last. He could not refrain 
 from casting longing glances behind him, and his 
 last days are pitiable. The words of the dying man 
 are often quoted as showing the misery of those who 
 trust in princes' favor. But they are not merely an 
 echo of a far-off state of things which has passed by 
 
THE WORK OF WOLSEY. 325 
 
 forever. ''To serve one's country" may have a 
 loftier and more noble sound than "to serve one's 
 king," but the meaning is not necessarily different. 
 The thought in Wolsey's heart was this — " If I had 
 served the spiritual interests of my country as I have 
 striven to serve its material interests my conscience 
 would be more at rest. ' ' For Wolsey was a true 
 patriot, and had noble aims. Much as he might 
 deaden his conscience, he did not extinguish it ; and 
 his last judgment of himself expressed the sad con- 
 viction that neither his patriotism nor the nobilit}^ 
 of his aims had saved him from actions, which he 
 could not justify, and which his conscience loudly 
 condemned. 
 
 We have called Wolsey a political artist: and 
 this, which makes his career attractive, is the secret 
 of his unpopularity. Wolsey's designs did not 
 arise from the pressure of absolute necessity, and 
 their ipeaning was not apparent to his contempo- 
 raries. Englishmen thought then, as they think 
 now, that England should disregard foreign affairs 
 and develop her own resources ; or if foreign affairs 
 are undertaken they demand the success of English 
 arms, and claim to be repaid in current coin or pal- 
 pable advantages. Wolsey believed that the es- 
 tablishment of England's power on the Continent 
 
326 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 was necessary for the increase of English trade, and 
 was a preliminary for the wise solution of those 
 questions which were most urgent in domestic poli- 
 tics. He was the last English statesman of the old 
 school, which regarded England not as a separate 
 nation, but as an integral part of Western Christen- 
 dom. He did not look upon questions as being 
 solely English questions : he did not aim merely at 
 reforming English monasteries or asserting a new 
 position for the English Church. But he thought 
 that England was ripe for practically carrying out 
 reforms which had long been talked of, and remedy- 
 ing abuses which had long been lamented ; and he 
 hoped that England in these respects would serve 
 as a model to the rest of Europe. Only if England 
 was in full accord with European sentiment, was 
 powerful, and was respected, could this be done. 
 Wolsey did not prefer foreign politics on their own 
 account, but he found them to be the necessary pre- 
 liminary for any lasting work on the lines which 
 he contemplated. As regards Church matters he 
 was strictly practical. He had no belief in reform- 
 ing councils, or pragmatic sanctions, or Galilean 
 liberties; he cared little for England's weapon of 
 ^Tcemunire. He did not look upon the Pope as a 
 powerful adversary who was to be held at arm's. 
 
THE WORK OF WOLSEY. 327 
 
 length ; he regarded hun as a man to be managed 
 and converted into a useful aUy. Wolsey was en- 
 tirely Erastian. Power was to him the important 
 thing in human affairs, and all power was the same ; 
 he believed much more in the divine right of Henry 
 YIII. than in the divine right of Clement YII. 
 merely because Henry's power seemed to him prac- 
 tically to be greater. However poetical "Wolsey 's 
 main ideas might be, he had no illusions about the 
 actual facts of politics. 
 
 The Englishmen of his own day did not appre- / 
 ciate Wolsey 's aims, and supposed that his foreign! 
 policy was for the gratification of his own vanity, 
 or was the result of a desire to gain the Papacy. 
 'No one understood him in his own time. He bore 
 the burden of everything that was done, and all 
 the causes of popular discontent were laid at his 
 door. If the loyalty of Wolsey seems strange to 
 our eyes, still more inexplicable is the loyalty of the 
 English people, who could believe in Henry's good 
 intentions, and could suppose that he was entirely 
 ruled by Wolsey contrary to his own inclinations. 
 Wolsey was universally hated ; by the nobles as an 
 upstart, by the people as a tyrant, by Churchmen as 
 a dangerous reformer, by the Lutherans as a rank 
 Papist, While he was in power he kept in restraint 
 
328 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 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 YIII., who had learned more from Wolsey 
 than anyone else, to direct England's fortunes on a 
 lower level of endeavor. We may admire his clear 
 head and his strong hand ; we may even prefer the 
 results of his solution to those which Wolsey would 
 have wrought; but we must confess that personal 
 motives held the chief place in his mind, and that 
 considerations of the common weal came only in 
 the second place. For Henry YIII. abandoned 
 Wolsey 's idea of a European settlement of ecclesi- 
 astical questions, and gradually undertook a national 
 settlement on lines drawn solely with reference to 
 his own desires and his own interest. In this 
 simpler matter it Avas possible for him to enjoy some 
 measure of success, and this was chiefly due to the 
 preparation which Wolsey had made. For the work 
 of a statesmen is never entirely thrown away ; if 
 his own plans fail, he leaves the way open for 
 others who may use his means for v/idely different 
 ends. 
 
 Wolsey was the creator of the forces which- 
 
THE WORK OF WOLSEY. 329 
 
 worked the great change in England in the sixteenth 
 century. He obtained for England a position in 
 the esteem of Europe which he had meant to use 
 for the direction of Europe generally. Henry used 
 that position for the assertion of England's right to 
 settle its own affairs for itself; and the position 
 proved strong enough to ward off foreign interfer- 
 ence, and to carry England safely through the first 
 period of a dangerous crisis. It was because Wol- 
 sey had laid a sure foundation that England emerged 
 from her separatist policy, isolated, it is true, but 
 not excluded from European influence. Again, 
 Wolsey exalted the royal power, because he be- 
 lieved that it alone could rise above the separate in- 
 terests of classes, and could give a large expression 
 to the national weal. Henry profited by Wolsey's 
 labors to pursue exclusively his own interests, yet he 
 learned enough to interweave them dexterously with 
 some national interests in such a way that they could 
 not practically be disentangled, and that he had suf- 
 ficient adherents to put down opposition when it 
 arose. Even the preliminary steps which Wolsey 
 had taken were carefully followed. His scheme for 
 the gradual conversion of monasteries into more 
 useful institutions was revived, and men believed 
 that it would be imitated : the very agents that he 
 
330 LIFE OF THOMAS WOLSEY. 
 
 had trained for the work of turning monasteries into 
 educational establishments were employed in sweep- 
 ing the monastic revenues into the royal coffers. So 
 it was with all other things. Henry learned Wol- 
 sey's methods, and popularized Wolsey's phrases. 
 He clothed his own self-seeking with the dignity of 
 Wolsey's designs; the hands were the hands of 
 Henry, but the voice was an echo of the voice of 
 Wolsey. 
 
 The new England that was created in the sixteenth 
 century was strangely unlike that which Wolsey had 
 dreamed of, yet none the less it was animated by 
 his spirit. His ideal of England, influential in 
 Europe through the mediatorial policy which her 
 insular position allowed her to claim, prosperous at 
 home through the influence which she obtained by 
 her far-sighted wisdom and disinterestedness — -this 
 is Wolsey's permanent contribution to the history 
 of English politics.* 
 
 * The estimate of the character and work of Wolsey, as 
 given in this chapter, is judicious. Nevertheless it may 
 interest the reader to compare certain other comments, which 
 are accordingly added here. 
 
 Lingard says: "The best eulogy on his character is to be 
 found in the contrast in the conduct of Henry before and 
 after the cardinal's fall. As long as Wolsey continued in 
 favor, the royal passions were confined within certain bounds ; 
 the moment his influence was extinguished, they burst 
 
THE WORK OF WOLSEY. 331 
 
 through every restraint and by their caprice and violence 
 alarmed his subjects and astonished the other nations of 
 Europe." 
 
 J. R. Green, on the other hand, after quoting Wolsey's 
 words ("And, Master Knyghton, had I but served God as 
 diligently as I have served the king, He would not have 
 given me over in my grey hairs. But this is my due re- 
 ward for my pains and study, not regarding my service to 
 God, but only my duty to my prince.") Adds: '-No words 
 could paint with so terrible a truthfulness the spirit of the 
 new despotism which Wolsey had done more than any of 
 those who went before him to build up. All sense of loyalty 
 to England, to its freedom, to its institutions, had utterly 
 passed away. The one duty which a statesman owed was 
 a duty to his "prince," a prince whose personal will and 
 appetite was overriding the highest interests of the State, 
 trampling under foot the wisest councils, and crushing with 
 the blind ingratitude of Fate the servants who opposed him. 
 But even Wolsey, while he recoiled from the monstrous form 
 which had revealed itself, could hardly have dreamed of the 
 work of destruction which the royal courage, and yet more 
 the royal appetite of his masters was to accomplish in the 
 years to come." 
 
 To the present writer it seems as if Wolsey narrowly missed 
 being one of the greatest men in all the history of England ; 
 but that, having missed that high possibility ; his influence 
 was on the whole pernicious to a degree. 
 
 The evil that men do lives after them, 
 The good is oft interred with their bones. 
 
 So was it with Wolsey. 
 
 THE END. 
 
H 2U 79 
 
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