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THE HISTORY OF ENGLAND
FROM THE INVASION OF JULIUS CAESAR
TO THE END OF THE REIGN OF JAMES THE SECOND,
BY DAVID HUME, ESQ.
1688
London: James S. Virtue, City Road and Ivy Lane
New York: 26 John Street
1860
And
Philadelphia:
J. B. Lippincott & Co.
March 17, 1901
In Three Volumes:
VOLUME ONE: The History Of England From The Invasion Of Julius Caesar To
The End Of The Reign Of James The Second............ By David Hume, Esq.
VOLUME TWO: Continued from the Reign of William and Mary to the Death of
George II........................................... by Tobias Smollett.
VOLUME THREE: From the Accession of George III. to the Twenty-Third Year
of the Reign of Queen Victoria............... by E. Farr and E.H. Nolan.
VOLUME ONE
Part C.
HENRY VII. TO MARY
CHAPTER XXIV.
[Illustration: 1-309-henry7.jpg HENRY VII.]
HENRY VII.
{1485.} THE victory which the earl of Richmond gained at Bosworth was
entirely decisive; being attended, as well with the total rout and
dispersion of the royal army, as with the death of the king himself. Joy
for this great success suddenly prompted the soldiers, in the field of
battle, to bestow on their victorious general the appellation of king,
which he had not hitherto assumed; and the acclamations of "Long live
Henry VII.," by a natural and unpremeditated movement, resounded from
all quarters. To bestow some appearance of formality on this species
of military election, Sir William Stanley brought a crown of ornament,
which Richard wore in battle, and which had been found among the spoils;
and he put it on the head of the victor. Henry himself remained not
in suspense; but immediately, without hesitation, accepted of the
magnificent present which was tendered him. He was come to the crisis
of his fortune; and being obliged suddenly to determine himself, amidst
great difficulties which he must have frequently revolved in his mind,
he chose that part which his ambition suggested to him, and to which he
seemed to be invited by his present success.
There were many titles on which Henry could found his right to the
crown; but no one of them free from great objections, if considered with
respect either to justice or to policy.
During some years, Henry had been regarded as heir to the house of
Lancaster by the party attached to that family; but the title of the
house of Lancaster itself was generally thought to be very ill founded.
Henry IV., who had first raised it to royal dignity, had never clearly
defined the foundation of his claim; and while he plainly invaded the
order of succession, he had not acknowledged the election of the people.
The parliament, it is true, had often recognized the title of the
Lancastrian princes; but these votes had little authority, being
considered as instances of complaisance towards a family in possession
of present power; and they had accordingly been often reversed during
the late prevalence of the house of York. Prudent men also, who had been
willing for the sake of peace to submit to any established authority,
desired not to see the claims of that family revived; claims which must
produce many convulsions at present, and which disjointed for the future
the whole system of hereditary right. Besides, allowing the title of the
house of Lancaster to be legal, Henry himself was not the true heir of
that family; and nothing but the obstinacy natural to faction, which
never without reluctance will submit to an antagonist, could have
engaged the Lancastrians to adopt the earl of Richmond as their head.
His mother indeed, Margaret, countess of Richmond, was sole daughter
and heir of the duke of Somerset, sprung from John of Gaunt, duke of
Lancaster: but the descent of the Somerset line was itself illegitimate,
and even adulterous. And though the duke of Lancaster had obtained
the legitimation of his natural children by a patent from Richard II.,
confirmed in parliament, it might justly be doubted whether this deed
could bestow any title to the crown: since in the patent itself all the
privileges conferred by it are fully enumerated, and the succession to
the kingdom is expressly excluded.[*] In all settlements of the crown
made during the reigns of the Lancastrian princes, the line of Somerset
had been entirely overlooked; and it was not till the failure of the
legitimate branch, that men had paid any attention to their claim. And
to add to the general dissatisfaction against Henry's title, his mother,
from whom he derived all his right was still alive; and evidently
preceded him in the order of succession.
* Rymer, tom. vii. p. 849. Coke's Inst. iv. Inst. part i. p.
37.
His title of the house of York, both from the plain reason of the case,
and from the late popular government of Edward IV., had universally
obtained the preference in the sentiments of the people; and Henry might
ingraft his claim on the rights of that family, by his intended marriage
with the princess Elizabeth, the heir of it; a marriage which he had
solemnly promised to celebrate, and to the expectation of which he had
chiefly owed all his past successes. But many reasons dissuaded Henry
from adopting this expedient. Were he to receive the crown only in right
of his consort, his power, he knew, would be very limited; and he must
expect rather to enjoy the bare title of king by a sort of courtesy,
than possess the real authority which belongs to it. Should the princess
die before him without issue, he must descend from the throne, and give
place to the next in succession; and even if his bed should be blest
with offspring, it seemed dangerous to expect that filial piety in his
children would prevail over the ambition of obtaining present possession
of regal power. An act of parliament, indeed, might easily be procured
to settle the crown on him during life; but Henry knew how much superior
the claim of succession by blood was to the authority of an assembly,[*]
which had always been overborne by violence in the shock of contending
titles, and which had ever been more governed by the conjunctures of the
times, than by any consideration derived from reason or public interest.
There was yet a third foundation on which Henry might rest his claim,
the right of conquest, by his victory over Richard, the present
possessor of the crown. But besides that Richard himself was deemed
no better than a usurper, the army which fought against him consisted
chiefly of Englishmen; and a right of conquest over England could
never be established by such a victory. Nothing also would give greater
umbrage to the nation than a claim of this nature; which might be
construed as an abolition of all their rights and privileges, and the
establishment of absolute authority in the sovereign.[**]
*Bacon in Kennet's Complete History, p. 579.
**Bacon, p. 579.
William himself, the Norman, though at the head of a powerful and
victorious army of foreigners, had at first declined the invidious
title of Conqueror; and it was not till the full establishment of his
authority, that he had ventured to advance so violent and destructive a
pretension.
But Henry was sensible that there remained another foundation of power,
somewhat resembling the right of conquest, namely, present possession;
and that this title, guarded by vigor and abilities, would be sufficient
to secure perpetual possession of the throne. He had before him the
example of Henry IV., who, supported by no better pretension, had
subdued many insurrections, and had been able to transmit the crown
peaceably to his posterity. He could perceive that this claim, which had
been perpetuated through three generations of the family of Lancaster,
might still have subsisted, notwithstanding the preferable title of the
house of York, had not the sceptre devolved into the hands of Henry
VI., which were too feeble to sustain it. Instructed by this recent
experience, Henry was determined to put himself in possession of regal
authority, and to show all opponents, that nothing but force of arms and
a successful war should be able to expel him. His claim as heir to the
house of Lancaster he was resolved to advance, and never allow it to
be discussed; and he hoped that this right, favored by the partisans of
that family, and seconded by present power, would secure him a perpetual
and an independent authority.
These views of Henry are not exposed to much blame; because founded on
good policy, and even on a species of necessity; but there entered into
all his measures and counsels another motive, which admits not of the
same apology. The violent contentions which, during so long a period,
had been maintained between the rival families, and the many sanguinary
revenges which they had alternately taken on each other, had inflamed
the opposite factions to a high pitch of animosity, Henry himself, who
had seen most of his near friends and relations perish in battle or
by the executioner, and who had been exposed in his own person to many
hardships and dangers, had imbibed a violent antipathy to the York
party, which no time or experience were ever able to efface. Instead
of embracing the present happy opportunity of abolishing these fatal
distinctions, of uniting his title with that of his consort, and of
bestowing favor indiscriminately on the friends of both families, he
carried to the throne all the partialities which belong to the head of
a faction, and even the passions which are carefully guarded against by
every true politician in that situation. To exalt the Lancastrian party,
to depress the adherents of the house of York, were still the favorite
objects of his pursuit; and through the whole course of his reign, he
never forgot these early prepossessions. Incapable from his natural
temper of a more enlarged and more benevolent system of policy, he
exposed himself to many present inconveniences, by too anxiously
guarding against that future possible event, which might disjoin his
title from that of the princess whom he espoused. And while he treated
the Yorkists as enemies, he soon rendered them such, and taught them to
discuss that right to the crown, which he so carefully kept separate,
and to perceive its weakness and invalidity.
To these passions of Henry, as well as to his suspicious politics, we
are to ascribe the measures which he embraced two days after the battle
of Bosworth. Edward Plantagenet, earl of Warwick, son of the duke of
Clarence, was detained in a kind of confinement at Sherif-Hutton, in
Yorkshire, by the jealousy of his uncle Richard, whose title to the
throne was inferior to that of the young prince. Warwick had now reason
to expect better treatment, as he was no obstacle to the succession
either of Henry or Elizabeth; and from a youth of such tender years no
danger could reasonably be apprehended. But Sir Robert Willoughby was
despatched by Henry with orders to take him from Sherif-Hutton, to
convey him to the Tower, and to detain him in close custody.[*] The same
messenger carried directions, that the princess Elizabeth, who had been
confined to the same place, should be conducted to London, in order to
meet Henry, and there celebrate her nuptials.
Henry himself set out for the capital, and advanced by slow journeys.
Not to rouse the jealousy of the people, he took care to avoid all
appearance of military triumph; and so to restrain the insolence
of victory, that every thing about him bore the appearance of an
established monarch, making a peaceable progress through his dominions,
rather than of a prince who had opened his way to the throne by force of
arms. The acclamations of the people were every where loud, and no less
sincere and hearty. Besides that a young and victorious prince, on his
accession, was naturally the object of popularity, the nation promised
themselves great felicity from the new scene which opened before them.
* Bacon, p. 579. Polyd. Virg. p. 565.
During the course of near a whole century, the kingdom had been laid
waste by domestic wars and convulsions; and if at any time the noise of
arms had ceased, the sound of faction and discontent still threatened
new disorders. Henry, by his marriage with Elizabeth, seemed to insure a
union of the contending titles of the two families; and having prevailed
over a hated tyrant, who had anew disjointed the succession even of the
house of York, and had filled his own family with blood and murder,
he was every where attended with the unfeigned favor of the people.
Numerous and splendid troops of gentry and nobility accompanied
his progress. The mayor and companies of London received him as he
approached the city; the crowds of people and citizens were zealous
in their expressions of satisfaction. But Henry, amidst this general
effusion of joy, discovered still the stateliness and reserve of his
temper, which made him scorn to court popularity: he entered London in
a close chariot, and would not gratify the people with a sight of their
new sovereign.
But the king did not so much neglect the favor of the people, as
to delay giving them assurances of his marriage with the princess
Elizabeth, which he knew to be so passionately desired by the nation.
On his leaving Brittany, he had artfully dropped some hints that, if he
should succeed in his enterprise, and obtain the crown of England,
he would espouse Anne, the heir of that duchy; and the report of this
engagement had already reached England, and had begotten anxiety in
the people, and even in Elizabeth herself. Henry took care to dissipate
these apprehensions, by solemnly renewing, before the council and
principal nobility, the promise which he had already given to celebrate
his nuptials with the English princess. But though bound by honor,
as well as by interest, to complete this alliance, he was resolved to
postpone it till the ceremony of his own coronation should be finished,
and till his title should be recognized by parliament. Still anxious to
support his personal and hereditary right to the throne, he dreaded lest
a preceding marriage with the princess should imply a participation of
sovereignty in her, and raise doubts of his own title by the house of
Lancaster.
There raged at that time in London, and other parts of the kingdom,
a species of malady unknown to any other age or nation, the sweating
sickness, which occasioned the sudden death of great multitudes; though
it seemed not to be propagated by any contagious infection, but arose
from the general disposition of the air and of the human body. In less
than twenty-four hours the patient commonly died or recovered, but when
the pestilence had exerted its fury for a few weeks, it was observed,
either from alterations in the air, or from a more proper regimen which
had been discovered, to be considerably abated.[*] Preparations were
then made for the ceremony of Henry's coronation. In order to heighten
the splendor of that spectacle, he bestowed the rank of knight banneret
on twelve persons; and he conferred peerages on three. Jasper, earl of
Pembroke, his uncle, was created duke of Bedford; Thomas Lord Stanley,
his father-in-law, earl of Derby; and Edward Courtney, earl of
Devonshire. At the coronation, likewise, there appeared a new
institution, which the king had established for security as well as
pomp, a band of fifty archers, who were termed yeomen of the guard. But
lest the people should take umbrage at this unusual symptom of jealousy
in the prince, as if it implied a personal diffidence of his subjects,
he declared the institution to be perpetual. The ceremony of coronation
was performed by Cardinal Bourchier, archbishop of Canterbury.
The parliament being assembled at Westminster, the majority immediately
appeared to be devoted partisans of Henry; all persons of another
disposition either declining to stand in those dangerous times, or being
obliged to dissemble their principles and inclinations. The Lancastrian
party had every where been successful in the elections; and even many
had been returned who, during the prevalence of the house of York, had
been exposed to the rigor of law, and had been condemned by sentence
of attainder and outlawry. Their right to take seats in the house being
questioned, the case was referred to all the judges, who assembled in
the exchequer chamber, in order to deliberate on so delicate a subject.
The opinion delivered was prudent, and contained a just temperament
between law and expediency.[**] The judges determined, that the members
attainted should forbear taking their seat till an act were passed for
the reversal of their attainder. There was no difficulty in obtaining
this act; and in it were comprehended a hundred and seven persons of the
king's party.[***]
* Polyd. Virg. p. 567.
** Bacon, p. 661.
*** Rot. Parl. 1 Henry VII. n. 2, 3, 4-15, 17, 26-65.
But a scruple was started of a nature still more important. The king
himself had been attainted; and his right of succession to the crown
might thence be exposed to some doubt The judges extricated themselves
from this dangerous question by asserting it as a maxim, "That the crown
takes away all defects and stops in blood; and that from the time
the king assumed royal authority, the fountain was cleared, and all
attainders and corruptions of blood discharged." [*] Besides that the
case, from its urgent necessity, admitted of no deliberation, the judges
probably thought that no sentence of a court of judicature had authority
sufficient to bar the right of succession; that the heir of the crown
was commonly exposed to such jealousy as might often occasion stretches
of law and justice against him; and that a prince might even be engaged
in unjustifiable measures during his predecessor's reign, without
meriting on that account to be excluded from the throne, which was his
birthright.
With a parliament so obsequious, the king could not fail of obtaining
whatever act of settlement he was pleased to require. He seems only to
have entertained some doubt within himself on what claim he should found
his pretensions. In his speech to the parliament, he mentioned his just
title by hereditary right: but lest that title should not be esteemed
sufficient, he subjoined his claim by the judgment of God, who had given
him victory over his enemies. And again, lest this pretension should be
interpreted as assuming a right of conquest, he insured to his subjects
the full enjoyment of their former properties and possessions.
The entail of the crown was drawn according to the sense of the king,
and probably in words dictated by him. He made no mention in it of
the princess Elizabeth, nor of any branch of her family: but in other
respects the act was compiled with sufficient reserve and moderation.
He did not insist that it should contain a declaration or recognition of
his preceding right; as, on the other hand, he avoided the appearance of
a new law or ordinance. He chose a middle course which, as is generally
unavoidable in such cases, was not entirely free from uncertainty and
obscurity. It was voted, "That the inheritance of the crown should rest,
remain, and abide in the king:" [**] but whether as rightful heir, or
only as present possessor, was not determined.
* Bacon, p. 581.
** Bacon, p. 581.
In like manner, Henry was contented that the succession should be
secured to the heirs of his body; but he pretended not, in case of their
failure, to exclude the house of York or to give the preference to that
of Lancaster: he left that great point ambiguous for the present, and
trusted that, if it should ever become requisite to determine it, future
incidents would open the way for the decision.
But even after all these precautions, the king was so little satisfied
with his own title, that in the following year, he applied to papal
authority for a confirmation of it; and as the court of Rome gladly laid
hold of all opportunities which the imprudence, weakness, or necessities
of princes afforded it to extend its influence, Innocent VIII., the
reigning pope, readily granted a bull, in whatever terms the king
was pleased to desire. All Henry's titles, by succession, marriage,
parliamentary choice, even conquest, are there enumerated; and to the
whole the sanction of religion is added; excommunication is denounced
against every one who should either disturb him in the present
possession, or the heirs of his body in the future succession of the
crown; and from this penalty no criminal, except in the article of
death, could be absolved but by the pope himself, or his special
commissioners. It is difficult to imagine that the security derived from
this bull could be a compensation for the defect which it betrayed in
Henry's title, and for the danger of thus inviting the pope to interpose
in these concerns.
It was natural, and even laudable in Henry to reverse the attainders
which had passed against the partisans of the house of Lancaster:
but the revenges which he exercised against the adherents of the York
family, to which he was so soon to be allied, cannot be considered in
the same light. Yet the parliament, at his instigation, passed an act
of attainder against the late king himself, against the duke of Norfolk,
the earl of Surrey, Viscount Lovel, the lords Zouche and Ferrars of
Chartley, Sir Walter and Sir James Harrington, Sir William Berkeley,
Sir Humphrey Stafford, Catesby, and about twenty other gentlemen who
had fought on Richard's side in the battle of Bosworth. How men could be
guilty of treason by supporting the king in possession against the
earl of Richmond, who assumed not the title of king, it is not easy to
conceive; and nothing but a servile complaisance in the parliament could
have engaged them to make this stretch of justice. Nor was it a small
mortification to the people in general, to find that the king, prompted
either by avarice or resentment could, in the very beginning of his
reign, so far violate the cordial union which had previously been
concerted between the parties, and to the expectation of which he had
plainly owed his succession to the throne.
The king, having gained so many points of consequence from the
parliament, thought it not expedient to demand any supply from them,
which the profound peace enjoyed by the nation, and the late forfeiture
of Richard's adherents, seemed to render somewhat superfluous. The
parliament, however, conferred on him during life the duty of tonnage
and poundage, which had been enjoyed in the same manner by some of his
immediate predecessors; and they added, before they broke up, other
money bills of no great moment. The king, on his part, made returns
of grace and favor to his people. He published his royal proclamation,
offering pardon to all such as had taken arms, or formed any attempts
against him, provided they submitted themselves to mercy by a certain
day, and took the usual oath of fealty and allegiance. Upon this
proclamation many came out of their sanctuaries; and the minds of men
were every where much quieted. Henry chose to take wholly to himself
the merit of an act of grace so agreeable to the nation, rather than
communicate it with the parliament, (as was his first intention,) by
passing a bill to that purpose. The earl of Surrey, however, though he
had submitted, and delivered himself into the king's hands, was sent
prisoner to the Tower.
During this parliament, the king also bestowed favors and honors on some
particular persons who were attached to him. Edward Stafford, eldest son
of the duke of Buckingham attainted in the late reign, was restored
to the honors of his family, as well as to his fortune, which was very
ample. This generosity, so unusual in Henry, was the effect of his
gratitude to the memory of Buckingham, who had first concerted the plan
of his elevation, and who by his own ruin had made way for that great
event. Chandos of Brittany was created earl of Bath, Sir Giles Daubeny,
Lord Daubeny, and Sir Robert Willoughby, Lord Broke. These were all
the titles of nobility conferred by the king during this session of
parliament.[*]
* Polyd. Virg. p. 566
But the ministers whom Henry most trusted and favored were not chosen
from among the nobility, or even from among the laity. John Morton and
Richard Fox, two clergymen persons of industry, vigilance, and capacity,
were the men to whom he chiefly confided his affairs and secret
counsels. They had shared with him all his former dangers and
distresses; and he now took care to make them participate in his good
fortune. They were both called to the privy council; Morton was restored
to the bishopric of Ely, Fox was created bishop of Exeter. The former,
soon after, upon the death of Bourchier, was raised to the see of
Canterbury. The latter was made privy seal; and successively bishop
of Bath and Wells, Durham, and Winchester. For Henry, as Lord Bacon
observes, loved to employ and advance prelates; because, having rich
bishoprics to bestow, it was easy for him to reward their services: and
it was his maxim to raise them by slow steps, and make them first pass
through the interior sees.[*] He probably expected that, as they were
naturally more dependent on him than the nobility, who during that age
enjoyed possessions and jurisdictions dangerous to royal authority, so
the prospect of further elevation would render them still more active in
his service, and more obsequious to his commands.
* Bacon, p. 582.
{1486.} In presenting the bill of tonnage and poundage, the parliament,
anxious to preserve the legal, undisputed succession to the crown, had
petitioned Henry, with demonstrations of the greatest zeal, to espouse
the princess Elizabeth; but they covered their true reason under the
dutiful pretence of their desire to have heirs of his body. He now
thought in earnest of satisfying the minds of his people in that
particular. His marriage was celebrated at London; and that with
greater appearance of universal joy than either his first entry or his
coronation. Henry remarked with much displeasure this general favor
borne to the house of York. The suspicions which arose from it not only
disturbed his tranquillity during his whole reign, but bred disgust
towards his consort herself, and poisoned all his domestic enjoyments.
Though virtuous, amiable, and obsequious to the last degree, she never
met with a proper return of affection, or even of complaisance, from her
husband; and the malignant ideas of faction still, in his sullen mind,
prevailed over all the sentiments of conjugal tenderness.
The king had been carried along with such a tide of success ever since
his arrival in England, that he thought nothing could withstand the
fortune and authority which attended him.
He now resolved to make a progress into the north, where the friends of
the house of York, and even the partisans of Richard, were numerous, in
hopes of curing, by his presence and conversation, the prejudices of
the malecontents. When he arrived at Nottingham, he heard that Viscount
Lovel, with Sir Humphrey Stafford, and Thomas his brother, had secretly
withdrawn themselves from their sanctuary at Colchester: but this news
appeared not to him of such importance as to stop his journey; and he
proceeded forward to York. He there heard that the Staffords had levied
an army, and were marching to besiege the city of Worcester; and that
Lovel, at the head of three or four thousand men, was approaching to
attack him in York. Henry was not dismayed with this intelligence. His
active courage, full of resources, immediately prompted him to find
the proper remedy. Though surrounded with enemies in these disaffected
counties, he assembled a small body of troops, in whom he could confide;
and he put them under the command of the duke of Bedford. He joined to
them all his own attendants; but he found that this hasty armament was
more formidable by their spirit and their zealous attachment to him,
than by the arms or military stores with which they were provided. He
therefore gave Bedford orders not to approach the enemy; but previously
to try every proper expedient to disperse them. Bedford published a
general promise of pardon to the rebels, which had a greater effect
on their leader than on his followers. Lovel, who had undertaken an
enterprise that exceeded his courage and capacity, was so terrified
with the fear of desertion among his troops, that he suddenly withdrew
himself; and after lurking some time in Lancashire, he made his escape
into Flanders, where he was protected by the duchess of Burgundy. His
army submitted to the king's clemency; and the other rebels, hearing of
this success, raised the siege of Worcester, and dispersed themselves.
The Staffords took sanctuary in the church of Colnham, a village near
Abingdon; but as it was found that this church had not the privilege
of giving protection to rebels, they were taken thence; the elder was
executed at Tyburn; the younger, pleading that he had been misled by his
brother, obtained a pardon.[*]
* Polyd. Virg. p. 569.
Henry's joy for this success was followed, some time after, by the birth
of a prince, to whom he gave the name of Arthur in memory of the famous
British king of that name, from whom it was pretended the family of
Tudor derived its descent.
Though Henry had been able to defeat this hasty rebellion raised by
the relics of Richard's partisans, his government was become in general
unpopular: the source of public discontent arose chiefly from his
prejudices against the house of York which was generally beloved by
the nation, and which, for that very reason, became every day more
the object of his hatred and jealousy. Not only a preference on all
occasions, it was observed, was given to the Lancastrians, but many
of the opposite party had been exposed to great severity, and had been
bereaved of their fortunes by acts of attainder. A general resumption
likewise had passed of all grants made by the princes of the house of
York; and though this rigor had been covered under the pretence that the
revenue was become insufficient to support the dignity of the crown, and
though the grants during the later years of Henry VI. were resumed by
the same law, yet the York party, as they were the principal sufferers
by the resumption, thought it chiefly levelled against them. The
severity exercised against the earl of Warwick begat compassion for
youth and innocence exposed to such oppression; and his confinement in
the Tower, the very place where Edward's children had been murdered by
their uncle, made the public expect a like catastrophe for him, and led
them to make a comparison between Henry and that detested tyrant. And
when it was remarked that the queen herself met with harsh treatment,
and even after the birth of a son, was not admitted to the honor of
a public coronation, Henry's prepossessions were then concluded to be
inveterate, and men became equally obstinate in their disgust to his
government. Nor was the manner and address of the king calculated to
cure these prejudices contracted against his administration; but had
in every thing a tendency to promote fear, or at best reverence, rather
than good will and affection.[*] While the high idea entertained of
his policy and vigor retained the nobility and men of character in
obedience, the effects of his unpopular government soon appeared, by
incidents of an extraordinary nature.
* Bacon, p. 583.
There lived in Oxford one Richard Simon, a priest, who possessed
some subtlety, and still more enterprise and temerity. This man had
entertained the design of disturbing Henry's government, by raising a
pretender to his crown, and for that purpose he cast his eyes on Lambert
Simnel, a youth of fifteen years of age, who was son of a baker, and
who, being endowed with understanding above his years, and address
above his condition, seemed well fitted to personate a prince of royal
extraction. A report had been spread among the people, and received,
with great avidity, that Richard, duke of York, second son of Edward
IV., had, by a secret escape, saved himself from the cruelty of his
uncle, and lay somewhere concealed in England. Simon, taking advantage
of this rumor, had at first instructed his pupil to assume that name,
which he found to be so fondly cherished by the public: but hearing
afterwards a new report, that Warwick had made his escape from the
Tower, and observing that this news was attended with no less general
satisfaction, he changed the plan of his imposture, and made Simnel
personate that unfortunate prince.[*] Though the youth was qualified by
nature for the part which he was instructed to act, yet was it remarked,
that he was better informed in circumstances relating to the royal
family, particularly in the adventures of the earl of Warwick, than he
could be supposed to have learned from one of Simon's condition: and it
was thence conjectured, that persons of higher rank, partisans of the
house of York, had laid the plan of this conspiracy, and had conveyed
proper instructions to the actors. The queen dowager herself was exposed
to suspicion; and it was indeed the general opinion, however unlikely
it might seem, that she had secretly given her consent to the imposture.
This woman was of a very restless disposition. Finding that, instead
of receiving the reward of her services in contributing to Henry's
elevation, she herself was fallen into absolute insignificance, her
daughter treated with severity, and all her friends brought under
subjection, she had conceived the most violent animosity against him,
and had resolved to make him feel the effects of her resentment. She
knew that the impostor, however successful, might easily at last be
set aside; and if a way could be found at his risk to subvert the
government, she hoped that a scene might be opened, which, though
difficult at present exactly to foresee, would gratify her revenge, and
be on the whole less irksome to her than that slavery and contempt to
which she was now reduced.[**]
* Polyd. Virg. p. 569. 570.
** Polyd. Virg. p. 570.
But whatever care Simon might take to convey instruction to his pupil
Simnel, he was sensible that the imposture would not bear a close
inspection; and he was therefore determined to open the first public
scene of it in Ireland. That island, which was zealously attached to
the house of York, and bore an affectionate regard to the memory
of Clarence, Warwick's father, who had been their lieutenant, was
improvidently allowed by Henry to remain in the same condition in
which he found it; and all the counsellors and officers, who had been
appointed by his predecessor, still retained their authority. No sooner
did Simnel present himself to Thomas Fitzgerald, earl of Kildare, the
deputy, and claim his protection as the unfortunate Warwick, than that
credulous nobleman, not suspecting so bold an imposture, gave attention
to him, and began to consult some persons of rank with regard to this
extraordinary incident. These he found even more sanguine in their zeal
and belief than himself: and in proportion as the story diffused itself
among those of lower condition, it became the object of still greater
passion and credulity, till the people in Dublin with one consent
tendered their allegiance to Simnel, as to the true Plantagenet. Fond of
a novelty which flattered their natural propension, they overlooked
the daughters of Edward IV., who stood before Warwick in the order
of succession; they paid the pretended prince attendance as their
sovereign, lodged him in the Castle of Dublin, crowned him with a diadem
taken from a statue of the Virgin, and publicly proclaimed him king, by
the appellation of Edward VI. The whole island followed the example of
the capital; and not a sword was any where drawn in Henry's quarrel.
When this intelligence was conveyed to the king, it reduced him to some
perplexity. Determined always to face his enemies in person, he yet
scrupled at present to leave England, where he suspected the conspiracy
was first framed, and where he knew many persons of condition, and the
people in general, were much disposed to give it countenance. In order
to dis cover the secret source of the contrivance, and take measures
against this open revolt, he held frequent consultations with his
ministers and counsellors, and laid plans for a vigorous defence of his
authority, and the suppression of his enemies.
The first event which followed these deliberations gave surprise to the
public; it was the seizure of the queen dowager the forfeiture of all
her lands and revenue, and the close confinement of her person in the
nunnery of Bermondsey. The act of authority was covered with a very thin
pretence. It was alleged that, notwithstanding the secret agreement to
marry her daughter to Henry, she had yet yielded to the solicitations
and menaces of Richard, and had delivered that princess and her sisters
into the hands of the tyrant. This crime, which was now become obsolete,
and might admit of alleviations, was therefore suspected not to be the
real cause of the severity with which she was treated; and men believed
that the king, unwilling to accuse so near a relation of a conspiracy
against him, had cloaked his vengeance or precaution under color of
an offence known to the whole world.[*] They were afterwards the more
confirmed in this suspicion, when they found that the unfortunate queen,
though she survived this disgrace several years, was never treated with
any more lenity, but was allowed to end her life in poverty, solitude,
and confinement.
* Bacon, p. 583, Polyd. Virg. p. 571.
The next measure of the king's was of a less exceptionable nature.
He ordered that Warwick should be taken from the Tower, be led in
procession through the streets of London, be conducted to St. Paul's,
and there exposed to the view of the whole people. He even gave
directions, that some men of rank, attached to the house of York, and
best acquainted with the person of this prince, should approach him and
converse with him: and he trusted that these, being convinced of the
absurd imposture of Simnel, would put a stop to the credulity of the
populace. The expedient had its effect in England: but in Ireland the
people still persisted in their revolt, and zealously retorted on the
king the reproach of propagating an imposture, and of having shown a
counterfeit Warwick to the public.
Henry had soon reason to apprehend, that the design against him was
not laid on such slight foundations as the absurdity of the contrivance
seemed to indicate. John, earl of Lincoln, son of John de la Pole, duke
of Suffolk, and of Elizabeth, eldest sister to Edward IV., was engaged
to take part in the conspiracy. This nobleman, who possessed capacity
and courage, had entertained very aspiring views; and his ambition was
encouraged by the known intentions of his uncle Richard, who had formed
a design, in case he himself should die without issue, of declaring
Lincoln successor to the crown. The king's jealousy against all eminent
persons of the York party, and his rigor towards Warwick, had further
struck Lincoln with apprehensions, and made him resolve to seek
for safety in the most dangerous counsels. Having fixed a secret
correspondence with Sir Thomas Broughton, a man of great interest in
Lancashire, he retired to Flanders, where Lovel had arrived a little
before him; and he lived during some time in the court of his aunt the
duchess of Burgundy, by whom he had been invited over.
Margaret, widow of Charles the Bold, duke of Burgundy, not having any
children of her own, attached herself with an entire friendship to her
daughter-in-law, married to Maximilian, archduke of Austria; and after
the death of that princess, she persevered in her affection to Philip
and Margaret, her children, and occupied herself in the care of their
education and of their persons. By her virtuous conduct and demeanor
she had acquired great authority among the Flemings and lived with much
dignity, as well as economy, upon that ample dowry which she inherited
from her husband. The resentments of this princess were no less warm
than her friendships; and that spirit of faction, which it is so
difficult for a social and sanguine temper to guard against, had taken
strong possession of her heart, and intrenched somewhat on the probity
which shone forth in the other parts of her character. Hearing of the
malignant jealousy entertained by Henry against her family, and
his oppression of all its partisans, she was moved with the highest
indignation; and she determined to make him repent of that enmity to
which so many of her friends, without any reason or necessity, had
fallen victims.
{1487.} After consulting with Lincoln and Lovel she hired a body of two
thousand veteran Germans, under the command of Martin Swart, a brave
and experienced officer; [*] and sent them over, together with these two
noblemen, to join Simnel in Ireland. The countenance given by persons
of such high rank, and the accession of this military force, much raised
the courage of the Irish, and made them entertain the resolution of
invading England, where they believed the spirit of disaffection as
prevalent as it appeared to be in Ireland. The poverty also under which
they labored, made it impossible for them to support any longer their
new court and army, and inspired them with a strong desire of enriching
themselves by plunder and preferment in England.
* Polyd. Virg. p. 572, 573.
Henry was not ignorant of these intentions of his enemies, and he
prepared himself for defence. He ordered troops to be levied in
different parts of the kingdom, and put them under the command of the
duke of Bedford and earl of Oxford. He confined the marquis of Dorset,
who, he suspected, would resent the injuries suffered by his mother, the
queen dowager; and, to gratify the people by an appearance of devotion,
he made a pilgrimage to our lady of Walsingham, famous for miracles;
and there offered up prayers for success, and for deliverance from his
enemies.
Being informed that Simnel was landed at Foudrey in Lancashire, he drew
together his forces, and advanced towards the enemy as far as Coventry.
The rebels had entertained hopes that the disaffected counties in the
north would rise in their favor; but the people in general, averse to
join Irish and German invaders, convinced of Lambert's imposture, and
kept in awe by the king's reputation for success and conduct, either
remained in tranquillity, or gave assistance to the royal army. The earl
of Lincoln, therefore, who commanded the rebels, finding no hopes but
in victory, was determined to bring the matter to a speedy decision; and
the king, supported by the native courage of his temper, and emboldened
by a great accession of volunteers, who had joined him under the earl of
Shrewsbury and Lord Strange, declined not the combat. The hostile armies
met at Stoke, in the county of Nottingham, and fought a battle, which
was bloody, and more obstinately disputed than could have been expected
from the inequality of their force. All the leaders of the rebels were
resolved to conquer or to perish; and they inspired their troops
with like resolution. The Germans also, being veteran and experienced
soldiers, kept the event long doubtful; and even the Irish, though
ill-armed and almost defenceless, showed themselves not defective in
spirit and bravery. The king's victory was purchased with loss, but was
entirely decisive. Lincoln, Broughton, and Swart perished in the field
of battle, with four thousand of their followers. As Lovel was never
more heard of, he was believed to have undergone the same fate; Simnel,
with his tutor, Simon, was taken prisoner. Simon, being a priest, was
not tried at law, and was only committed to close custody: Simnel was
too contemptible to be an object either of apprehension or resentment to
Henry. He was pardoned, and made a scullion in the king's kitchen whence
he was afterwards advanced to the rank of a falconer.[*]
* Bacon, p. 586. Polyd. Virg. p; 574.
Henry had now leisure to revenge himself on his enemies. He made a
progress into the northern parts, where he gave many proofs of his
rigorous disposition. A strict inquiry was made after those who had
assisted or favored the rebels. The punishments were not all sanguinary:
the king made his revenge subservient to his avarice. Heavy fines were
levied upon the delinquents. The proceedings of the courts, and even the
courts themselves, were arbitrary. Either the criminals were tried by
commissioners appointed for the purpose, or they suffered punishment
by sentence of a court-martial. And as a rumor had prevailed before the
battle of Stoke, that the rebels had gained the victory, that the royal
army was cut in pieces, and that the king himself had escaped by flight,
Henry was resolved to interpret the belief or propagation of this report
as a mark of disaffection; and he punished many for that pretended
crime. But such in this age was the situation of the English government,
that the royal prerogative, which was but imperfectly restrained during
the most peaceable periods, was sure, in tumultuous or even suspicious
times, which frequently recurred, to break all bounds of law, and to
violate public liberty.
After the king had gratified his rigor by the punishment of his enemies,
he determined to give contentment to the people in a point which, though
a mere ceremony, was passionately desired by them. The queen had
been married near two years, but had not yet been crowned; and this
affectation of delay had given great discontent to the public, and had
been one principal source of the disaffection which prevailed. The king,
instructed by experience, now finished the ceremony of her coronation;
and to show a disposition still more gracious, he restored to liberty
the marquis of Dorset, who had been able to clear himself of all the
suspicions entertained against him.
* Bacon, p. 586. Polyd. Virg. p; 574.
CHAPTER XXV.
HENRY VII.
{1488.} The king acquired great reputation throughout Europe by the
vigorous and prosperous conduct of his domestic affairs; but as some
incidents about this time invited him to look abroad, and exert himself
in behalf of his allies, it will be necessary, in order to give a
just account of his foreign measures, to explain the situation of
the neighboring kingdoms, beginning with Scotland, which lies most
contiguous.
The kingdom of Scotland had not yet attained that state which
distinguishes a civilized monarchy, and which enables the government, by
the force of its laws and institutions alone, without any extraordinary
capacity in the sovereign, to maintain itself in order and tranquillity.
James III., who now filled the throne, was a prince of little industry
and of a narrow genius; and though it behoved him to yield the reins of
government to his ministers, he had never been able to make any choice
which could give contentment both to himself and to his people. When he
bestowed his confidence on any of the principal nobility, he found that
they exalted their own family to such a height as was dangerous to the
prince, and gave umbrage to the state: when he conferred favor on any
person of meaner birth, on whose submission he could more depend,
the barons of his kingdom, enraged at the power of an upstart minion,
proceeded to the utmost extremities against their sovereign. Had Henry
entertained the ambition of conquests, a tempting opportunity now
offered of reducing that kingdom to subjection; but as he was probably
sensible that a warlike people, though they might be overrun by reason
of their domestic divisions, could not be retained in obedience without
a regular military force, which was then unknown in England, he rather
intended the renewal of the peace with Scotland, and sent an embassy to
James for that purpose. But the Scots, who never desired a durable peace
with England, and who deemed their security to consist in constantly
preserving themselves in a warlike posture, would not agree to more than
a seven years' truce, which was accordingly concluded.[*]
* Polyd. Virg. p. 575.
The European states on the continent were then hastening fast to the
situation in which they have remained, without any material alteration,
for near three centuries; and began to unite themselves into one
extensive system of policy, which comprehended the chief powers of
Christendom. Spain, which had hitherto been almost entirely occupied
within herself, now became formidable by the union of Arragon and
Castile in the persons of Ferdinand and Isabella, who, being princes
of great capacity, employed their force in enterprises the most
advantageous to their combined monarchy. The conquest of Granada from
the Moors was then undertaken, and brought near to a happy conclusion.
And in that expedition the military genius of Spain was revived; honor
and security were attained; and her princes, no longer kept in awe by a
domestic enemy so dangerous, began to enter into all the transactions of
Europe, and make a great figure in every war and negotiation.
Maximilian, king of the Romans, son of the emperor Frederick, had, by
his marriage with the heiress of Burgundy, acquired an interest in
the Netherlands; and though the death of his consort had weakened his
connections with that country, he still pretended to the government
as tutor to his son Philip, and his authority had been acknowledged
by Brabant, Holland, and several of the provinces. But as Flanders and
Hainault still refused to submit to his regency, and even appointed
other tutors to Philip, he had been engaged in long wars against that
obstinate people, and never was able thoroughly to subdue their spirit.
That he might free himself from the opposition of France, he had
concluded a peace with Lewis XI., and had given his daughter Margaret,
then an infant, in marriage to the dauphin; together with Artois,
Franche Compte, and Charolois, as her dowry. But this alliance had
not produced the desired effect. The dauphin succeeded to the crown of
France by the appellation of Charles VIII.; but Maximilian still found
the mutinies of the Flemings fomented by the intrigues of the court of
France.
France, during the two preceding reigns, had made a mighty increase in
power and greatness; and had not other states of Europe at the same time
received an accession of force, it had been impossible to have retained
her within her ancient boundaries. Most of the great fiefs, Normandy,
Champagne, Anjou, Dauphny, Guienne, Provence, and Burgundy, had
been united to the crown; the English had been expelled from all their
conquests; the authority of the prince had been raised to such a height
as enabled him to maintain law and order; a considerable military force
was kept on foot, and the finances were able to support it. Lewis XI,
indeed, from whom many of these advantages were derived, was dead, and
had left his son, in early youth and ill educated, to sustain the weight
of the monarchy: but having intrusted the government to his daughter
Anne, lady of Beaujeu, a woman of spirit and capacity, the French power
suffered no check or decline. On the contrary, this princess formed the
great project, which at last she happily effected, of uniting to the
crown Brittany, the last and most independent fief of the monarchy.
Francis II., duke of Brittany, conscious of his own incapacity for
government, had resigned himself to the direction of Peter Landais,
a man of mean birth, more remarkable for abilities than for virtue or
integrity. The nobles of Brittany, displeased with the great advancement
of this favorite, had even proceeded to disaffection against their
sovereign; and after many tumults and disorders, they at last united
among themselves, and in a violent manner seized, tried, and put to
death the obnoxious minister. Dreading the resentment of the prince for
this invasion of his authority, many of them retired to France; others,
for protection and safety, maintained a secret correspondence with the
French ministry, who, observing the great dissensions among the Bretons,
thought the opportunity favorable for invading the duchy; and so
much the rather as they could cover their ambition under the specious
pretence of providing for domestic security.
Lewis, duke of Orleans, first prince of the blood, and presumptive
heir of the monarchy, had disputed the administration with the lady of
Beaujeu; and though his pretensions had been rejected by the states, he
still maintained cabals with many of the grandees, and laid schemes
for subverting the authority of that princess. Finding his conspiracies
detected, he took to arms, and fortified himself in Beaugeune;
but as his revolt was precipitate, before his confederates were ready to
join him, he had been obliged to submit, and to receive such conditions
as the French ministry were pleased to impose upon him. Actuated,
however, by his ambition, and even by his fears, he soon retired out of
France, and took shelter with the duke of Brittany, who was desirous of
strengthening himself against the designs of the lady of Beaujeu by the
friendship and credit of the duke of Orleans. This latter prince
also, perceiving the ascendant which he soon acquired over the duke of
Brittany, had engaged many of his partisans to join him at that court,
and had formed the design of aggrandizing himself by a marriage with
Anne, the heir of that opulent duchy.
The barons of Brittany, who saw all favor engrossed by the duke of
Orleans and his train, renewed a stricter correspondence with France,
and even invited the French king to make an invasion on their country.
Desirous, however, of preserving its independency, they had regulated
the number of succors which France was to send them, and had stipulated
that no fortified place in Brittany should remain in the possession of
that monarchy; a vain precaution, where revolted subjects treat with a
power so much superior! The French invaded Brittany with forces three
times more numerous than those which they had promised to the barons;
and advancing into the heart of the country, laid siege to Ploerrnel. To
oppose them, the duke raised a numerous but ill-disciplined army, which
he put under the command of the duke of Orleans, the count of Dunois,
and others of the French nobility. The army, discontented with this
choice, and jealous of their confederates, soon disbanded, and left
their prince with too small a force to keep the field against his
invaders. He retired to Vannes; but being hotly pursued by the French,
who had now made themselves masters of Ploermel, he escaped to Nantz;
and the enemy, having previously taken and garrisoned Vannes, Dinant,
and other places, laid close siege to that city. The barons of Brittany,
finding their country menaced with total subjection, began gradually to
withdraw from the French army, and to make peace with their sovereign.
This desertion, however, of the Bretons discouraged not the court
of France from pursuing her favorite project of reducing Brittany to
subjection The situation of Europe appeared favorable to the execution
of this design. Maximilian was indeed engaged in close alliance with the
duke of Brittany and had even opened a treaty for marrying his daughter;
but he was on all occasions so indigent, and at that time so disquieted
by the mutinies of the Flemings, that little effectual assistance could
be expected from him. Ferdinand was entirely occupied in the conquest of
Granada; and it was also known, that if France would resign to him
Roussillon and Cerdagne, to which he had pretensions, she could at any
time engage him to abandon the interests of Brittany. England, alone,
was both enabled by her power, and engaged by her interests, to support
the independency of that duchy; and the most dangerous opposition was
therefore, by Anne of Beaujeu, expected from that quarter. In order to
cover her real designs, no sooner was she informed of Henry's success
against Simnel and his partisans, than she despatched ambassadors to the
court of London, and made professions of the greatest trust and
confidence in that monarch.
The ambassadors, after congratulating Henry on his late victory, and
communicating to him, in the most cordial manner, as to an intimate
friend, some successes of their master against Maximilian, came in
the progress of their discourse to mention the late transactions in
Brittany. They told him that the duke having given protection to French
fugitives and rebels, the king had been necessitated, contrary to his
intention and inclination, to carry war into that duchy; that the honor
of the crown was interested not to suffer a vassal so far to forget
his duty to his liege lord; nor was the security of the government less
concerned to prevent the consequences of this dangerous temerity: that
the fugitives were no mean or obscure persons; but among others,
the duke of Orleans, first prince of the blood, who, finding himself
obnoxious to justice for treasonable practices in France, had fled
into Brittany; where he still persevered in laying schemes of rebellion
against his sovereign: that the war being thus, on the part of the
French monarch, entirely defensive, it would immediately cease, when the
duke of Brittany, by returning to his duty, should remove the causes of
it: that their master was sensible of the obligations which the duke,
in very critical times, had conferred on Henry; but it was known also,
that, in times still more critical, he or his mercenary counsellors
had deserted him, and put his life in the utmost hazard: that his sole
refuge in these desperate extremities had been the court of France,
which not only protected his person, but supplied him with men and
money, with which, aided by his own valor and conduct, he had been
enabled to mount the throne of England; that France in this transaction
had, from friendship to Henry acted contrary to what, in a narrow view,
might be esteemed her own interest; since, instead of an odious tyrant,
she had contributed to establish on a rival throne a prince endowed with
such virtue and abilities; and that, as both the justice of the cause
and the obligations conferred on Henry thus preponderated on the side
of France, she reasonably expected that, if the situation of his affairs
did not permit him to give her assistance, he would at least preserve a
neutrality between the contending parties.[*]
* Bacon, p. 589.
This discourse of the French ambassadors was plausible; and to give
it greater weight, they communicated to Henry, as in confidence, their
master's intention, after he should have settled the differences with
Brittany to lead an army into Italy, and make good his pretensions to
the kingdom of Naples; a project which, they knew, would give no umbrage
to the court of England. But all these artifices were in vain employed
against the penetration of the king. He clearly saw that France had
entertained the view of subduing Brittany; but he also perceived, that
she would meet with great, and, as he thought, insuperable difficulties
in the execution of her project. The native force of that duchy, he
knew, had always been considerable, and had often, without any foreign
assistance, resisted the power of France; the natural temper of
the French nation, he imagined, would make them easily abandon any
enterprise which required perseverance; and as the heir of the crown
was confederated with the duke of Brittany, the ministers would be
still more remiss in prosecuting a scheme which must draw on them his
resentment and displeasure. Should even these internal obstructions be
removed, Maximilian, whose enmity to France was well known, and who now
paid his addresses to the heiress of Brittany, would be able to make a
diversion on the side of Flanders; nor could it be expected that France,
if she prosecuted such ambitious projects, would be allowed to remain in
tranquillity by Ferdinand and Isabella. Above all, he thought the French
court could never expect that England, so deeply interested to preserve
the independency of Brittany, so able by her power and situation to give
effectual and prompt assistance, would permit such an accession of force
to her rival. He imagined, therefore, that the ministers of France,
convinced of the impracticability of their scheme, would at last embrace
pacific views, and would abandon an enterprise so obnoxious to all the
potentates of Europe.
This reasoning of Henry was solid, and might justly engage him in
dilatory and cautious measures: but there entered into his conduct
another motive, which was apt to draw him beyond the just bounds,
because founded on a ruling passion. His frugality, which by degrees
degenerated into avarice, made him averse to all warlike enterprises and
distant expeditions, and engaged him previously to try the expedient
of negotiation. He despatched Urswic, his almoner, a man of address and
abilities, to make offer of his mediation to the contending parties;
an offer which, he thought, if accepted by France, would soon lead to
a composure of all differences; if refused or eluded, would at least
discover the perseverance of that court in her ambitious projects.
Urswic found the lady of Beaujeu, now duchess of Bourbon, engaged in the
siege of Nantz, and had the satisfaction to find that his master's
offer of mediation was readily embraced and with many expressions of
confidence and moderation. That able princess concluded, that the duke
of Orleans, who governed the court of Brittany, foreseeing that every
accommodation must be made at his expense, would use all his interest to
have Henry's proposal rejected; and would by that means make an apology
for the French measures, and draw on the Bretons the reproach of
obstinacy and injustice. The event justified her prudence. When the
English ambassador made the same offer to the duke of Brittany, he
received for answer, in the name of that prince, that having so long
acted the part of protector and guardian to Henry during his youth and
adverse fortune, he had expected from a monarch of such virtue more
effectual assistance in his present distresses than a barren offer of
mediation, which suspended not the progress of the French arms: that if
Henry's gratitude were not sufficient to engage him in such a measure,
his prudence, as king of England, should discover to him the pernicious
consequences attending the conquest of Brittany, and its annexation to
the crown of France: that that kingdom, already too powerful, would be
enabled, by so great an accession of force, to display, to the ruin of
England, that hostile disposition which had always subsisted between
those rival nations: that Brittany, so useful an ally, which, by its
situation, gave the English an entrance into the heart of France, being
annexed to that kingdom, would be equally enabled from its situation to
disturb, either by piracies or naval armaments, the commerce and
peace cf England: and that if the duke rejected Henry's mediation, it
proceeded neither from an inclination to a war, which he experienced to
be ruinous to him, nor from a confidence in his own force, which he knew
to be much inferior to that of the enemy; but, on the contrary, from a
sense of his present necessities, which must engage the king to act the
part of his confederate, not that of a mediator.
When this answer was reported to the king, he abandoned not the plan
which he had formed; he only concluded that some more time was requisite
to quell the obstinacy of the Bretons, and make them submit to reason.
And when he learned that the people of Brittany, anxious for their
duke's safety, had formed a tumultuary army of sixty thousand men, and
had obliged the French to raise the siege of Nantz, he fortified himself
the more in his opinion, that the court of France would at last be
reduced, by multiplied obstacles and difficulties, to abandon the
project of reducing Brittany to subjection. He continued, therefore, his
scheme of negotiation, and thereby exposed himself to be deceived by
the artifices of the French ministry; who, still pretending pacific
intentions, sent Lord Bernard Daubigni, a Scotchman of quality,
to London, and pressed Henry not to be discouraged in offering his
mediation to the court of Brittany. The king, on his part, despatched
another embassy, consisting of Urswic, the abbot of Abingdon, and Sir
Richard Tonstal, who carried new proposals for an amicable treaty. No
effectual succors, meanwhile, were provided for the distressed Bretons.
Lord Woodville, brother to the queen dowager, having asked leave
to raise underhand a body of volunteers, and to transport them into
Brittany, met with a refusal from the king, who was desirous of
preserving the appearance of a strict neutrality. That nobleman,
however, still persisted in his purpose. He went over to the Isle of
Wight, of which he was governor, levied a body of four hundred men; and
having at last obtained, as is supposed, the secret permission of
Henry, sailed with them to Brittany. This enterprise proved fatal to the
leader, and brought small relief to the unhappy duke. The Bretons rashly
engaged in a general action with the French at St. Aubin, and were
discomfited. Woodville and all the English were put to the sword,
together with a body of Bretons, who had been accoutred in the garb of
Englishmen in order to strike a greater terror into the French, to whom
the martial prowess of that nation was always formidable.[*] The duke of
Orleans the prince of Orange, and many other persons of rank were taken
prisoners; and the military force of Brittany was totally broken. The
death of the duke, which followed soon after, threw affairs into
still greater confusion, and seemed to threaten the state with a final
subjection.
Though the king did not prepare against these events, so hurtful to the
interests of England, with sufficient vigor and precaution, he had not
altogether overlooked them. Determined to maintain a pacific conduct,
as far as the situation of affairs would permit, he yet knew the warlike
temper of his subjects, and observed that their ancient and inveterate
animosity to France was now revived by the prospect of this great
accession to her power and grandeur. He resolved, therefore to make
advantage of this disposition, and draw some supplies from the people,
on pretence of giving assistance to the duke of Brittany. He had
summoned a parliament at Westminster;[**] and he soon persuaded them
to grant him a considerable subsidy.[***] But this supply, though
voted by parliament, involved the king in unexpected difficulties.
The counties of Durham and York, always discontented with Henry's
government, and further provoked by the late oppressions under which
they had labored, after the suppression of Simnel's rebellion, resisted
the commissioners who were appointed to levy the tax. The commissioners,
terrified with this appearance of sedition, made application to the
earl of Northumberland, and desired of him advice and assistance in
the execution of their office. That nobleman thought the matter of
importance enough to consult the king; who, unwilling to yield to
the humors of a discontented populace, and foreseeing the pernicious
consequence of such a precedent, renewed his orders for strictly levying
the imposition. Northumberland summoned together the justices and chief
freeholders, and delivered the king's commands in the most imperious
terms which, he thought, would enforce obedience, but which tended only
to provoke the people, and make them believe him the adviser of those
orders which he delivered to them. [****]
* Argentre Hist, de Bretagne, liv. xii.
** 9th November, 1487.
*** Polyd. Virg. (p 579) says, that this imposition was a
capitation tax; the other historians say, it was a tax of
two shillings in the pound.
**** Bacon, p. 595.
They flew to arms, attacked Northumberland in his house, and put him to
death. Having incurred such deep guilt, their mutinous humor prompted
them to declare against the king himself; and being instigated by John
Achamber, a seditious fellow of low birth, they chose Sir John Egremond
their leader, and prepared themselves for a vigorous resistance. Henry
was not dismayed with an insurrection so precipitate and ill supported.
He immediately levied a force, which he put under the command of the
earl of Surrey, whom he had freed from confinement and received into
favor. His intention was to send down these troops, in order to check
the progress of the rebels; while he himself should follow with a
greater body, which would absolutely insure success. But Surrey thought
himself strong enough to encounter alone a raw and unarmed multitude;
and he succeeded in the attempt. The rebels were dissipated; John
Achamber was taken prisoner, and afterwards executed with some of his
accomplices; Sir John Egremond fled to the duchess of Burgundy, who gave
him protection; the greater number of the rebels received a pardon.
Henry had probably expected, when he obtained this grant from
parliament, that he should be able to terminate the affair of Brittany
by negotiation, and that he might thereby fill his coffers with the
money levied by the imposition. But as the distresses of the Bretons
still multiplied, and became every day more urgent, he found himself
under the necessity of taking more vigorous measures, in order to
support them. On the death of the duke, the French had revived some
antiquated claims to the dominion of the duchy; and as the duke of
Orleans was now captive in France, their former pretence for hostilities
could no longer serve as a cover to their ambition. The king resolved
therefore to engage as auxiliary to Brittany; and to consult the
interests, as well as desires of his people, by opposing himself to
the progress of the French power. Besides entering into a league with
Maximilian, and another with Ferdinand, which were distant resources,
he levied a body of troops, to the number of six thousand men, with an
intention of transporting them into Brittany.
{1489.} Still anxious, however, for the repayment of his expenses, he
concluded a treaty with the young duchess, by which she engaged to
deliver into his hands two seaport towns, there to remain till she
should entirely refund the charges of the armament.[*]
* Du Tillet, Recueil des Traites.
Though he engaged for the service of these troops during the space of
ten months only, yet was the duchess obliged, by the necessity of her
affairs, to submit to such rigid conditions, imposed by any ally so
much concerned in interest to protect her. The forces arrived under the
command of Lord Willoughby of Broke; and made the Bretons, during some
time, masters of the field. The French retired into their garrisons;
and expected by dilatory measures to waste the fire of the English, and
disgust them with the enterprise. The scheme was well laid, and met with
success. Lord Broke found such discord and confusion in the counsels of
Brittany, that no measures could be concerted for any undertaking; no
supply obtained; no provisions, carriages, artillery, or military stores
procured. The whole court was rent into factions: no one minister had
acquired the ascendant: and whatever project was formed by one, was
sure to be traversed by another. The English, disconcerted in every
enterprise by these animosities and uncertain counsels, returned home
as soon as the time of their service was elapsed, leaving only a small
garrison in those towns which had been consigned into their hands.
During their stay in Brittany, they had only contributed still further
to waste the country; and by their departure, they left it entirely at
the mercy of the enemy. So feeble was the succor which Henry in this
important conjuncture afforded his ally, whom the invasion of a foreign
enemy, concurring with domestic dissensions, had reduced to the utmost
distress.
The great object of the domestic dissensions in Brittany was the
disposal of the young duchess in marriage. The mareschal Rieux, favored
by Henry, seconded the suit of the lord D'Albret, who led some forces to
her assistance. The chancellor Montauban, observing the aversion of the
duchess to this suitor, insisted that a petty prince, such as
D'Albret, was unable to support Anne in her present extremities; and
he recommended some more powerful alliance, particularly that of
Maximilian, king of the Romans.
{1490.} This party at last prevailed; the marriage with Maximilian was
celebrated by proxy; and the duchess thenceforth assumed the title of
queen of the Romans. But this magnificent appellation was all she
gained by her marriage. Maximilian, destitute of troops and money, and
embarrassed with the continual revolts of the Flemings, could send
no succor to his distressed consort; while D'Albret, enraged at the
preference given to his rival, deserted her cause, and received the
French into Nantz, the most important place in the duchy both for
strength and riches.
The French court now began to change their scheme with regard to the
subjection of Brittany. Charles had formerly been affianced to Margaret,
daughter of Maximilian; who, though too young for the consummation of
her marriage, had been sent to Paris to be educated, and at this time
bore the title of queen of France. Besides the rich dowry which she
brought the king, she was, after her brother Philip, then in early
youth, heir to all the dominions of the house of Burgundy; and seemed in
many respects the most proper match that could be chosen for the young
monarch. These circumstances had so blinded both Maximilian and Henry,
that they never suspected any other intentions in the French court; nor
were they able to discover that engagements, seemingly so advantageous
and so solemnly entered into, could be infringed and set aside. But
Charles began to perceive that the conquest of Brittany, in opposition
to the natives, and to all the great powers of Christendom, would prove
a difficult enterprise; and that even if he should overrun the country
and make himself master of the fortresses, it would be impossible for
him long to retain possession of them. The marriage alone of the duchess
could fully reannex that fief to the crown; and the present and certain
enjoyment of so considerable a territory, seemed preferable to the
prospect of inheriting the dominions of the house of Burgundy; a
prospect which became every day more distant and precarious. Above all,
the marriage of Maximilian and Anne appeared destructive to the grandeur
and even security of the French monarchy; while that prince, possessing
Flanders on the one hand, and Brittany on the other, might thus, from
both quarters, make inroads into the heart of the country. The only
remedy for these evils was therefore concluded to be the dissolution of
the two marriages, which had been celebrated, but not consummated; and
the espousal of the duchess of Brittany by the king of France.
It was necessary that this expedient, which had not been foreseen by any
court in Europe, and which they were all so much interested to oppose,
should be kept a profound secret, and should be discovered to the
world only by the full execution of it. The measures of the French
ministry in the conduct of this delicate enterprise were wise and
political. While they pressed Brittany with all the rigors of war, they
secretly gained the count of Dunois, who possessed great authority with
the Bretons; and having also engaged in their interests the prince of
Orange, cousin-german to the duchess, they gave him his liberty, and
sent him into Brittany. These partisans, supported by other emissaries
of France, prepared the minds of men for the great revolution projected,
and displayed, though still with many precautions, all the advantages
of a union with the French monarchy. They represented to the barons
of Brittany, that their country, harassed during so many years with
perpetual war, had need of some repose, and of a solid and lasting peace
with the only power that was formidable to them: that their alliance
with Maximilian was not able to afford them even present protection;
and, by closely uniting them to a power which was rival to the greatness
of France, fixed them in perpetual enmity with that potent monarchy:
that their vicinity exposed them first to the inroads of the enemy; and
the happiest event which, in such a situation, could befall them, would
be to attain a peace, though by a final subjection to France, and by the
loss of that liberty transmitted to them from their ancestors: and that
any other expedient, compatible with the honor of the state and their
duty to their sovereign, was preferable to a scene of such disorder and
devastation.
These suggestions had influence with the Bretons: but the chief
difficulty lay in surmounting the prejudices of the young duchess
herself. That princess had imbibed a strong prepossession against the
French nation, particularly against Charles, the author of all the
calamities which, from her earliest infancy, had befallen her family.
She had also fixed her affections on Maximilian; and as she now deemed
him her husband, she could not, she thought, without incurring the
greatest guilt, and violating the most solemn engagements, contract a
marriage with any other person.
{1491.} In order to overcome her obstinacy, Charles gave the duke of
Orleans his liberty; who, though formerly a suitor to the duchess, was
now contented to ingratiate himself with the king, by employing in his
favor all the interest which he still possessed in Brittany. Mareschal
Rieux and Chancellor Montauban were reconciled by his mediation; and
these rival ministers now concurred with the prince of Orange and the
count of Dunois, in pressing the conclusion of a marriage with Charles.
By their suggestion, Charles advanced with a powerful army, and invested
Rennes, at that time the residence of the duchess; who, assailed on all
hands, and finding none to support her in her inflexibility, at last
opened the gates of the city, and agreed to espouse the king of France,
She was married at Langey, in Touraine; conducted to St. Denis, where
she was crowned; thence made her entry into Paris, amidst the joyful
acclamations of the people, who regarded this marriage as the most
prosperous event that could have befallen the monarchy.
The triumph and success of Charles was the most sensible mortification
to the king of the Romans. He had lost a considerable territory, which
he thought he had acquired, and an accomplished princess, whom he had
espoused; he was affronted in the person of his daughter Margaret, who
was sent back to him, after she had been treated during some years as
queen of France; he had reason to reproach himself with his own supine
security, in neglecting the consummation of his marriage, which was
easily practicable for him, and which would have rendered the tie
indissoluble: these considerations threw him into the most violent rage,
which he vented in very indecent expressions; and he threatened France
with an invasion from the united arms of Austria, Spain, and England.
The king of England had also just reason to reproach himself with
misconduct in this important transaction; and though the affair had
terminated in a manner which he could not precisely foresee, his
negligence, in leaving his most useful ally so long exposed to the
invasion of superior power, could not but appear on reflection the
result of timid caution and narrow politics. As he valued himself on his
extensive foresight and profound judgment, the ascendant acquired over
him by a raw youth, such as Charles, could not but give him the highest
displeasure, and prompt him to seek vengeance, after all remedy for
his miscarriage was become absolutely impracticable. But he was further
actuated by avarice, a motive still more predominant with him
than either pride or revenge; and he sought, even from his present
disappointments, the gratification of this ruling passion. On pretence
of a French war, he issued a commission for levying a "benevolence"
on his people;[*] a species of taxation which had been abolished by a
recent law of Richard III.
* Rymer, vol. xii. p. 446. Bacon says that the benevolence
was levied with consent of parliament, which is a mistake.
This violence (for such it really was) fell chiefly on the commercial
part of the nation, who were possessed of the ready money. London
alone contributed to the amount of near ten thousand pounds. Archbishop
Morton, the chancellor, instructed the commissioners to employ a
dilemma, in which every one might be comprehended: if the persons
applied to lived frugally, they were told that their parsimony must
necessarily have enriched them; if their method of living were splendid
and hospitable, they were concluded to be opulent on account of their
expenses. This device was by some called Chancellor Morton's fork, by
others his crutch.
So little apprehensive was the king of a parliament on account of his
levying this arbitrary imposition, that he soon after summoned that
assembly to meet at Westminster; and he even expected to enrich himself
further by working on their passions and prejudices. He knew the
displeasure which the English had conceived against France on account of
the acquisition of Brittany; and he took care to insist on that topic,
in the speech which he himself pronounced to the parliament. He told
them, that France, elated with her late successes, had even proceeded to
a contempt of England, and had refused to pay the tribute which Lewis XI
had stipulated to Edward IV.: that it became so warlike a nation as
the English to be roused by this indignity, and not to limit their
pretensions merely to repelling the present injury: that, for his part,
he was determined to lay claim to the crown itself of France, and to
maintain by force of arms so just a title, transmitted to him by his
gallant ancestors: that Crecy, Poictiers, and Azincour were sufficient
to instruct them in their superiority over the enemy; nor did he despair
of adding new names to the glorious catalogue; that a king of France
had been prisoner in London, and a king of England had been crowned at
Paris; events which should animate them to an emulation of like glory
with that which had been enjoyed by their forefathers: that the domestic
dissensions of England had been the sole cause of her losing these
foreign dominions; and her present internal union would be the effectual
means of recovering them: that where such lasting honor was in view, and
such an important acquisition, it became not brave men to repine at the
advance of a little treasure: and that, for his part, he was determined
to make the war maintain itself; and hoped by the invasion of so opulent
a kingdom as France, to increase rather than diminish the riches of the
nation.[*]
* Bacon, p. 601.
Notwithstanding these magnificent vaunts of the king, all men of
penetration concluded, from the personal character of the man, and still
more from the situation of affairs, that he had no serious intention of
pushing the war to such extremities as he pretended. France was not now
in the same condition as when such successful inroads had been made
upon her by former kings of England. The great fiefs were united to
the crown; the princes of the blood were desirous of tranquillity; the
nation abounded with able captains and veteran soldiers; and the general
aspect of her affairs seemed rather to threaten her neighbors, than to
promise them any considerable advantages against her. The levity and
vain-glory of Maximilian were supported by his pompous titles; but
were ill seconded by military power, and still less by any revenue
proportioned to them. The politic Ferdinand, while he made a show of
war, was actually negotiating for peace; and rather than expose himself
to any hazard, would accept of very moderate concessions from France.
Even England was not free from domestic discontents; and in Scotland,
the death of Henry's friend and ally, James III., who had been murdered
by his rebellious subjects, had made way for the succession of his son,
James IV., who was devoted to the French interest, and would surely be
alarmed at any important progress of the English arms. But all these
obvious considerations had no influence on the parliament. Inflamed by
the ideas of subduing France, and of enriching themselves by the spoils
of that kingdom, they gave into the snare prepared for them, and voted
the supply which the king demanded. Two fifteenths were granted him; and
the better to enable his vassals and nobility to attend him, an act was
passed, empowering them to sell their estates, without paying any fines
for alienation.
{1492.} The nobility were universally seized with a desire of military
glory; and having credulously swallowed all the boasts of the king, they
dreamed of no less than carrying their triumphant banners to the
gates of Paris, and putting the crown of France on the head of their
sovereign. Many of them borrowed large sums, or sold off manors, that
they might appear in the field with greater splendor, and lead out their
followers in more complete order. The king crossed the sea, and arrived
at Calais on the sixth of October, with an army of twenty-five thousand
foot and sixteen hundred horse, which he put under the command of the
duke of Bedford and the earl of Oxford: but as some inferred, from
his opening the campaign in so late a season, that peace would soon be
concluded between the crowns, he was desirous of suggesting a contrary
inference. "He had come over," he said, "to make an entire conquest of
France, which was not the work of one summer. It was therefore of no
consequence at what season he began the invasion; especially as he had
Calais ready for winter quarters." As if he had seriously intended this
enterprise, he instantly marched into the enemy's country, and laid
siege to Boulogne: but notwithstanding this appearance of hostility,
there had been secret advances made towards peace above three months
before; and commissioners had been appointed to treat of the terms. The
better to reconcile the minds of men to this unexpected measure, the
king's ambassadors arrived in the camp from the Low Countries, and
informed him, that Maximilian was in no readiness to join him; nor was
any assistance to be expected from that quarter. Soon after, messengers
came from Spain, and brought news of a peace concluded between that
kingdom and France, in which Charles had made a cession of the counties
of Roussillon and Cerdagne to Ferdinand. Though these articles of
intelligence were carefully dispersed throughout the army, the king was
still apprehensive lest a sudden peace, after such magnificent promises
and high expectations, might expose him to reproach. In order the more
effectually to cover the intended measures, he secretly engaged the
marquis of Dorset, together with twenty-three persons of distinction,
to present him a petition for agreeing to a treaty with France. The
pretence was founded on the late season of the year, the difficulty of
supplying the army at Calais during winter, the obstacles which arose
in the siege of Boulogne, the desertion of those allies whose assistance
had been most relied on: events which might, all of them, have been
foreseen before the embarkation of the forces.
In consequence of these preparatory steps, the bishop of Exeter and Lord
Daubeney were sent to confer at Estaples with the mareschal de Cordes,
and to put the last hand to the treaty. A few days sufficed for that
purpose: the demands of Henry were wholly pecuniary; and the king of
Franco, who deemed the peaceable possession of Brittany an equivalent
for any sum, and who was all on fire for his projected expedition into
Italy, readily agreed to the proposals made him. He engaged to pay Henry
seven hundred and forty-five thousand crowns, near four hundred thousand
pounds sterling of our present money; partly as a reimbursement of
the sums advanced to Brittany, partly as arrears of the pension due to
Edward IV. And he stipulated a yearly pension to Henry and his heirs
of twenty-five thousand crowns. Thus the king, as remarked by his
historian, made profit upon his subjects for the war, and upon his
enemies for the peace.[*] And the people agreed that he had fulfilled
his promise, when he said to the parliament that he would make the war
maintain itself. Maximilian was, if he pleased, comprehended in Henry's
treaty; but he disdained to be in any respect beholden to an ally, of
whom, he thought, he had reason to complain: he made a separate peace
with France, and obtained restitution of Artois, Franche Compte, and
Charolois, which had been ceded as the dowry of his daughter when she
was affianced to the king of France.
* Bacon, p. 605. Polyd Virg. p. 586.
The peace concluded between England and France was the more likely to
continue, because Charles, full of ambition and youthful hopes, bent
all his attention to the side of Italy, and soon after undertook the
conquest of Naples; an enterprise which Henry regarded with the greater
indifference, as Naples lay remote from him, and France had never, in
any age, been successful in that quarter. The king's authority was
fully established at home; and every rebellion which had been attempted
against him, had hitherto tended only to confound his enemies, and
consolidate his power and influence. His reputation for policy and
conduct was daily augmenting; his treasures had increased even from the
most unfavorable events; the hopes of all pretenders to his throne were
cut off, as well by his marriage as by the issue which it had brought
him. In this prosperous situation, the king had reason to flatter
himself with the prospect of durable peace and tranquillity; but his
inveterate and indefatigable enemies, whom he had wantonly provoked,
raised him an adversary, who long kept him in inquietude, and sometimes
even brought him into danger.
The duchess of Burgundy, full of resentment for the depression of her
family and its partisans, rather irritated than discouraged by the ill
success of her past enterprises, was determined at least to disturb that
government which she found it so difficult to subvert. By means of
her emissaries, she propagated a report that her nephew, Richard
Plantagenet, duke of York, had escaped from the Tower when his elder
brother was murdered, and that he still lay somewhere concealed: and
finding this rumor, however improbable, to be greedily received by the
people, she had been looking out for some young man proper to personate
that unfortunate prince.
There was one Osbec, or Warbec, a renegade Jew of Tournay, who had been
carried by some business to London in the reign of Edward IV., and had
there a son born to him. Having had opportunities of being known to
the king, and obtaining his favor, he prevailed with that prince, whose
manners were very affable, to stand godfather to his son, to whom
he gave the name of Peter, corrupted, after the Flemish manner, into
Peterkin, or Perkin. It was by some believed that Edward, among his
amorous adventures, had a secret commerce with Warbec's wife; and people
thence accounted for that resemblance which was afterwards remarked
between young Perkin and that monarch.[*]
* Bacon, p. 606.
Some years after the birth of this child, Warbec returned to Tournay;
where Perkin, his son, did not long remain, but by different accidents,
was carried from place to place, and his birth and fortunes became
thereby unknown, and difficult to be traced by the most diligent
inquiry. The variety of his adventures had happily favored the natural
versatility and sagacity of his genius; and he seemed to be a youth
perfectly fitted to act any part, or assume any character. In this light
he had been represented to the duchess of Burgundy, who, struck with the
concurrence of so many circumstances suited to her purpose, desired to
be made acquainted with the man, on whom she already began to ground
her hopes of success. She found him to exceed her most sanguine
expectations; so comely did he appear in his person, so graceful in his
air, so courtly in his address, so full of docility and good sense in
his behavior and conversation. The lessons necessary to be taught him,
in order to his personating the duke of York, were soon learned by a
youth of such quick apprehension; but as the season seemed not then
favorable for their enterprise, Margaret, in order the better to conceal
him, sent him, under the care of Lady Brampton into Portugal, where he
remained a year unknown to all the world.
The war, which was then ready to break out between France and England,
seemed to afford a proper opportunity for the discovery of this new
phenomenon; and Ireland, which still retained its attachments to
the house of York, was chosen as the proper place for his first
appearance.[*] He landed at Cork; and immediately assuming the name of
Richard Plantagenet, drew to him partisans among that credulous people.
He wrote letters to the earls of Desmond and Kildare, inviting them to
join his party: he dispersed every where the strange intelligence of
his escape from the cruelty of his uncle Richard: and men, fond of every
thing new and wonderful, began to make him the general subject of their
discourse, and even the object of their favor.
The news soon reached France; and Charles, prompted by the secret
solicitations of the duchess of Burgundy, and the intrigues of one
Frion, a secretary of Henry's, who had deserted his service, sent Perkin
an invitation to repair to him at Paris. He received him with all the
marks of regard due to the duke of York; settled on him a handsome
pension, assigned him magnificent lodgings, and in order to provide at
once for his dignity and security, gave him a guard for his person,
of which Lord Congresal accepted the office of captain. The French
courtiers readily embraced a fiction which their sovereign thought
it his interest to adopt: Perkin, both by his deportment and personal
qualities, supported the prepossession which was spread abroad of his
royal pedigree: and the whole kingdom was full of the accomplishments,
as well as the singular adventures and misfortunes, of the young
Plantagenet. Wonders of this nature are commonly augmented at a
distance. From France the admiration and credulity diffused themselves
into England: Sir George Nevil,[*] Sir John Taylor, and above a hundred
gentlemen more, came to Paris, in order to offer their services to the
supposed duke of York, and to share his fortunes: and the impostor had
now the appearance of a court attending him, and began to entertain
hopes of final success in his undertakings.
* Polyd Virg. p. 589.
When peace was concluded between France and England at Estaples, Henry
applied to have Perkin put into his hands; but Charles, resolute not
to betray a young man, of whatever birth, whom he had invited into his
kingdom, would agree only to dismiss him. The pretended Richard retired
to the duchess of Burgundy, and craving her protection and assistance,
offered to lay before her all the proofs of that birth to which he laid
claim. The princess affected ignorance of his pretensions; even put
on the appearance of distrust: and having, as she said, been already
deceived by Simnel, she was determined never again to be seduced by
any impostor. She desired before all the world to be instructed in his
reasons for assuming the name which he bore; seemed to examine every
circumstance with the most scrupulous nicety; put many particular
questions to him; affected astonishment at his answers; and at last,
after long and severe scrutiny, burst out into joy and admiration at
his wonderful deliverance, embraced him as her nephew, the true image of
Edward, the sole heir of the Plantagenets, and the legitimate successor
to the English throne.
{1493.} She immediately assigned him an equipage suited to his pretended
birth; appointed him a guard of thirty halberdiers; engaged every one to
pay court to him; and on all occasions honored him with the appellation
of the White Rose of England. The Flemings, moved by the authority which
Margaret, both from her rank and personal character, enjoyed among them,
readily adopted the fiction of Perkin's royal descent: no surmise of his
true birth was as yet heard of little contradiction was made to the
prevailing opinion: and the English, from their great communication with
the Low Countries, were every day more and more prepossessed in favor of
the impostor.
It was not the populace alone of England that gave credit to Perkin's
pretensions. Men of the highest birth and quality, disgusted at Henry's
government, by which they found the nobility depressed, began to turn
their eyes towards the new claimant; and some of them even entered into
a correspondence with him. Lord Fitzwater, Sir Simon Mountfort, Sir
Thomas Thwaites, betrayed their inclination towards him: Sir William
Stanley himself, lord chamberlain, who had been so active in raising
Henry to the throne, moved either by blind credulity or a restless
ambition, entertained the project of a revolt in favor of his enemy.[*]
* Bacon, p. 608.
Sir Robert Clifford and William Barley were still more open in their
measures: they went over to Flanders, were introduced by the duchess of
Burgundy to the acquaintance of Perkin, and made him a tender of their
services. Clifford wrote back to England, that he knew perfectly the
person of Richard, duke of York, that this young man was undoubtedly
that prince himself, and that no circumstance of his story was exposed
to the least difficulty. Such positive intelligence, conveyed by a
person of rank and character, was sufficient with many to put the matter
beyond question, and excited the attention and wonder even of the most
indifferent. The whole nation was held in suspense; a regular conspiracy
was formed against the king's authority, and a correspondence settled
between the malecontents in Flanders and those in England.
The king was informed of all these particulars; but agreeably to
his character, which was both cautious and resolute, he proceeded
deliberately, though steadily, in counterworking the projects of his
enemies. His first object was to ascertain the death of the real duke of
York, and to confirm the opinion that had always prevailed with regard
to that event. Five persons had been employed by Richard in the murder
of his nephews, or could give evidence with regard to it; Sir James
Tyrrel, to whom he had committed the government of the Tower for that
purpose, and who had seen the dead princes; Forrest, Dighton, and
Slater, who perpetrated the crime; and the priest who buried the bodies.
Tyrrel and Dighton alone were alive, and they agreed in the same story;
but as the priest was dead, and as the bodies were supposed to have
been removed by Richard's orders from the place where they were first
interred, and could not now be found, it was not in Henry's power to put
the fact, so much as he wished, beyond all doubt and controversy.
He met at first with more difficulty, but was in the end more
successful, in detecting who this wonderful person was that thus boldly
advanced pretensions to his crown. He dispersed his spies all over
Flanders and England; he engaged many to pretend that they had embraced
Perkin's party; he directed them to insinuate themselves into the
confidence of the young man's friends; in proportion as they conveyed
intelligence of any conspirator, he bribed his retainers, his domestic
servants, nay, sometimes his confessor, and by these means traced up
some other confederate; Clifford himself he engaged, by the hope of
rewards and pardon, to betray the secrets committed to him; the more
trust he gave to any of his spies, the higher resentment did he feign
against them, some of them he even caused to be publicly anathematized,
in order the better to procure them the confidence of his enemies: and
in the issue, the whole plan of the conspiracy was clearly laid before
him; and the pedigree, adventures, life, and conversation of the
pretended duke of York. This latter part of the story was immediately
published for the satisfaction of the nation: the conspirators he
reserved for a slower and surer vengeance.
{1494.} Meanwhile he remonstrated with the archduke Philip, on account
of the countenance and protection which was afforded in his dominions
to so infamous an impostor; contrary to treaties subsisting between the
sovereigns, and to the mutual amity which had so long been maintained
by the subjects of both states. Margaret had interest enough to get his
application rejected; on pretence that Philip had no authority over the
demesnes of the duchess dowager. And the king, in resentment of this
injury, cut off all commerce with the Low Countries, banished the
Flemings, and recalled his own subjects from these provinces. Philip
retaliated by like edicts; but Henry knew, that so mutinous a people as
the Flemings would not long bear, in compliance with the humors of their
prince, to be deprived of the beneficial branch of commerce which they
carried on with England.
He had it in his power to inflict more effectual punishment on his
domestic enemies; and when his projects were sufficiently matured, he
failed not to make them feel the effects of his resentment. Almost
in the same instant he arrested Fitzwater, Mountfort, and Thwaites,
together with William Daubeney, Robert Rateliff, Thomas Cressenor, and
Thomas Astwood. All these were arraigned, convicted, and condemned
for high treason, in adhering and promising aid to Perkin. Mountfort,
Ratcliff, and Daubeney were immediately executed: Fitzwater was
sent over to Calais, and detained in custody; but being detected in
practising on his keeper for an escape, he soon after underwent the same
fate. The rest were pardoned, together with William Worseley, dean of
St. Paul's, and some others, who had been accused and examined, but not
brought to public trial.[*]
* Polyd. Virg. p. 592.
Greater and more solemn preparations were deemed requisite for the
trial of Stanley, lord chamberlain, whose authority in the nation, whose
domestic connections with the king, as well as his former services,
seemed to secure him against any accusation or punishment. Clifford was
directed to come over privately to England, and to throw himself at the
king's feet while he sat in council; craving pardon for past offences
and offering to atone for them by any services which should be required
of him. Henry then told him, that the best proof he could give of
penitence, and the only service he could now render him, was the full
confession of his guilt, and the discovery of all his accomplices,
however distinguished by rank or character. Encouraged by this
exhortation, Clifford accused Stanley, then present, as his chief
abettor; and offered to lay before the council the full proof of
his guilt. Stanley himself could not discover more surprise than was
affected by Henry on the occasion. He received the intelligence as
absolutely false and incredible; that a man, to whom he was in a great
measure beholden for his crown, and even for his life; a man, to, whom,
by every honor and favor, he had endeavored to express his gratitude;
whose brother, the earl of Derby, was his own father-in-law; to whom
he had even committed the trust of his person, by creating him lord
chamberlain: that this man, enjoying his full confidence and affection,
not actuated by any motive of discontent or apprehension, should engage
in a conspiracy against him. Clifford was therefore exhorted to weigh
well the consequences of his accusation; but as he persisted in the same
positive asseverations, Stanley was committed to custody, and was soon
after examined before the council.[*] He denied not the guilt imputed to
him by Clifford; he did not even endeavor much to extenuate it; whether
he thought that a frank and open confession would serve as an atonement,
or trusted to his present connections and his former services for pardon
and security. But princes are often apt to regard great services as
a ground of jealousy, especially if accompanied with a craving and
restless disposition in the person who has performed them. The general
discontent also, and mutinous humor of the people, seemed to require
some great example of severity. And as Stanley was one of the most
opulent subjects in the kingdom, being possessed of above three thousand
pounds a year in land, and forty thousand marks in plate and money,
besides other property of great value, the prospect of so rich a
forfeiture was deemed no small motive for Henry's proceeding to
extremities against him.
* Bacon, p. 611 Polyd. Virg. p. 593.
{1495.} After six weeks' delay, which was interposed in order to show
that the king was restrained by doubts and scruples, the prisoner
was brought to his trial, condemned, and presently after beheaded.
Historians are not agreed with regard to the crime which was proved
against him. The general report is, that he should have said in
confidence to Clifford, that if he were sure the young man who appeared
in Flanders was really son to King Edward, he never would bear arms
against him. The sentiment might disgust Henry, as implying a preference
of the house of York to that of Lancaster; but could scarcely be the
ground, even in those arbitrary times, of a sentence of high treason
against Stanley. It is more probable, therefore, as is asserted by some
historians, that he had expressly engaged to assist Perkin, and had
actually sent him some supply of money.
The fate of Stanley made great impression on the kingdom, and struck
all the partisans of Perkin with the deepest dismay. From Clifford's
desertion, they found that all their secrets were betrayed; and as
it appeared that Stanley, while he seemed to live in the greatest
confidence with the king, had been continually surrounded by spies, who
reported and registered every action in which he was engaged, nay, every
word which fell from him, a general distrust took place, and all mutual
confidence was destroyed, even among intimate friends and acquaintance.
The jealous and severe temper of the king, together with his great
reputation for sagacity and penetration, kept men in awe, and quelled
not only the movements of sedition, but the very murmurs of faction.
Libels, however, crept out against Henry's person and administration;
and being greedily propagated by every secret art, showed that there
still remained among the people a considerable root of discontent, which
wanted only a proper opportunity to discover itself.
But Henry continued more intent on increasing the terrors of his people,
than on gaining their affections. Trusting to the great success which
attended him in all his enterprises, he gave every day more and more a
loose to his rapacious temper, and employed the arts of perverted law
and justice, in order to exact fines and compositions from his people.
Sir William Capel, alderman of London, was condemned on some penal
statutes to pay the sum of two thousand seven hundred and forty-three
pounds, and was obliged to compound for sixteen hundred and fifteen.
This was the first noted case of the kind; but it became a precedent,
which prepared the may for many others. The management, indeed, of these
arts of chicanery, was the great secret of the king's administration.
While he depressed the nobility, he exalted, and honored, and caressed
the lawyers; and by that means both bestowed authority on the laws, and
was enabled, whenever he pleased, to pervert them to his own advantage.
His government was oppressive; but it was so much the less burdensome,
as, by his extending royal authority, and curbing the nobles, he became
in reality the sole oppressor in his kingdom.
As Perkin found that the king's authority daily gained ground among the
people, and that his own pretensions were becoming obsolete, he resolved
to attempt something which might revive the hopes and expectations of
his partisans. Having collected a band of outlaws, pirates, robbers, and
necessitous persons of all nations, to the number of six hundred men,
he put to sea, with a resolution of making a descent in England, and of
exciting the common people to arms, since all his correspondence with
the nobility was cut off by Henry vigilance and severity. Information
being brought him that the king had made a progress to the north, he
cast anchor on the coast of Kent, and sent some of his retainers ashore,
who invited the country to join him. The gentlemen of Kent assembled
some troops to oppose him; but they purposed to do more essential
service than by repelling the invasion: they carried the semblance of
friendship to Perkin, and invited him to come himself ashore, in order
to take the command over them. But the wary youth, observing that they
had more order and regularity in their movements than could be supposed
in new levied forces who had taken arms against established authority,
refused to intrust himself into their hands; and the Kentish troops,
despairing of success in their stratagem, fell upon such of his
retainers as were already landed; and besides some whom they slew, they
took a hundred and fifty prisoners. These were tried and condemned and
all of them executed, by orders from the king, who was resolved to use
no lenity towards men of such desperate fortunes.[*]
* Polyd. Virg. p. 595.
This year a parliament was summoned in England, and another in Ireland;
and some remarkable laws were passed in both countries. The English
parliament enacted, that no person who should by arms, or otherwise
assist the king for the time being, should ever afterwards, either by
course of law or act of parliament, be attainted for such an instance of
obedience. This statute might be exposed to some censure, as favorable
to usurpers; were there any precise rule, which always, even during
the most factious times, could determine the true successor, and render
every one inexcusable who did not submit to him. But as the titles of
princes are then the great subject of dispute, and each party pleads
topics in its own favor, it seems but equitable to secure those who act
in support of public tranquillity, an object at all times of undoubted
benefit and importance. Henry, conscious of his disputed title, promoted
this law, in order to secure his partisans against all events; but as
he had himself observed a contrary practice with regard to Richard's
adherents, he had reason to apprehend that, during the violence which
usually ensues on public convulsions, his example, rather than his law,
would, in case of a new revolution, be followed by his enemies. And the
attempt to bind the legislature itself, by prescribing rules to future
parliaments, was contradictory to the plainest principles of political
government.
This parliament also passed an act, empowering the king to levy, by
course of law, all the sums which any person had agreed to pay by way
of benevolence; a statute by which that arbitrary method of taxation was
indirectly authorized and justified.
The king's authority appeared equally prevalent and uncontrolled in
Ireland. Sir Edward Poynings had been sent over to that country, with
an intention of quelling the partisans of the house of York, and of
reducing the natives to subjection. He was not supported by forces
sufficient for that enterprise: the Irish, by flying into their woods,
and morasses, and mountains, for some time eluded his efforts; but
Poynings summoned a parliament at Dublin, where he was more successful.
He passed that memorable statute, which still bears his name, and which
establishes the authority of the English government in Ireland. By this
statute, all the former laws of England were made to be of force in
Ireland; and no bill can be introduced into the Irish parliament, unless
it previously receive the sanction of the council of England. This
latter clause seems calculated for insuring the dominion of the English;
but was really granted at the desire of the Irish commons who intended,
by that means, to secure themselves from the tyranny of their lords,
particularly of such lieutenants or deputies as were of Irish birth.[*]
* Sir John Davis, p. 236.
While Henry's authority was thus established throughout his dominions,
and general tranquillity prevailed, the whole continent was thrown into
combustion by the French invasion of Italy, and by the rapid success
which attended Charles in that rash and ill-concerted enterprise. The
Italians, who had entirely lost the use of arms, and who, in the midst
of continual wars, had become every day more unwarlike, were astonished
to meet an enemy that made the field of battle, not a pompous
tournament, but a scene of blood, and sought, at the hazard of their own
lives, the death of their enemy. Their effeminate troops were dispersed
every where on the approach of the French army: their best fortified
cities opened their gates: kingdoms and states were in an instant
overturned; and through the whole length of Italy, which the French
penetrated without resistance, they seemed rather to be taking quarters
in their own country, than making conquests over an enemy. The maxims
which the Italians during that age followed in negotiations, were as
ill calculated to support their states, as the habits to which they were
addicted in war: a treacherous, deceitful, and inconsistent system of
politics prevailed; and even those small remains of fidelity and honor,
which were preserved in the councils of the other European princes, were
ridiculed in Italy, as proofs of ignorance and rusticity. Ludovico, duke
of Milan, who invited the French to invade Naples, had never desired
or expected their success; and was the first that felt terror from the
prosperous issue of those projects which he himself had concerted. By
his intrigues, a league was formed among several potentates, to oppose
the progress of Charles's conquests, and secure their own independency.
This league was composed of Ludovico himself, the pope, Maximilian, king
of the Romans, Ferdinand of Spain, and the republic of Venice. Henry too
entered into the confederacy; but was not put to any expense or trouble
in consequence of his engagements. The king of France, terrified by so
powerful a combination, retired from Naples with the greater part of
his army, and returned to France. The forces which he left in his new
conquest were, partly by the revolt of the inhabitants, partly by the
invasion of the Spaniards, soon after subdued; and the whole kingdom
of Naples suddenly returned to its allegiance under Ferdinand, son to
Alphonso, who had been suddenly expelled by the irruption of the
French. Ferdinand died soon after, and left his uncle Frederick in full
possession of the throne.
CHAPTER XXVI.
HENRY VII.
{1495.} After Perkin was repulsed from the coast of Kent, he retired
into Flanders; but as he found it impossible to procure subsistence for
himself and his followers while he remained in tranquillity, he soon
after made an attempt upon Ireland, which had always appeared forward
to join every invader of Henry's authority. But Poynings had now put the
affairs of that island in so good a posture, that Perkin met with little
success; and being tired of the savage life which he was obliged to
lead, while skulking among the wild Irish, he bent his course towards
Scotland, and presented himself to James IV., who then governed that
kingdom. He had been previously recommended to this prince by the king
of France, who was disgusted at Henry for entering into the general
league against him; and this recommendation was even seconded by
Maximilian, who, though one of the confederates, was also displeased
with the king, on account of his prohibiting in England all commerce
with the Low Countries. The countenance given to Perkin by these princes
procured him a favorable reception with the king of Scotland, who
assured him, that, whatever he were, he never should repent putting
himself in his hands:[*] the insinuating address and plausible behavior
of the youth himself, seem to have gained him credit and authority.
James, whom years had not yet taught distrust or caution, was seduced to
believe the story of Perkin's birth and adventures; and he carried his
confidence so far as to give him in marriage the lady Catharine Gordon,
daughter of the earl of Huntley, and related to himself; a young lady
too, eminent for virtue as well as beauty.
* Bacon, p. 615. Polyd. Virg. p. 596, 597.
{1496.} There subsisted at that time a great jealousy between the courts
of England and Scotland; and James was probably the more forward on that
account to adopt any fiction which he thought might reduce his enemy
to distress or difficulty. He suddenly resolved to make an inroad into
England, attended by some of the borderers; and he carried Perkin along
with him, in hopes that the appearance of the pretended prince might
raise an insurrection in the northern counties. Perkin himself dispersed
a manifesto, in which he set forth his own story, and craved the
assistance of all his subjects in expelling the usurper, whose tyranny
and maladministration, whose depression of the nobility by the
elevation of mean persons, whose oppression of the people by multiplied
impositions and vexations, had justly, he said, rendered him odious
to all men. But Perkin's pretensions, attended with repeated
disappointments, were now become stale in the eyes even of the populace;
and the hostile dispositions which subsisted between the kingdoms,
rendered a prince supported by the Scots but an unwelcome present to the
English nation. The ravages also committed by the borderers, accustomed
to license and disorder, struck a terror into all men, and made the
people prepare rather for repelling the invaders than for joining them.
Perkin, that he might support his pretensions to royal birth, feigned
great compassion for the misery of his plundered subjects, and publicly
remonstrated with his ally against the depredations exercised by the
Scottish army;[*] but James told him, that he doubted his concern was
employed only in behalf of an enemy, and that he was anxious to preserve
what never should belong to him. That prince now began to perceive that
his attempt would be fruitless; and hearing of an army which was on its
march to attack him, he thought proper to retreat into his own country.
* Polyd. Virg. p. 598.
The king discovered little anxiety to procure either reparation or
vengeance for this insult committed on him by the Scottish nation: his
chief concern was to draw advantage from it, by the pretence which it
might afford him to levy impositions on his own subjects. He summoned a
parliament, to whom he made bitter complaints against the irruption of
the Scots, the absurd imposture countenanced by that nation, the cruel
devastations committed in the northern counties, and the multiplied
insults thus offered both to the king and kingdom of England. The
parliament made the expected return to this discourse, by granting
a subsidy to the amount of one hundred and twenty thousand pounds,
together with two fifteenths. After making this grant, they were
dismissed.
{1497.} The vote of parliament for imposing the tax was without much
difficulty procured by the authority of Henry but he found it not
so easy to levy the money upon his subjects. The people, who were
acquainted with the immense treasures which he had amassed, could ill
brook the new impositions raised on every slight occasion; and it is
probable that the flaw which was universally known to be in his title,
made his reign the more subject to insurrections and rebellions. When
the subsidy began to be levied in Cornwall, the inhabitants, numerous
and poor, robust and courageous, murmured against a tax occasioned by a
sudden inroad of the Scots, from which they esteemed themselves entirely
secure, and which had usually been repelled by the force of the northern
counties. Their ill humor was further incited by one Michael Joseph, a
farrier of Bodmin, a notable prating fellow, who, by thrusting himself
forward on every occasion, and being loudest in every complaint against
the government, had acquired an authority among those rude people.
Thomas Flammoc, too, a lawyer, who had become the oracle of the
neighborhood, encouraged the sedition, by informing them that the tax,
though imposed by parliament, was entirely illegal; that the northern
nobility were bound by their tenures to defend the nation against the
Scots; and that if these new impositions were tamely submitted to,
the avarice of Henry and of his ministers would soon render the burden
intolerable to the nation. The Cornish, he said, must deliver to the
king a petition, seconded by such a force as would give it authority;
and in order to procure the concurrence of the rest of the kingdom,
care must be taken, by their orderly deportment, to show that they
had nothing in view but the public good, and the redress of all those
grievances under which the people had so long labored.
Encouraged by these speeches, the multitude flocked together, and armed
themselves with axes, bills, bows, and such weapons as country people
are usually possessed of. Flammoc and Joseph were chosen their leaders.
They soon conducted the Cornish through the county of Devon, and reached
that of Somerset. At Taunton, the rebels killed, in their fury, an
officious and eager commissioner of the subsidy, whom they called the
provost of Perin. When they reached Wells, they were joined by Lord
Audley, a nobleman of an ancient family, popular in his deportment, but
vain, ambitious and restless in his temper. He had from the beginning
maintained a secret correspondence with the first movers of the
insurrection, and was now joyfully received by them as their leader.
Proud of the countenance given them by so considerable a nobleman, they
continued their march, breathing destruction to the king's ministers
and favorites, particularly to Morton, now a cardinal, and Sir
Reginald Bray, who were deemed the most active instruments in all his
oppressions. Notwithstanding their rage against the administration, they
carefully followed the directions given them by their leaders; and as
they met with no resistance, they committed, during their march, no
violence or disorder.
The rebels had been told by Flammoc that the inhabitants of Kent,
as they had ever, during all ages, remained unsubdued, and had even
maintained their independence during the Norman conquest, would surely
embrace their party, and declare themselves for a cause which was no
other than that of public good and general liberty. But the Kentish
people had very lately distinguished themselves by repelling Perkin's
invasion; and as they had received from the king many gracious
acknowledgments for this service, their affections were by that means
much conciliated to his government. It was easy, therefore, for the
earl of Kent, Lord Abergavenny, and Lord Cobham, who possessed great
authority in those parts, to retain the people in obedience; and the
Cornish rebels, though they pitched their camp near Eltham, at the
very gates of London, and invited all the people to join them, got
reenforcement from no quarter. There wanted not discontents every where,
but no one would take part in so rash and ill-concerted an enterprise;
and besides, the situation in which the king's affairs then stood
discouraged even the boldest and most daring.
Henry, in order to oppose the Scots, had already levied an army, which
he put under the command of Lord Daubeney, the chamberlain; and as
soon as he heard of the Cornish insurrection, he ordered it to march
southwards and suppress the rebels. Not to leave the northern frontier
defenceless, he despatched thither the earl of Surrey, who assembled the
forces on the borders, and made head against the enemy. Henry found
here the concurrence of the three most fatal incidents that can befall a
monarchy; a foreign enemy, a domestic rebellion, and a pretender to
his crown; but he enjoyed great resources in his army and treasure, and
still more in the intrepidity and courage of his own temper. He did not,
however, immediately give full scope to his military spirit. On other
occasions, he had always hastened to a decision; and it was a usual
saying with him, "that he desired but to see his rebels:" but as the
Cornish mutineers behaved in an inoffensive manner, and committed no
spoil on the country; as they received no accession of force on their
march or in their encampment, and as such hasty and popular tumults
might be expected to diminish every moment by delay; he took post in
London, and assiduously prepared the means of insuring victory.
After all his forces were collected, he divided them into three bodies,
and marched out to assail the enemy. The first body, commanded by the
earl of Oxford, and under him by the earls of Essex and Suffolk, were
appointed to place themselves behind the hill on which the rebels were
encamped: the second, and most considerable, Henry put under the command
of Lord Daubeney, and ordered him to attack the enemy in front, and
bring on the action. The third he kept as a body of reserve about his
own person, and took post in St. George's Fields; where he secured the
city, and could easily, as occasion served, either restore the fight or
finish the victory. To put the enemy off their guard, he had spread
a report that he was not to attack them till some days after; and the
better to confirm them in this opinion, he began not the action till
near the evening. Daubeney beat a detachment of the rebels from Deptford
bridge; and before their main body could be in order to receive him, he
had gained the ascent of the hill, and placed himself in array before
them. They were formidable from their numbers, being sixteen thousand
strong, and were not defective in valor; but being tumultuary troops,
ill armed, and not provided with cavalry or artillery, they were but
an unequal match for the king's forces. Daubeney began the attack with
courage, and even with a contempt of the enemy which had almost proved
fatal to him. He rushed into the midst of them, and was taken prisoner;
but soon after was released by his own troops. After some resistance,
the rebels were broken and put to flight.[*]
* Polyd. Virg. p. 601.
Lord Audley, Flammoc, and Joseph, their leaders, were taken, and all
three executed. The latter seemed even to exult in his end, and boasted,
with a preposterous ambition, that he should make a figure in his tory.
The rebels, being surrounded on every side by the king's troops, were
almost all made prisoners; and immediately dismissed without further
punishment: whether, that Henry was satisfied with the victims who had
fallen in the field, and who amounted to near two thousand, or that he
pitied the ignorance and simplicity of the multitude, or favored them
on account of their inoffensive behavior; or was pleased that they had
never, during their insurrection, disputed his title, and had shown
no attachment to the house of York, the highest crime of which, in his
eyes, they could have been guilty.
The Scottish king was not idle during these commotions in England. He
levied a considerable army, and sat down before the Castle of Norham, in
Northumberland; but found that place, by the precaution of Fox, bishop
of Durham, so well provided both with men and ammunition, that he made
little or no progress in the siege. Hearing that the earl of Surrey had
collected some forces, and was advancing upon him, he retreated into
his own country, and left the frontiers exposed to the inroads of the
English general, who besieged and took Aiton, a small castle lying a few
miles beyond Berwick. These unsuccessful or frivolous attempts on both
sides prognosticated a speedy end to the war; and Henry, notwithstanding
his superior force, was no less desirous than James of terminating
the differences between the nations. Not to depart, however, from his
dignity, by making the first advances, he employed in this friendly
office Peter Hialas, a man of address and learning, who had come to him
as ambassador from Ferdinand and Isabella, and who was charged with a
commission of negotiating the marriage of the Infanta Catharine, their
daughter, with Arthur, prince of Wales.[*]
* Polyd. Virg. p. 603.
Hialas took a journey northwards, and offered his mediation between
James and Henry, as minister of a prince who was in alliance with both
potentates. Commissioners were soon appointed to meet and confer on
terms of accommodation. The first demand of the English was, that Perkin
should be put into their hands: James replied, that he himself was
no judge of the young man's pretensions; but having received him as a
supplicant, and promised him protection, he was determined not to betray
a man who had trusted to his good faith and his generosity. The next
demand of the English met with no better reception: they required
reparation for the ravages committed by the late inroads into England:
the Scottish commissioners replied, that the spoils were like water
spilt upon the ground, which could never be recovered; and that Henry's
subjects were better able to bear the loss, than their master to repair
it. Henry's commissioners next proposed, that the two kings should have
an interview at Newcastle, in order to adjust all differences; but James
said, that he meant to treat of a peace, not to go a begging for it.
Lest the conferences should break off altogether without effect, a truce
was concluded for some months; and James, perceiving that while Perkin
remained in Scotland he himself never should enjoy a solid peace with
Henry, privately desired him to depart the kingdom.
Access was now barred Perkin into the Low Countries, his usual retreat
in all his disappointments. The Flemish merchants, who severely felt the
loss resulting from the interruption of commerce with England, had made
such interest in the archduke's council, that commissioners were sent to
London, in order to treat of an accommodation. The Flemish court agreed,
that all English rebels should be excluded the Low Countries; and in
this prohibition the demesnes of the duchess dowager were expressly
comprehended. When this principal article was agreed to, all the other
terms were easily adjusted. A treaty of commerce was finished, which was
favorable to the Flemings, and to which they long gave the appellation
of "intercursus magnus," the great treaty. And when the English
merchants returned to their usual abode at Antwerp, they were publicly
received, as in procession, with joy and festivity.
Perkin was a Fleming by descent, though born in England; and it might
therefore be doubted whether he were included in the treaty between the
two nations: but as he must dismiss all his English retainers if he took
shelter in the Low Countries, and as he was sure of a cold reception,
if not bad usage, among people who were determined to keep on terms
of friendship with the court of England, he thought fit rather to
hide himself during some time in the wilds and fastnesses of Ireland.
Impatient, however, of a retreat which was both disagreeable and
dangerous, he held consultations with his followers, Herne, Skelton, and
Astley, three broken tradesmen: by their advice he resolved to try the
affections of the Cornish, whose mutinous disposition, notwithstanding
the king's lenity, still subsisted after the suppression of their
rebellion. No sooner did he appear at Bodmin, in Cornwall, than the
populace, to the number of three thousand, flocked to his standard, and
Perkin, elated with this appearance of success, took on him, for the
first time, the appellation of Richard IV., king of England. Not to
suffer the expectations of his followers to languish, he presented
himself before Exeter; and by many fair promises invited that city to
join him. Finding that the inhabitants shut their gates against him,
he laid siege to the place; but being unprovided with artillery,
ammunition, and every thing requisite for the attempt, he made no
progress in his undertaking. Messengers were sent to the king, informing
him of this insurrection: the citizens of Exeter meanwhile were
determined to hold out to the last extremity, in expectation of
receiving succor from the well-known vigilance of that monarch.
When Henry was informed that Perkin was landed in England, he expressed
great joy, and prepared himself with alacrity to attack him, in hopes of
being able, at length, to put a period to pretensions which had so long
given him vexation and inquietude. All the courtiers, sensible that
their activity on this occasion would be the most acceptable service
which they could render the king, displayed their zeal for the
enterprise, and forwarded his preparations. The lords Daubeney and
Broke, with Sir Rice ap Thomas, hastened forward with a small body of
troops to the relief of Exeter. The earl of Devonshire, and the most
considerable gentlemen in the county of that name, took arms of their
own accord, and marched to join the king's generals. The duke of
Buckingham put himself at the head of a troop, consisting of young
nobility and gentry, who served as volunteers, and who longed for an
opportunity of displaying their courage and their loyalty. The king
himself prepared to follow with a considerable army; and thus all
England seemed united against a pretender who had at first engaged their
attention and divided their affections.
Perkin, informed of these great preparations, immediately raised the
siege of Exeter, and retired to Taunton. Though his followers now
amounted to the number of near seven thousand, and seemed still resolute
to maintain his cause, he himself despaired of success, and secretly
withdrew to the sanctuary of Beaulieu, in the new forest. The Cornish
rebels submitted to the king's mercy, and found that it was not yet
exhausted in their behalf. Except a few persons of desperate fortunes,
who were executed, and some others who were severely fined, all the rest
were dismissed with impunity Lady Catharine Gordon, wife to Perkin fell
into the hands of the victor, and was treated with a generosity which
does him honor. He soothed her mind with many marks of regard, placed
her in a reputable station about the queen and assigned her a pension,
which she enjoyed even under his successor.
{1498.} Henry deliberated what course to take with Perkin himself. Some
counselled him to make the privileges of the church yield to reasons of
state, to take him by violence from the sanctuary, to inflict on him
the punishment due to his temerity, and thus at once to put an end to
an imposture which had long disturbed the government, and which the
credulity of the people and the artifices of malcontents were still
capable of reviving. But the king deemed not the matter of such
importance as to merit so violent a remedy, He employed some persons to
deal with Perkin, and persuade him, under promise of pardon, to deliver
himself into the king's hands.[*] The king conducted him in a species of
mock triumph to London. As Perkin passed along the road and through
the streets of the city, men of all ranks flocked about him, and the
populace treated with the highest derision his fallen fortunes. They
seemed desirous of revenging themselves, by their insults, for the shame
which their former belief of his impostures had thrown upon them. Though
the eyes of the nation were generally opened with regard to Perkin's
real parentage, Henry required of him a confession of his life and
adventures; and he ordered the account of the whole to be dispersed soon
after, for the satisfaction of the public. But as his regard to decency
made him entirely suppress the share which the duchess of Burgundy had
had in contriving and conducting the imposture, the people, who knew
that she had been the chief instrument in the whole affair, were
inclined, on account of the silence on that head, to pay the less credit
to the authenticity of the narrative.
* Polyd. Virg. p. 606.
{1499.} But Perkin, though his life was granted him, was still detained
in custody; and keepers were appointed to guard him. Impatient of
confinement, he broke from his keepers, and flying to the sanctuary of
Shyne, put himself into the hands of the prior of that monastery. The
prior had obtained great credit by his character of sanctity; and he
prevailed on the king again to grant a pardon to Perkin. But in order
to reduce him to still greater contempt, he was set in the stocks at
Westminster and Cheapside, and obliged in both places to read aloud to
the people the confession which had formerly been published in his name.
He was then confined to the Tower, where his habits of restless intrigue
and enterprise followed him. He insinuated himself into the intimacy of
four servants of Sir John Digby, lieutenant of the Tower; and by their
means opened a correspondence with the earl of Warwick, who was confined
in the same prison. This unfortunate prince, who had from his earliest
youth been shut up from the commerce of men, and who was ignorant even
of the most common Affairs of life, had fallen into a simplicity which
made him susceptible of any impression. The continued dread also of the
more violent effects of Henry's tyranny, joined to the natural love of
liberty, engaged him to embrace a project for his escape, by the murder
of the lieutenant; and Perkin offered to conduct the whole enterprise.
The conspiracy escaped not the king's vigilance: it was even very
generally believed, that the scheme had been laid by himself, in order
to draw Warwick and Perkin into the snare; but the subsequent execution
of two of Digby's servants for the contrivance seems to clear the king
of that imputation, which was indeed founded more on the general idea
entertained of his character than on any positive evidence.
Perkin, by this new attempt, after so many enormities, had rendered
himself totally unworthy of mercy; and he was accordingly arraigned,
condemned, and soon after hanged at Tyburn, persisting still in the
confession of his imposture.[*] [1] It happened about that very time
that one Wilford, a cordwainer's son, encouraged by the surprising
credit given to other impostures, had undertaken to personate the earl
of Warwick; and a priest had even ventured from the pulpit to recommend
his cause to the people, who seemed still to retain a propensity to
adopt it. This incident served Henry as a pretence for his severity
towards that prince. He was brought to trial, and accused, not of
contriving his escape, (for as he was committed for no crime, the desire
of liberty must have been regarded as natural and innocent,) but of
forming designs to disturb the government, and raise an insurrection
among the people. Warwick confessed the indictment was condemned, and
the sentence was executed upon him.
* See note A, at the end of the volume.
This violent act of tyranny, the great blemish of Henry's reign, by
which he destroyed the last remaining male of the line of Plantagenet,
begat great discontent among the people, who saw an unhappy prince, that
had long been denied all the privileges of his high birth, even been
cut off from the common benefits of nature, now at last deprived of life
itself, merely for attempting to shake off that oppression under which
he labored. In vain did Henry endeavor to alleviate the odium of this
guilt, by sharing it with his ally, Ferdinand of Arragon, who, he said,
had scrupled to give his daughter Catharine in marriage to Arthur while
any male descendant of the house of York remained. Men, on the contrary,
felt higher indignation at seeing a young prince sacrificed, not to
law and justice, but to the jealous politics of two subtle and crafty
tyrants.
But though these discontents festered in the minds of men, they were so
checked by Henry's watchful policy and steady severity, that they seemed
not to weaken his government; and foreign princes, deeming his
throne now entirely secure, paid him rather the greater deference and
attention. The archduke Philip, in particular, desired an interview with
him; and Henry, who had passed over to Calais, agreed to meet him in
St. Peter's church, near that city. The archduke, on his approaching the
king, made haste to alight, and offered to hold Henry's stirrup; a mark
of condescension which that prince would not admit of. He called
the king "father," "patron," "protector;" and by his whole behavior
expressed a strong desire of conciliating the friendship of England. The
duke of Orleans had succeeded to the crown of France by the appellation
of Lewis XII.; and having carried his arms into Italy, and subdued the
duchy of Milan, his progress begat jealousy in Maximilian, Philip's
father, as well as in Ferdinand, his father-in-law. By the counsel,
therefore, of these monarchs, the young prince endeavored by every
art to acquire the amity of Henry, whom they regarded as the chief
counterpoise to the greatness of France. No particular plan, however, of
alliance seems to have been concerted between these two princes in their
interview: all passed in general professions of affection and regard;
at least, in remote projects of a closer union, by the future
intermarriages of their children, who were then in a state of infancy.
{1500.} The Pope, too, Alexander VI., neglected not the friendship of a
monarch whose reputation was spread over Europe. He sent a nuncio
into England, who exhorted the king to take part in the great alliance
projected for the recovery of the Holy Land, and to lead in person his
forces against the infidels. The general frenzy for crusades was now
entirely exhausted in Europe; but it was still thought a necessary piece
of decency to pretend zeal for those pious enterprises. Henry regretted
to the nuncio the distance of his situation, which rendered it
inconvenient for him to expose his person in defence of the Christian
cause. He promised, however, his utmost assistance by aids and
contributions; and rather than the pope should go alone to the holy
wars, unaccompanied by any monarch, he even promised to overlook all
other considerations, and to attend him in person. He only required,
as a necessary condition, that all differences should previously be
adjusted among Christian princes, and that some seaport towns in Italy
should be consigned to him for his retreat and security. It was easy to
conclude that Henry had determined not to intermeddle in any war against
the Turk; but as a great name, without any real assistance, is sometimes
of service, the knights of Rhodes, who were at that time esteemed the
bulwark of Christendom, chose the king protector of their order.
But the prince whose alliance Henry valued the most was Ferdinand of
Arragon, whose vigorous and steady policy, always attended with success,
had rendered him in many respects the most considerable monarch in
Europe. There was also a remarkable similarity of character between
these two princes; both were full of craft, intrigue, and design:
and though a resemblance of this nature be a slender foundation for
confidence and amity, where the interests of the parties in the least
interfere, such was the situation of Henry and Ferdinand, that no
jealousy ever on any occasion arose between them. The king had now the
satisfaction of completing a marriage, which had been projected and
negotiated during the course of seven years, between Arthur, prince
of Wales, and the infanta Catharine, fourth daughter of Ferdinand and
Isabella; he near sixteen years of age, she eighteen. But this marriage
proved in the issue unprosperous. The young prince, a few months after,
sickened and died, much regretted by the nation.
{1502.} Henry, desirous to continue his alliance with Spain, and also
unwilling to restore Catharine's dowry, which was two hundred thousand
ducats, obliged his second son, Henry, whom he created prince of Wales,
to be contracted to the infanta. The prince made all the opposition
of which a youth of twelve years of age was capable; but as the king
persisted in his resolution, the espousals were at length, by means of
the pope's dispensation, contracted between the parties; an event which
was afterwards attended with the most important consequences.
The same year another marriage was celebrated, which was also, in the
next age, productive of great events; the marriage of Margaret, the
king's eldest daughter, with James, king of Scotland. This alliance
had been negotiated during three years, though interrupted by several
broils; and Henry hoped, from the completion of it, to remove all source
of discord with that neighboring kingdom, by whose animosity England
had so often been infested. When this marriage was deliberated on in
the English council, some objected, that England might, by means of
that alliance, fall under the dominion of Scotland. "No," replied Henry,
"Scotland, in that event, will only become an accession to England."
{1503.} Amidst these prosperous incidents, the king met with a domestic
calamity, which made not such impression on him as it merited: his queen
died in childbed; and the infant did not long survive her. This princess
was deservedly a favorite of the nation; and the general affection for
her increased, on account of the harsh treatment which it was thought
she met with from her consort.
The situation of the king's affairs, both at home and abroad, was now in
every respect very fortunate. All the efforts of the European princes,
both in war and negotiation, were turned to the side of Italy; and the
various events which there arose, made Henry's alliance be courted by
every party, yet interested him so little as never to touch him with
concern or anxiety. His close connections with-Spain and Scotland
insured his tranquillity; and his continued successes over domestic
enemies, owing to the prudence and vigor of his conduct, had reduced the
people to entire submission and obedience. Uncontrolled, therefore,
by apprehension or opposition of any kind, he gave full scope to his
natural propensity; and avarice, which had ever been his ruling passion
being increased by age and encouraged by absolute authority broke all
restraints of shame or justice. He had found two ministers Empson and
Dudley, perfectly qualified to second his rapacious and tyrannical
inclinations, and to prey upon his defenceless people. These instruments
of oppression were both lawyers; the first of mean birth, of brutal
manners, of an unrelenting temper; the second better born, better
educated, and better bred, but equally unjust, severe, and inflexible.
By their knowledge in law, these men were qualified to pervert the
forms of justice to the oppression of the innocent; and the formidable
authority of the king supported them in all their iniquities.
It was their usual practice, at first, to observe so far the appearance
of law as to give indictments to those whom they intended to oppress;
upon which the persons were committed to prison, but never brought to
trial; and were at length obliged, in order to recover their liberty,
to pay heavy fines and ransoms, which were called mitigations and
compositions. By degrees, the very appearance of law was neglected: the
two ministers sent forth their precepts to attach men, and summon them
before themselves and some others, at their private houses, in a court
of commission, where, in a summary manner, without trial or jury,
arbitrary decrees were issued, both in pleas of the crown and
controversies between private parties. Juries themselves, when summoned,
proved but small security to the subject; being browbeaten by these
oppressors; nay, fined, imprisoned, and punished, if they gave sentence
against the inclination of the ministers The whole system of the feudal
law, which still prevailed, was turned into a scheme of oppression. Even
the king's wards, after they came of age, were not suffered to enter
into possession of their lands without paying exorbitant fines. Men
were also harassed with informations of intrusion upon scarce colorable
titles. When an outlawry in a personal action was issued against any
man, he was not allowed to purchase his charter of pardon, except on the
payment of a great sum; and if he refused the composition required of
him, the strict law, which in such cases allows forfeiture of goods, was
rigorously insisted on. Nay, without any color of law, the half of men's
lands and rents were seized during two years, as a penalty in case of
outlawry. But the chief means of oppression employed by these ministers
were the penal statutes, which, without consideration of rank, quality,
or services, were rigidly put in execution against all men: spies,
informers, and inquisitors were rewarded and encouraged in every quarter
of the kingdom: and no difference was made, whether the statute were
beneficial or hurtful, recent or obsolete, possible or impossible to be
executed. The sole end of the king and his ministers was to amass money,
and bring every one under the lash of their authority.[*]
Through the prevalence of such an arbitrary and iniquitous
administration, the English, it may safely be affirmed, were
considerable losers by their ancient privileges, which secured them
from all taxations, except such as were imposed by their own consent
in parliament. Had the king been empowered to levy general taxes at
pleasure, he would naturally have abstained from these oppressive
expedients, which destroyed all security in private property, and begat
a universal diffidence throughout the nation. In vain did the people
look for protection from the parliament, which was pretty frequently
summoned during this reign.
{1504.} That assembly was so overawed, that at this very time, during
the greatest rage of Henry's oppressions, the commons chose Dudley their
speaker, the very man who was the chief instrument of his iniquities.
And though the king was known to be immensely opulent, and had no
pretence of wars or expensive enterprises of any kind, they granted him
the subsidy which he demanded. But so insatiable was his avarice, that
next year he levied a new benevolence, and renewed that arbitrary and
oppressive method of taxation.
{1505.} By all these arts of accumulation, joined to a rigid frugality
in his expense, he so filled his coffers, that he is said to have
possessed in ready money the sum of one million eight hundred thousand
pounds; a treasure almost incredible, if we consider the scarcity of
money in those times.[**]
* Bacon, p. 629, 630. Holingshed, p. 504. Polyd. Virg. p.
613, 615.
** Silver was during this reign at thirty-seven shillings
and six pence a pound, which makes Henry's treasure near
three millions of our present money. Besides, many
commodities have become above thrice as dear by the increase
of gold and silver in Europe. And what is a circumstance of
still greater weight, all other states were then very poor,
in comparison of what they are at present. These
circumstances make Henry's treasure appear very great, and
may lead us to conceive the oppressions of his government.
But while Henry was enriching himself by the spoils of his oppressed
people, there happened an event abroad which engaged his attention,
and was even the object of his anxiety and concern: Isabella, queen of
Castile, died about this time and it was foreseen that by this incident
the fortunes of Ferdinand, her husband, would be much affected. The king
was not only attentive to the fate of his ally, and watchful lest the
general system of Europe should be affected by so important an event;
he also considered the similarity of his own situation with that of
Ferdinand, and regarded the issue of these transactions as a precedent
for himself. Joan, the daughter of Ferdinand by Isabella, was married to
the archduke Philip, and being, in right of her mother, heir of Castile,
seemed entitled to dispute with Ferdinand the present possession of that
kingdom. Henry knew that, notwithstanding his own pretensions by the
house of Lancaster, the greater part of the nation was convinced of
the superiority of his wife's title; and he dreaded lest the prince
of Wales, who was daily advancing towards manhood, might be tempted by
ambition to lay immediate claim to the crown. By his perpetual attention
to depress the partisans of the York family, he had more closely united
them into one party, and increased their desire of shaking off that
yoke under which they had so long labored, and of taking every advantage
which his oppressive government should give his enemies against him.
And as he possessed no independent force like Ferdinand, and governed
a kingdom more turbulent and unruly, which he himself by his narrow
politics had confirmed in factious prejudices, he apprehended that his
situation would prove in the issue still more precarious.
Nothing at first could turn out more contrary to the king's wishes than
the transactions in Spain. Ferdinand, as well as Henry, had become very
unpopular, and from a like cause, his former exactions and impositions;
and the states of Castile discovered an evident resolution of preferring
the title of Philip and Joan.
{1506.} In order, to take advantage of these favorable dispositions, the
archduke, now king of Castile, attended by his consort, embarked for
Spain during the winter season; but meeting with a violent tempest in
the Channel, was obliged to take shelter in the harbor of Weymouth. Sir
John Trenchard, a gentleman of authority in the county of Dorset,
hearing of a fleet upon the coast, had assembled some forces; and being
joined by Sir John Cary, who was also at the head of an armed body, he
came to that town. Finding that Philip, in order to relieve his sickness
and fatigue, was already come ashore, he invited him to his house; and
immediately despatched a messenger to inform the court of this important
incident. The king sent in all haste the earl of Arundel to compliment
Philip on his arrival in England, and to inform him that he intended to
pay him a visit in person, and to give him a suitable reception in his
dominions. Philip knew that he could not now depart without the king's
consent; and therefore, for the sake of despatch, he resolved to
anticipate his visit, and to have an interview with him at Windsor.
Henry received him with all the magnificence possible, and with all the
seeming cordiality; but he resolved, notwithstanding, to draw some
advantage from this involuntary visit paid him by his royal guest.
Edmond de la Pole, earl of Suffolk, nephew to Edward IV. and brother to
the earl of Lincoln, slain in the battle of Stoke, had some years before
killed a man in a sudden fit of passion, and had been obliged to apply
to the king for a remission of the crime. The king had granted his
request; but, being little indulgent to all persons connected with the
house of York, he obliged him to appear openly in court and plead his
pardon. Suffolk, more resenting the affront than grateful for the favor,
had fled into Flanders, and taken shelter with his aunt, the duchess
of Burgundy; but being promised forgiveness by the king, he returned to
England, and obtained a new pardon. Actuated, however, by the natural
inquietude of his temper and uneasy from debts which he had contracted
by his great expense at Prince Arthur's wedding, he again made an
elopement into Flanders. The king, well acquainted with the general
discontent which prevailed against his administration neglected not this
incident, which might become of importance, and he employed his usual
artifices to elude the efforts of his enemies. He directed Sir Robert
Curson, governor of the castle of Hammes, to desert his charge, and to
insinuate himself into the confidence of Suffolk, by making him a tender
of his services. Upon information secretly conveyed by Curson, the
king seized William Courtney, eldest son to the earl of Devonshire, and
married to the lady Catharine, sister of the queen; William de la Pole,
brother to the earl of Suffolk; Sir James Tyrrel, and Sir James Windham,
with some persons of inferior quality; and he committed them to custody.
Lord Abergavenny and Sir Thomas Green were also apprehended; but were
soon after released from their confinement. William de la Pole was long
detained in prison: Courtney was attainted, and, though not executed, he
recovered not his liberty during the king's lifetime. But Henry's chief
severity fell upon Sir James Windham and Sir James Tyrrel, who were
brought to their trial, condemned, and executed: the fate of the latter
gave general satisfaction, on account of his participation in the murder
of the young princes, sons of Edward IV. Notwithstanding these
discoveries and executions, Curson was still able to maintain his credit
with the earl of Suffolk: Henry, in order to remove all suspicion, had
ordered him to be excommunicated, together with Suffolk himself, for his
pretended rebellion. But after that traitor had performed all the
services expected from him, he suddenly deserted the earl, and came over
to England, where the king received him with unusual marks of favor and
confidence. Suffolk, astonished at this instance of perfidy, finding
that even the duchess of Burgundy, tired with so many fruitless
attempts, had become indifferent to his cause, fled secretly into
France, thence into Germany, and returned at last into the Low
Countries; where he was protected, though not countenanced, by Philip,
then in close alliance with the king.
Henry neglected not the present opportunity of complaining to his guest
of the reception which Suffolk had met with in his dominions. "I really
thought," replied the king of Castile, "that your greatness and felicity
had set you far above apprehensions from any person of so little
consequence: but, to give you satisfaction, I shall banish him my
state." "I expect that you will carry your complaisance further," said
the king; "I desire to have Suffolk put into my hands, where alone I can
depend upon his submission and obedience." "That measure," said Philip,
"will reflect dishonor upon you as well as myself. You will be thought
to have treated me as a prisoner." "Then the matter is at an end,"
replied the king; "for I will take that dishonor upon me; and so your
honor is saved."[*] The king of Castile found himself under a necessity
of complying; but he first exacted Henry's promise that he would spare
Suffolk's life. That nobleman was invited over to England by Philip; as
if the king would grant him a pardon, on the intercession of his friend
and ally. Upon his appearance, he was committed to the Tower; and
the king of Castile, having fully satisfied Henry, as well by this
concession as by signing a treaty of commerce between England and
Castile, which was advantageous to the former kingdom,[*] was at last
allowed to depart, after a stay of three months.
* Bacon, p. 633.
** Rymer, vol. xiii. p. 142.
He landed in Spain, was joyfully received by the Castilians, and pit in
possession of the throne.
{1507.} He died soon after; and Joan, his widow, falling into deep
melancholy Ferdinand was again enabled to reinstate himself in
authority, and to govern, till the day of his death, the whole Spanish
monarchy.
The king survived these transactions two years; but nothing memorable
occurs in the remaining part of his reign, except his affiancing his
second daughter, Mary, to the young archduke Charles, son of Philip of
Castile.
{1508.} He entertained also some intentions of marriage for himself,
first with the queen dowager of Naples, relict of Ferdinand; afterwards
with the duchess dowager of Savoy, daughter of Maximilian, and sister of
Philip. But the decline of his health put an end to all such thoughts;
and he began to cast his eye towards that future existence which the
iniquities and severities of his reign rendered a very dismal prospect
to him. To allay the terrors under which he labored, he endeavored, by
distributing alms and founding religious houses, to make atonement for
his crimes, and to purchase, by the sacrifice of part of his ill-gotten
treasures, a reconciliation with his offended Maker. Remorse even seized
him at intervals for the abuse of his authority by Empson and Dudley;
but not sufficient to make him stop the rapacious hand of those
oppressors. Sir William Capel was again fined two thousand pounds under
some frivolous pretence, and was committed to the Tower for daring
to murmur against the iniquity. Harris, an alderman of London, was
indicted, and died of vexation before his trial came to an issue.
Sir Laurence Ailmer, who had been mayor, and his two sheriffs, were
condemned in heavy fines, and sent to prison till they made payment.
The king gave countenance to all these oppressions; till death, by its
nearer approaches, impressed new terrors upon him; and he then ordered,
by a general clause in his will, that restitution should be made to
all those whom he had injured.
{1509.} He died of a consumption at his favorite palace of Richmond,
after a reign of twenty-three years and eight months, and in the
fifty-second year of his age.[*]
* Dagd. Baronage, ii. p. 237.
The reign of Henry VII. was, in the main, fortunate for his people at
home, and honorable abroad. He put an end to the civil wars with which
the nation had long been harassed, he maintained peace and order in the
state, he depressed the former exorbitant power of the nobility, and,
together with the friendship of some foreign princes, he acquired the
consideration and regard of all. He loved peace without fearing war
though agitated with continual suspicions of his servants and ministers,
he discovered no timidity, either in the conduct of his affairs, or in
the day of battle; and though often severe in his punishments, he was
commonly less actuated by revenge than by maxims of policy. The services
which he rendered the people were derived from his views of private
advantage, rather than the motives of public spirit; and where he
deviated from interested regards, it was unknown to himself, and ever
from the malignant prejudices of faction, or the mean projects of
avarice; not from the sallies of passion, or allurements of pleasure;
still less from the benign motives of friendship and generosity. His
capacity was excellent, but somewhat contracted by the narrowness of his
heart; he possessed insinuation and address, but never employed these
talents, except where some great point of interest was to be gained; and
while he neglected to conciliate the affections of his people, he often
felt the danger of resting his authority on their fear and reverence
alone. He was always extremely attentive to his affairs; but possessed
not the faculty of seeing far into futurity; and was more expert at
providing a remedy for his mistakes than judicious in avoiding them.
Avarice was, on the whole, his ruling passion;[*] and he remains an
instance, almost singular, of a man placed hi a high station,
and possessed of talents for great affairs, in whom that passion
pre-dominated above ambition. Even among private persons, avarice is
commonly nothing but a species of ambition, and is chiefly incited
by the prospect of that regard, distinction, and consideration, which
attend on riches.
* As a proof of Henry's attention to the smallest profits,
Bacon tells us, that he had seen a book of accounts kept by
Empson, and subscribed in almost every leaf by the king's
own hand. Among other articles was the following: "Item.
Received of such a one five marks for a pardon, which if it
do not pass, the money to be repaid, or the party otherwise
satisfied." Opposite to the memorandum, the king had writ
with his own hand, "Otherwise satisfied." Bacon, p. 630.
The power of the kings of England had always been somewhat irregular
or discretionary; but was scarcely ever so absolute during any former
reign, at least after the establishment of the Great Charter, as during
that of Henry Besides the advantages derived from the personal character
of the man, full of vigor, industry, and severity, deliberate in all
projects, steady in every purpose, and attended with caution as well as
good fortune in every enterprise; he came to the throne after long and
bloody civil wars, which had destroyed all the great nobility, who alone
could resist the encroachments of his authority; the people were
tired with discord and intestine convulsions, and willing to submit to
usurpations, and even to injuries, rather than plunge themselves anew
into like miseries: the fruitless efforts made against him served
always, as is usual, to confirm his authority: as he ruled by a faction,
and the lesser faction, all those on whom he conferred offices, sensible
that they owed every thing to his protection, were willing to support
his power, though at the expense of justice and national privileges.
These seem the chief causes which at this time bestowed on the crown so
considerable an addition of prerogative, and rendered the present reign
a kind of epoch in the English constitution.
This prince, though he exalted his prerogative above law is celebrated
by his historian for many good laws, which he made be enacted for the
government of his subjects. Several considerable regulations, indeed,
are found among the statutes of this reign, both with regard to the
police of the kingdom, and its commerce: but the former are generally
contrived with much better judgment than the latter. The more simple
ideas of order and equity are sufficient to guide a legislator in every
thing that regards the internal administration of justice: but the
principles of commerce are much more complicated, and require long
experience and deep reflection to be well understood in any state. The
real consequence of a law or practice is there often contrary to first
appearances. No wonder that during the reign of Henry VII.[*,] these
matters were frequently mistaken; and it may safely be affirmed, that
even in the age of Lord Bacon, very imperfect and erroneous ideas were
formed on that subject.
Early in Henry's reign, the authority of the star chamber, which was
before founded on common law and ancient practice, was in some cases
confirmed by act of parliament: [*] [2] Lord Bacon extols the utility of
this court; but men began even during the age of that historian, to feel
that so arbitrary a jurisdiction was incompatible with liberty; and
in proportion as the spirit of independence still rose higher in the
nation, the aversion to it increased, till it was entirely abolished
by act of parliament in the reign of Charles I., a little before the
commencement of the civil wars.
* See note B, at the end of the volume.
Laws were passed in this reign, ordaining the king's suit for murder to
be carried on within a year and a day.[*] Formerly it did not usually
commence till after; and as the friends of the person murdered often in
the interval compounded matters with the criminal, the crime frequently
passed unpunished. Suits were given to the poor "in forma pauperis," as
it is called; that is, without paying dues for the writs, or any fees to
the council:[**] a good law at all times, especially in that age,
when the people labored under the oppression of the great; but a law
difficult to be carried into execution. A law was made against carrying
off any woman by force.[***] The benefit of clergy was abridged;[****]
and the criminal, on the first offence, was ordered to be burned in
the hand with a letter denoting his crime; after which he was punished
capitally for any new offence. Sheriffs were no longer allowed to fine
any person, without previously summoning him before their court.[v] It
is strange that such a practice should ever have prevailed. Attaint of
juries was granted in cases which exceeded forty pounds' value; [v*] a
law which has an appearance of equity, but which was afterwards found
inconvenient. Actions popular were not allowed to be eluded by fraud or
covin. If any servant of the king's conspired against the life of the
steward, treasurer, or comptroller of the king's household, this design,
though not followed by any overt act, was made liable to the punishment
of felony.[v**] This statute was enacted for the security of Archbishop
Morton, who found himself exposed to the enmity of great numbers.
There scarcely passed any session during this reign without some statute
against engaging retainers, and giving them badges or liveries; [v***]
a practice by which they were in a manner enlisted under some great lord
and were kept in readiness to assist him in all wars, insurrections,
riots, violences, and even in bearing evidence for him in courts of
justice.[v****]
* 3 Henry VII. cap. 1.
** 11 Henry VII. cap. 12.
*** 3 Henry VII. cap. 2.
**** 4 Henry VII. cap. 13.
v 11 Henry VII. cap. 15.
v* 11 Henry VII. cap. 24.
v** 19 Henry VII. cap. 3.
v*** 3 Henry VII. cap 13.
v**** 3 Henry VII. cap 1 and 12.
This disorder, which had prevailed during many reigns, when the law
could give little protection to the subject, was then deeply rooted
in England; and it required all the vigilance and rigor of Henry to
extirpate it. There is a story of his severity against this abuse; and
it seems to merit praise, though it is commonly cited as an instance of
his avarice and rapacity. The earl of Oxford, his favorite general, in
whom he always placed great and deserved confidence, having splendidly
entertained him at his castle of Heningham, was desirous of making a
parade of his magnificence at the departure of his royal guest, and
ordered all his retainers, with their liveries and badges, to be drawn
up in two lines, that their appearance might be the more gallant
and splendid. "My lord," said the king, "I have heard much of your
hospitality, but the truth far exceeds the report. These handsome
gentlemen and yeomen, whom I see on both sides of me, are no doubt your
menial servants." The earl smiled, and confessed that his fortune was
too narrow for such magnificence. "They are most of them," subjoined
he, "my retainers, who are come to do me service at this time, when
they know I am honored with your majesty's presence." The king started
a little, and said, "By my faith, my lord, I thank you for your good
cheer, but I must not allow my laws to be broken in my sight. My
attorney must speak with you." Oxford is said to have paid no less than
fifteen thousand marks, as a composition for his offence.
The increase of the arts, more effectually than all the severities of
law, put an end to this pernicious practice. The nobility, instead of
vying with each other in the number and boldness of their retainers,
acquired by degrees a more civilized species of emulation, and
endeavored to excel in the splendor and elegance of their equipage,
houses, and tables. The common people, no longer maintained in vicious
idleness by their superiors, were obliged to learn some calling or
industry, and became useful both to themselves and to others. And it
must be acknowledged, in spite of those who declaim so violently against
refinement in the arts, or what they are pleased to call luxury, that,
as much as an industrious tradesman is both a better man and a better
citizen than one of those idle retainers who formerly depended on the
great families, so much is the life of a modern nobleman more laudable
than that of an ancient baron.[*]
But the most important law, in its consequences, which was enacted
during the reign of Henry, was that by which the nobility and gentry
acquired a power of breaking the ancient entails, and of alienating
their estates.[*] By means of this law, joined to the beginning luxury
and refinements of the age, the great fortunes of the barons were
gradually dissipated, and the property of the commons increased
in England. It is probable that Henry foresaw and intended this
consequence; because the constant scheme of his policy consisted in
depressing the great, and exalting churchmen, lawyers, and men of new
families, who were more dependent on him.
This king's love of money naturally led him to encourage commerce, which
increased his customs; but, if we may judge by most of the laws enacted
during his reign, trade and industry were rather hurt than promoted
by the care and attention given to them. Severe laws were made against
taking interest for money, which was then denominated usury.[*] [3] Even
the profits of exchange were prohibited, as savoring of usury,[**] which
the superstition of the age zealously proscribed. All evasive contracts,
by which profits could be made from the loan of money, were also
carefully guarded against.[***] It is needless to observe how
unreasonable and iniquitous these laws, how impossible to be executed,
and how hurtful to trade, if they could take place. We may observe,
however, to the praise of this king, that sometimes, in order to promote
commerce, he lent to merchants sums of money without interest, when he
knew that their stock was not sufficient for those enterprises which
they had in view.[****]
Laws were made against the exportation of money, plate, or bullion:
[v] a precaution which serves to no other purpose than to make more be
exported.
* See note C, at the end of the volume.
** 4 Henry VII. cap. 24. The practice of breaking entails by
means of a fine and recovery was introduced in the reign of
Edward IV.: but it was not, properly speaking, law, till the
statute of Henry VII.; which, by correcting some abuses that
attended that practice, gave indirectly a sanction to it.
*** 3 Henry VII. cap. 5.
**** 3 Henry VII. cap. 6.
v 7 Henry VII. cap. 8.
But so far was the anxiety on this head carried, that merchants alien,
who imported commodities into the kingdom, were obliged to invest in
English commodities all the money acquired by their sales, in order to
prevent their conveying it away in a clandestine manner.[*]
It was prohibited to export horses; as if that exportation did not
encourage the breed, and render them more plentiful in the kingdom.[**]
In order to promote archery, no bows were to be sold at a higher
price than six shillings and fourpence,[***] reducing money to the
denomination of our time. The only effect of this regulation must be,
either that the people would be supplied with bad bows, or none at all.
Prices were also affixed to woollen cloth,[****] to caps and hats:[v]
and the wages of laborers were regulated by law.[v*] It is evident,
that these matters ought always to be left free, and be intrusted to
the common course of business and commerce. To some it may appear
surprising, that the price of a yard of scarlet cloth should be limited
to six and twenty shillings, money of our age; that of a yard of colored
cloth to eighteen; higher prices than these commodities bear at present;
and that the wages of a tradesman, such as a mason, bricklayer, tiler,
etc., should be regulated at near tenpence a day; which is not much
inferior to the present wages given in some parts of England. Labor and
commodities have certainly risen since the discovery of the West Indies;
but not so much in every particular as is generally imagined. The
greater industry of the present times has increased the number of
tradesmen and laborers, so as to keep wages nearer a par than could be
expected from the great increase of gold and silver. And the additional
art employed in the finer manufactures has even made some of these
commodities fall below their former value. Not to mention, that
merchants and dealers, being contented with less profit than formerly,
afford the goods cheaper to their customers. It appears by a statute of
this reign,[v**] that goods bought for sixteenpence would sometimes be
sold by the merchants for three shillings.
* 3 Henry VII cap. 8.
** 11 Henry VII. cap. 13.
*** 3 Henry VII. cap. 12.
**** 4 Henry VII. cap. 8.
v 4 Henry VII. cap. 9.
v* 11 Henry VII. cap. 22.
v** 4 Henry VII. cap. 9.
The commodities whose price has chiefly risen, are butcher's meat, fowl,
and fish, (especially the latter,) which cannot be much augmented in
quantity by the increase of art and industry. The profession which then
abounded most, and was sometimes embraced by persons of the lowest rank,
was the church: by a clause of a statute, all clerks or students of
the university were forbidden to beg, without a permission from the
vice-chancellor.[*]
One great cause of the low state of industry during this period, was the
restraints put upon it; and the parliament, or rather the king, (for
he was the prime mover in every thing,) enlarged a little some of these
limitations; but not to the degree that was requisite. A law had been
enacted during the reign of Henry IV.,[**] that no man could bind his
son or daughter to an apprenticeship, unless he were possessed of
twenty shillings a year in land; and Henry VII., because the decay
of manufactures was complained of in Norwich from the want of hands,
exempted that city from the penalties of the law.[***] Afterwards the
whole county of Norfolk obtained a like exemption with regard to some
branches of the woollen manufacture.[****] These absurd limitations
proceeded from a desire of promoting husbandry, which, however, is never
more effectually encouraged than by the increase of manufactures. For a
like reason, the law enacted against enclosures, and for the keeping up
of farm houses,[v] scarcely deserves the high praises bestowed on it by
Lord Bacon. If husbandmen understand agriculture, and have a ready vent
for their commodities, we need not dread a diminution of the people
employed in the country. All methods of supporting populousness, except
by the interest of the proprietors, are violent and ineffectual. During
a century and a half after this period, there was a frequent renewal of
laws and edicts against depopulation; whence we may infer, that none
of them were ever executed. The natural course of improvement at last
provided a remedy.
* 11 Henry VII. cap. 22.
** 11 Henry VII. cap. 11.
*** 4 Henry VII. cap. 19.
**** 4 Henry VII. cap. 17.
v 12 Henry VII. cap. 1.
One check to industry in England was the erecting of corporations;
an abuse which is not yet entirely corrected. A law was enacted, that
corporations should not pass any by-laws without the consent of three of
the chief officers of state.[*] They were prohibited from imposing tolls
at their [**] The cities of Glocester and Worcester had even imposed
tolls on the Severn, which were abolished.[***]
There is a law of this reign,[****] containing a preamble, by which
it appears, that the company of merchant adventurers in London had, by
their own authority, debarred all the other merchants of the kingdom
from trading to the great marts in the Low Countries, unless each trader
previously paid them the sum of near seventy pounds. It is surprising
that such a by-law (if it deserve the name) could ever be carried into
execution, and that the authority of parliament should be requisite to
abrogate it.
It was during this reign, on the second of August, 1492, a little before
sunset, that Christopher Columbus, a Genoese, set out from Spain on his
memorable voyage for the discovery of the western world; and a few years
after, Vasquez de Gama, a Portuguese, passed the Cape of Good Hope,
and opened a new passage to the East Indies. These great events were
attended with important consequences to all the nations of Europe, even
to such as were not immediately concerned in those naval enterprises.
The enlargement of commerce and navigation increased industry and the
arts every where; the nobles dissipated their fortunes in expensive
pleasures: men of an inferior rank both acquired a share in the landed
property, and created to themselves a considerable property of a new
kind, in stock, commodities, art, credit, and correspondence. In some
nations, the privileges of the commons increased by this increase of
property: in most nations, the kings, finding arms to be dropped by the
barons, who could no longer endure their former rude manner of life,
established standing armies, and subdued the liberties of their
kingdoms: but in all places, the condition of the people, from the
depression of the petty tyrants by whom they had formerly been oppressed
rather than governed, received great improvement, and they acquired, if
not entire liberty, at least the most considerable advantages of it. And
as the general course of events thus tended to depress the nobles and
exalt the people, Henry VII., who also embraced that system of policy,
has acquired more praise than his institutions, strictly speaking, seem
of themselves to deserve on account of any profound wisdom attending
them.
* 19 Henry VII. cap. 7 gates.
** 19 Henry VII. cap. 8.
*** 10 Henry VII. cap. 18.
**** 12 Henry VII. cap. 6.
It was by accident only that the king had not a considerable share in
those great naval discoveries, by which the present age was so much
distinguished. Columbus, after meeting with many repulses from the
courts of Portugal and Spain sent his brother Bartholomew to London, in
order to explain his projects to Henry, and crave his protection for
the execution of them. The king invited him over to England; but
his brother, being taken by pirates, was detained in his voyage; and
Columbus, meanwhile, having obtained the countenance of Isabella, was
supplied with a small fleet, and happily executed his enterprise. Henry
was not discouraged by this disappointment: he fitted out Sebastian
Cabot, a Venetian, settled in Bristol, and sent him westwards in 1498,
in search of new countries. Cabot discovered the main land of America
towards the sixtieth degree of northern latitude: he sailed southwards
along the coast, and discovered Newfoundland and other countries; but
returned to England without making any conquest or settlement. Elliot
and other merchants in Bristol made a like attempt in 1502.[*] The king
expended fourteen thousand pounds in building one ship, called the Great
Harry.[**] She was, properly speaking, the first ship in the English
navy. Before this period, when the prince wanted a fleet, he had no
other expedient than hiring or pressing ships from the merchants.
* Rymer, vol. xiii. p. 37.
** Stowe, p. 484.
But though this improvement of navigation, and the discovery of both the
Indies, was the most memorable incident that happened during this or
any other period, it was not the only great event by which the age was
distinguished. In 1453, Constantinople was taken by the Turks; and the
Greeks, among whom some remains of learning were still preserved, being
scattered by these barbarians, took shelter in Italy, and imported,
together with their admirable language, a tincture of their science, and
of their refined taste in poetry and eloquence About the same time, the
purity of the Latin tongue was revived, the study of antiquity became
fashionable, and the esteem for literature gradually propagated itself
throughout every nation in Europe. The art of printing, invented about
that time, extremely facilitated the progress of all these improvements:
the invention of gunpowder changed me whole art of war: mighty
innovations were soon after made in religion, such as not only affected
those states that embraced them, but even those that adhered to the
ancient faith and worship; and thus a general revolution was made in
human affairs throughout this part of the world; and men gradually
attained that situation, with regard to commerce, arts, science,
government, police, and cultivation, in which they have ever since
persevered. Here, therefore, commences the useful, as well as the
more agreeable part of modern annals; certainty has place in all the
considerable, and even most of the minute parts of historical narration;
a great variety of events, preserved by printing, give the author the
power of selecting, as well as adorning, the facts which he relates; and
as each incident has a reference to our present manners and situation,
instructive lessons occur every moment during the course of the
narration. Whoever carries his anxious researches into preceding
periods, is moved by a curiosity, liberal indeed and commendable; not by
any necessity for acquiring knowledge of public affairs, or the arts of
civil government.
CHAPTER XXVII.
HENRY VIII.
{1509.} THE death of Henry VII. had been attended with as open and
visible a joy among the people as decency would permit; and the
accession and coronation of his son, Henry VIII., spread universally
a declared and unfeigned satisfaction. Instead of a monarch jealous,
severe, and avaricious, who, in proportion as he advanced in years,
was sinking still deeper in those unpopular vices, a young prince of
eighteen had succeeded to the throne, who, even in the eyes of men of
sense, gave promising hopes of his future conduct, much more in those of
the people, always enchanted with novelty, youth, and royal dignity.
The beauty and vigor of his person, accompanied with dexterity in
every manly exercise, was further adorned with a blooming and ruddy
countenance, with a lively air, with the appearance of spirit and
activity in all his demeanor.[*] His father, in order to remove him from
the knowledge of public business, had hitherto occupied him entirely in
the pursuits of literature; and the proficiency which he made gave
no bad prognostic of his parts and capacity.[**] Even the vices of
vehemence, ardor, and impatience, to which he was subject, and which
afterwards degenerated into tyranny, were considered only as faults
incident to unguarded youth, which would be corrected when time had
brought him to greater moderation and maturity. And as the contending
titles of York and Lancaster were now at last fully united in his
person, men justly expected, from a prince obnoxious to no party, that
impartiality of administration which had long been unknown in England.
* T. Mori. Lucubr. p. 182.
** Father Paul, lib. i.
These favorable prepossessions of the public were encouraged by the
measures which Henry embraced in the commencement of his reign. His
grandmother, the countess of Richmond and Derby, was still alive; and
as she was a woman much celebrated for prudence and virtue, he wisely
showed great deference to her opinion in the establishment of his
new council. The members were, Warham, archbishop of Canterbury and
chancellor; the earl of Shrewsbury, steward; Lord Herbert, chamberlain;
Sir Thomas Lovel, master of the wards and constable of the Tower; Sir
Edward Poynings, comptroller; Sir Henry Marney, afterwards Lord Marney;
Sir Thomas Darcy, afterwards Lord Darcy; Thomas Ruthal, doctor of laws;
and Sir Henry Wyat.[*] These men had long been accustomed to business
under the late king, and were the least unpopular of all the ministers
employed by that monarch. But the chief competitors for favor and
authority, under the new king, were the earl of Surrey, treasurer, and
Fox, bishop of Winchester, secretary and privy seal. This prelate, who
enjoyed great credit during all the former reign, had acquired such
habits of caution and frugality as he could not easily lay aside; and
he still opposed, by his remonstrances, those schemes of dissipation
and expense, which the youth and passions of Henry rendered agreeable to
him. But Surrey was a more dexterous courtier; and though few had borne
a greater share in the frugal politics of the late king, he knew how
to conform himself to the humor of his new master; and no one was so
forward in promoting that liberality, pleasure, and magnificence,
which began to prevail under the young monarch.[**] By this policy, he
ingratiated himself with Henry; he made advantage, as well as the other
courtiers, of the lavish disposition of his master; and he engaged
him in such a course of play and idleness as rendered him negligent of
affairs, and willing to intrust the government of the state entirely
into the hands of his ministers. The great treasures amassed by the late
king were gradually dissipated in the giddy expenses of Henry. One party
of pleasure succeeded to another: tilts, tournaments, and carousals
were exhibited with all the magnificence of the age; and as the present
tranquillity of the public permitted the court to indulge itself in
every amusement, serious business was but little attended to. Or, if
the king intermitted the course of his festivity, he chiefly employed
himself in an application to music and literature, which were his
favorite pursuits, and which were well adapted to his genius.
* Herbert, Stowe, p. 486. Holingshed, p. 799.
** Lord Herbert.
He had made such proficiency in the former art, as even to compose
some pieces of church music, which were sung in his chapel.[*] He was
initiated in the elegant learning of the ancients. And though he was so
unfortunate as to be seduced into a study of the barren controversies of
the schools, which were then fashionable, and had chosen Thomas Aquinas
for his favorite author, he still discovered a capacity fitted for more
useful and entertaining knowledge.
The frank and careless humor of the king, as it led him to dissipate the
treasures amassed by his father, rendered him negligent in protecting
the instruments whom that prince had employed in his extortions. A
proclamation being issued to encourage complaints, the rage of the
people was let loose on all informers, who had so long exercised an
unbounded tyranny over the nation: [**] they were thrown into prison,
condemned to the pillory, and most of them lost their lives by the
violence of the populace. Empson and Dudley, who were most exposed to
public hatred, were immediately summoned before the council, in order to
answer for their conduct, which had rendered them so obnoxious.
* Lord Herbert.
** Herbert, Stowe, p. 486. Holingshed, p. 799. Polyd. Virg.
lib, xxvii.
Empson made a shrewd apology for himself, as well as for his associate.
He told the council, that so far from his being justly exposed to
censure for his past conduct, his enemies themselves grounded their
clamor on actions which seemed rather to merit reward and approbation:
that a strict execution of law was the crime of which he and Dudley were
accused; though that law had been established by general consent,
and though they had acted in obedience to the king, to whom the
administration of justice was intrusted by the constitution: that it
belonged not to them, who were instruments in the hands of supreme
power, to determine what laws were recent or obsolete, expedient or
hurtful; since they were all alike valid, so long as they remained
unrepealed by the legislature: that it was natural for a licentious
populace to murmur against the restraints of authority; but all wise
states had ever made their glory consist in the just distribution of
rewards and punishments, and had annexed the former to the observance
and enforcement of the laws, the latter to their violation and
infraction; and that a sudden overthrow of all government might be
expected where the judges were committed to the mercy of the criminals,
the rulers to that of the subjects.[*]
Notwithstanding this defence, Empson and Dudley were sent to the Tower,
and soon after brought to their trial. The strict execution of laws,
however obsolete, could never be imputed to them as a crime in a court
of judicature; and it is likely that, even where they had exercised
arbitrary power, the king, as they had acted by the secret commands of
his father, was not willing that their conduct should undergo too
severe a scrutiny. In order, therefore, to gratify the people with
the punishment of these obnoxious ministers crimes very improbable,
or indeed absolutely impossible, were charged upon them: that they had
entered into a conspiracy against the sovereign, and had intended, on
the death of the late king, to have seized by force the administration
of government. The jury were so far moved by popular prejudices,
joined to court influence, as to give a verdict against them; which was
afterwards confirmed by a bill of attainder in parliament,[**] and, at
the earnest desire of the people, was executed by warrant from the king,
Thus, in those arbitrary times, justice was equally violated, whether
the king sought power and riches, or courted popularity.
* Herbert, Holingshed, p. 804.
** This parliament met on the 21st January, 1510. A law was
there enacted, in order to prevent some abuses which had
prevailed during the late reign. The forfeiture upon the
penal statutes was reduced to the term of three years. Costs
and damages were given against informers upon acquittal of
the accused: more severe punishments were enacted against
perjury: the false inquisitions procured by Empson and
Dudley were declared null and invalid. Traverses were
allowed; and the time of tendering them enlarged. 1 Henry
VIII. c. 8, 10, 11, 12.
Henry, while he punished the instruments of past tyranny, had yet such a
deference to former engagements as to deliberate, immediately after his
accession, concerning the celebration of his marriage with the infanta
Catharine, to whom he had been affianced during his father's lifetime.
Her former marriage with his brother, and the inequality of their years
were the chief objections urged; against his espousing her but, on the
other hand, the advantages of her known virtue, modesty, and sweetness
of disposition were insisted on; the affection which she bore to the
king; the large dowry to which she was entitled as princess of Wales;
the interest of cementing a close alliance with Spain; the necessity
of finding some confederate to counterbalance the power of France; the
expediency of fulfilling the engagements of the late king When these
considerations were weighed, they determined the council, though
contrary to the opinion of the primate, to give Henry their advice for
celebrating the marriage. The countess of Richmond, who had concurred
in the same sentiments with the council, died soon after the marriage of
her grandson.
The popularity of Henry's government, his undisputed title, his
extensive authority, his large treasures, the tranquillity of his
subjects, were circumstances which rendered his domestic administration
easy and prosperous: the situation of foreign affairs was no less happy
and desirable. Italy continued still, as during the late reign, to be
the centre of all the wars and negotiations of the European princes; and
Henry's alliance was courted by all parties; at the same time that he
was not engaged by any immediate interest or necessity to take part with
any. Lewis XII. of France, after his conquest of Milan, was the only
great prince that possessed any territory in Italy; and could he have
remained in tranquillity, he was enabled by his situation to prescribe
laws to all the Italian princes and republics, and to hold the balance
among them. But the desire of making a conquest of Naples, to which he
had the same title or pretensions with his predecessor, still engaged
him in new enterprises: and. as he foresaw opposition from Ferdinand,
who was connected both by treaties and affinity with Frederick of
Naples, he endeavored by the offers of interest, to which the ears of
that monarch were ever open, to engage him in an opposite confederacy.
He settled with him a plan for the partition of the kingdom of Naples,
and the expulsion of Frederick; a plan which the politicians of that,
age regarded as the most egregious imprudence in the French monarch,
and the greatest perfidy in the Spanish. Frederick, supported only by
subjects who were either discontented with his government or indifferent
about his fortunes, was unable to resist so powerful a confederacy, and
was deprived of his dominions: but he had the satisfaction to see Naples
immediately prove the source of contention among his enemies. Ferdinand
gave secret orders to his general, Gonsalvo, whom the Spaniards honor
with the appellation of the "great captain," to attack the armies of
France, and make himself master of all the dominions of Naples. Gonsalvo
prevailed in every enterprise, defeated the French in two pitched
battles, and insured to his prince the entire possession of that
kingdom. Lewis, unable to procure redress by force of arms, was obliged
to enter into a fruitless negotiation with Ferdinand for the recovery of
his share of the partition; and all Italy, during some time, was held in
suspense between these two powerful monarchs.
There has scarcely been any period when the balance of power was better
secured in Europe, and seemed more able to maintain itself without any
anxious concern or attention of the princes. Several great monarchies
were established; and no one so far surpassed the rest as to give any
foundation or even pretence for jealousy. England was united in domestic
peace, and by its situation happily secured from the invasion of
foreigners. The coalition of the several kingdoms of Spain had
formed one powerful monarchy, which Ferdinand administered with arts,
fraudulent indeed and deceitful, but full of vigor and ability. Lewis
XII., a gallant and generous prince, had, by espousing Anne of Brittany,
widow to his predecessor, preserved the union with that principality,
on which the safety of his kingdom so much depended. Maximilian, the
emperor, besides the hereditary dominions of the Austrian family,
maintained authority in the empire, and, notwithstanding the levity of
his character, was able to unite the German princes in any great plan of
interest, at least of defence. Charles, prince of Castile, grandson to
Maximilian and Ferdinand, had already succeeded to the rich dominions of
the house of Burgundy; and being as yet in early youth, the government
was intrusted to Margaret of Savoy, his aunt, a princess endowed with
signal prudence and virtue. The internal force of these several powerful
states, by balancing each other, might long have maintained general
tranquillity, had not the active and enterprising genius of Julius II.,
an ambitious pontiff, first excited the flames of war and discord among
them. By his intrigues, a league had been formed at Cambray,[*] between
himself, Maximilian, Lewis, and Ferdinand; and the object of this great
confederacy was to overwhelm, by their united arms, the commonwealth of
Venice.
* In 1508.
Henry, without any motive from interest or passion, allowed his name to
be inserted in the confederacy. This oppressive and iniquitous league
was but too successful against the republic.
The great force and secure situation of the considerable monarchies
prevented any one from aspiring to any conquest of moment; and though
this consideration could not maintain general peace, or remedy the
natural inquietude of men, it rendered the princes of this age more
disposed to desert engagements, and change their alliances, in which
they were retained by humor and caprice, rather than by any natural or
durable interest.
{1510.} Julius had no sooner humbled the Venetian republic, than he was
inspired with a nobler ambition, that of expelling all foreigners from
Italy, or, to speak in the style affected by the Italians of that age,
the freeing of that country entirely from the dominion of barbarians.[*]
He was determined to make the tempest fall first upon Lewis; and in
order to pave the way for this great enterprise, he at once sought for
a ground of quarrel with that monarch, and courted the alliance of other
princes. He declared war against the duke of Ferrara, the confederate
of Lewis. He solicited the favor of England, by sending Henry a sacred
rose, perfumed with musk and anointed with chrism.[**] He engaged in his
interests Bambridge, archbishop of York, and Henry's ambassador at Rome,
whom he soon after created a cardinal. He drew over Ferdinand to
his party, though that monarch at first made no declaration of his
intentions. And what he chiefly valued, he formed a treaty with the
Swiss cantons, who, enraged by some neglects put upon them by Lewis,
accompanied with contumelious expressions, had quitted the alliance of
France, and waited for an opportunity of revenging themselves on that
nation.
* Guicciard. lib. viii.
** Spel. Concil. vol. ii. p. 725.
{1511.} While the French monarch repelled the attacks of his enemies, he
thought it also requisite to make an attempt on the pope himself, and to
despoil him as much as possible of that sacred character which chiefly
rendered him formidable. He engaged some cardinals, disgusted with
the violence of Julius, to desert him; and by their authority he was
determined, in conjunction with Maximilian, who still adhered to his
alliance, to call a general council, which might reform the church, and
check the exorbitances of the Roman pontiff. A council was summoned
at Pisa, which from the beginning bore a very inauspicious aspect, and
promised little success to had adherents. Except a few French bishops,
who unwillingly obeyed the king's commands in attending the council, all
the other prelates kept aloof from an assembly which they regarded as
the offspring of faction, intrigue, and worldly politics. Even Pisa, the
place of their residence, showed them signs of contempt; which engaged
them to transfer their session to Milan, a city under the dominion
of the French monarch; Notwithstanding this advantage, they did not
experience much more respectful treatment from the inhabitants of Milan;
and found it necessary to make another remove to Lyons.[*] Lewis himself
fortified these violent prejudices in favor of papal authority, by the
symptoms which he discovered of regard, deference, and submission to
Julius, whom he always spared, even when fortune had thrown into his
hands the most inviting opportunities of humbling him. And as it was
known that his consort, who had great influence over him, was extremely
disquieted in mind on account of his dissensions with the holy father,
all men prognosticated to Julius final success in this unequal contest.
The enterprising pontiff knew his advantages, and availed himself of
them with the utmost temerity and insolence. So much had he neglected
his sacerdotal character, that he acted in person at the siege of
Mirandola, visited the trenches, saw some of his attendants killed by
his side, and, like a young soldier, cheerfully bore all the rigors of
winter and a severe season, in pursuit of military glory:[**] yet was he
still able to throw, even on his most moderate opponents, the charge of
impiety and profaneness. He summoned, a council at the Lateran: he put
Pisa under an interdict, and all the places which gave shelter to the
schismatical council: he excommunicated the cardinals and prelates who
attended it: he even pointed his spiritual thunder against the princes
who adhered to it: he freed their subjects from all oaths of allegiance,
and gave their dominions to every one who could take possession of them.
* Guicciard. lib. x.
** Guicciard. lib. ix.
Ferdinand of Arragon, who had acquired the surname of Catholic, regarded
the cause of the pope and of religion only as a cover to his ambition
and selfish politics: Henry, naturally sincere and sanguine in his
temper, and the more eo on account of his youth and inexperience, was
moved with a hearty desire of protecting the pope from the oppression to
which he believed him exposed from the ambitious enterprises of Lewis.
{1512.} Hopes had been given him by Julius, that the title of "most
Christian king," which had hitherto been annexed to the crown of France,
and which was regarded as its most precious ornament, should, in reward
of his services, be transferred to that of England.[*] Impatient also
of acquiring that distinction in Europe, to which his power and opulence
entitled him, he could not long remain neuter amidst the noise of arms;
and the natural enmity of the English against France, as well as their
ancient claims upon that kingdom, led Henry to join that alliance which
the pope, Spain, and Venice had formed against the French monarch.
A herald was sent to Paris, to exhort Lewis not to wage impious war
against the sovereign pontiff; and when he returned without success,
another was sent to demand the ancient patrimonial provinces, Anjou,
Maine, Guienne, and Normandy. This message was understood to be a
declaration of war; and a parliament, being summoned, readily granted
supplies for a purpose so much favored by the English nation.[**]
* Guicciard. lib. xi. P. Daniel, vol ii. p. 1893. Herbert.
Holingshed, p. 831.
** Herbert. Holingshed, p. 811.
Buonaviso, an agent of the pope's at London, had been corrupted by the
court of France, and had previously revealed to Lewis all the measures
which Henry was concerting against him. But this infidelity did the
king inconsiderable prejudice, in comparison of the treachery which he
experienced from the selfish purposes of the ally on whom he chiefly
relied for assistance. Ferdinand, his father-in-law, had so long
persevered in a course of crooked politics, that he began even to value
himself on his dexterity in fraud and artifice; and he made a boast of
those shameful successes. Being told one day, that Lewis, a prince of a
very different character, had complained of his having once cheated
him: "He lies, the drunkard!" said he; "I have cheated him above twenty
times." This prince considered his close connections with Henry only as
the means which enabled him the better to take advantage of his want of
experience. He advised him not to invade France by the way of Calais,
where he himself should not have it in his power to assist him: he
exhorted him rather to send forces to Fontarabia, whence he could easily
make a conquest of Guienne, a province in which it was imagined the
English had still some adherents. He promised to assist this conquest
by the junction of a Spanish army. And so forward did he seem to promote
the interests of his son-in-law, that he even sent vessels to England,
in order to transport over the forces which Henry had levied for that
purpose. The marquis of Dorset commanded this armament, which consisted
of ten thousand men, mostly infantry; Lord Howard, son of the earl of
Surrey, Lord Broke, Lord Ferrars, and many others of the young gentry
and nobility, accompanied him in this service. All were on fire to
distinguish themselves by military achievements, and to make a conquest
of importance for their master. The secret purpose of Ferdinand, in this
unexampled generosity, was suspected by nobody.
The small kingdom of Navarre lies on the frontiers between France and
Spain; and as John d'Albert, the sovereign, was connected by friendship
and alliance with Lewis, the opportunity seemed favorable to Ferdinand,
while the English forces were conjoined with his own, and while
all adherents to the council of Pisa lay under the sentence of
excommunication, to put himself in possession of these dominions. No
sooner, therefore, was Dorset landed in Guipiscoa, than the Spanish
monarch declared his readiness to join him with his forces, to make with
united arms an invasion of France, and to form the siege of Bayonne,
which opened the way into Guienne:[*] but he remarked to the English
general how dangerous it might prove to leave behind them the kingdom of
Navarre, which, being in close alliance with France, could easily give
admittance to the enemy, and cut off all communication between Spain
and the combined armies. To provide against so dangerous an event, he
required that John should stipulate a neutrality in the present war; and
when that prince expressed his willingness to enter into any engagement
for that purpose, he also required that security should be given for the
strict observance of it.
* Herbert, Holingshed, p. 813.
John having likewise agreed to this condition, Ferdinand demanded that
he should deliver into his hands six of the most considerable places of
his dominions, together with his eldest son as a hostage. These were not
terms to be proposed to a sovereign; and as the Spanish monarch expected
a refusal, he gave immediate orders to the duke of Alva, his general, to
make an invasion on Navarre, and to reduce that kingdom.
Alva soon made himself master of all the smaller towns; and being ready
to form the siege of Pampeluna, the capital, he summoned the marquis of
Dorset to join him with the English army, and concert together all their
operations.
Dorset began to suspect that the interests of his master were very
little regarded in all these transactions; and having no orders to
invade the kingdom of Navarre, or make war any where but in France, he
refused to take any part in the enterprise. He remained therefore in his
quarters at Fontarabia; but so subtle was the contrivance of Ferdinand,
that even while the English army lay in that situation, it was almost
equally serviceable to his purpose, as if it had acted in conjunction
with his own. It kept the French army in awe, and prevented it from
advancing to succor the kingdom of Navarre; so that Alva, having full
leisure to conduct the siege, made himself master of Pampeluna, and
obliged John to seek for shelter in France. The Spanish general applied
again to Dorset, and proposed to conduct with united counsels the
operations of the "holy league," (so it was called,) against Lewis: but
as he still declined forming the siege of Bayonne, and rather insisted
on the invasion of the principality of Bearne, a part of the king of
Navarre's dominions which lies on the French side of the Pyrenees,
Dorset, justly suspicious of his sinister intentions, represented that,
without new orders from his master, he could not concur in such an
undertaking. In order to procure these orders, Ferdinand despatched
Martin de Ampios to London; and persuaded Henry that, by the refractory
and scrupulous humor of the English general, the most favorable
opportunities were lost; and that it was necessary he should on all
occasions act in concert with the Spanish commander, who was best
acquainted with the situation of the country, and the reasons of every
operation. But before orders to this purpose reached Spain, Dorset had
become extremely impatient; and observing that his further stay served
not to promote the main undertaking, and that his army was daily
perishing by want and sickness, he demanded shipping from Ferdinand to
transport them back into England. Ferdinand, who was bound by treaty
to furnish him with this supply whenever demanded, was at length, after
many delays, obliged to yield to his importunity; and Dorset, embarking
his troops, prepared himself for the voyage. Meanwhile the messenger
arrived with orders from Henry, that the troops should remain in Spain;
but the soldiers were so discontented with the treatment which they had
met with, that they mutinied, and obliged their commanders to set sail
for England. Henry was much displeased with the ill success of this
enterprise; and it was with difficulty that Dorset, by explaining the
fraudulent conduct of Ferdinand, was at last able to appease him.
There happened this summer an action at sea, which brought not any more
decisive advantage to the English. Sir Thomas Knevet, master of horse,
was sent to the coast of Brittany with a fleet of forty-five sail; and
he carried with him Sir Charles Brandon, Sir John Carew, and many other
young courtiers, who longed for an opportunity of displaying their
valor. After they had committed some depredations, a French fleet of
thirty-nine sail issued from Brest, under the command of Primauget, and
began an engagement with the English. Fire seized the ship of Primauget;
who, finding his destruction inevitable, bore down upon the vessel of
the English admiral, and grappling with her, resolved to make her share
his fate. Both fleets stood some time in suspense, as spectators of
this dreadful engagement; and all men saw with horror the flames which
consumed both vessels, and heard the cries of fury and despair which
came from the miserable combatants. At last the French vessel blew up;
and at the same time destroyed the English.[*] The rest of the French
fleet made their escape into different harbors.
The war which England waged against France, though it brought no
advantage to the former kingdom, was of great prejudice to the latter;
and by obliging Lewis to withdraw his forces for the defence of his own
dominions, lost him that superiority which his arms in the beginning of
the campaign had attained in Italy. Gaston de Foix, his nephew, a young
hero, had been intrusted with the command of the French forces; and in
a few months performed such feats of military art and prowess, as were
sufficient to render illustrious the life of the oldest captain.[**] His
career finished with the great battle of Ravenna, which, after the most
obstinate conflict, he gained over the Spanish and papal armies. He
perished the very moment his victory was complete; and with him perished
the fortune of the French arms in Italy.
* Polyd. Virg. lib. xxvii. Stowe, p. 490. Lanquet's Epitome
of Chronicles, fol. 273.
** Guicciard. lib. x.
The Swiss, who had rendered themselves extremely formidable by their
bands of disciplined infantry, invaded the Milanese with a numerous
army, and raised up that inconstant people to a revolt against the
dominion of France. Genoa followed the example of the duchy; and thus
Lewis in a few weeks entirely lost his Italian conquests, except some
garrisons; and Maximilian Sforza, the son of Ludovic, was reinstated in
possession of Milan.
{1513.} Julius discovered extreme joy on the discomfiture of the French;
and the more so as he had been beholden for it to the Swiss, a people
whose councils he hoped he should always be able to influence and
govern. The pontiff survived this success a very little time; and in his
place was chosen John de Medicis, who took the appellation of Leo X.,
and proved one of the most illustrious princes that ever sat on the
papal throne. Humane, beneficent, generous, affable; the patron of every
art, and friend of every virtue;[*] he had a soul no less capable of
forming great designs than his predecessor, but was more gentle, pliant,
and artful in employing means for the execution of them. The sole
defect, indeed, of his character was too great finesse and artifice; a
fault which, both as a priest and an Italian, it was difficult for
him to avoid. By the negotiations of Leo, the emperor Maximilian was
detached from the French interest; and Henry, notwithstanding his
disappointments in the former campaign, was still encouraged to
prosecute his warlike measures against Lewis.
Henry had summoned a new session of parliament,[**] and obtained a
supply for his enterprise. It was a poll-tax, and imposed different
sums, according to the station and riches of the person. A duke paid ten
marks, an earl five pounds, a baron four pounds, a knight four marks;
every man valued at eight hundred pounds in goods, four marks. An
imposition was also granted of two fifteenths and four tenths.[***]
By these supplies, joined to the treasure which had been left by his
father, and which was not yet entirely dissipated, he was enabled to
levy a great army, and render himself formidable to his enemy. The
English are said to have been much encouraged, in this enterprise, by
the arrival of a vessel in the Thames under the papal banner. It carried
presents of wine and hams to the king and the more eminent courtiers;
and such fond devotion was at that time entertained towards the court
of Rome, that these trivial presents were every where received with the
greatest triumph and exultation.
* Father Paul, lib. i.
** November 4, 1512.
*** Stowe.
In order to prevent all disturbances from Scotland while Henry's arms
should be employed on the continent, Dr. West, dean of Windsor, was
despatched on an embassy to James, the king's brother-in-law; and
instructions were given him to accommodate all differences between
the kingdoms, as well as to discover the intentions of the court of
Scotland.[*] Some complaints had already been made on both sides. One
Barton, a Scotchman, having suffered injuries from the Portuguese, for
which he could obtain no redress, had procured letters of marque against
that nation; but he had no sooner put to sea than he was guilty of
the grossest abuses, committed depredations upon the English, and
much infested the narrow seas.[**] Lord Howard and Sir Edward Howard,
admirals, and sons of the earl of Surrey, sailing out against him,
fought him in a desperate action, where the pirate was killed; and they
brought his ships into the Thames. As Henry refused all satisfaction for
this act of justice, some of the borderers, who wanted but a pretence
for depredations, entered England under the command of Lord Hume,
warden of the marches, and committed great ravages on that kingdom.
Notwithstanding these mutual grounds of dissatisfaction, matters might
easily have been accommodated, had it not been for Henry's intended
invasion of France, which roused the jealousy of the Scottish
nation.[***]
* Polyd. Virg. lib. xxvii.
** Stowe, p. 489. Holingshed, p. 811.
*** Buchanan, lib. xii. Drummond in the Life of James IV.
The ancient league which subsisted between France and Scotland was
conceived to be the strongest band of connection; and the Scots
universally believed, that were it not for the countenance which they
received from this foreign alliance, they had never been able so long to
maintain their independence against a people so much superior. James was
further incited to take part in the quarrel by the invitations of Anne,
queen of France, whose knight he had ever in all tournaments professed
himself, and who summoned him, according to the ideas of romantic
gallantry prevalent in that age, to take the field in her defence, and
prove himself her true and valorous champion. The remonstrances of
his consort and of his wisest counsellors were in vain opposed to the
martial ardor of this prince. He first sent a squadron of ships to the
assistance of France; the only fleet which Scotland seems ever to
have possessed. And though he still made professions of maintaining a
neutrality, the English ambassador easily foresaw that a war would
in the end prove inevitable; and he gave warning of the danger to his
master, who sent the earl of Surrey to put the borders in a posture of
defence, and to resist the expected invasion of the enemy.
Henry, all on fire for military fame, was little discouraged by this
appearance of a diversion from the north; and so much the less, as he
flattered himself with the assistance of all the considerable potentates
of Europe in his invasion of France. The pope still continued to thunder
out his excommunications against Lewis and all the adherents of the
schismatical council: the Swiss cantons made professions of violent
animosity against France: the ambassadors of Ferdinand and Maximilian
had signed with those of Henry a treaty of alliance against that power,
and had stipulated the time and place of their intended invasion: and
though Ferdinand disavowed his ambassador, and even signed a truce for a
twelvemonth with the common enemy, Henry was not yet fully convinced of
his selfish and sinister intentions, and still hoped for his concurrence
after the expiration of that term. He had now got a minister who
complied with all his inclinations, and flattered him in every scheme to
which his sanguine and impetuous temper was inclined.
Thomas Wolsey, dean of Lincoln, and almoner to the king, surpassed in
favor all his ministers, and was fast advancing towards that unrivalled
grandeur which he afterwards attained. This man was son of a butcher at
Ipswich; but having got a learned education, and being endowed with an
excellent capacity, he was admitted into the marquis of Dorset's family
as tutor to that nobleman's children, and soon gained the friendship and
countenance of his patron.[*] He was recommended to be chaplain to Henry
VII.; and being employed by that monarch in a secret negotiation, which
regarded his intended marriage with Margaret of Savoy, Maximilian's
daughter, he acquitted himself to the king's satisfaction, and obtained
the praise both of diligence and dexterity in his conduct.[**]
* Stowe, p. 997.
** Cavendish. Fiddes's Life of Wolsey. Stowe.
That prince, having given him a commission to Maximilian, who at that
time resided in Brussels, was surprised, in less than three days after,
to see Wolsey present himself before him, and supposing that he had
protracted his departure, he began to reprove him for the dilatory
execution of his orders. Wolsey informed him that he had just returned
from Brussels, and had successfully fulfilled all his majesty's
commands. "But on second thoughts," said the king, "I found that
somewhat was omitted in your orders; and have sent a messenger after you
with fuller instructions." "I met the messenger," replied Wolsey, "on my
return: but as I had reflected on that omission, I ventured of myself
to execute what I knew must be your majesty's intentions." The death of
Henry soon after this incident retarded the advancement of Wolsey, and
prevented his reaping any advantage from the good opinion which that
monarch had entertained of him: but thence forwards he was looked on at
court as a rising man; and Fox, bishop of Winchester, cast his eye upon
him as one who might be serviceable to him in his present situation.[*]
This prelate, observing that the earl of Surrey had totally eclipsed
him in favor, resolved to introduce Wolsey to the young prince's
familiarity; and hoped that he might rival Surrey in his insinuating
arts, and yet be contented to act in the cabinet a part subordinate to
Fox himself, who had promoted him.
* Antiq. Brit. Eccles. p. 309. Polyd. Virg. lib. xxvii.
In a little time, Wolsey gained so much on the king, that he supplanted
both Surrey in his favor, and Fox in his trust and confidence. Being
admitted to Henry's parties of pleasure, he took the lead in every
jovial conversation, and promoted all that frolic and entertainment
which he found suitable to the age and inclination of the young monarch.
Neither his own years, which were near forty, nor his character of a
clergyman, were any restraint upon him, or engaged him to check, by any
useless severity, the gayety in which Henry, who had small propension
to debauchery, passed his careless hours. During the intervals of
amusement, he introduced business, and insinuated those maxims of
conduct which he was desirous his master should adopt. He observed to
him that while he intrusted his affairs into the hands of his father's
counsellors, he had the advantage indeed of employing men of wisdom and
experience, but men who owed not their promotion to his favor, and who
scarcely thought themselves accountable to him for the exercise of their
authority: that by the factions, and cabals, and jealousies which had
long prevailed among them, they more obstructed the advancement of his
affairs, than they promoted it by the knowledge which age and practice
had conferred upon them: that while he thought proper to pass his time
in those pleasures to which his age and royal fortune invited him, and
in those studies which would in time enable him to sway the sceptre with
absolute authority, his best system of government would be, to intrust
his authority into the hands of some one person who was the creature
of his will, and who could entertain no view but that of promoting his
service: and that if this minister had also the same relish for pleasure
with himself, and the same taste for science, he could more easily,
at intervals, account to him for his whole conduct, and introduce
his master gradually into the knowledge of public business; and thus,
without tedious constraint or application, initiate him in the science
of government.[*]
* Cavendish, p. 12. Stowe, p. 499.
Henry entered into all the views of Wolsey; and finding no one so
capable of executing this plan of administration as the person who
proposed it, he soon advanced his favorite, from being the companion of
his pleasures, to be a member of his council; and from being a member
of his council, to be his sole and absolute minister. By this rapid
advancement and uncontrolled authority, the character and genius
of Wolsey had full opportunity to display itself. Insatiable in his
acquisitions, but still more magnificent in his expense: of extensive
capacity, but still more unbounded enterprise: ambitious of power, but
still more desirous of glory: insinuating engaging, persuasive; and, by
turns, lofty, elevated, commanding: haughty to his equals, but affable
to his dependants: oppressive to the people, but liberal to his friends;
more generous than grateful; less moved by injuries than by contempt; he
was framed to take the ascendant in every intercourse with others, but
exerted this superiority of nature with such ostentation as exposed him
to envy, and made every one willing to recall the original inferiority,
or rather meanness, of his fortune.
The branch of administration in which Henry most exerted himself, while
he gave his entire confidence to Wolsey, was the military; which, as it
suited the natural gallantry and bravery of his temper, as well as the
ardor of his youth, was the principal object of his attention. Finding
that Lewis had made great preparations both by sea and land to resist
him, he was no less careful to levy a formidable army and equip a
considerable fleet for the invasion of France. The command of the fleet
was intrusted to Sir Edward Howard; who, after scouring the Channel for
some time, presented himself before Brest, where the French navy
then lay; and he challenged them to a combat. The French admiral, who
expected from the Mediterranean a reenforcement of some galleys under
the command of Prejeant de Bidoux, kept within the harbor, and saw with
patience the English burn and destroy the country in the neighborhood.
At last Prejeant arrived with six galleys, and put into Conquet, a place
within a few leagues of Brest; where he secured himself behind some
batteries, which he had planted on rocks that lay on each side of him.
Howard was, notwithstanding, determined to make an attack upon him; and
as he had but two galleys, he took himself the command of one, and gave
the other to Lord Ferrars. He was followed by some row-barges and some
crayers under the command of Sir Thomas Cheyney, Sir William Sidney,
and other officers of distinction. He immediately fastened on Prejeant's
ship, and leaped on board of her, attended by one Carroz, a Spanish
cavalier, and seventeen Englishmen. The cable, meanwhile, which fastened
his ship to that of the enemy, being cut, the admiral was thus left in
the hands of the French; and as he still continued the combat with great
gallantry, he was pushed overboard by their pikes.[*] Lord Ferrars,
seeing the admiral's galley fall off, followed with the other small
vessels; and the whole fleet was so discouraged by the loss of their
commander, that they retired from before Brest.[**] The French navy came
out of harbor, and even ventured to invade the coast of Sussex. They
were repulsed, and Prejeant, their commander, lost an eye by the shot of
an arrow. Lord Howard, brother to the deceased admiral, succeeded to the
command of the English fleet; and little memorable passed at sea during
this summer.
* It was a maxim of Howard's, that no admiral was good for
any thing that was not brave even to a degree of madness. As
the sea service requires much less plan and contrivance, and
capacity, than the land, this maxim has great plausibility
and appearance of truth; though the fate of Howard himself
may serve as a proof, that even there courage ought to be
tempered with discretion.
** Stowe, p. 491. Herbert.
*** Holingshed, p. 816.
Great preparations had been making at land, during the whole winter,
for an invasion on France by the way of Calais; but the summer was well
advanced before every thing was in sufficient readiness for the intended
enterprise. The long peace which the kingdom had enjoyed had somewhat
unfitted the English for military expeditions; and the great change
which had lately been introduced in the art of war, had rendered
it still more difficult to inure them to the use of the weapons now
employed in action. The Swiss, and after them the Spaniards, had shown
the advantage of a stable infantry, who fought with pike and sword, and
were able to repulse even the heavy-armed cavalry, in which the great
force of the armies formerly consisted. The practice of firearms was
become common; though the caliver, which was the weapon now in use, was
so inconvenient, and attended with so many disadvantages, that it had
not entirely discredited the bow, a weapon in which the English excelled
all European nations. A considerable part of the forces which Henry
levied for the invasion of France consisted of archers; and as soon as
affairs were in readiness, the vanguard of the army, amounting to eight
thousand men, under the command of the earl of Shrewsbury, sailed over
to Calais. Shrewsbury was accompanied by the earl of Derby, the lords
Fitzwater, Hastings, Cobham, and Sir Rice ap Thomas, captain of the
light horse. Another body of six thousand men soon after followed under
the command of Lord Herbert the chamberlain, attended by the earls of
Northumberland and Kent, the lords Audley and Delawar, together with
Carew, Curson, and other gentlemen.
The king himself prepared to follow with the main body and rear of
the army; and he appointed the queen regent of the kingdom during his
absence. That he might secure her administration from all disturbance,
he ordered Edmond de la Pole, earl of Suffolk, to be beheaded in the
Tower, the nobleman who had been attainted and imprisoned during the
late reign. Henry was led to commit this act of violence by the dying
commands, as is imagined, of his father, who told him that he never
would be free from danger while a man of so turbulent a disposition as
Suffolk was alive. And as Richard de la Pole, brother of Suffolk, had
accepted of a command in the French service, and foolishly attempted
to revive the York faction, and to instigate them against the present
government, he probably by that means drew more suddenly the King's
vengeance on this unhappy nobleman.
At last, Henry, attended by the duke of Buckingham and many others of
the nobility, arrived at Calais, and entered upon his French expedition,
from which he fondly expected so much success and glory.[*] Of all those
allies on whose assistance he relied, the Swiss alone fully performed
their engagements. Being put in motion by a sum of money sent them by
Henry, and incited by their victories obtained in Italy and by their
animosity against France, they were preparing to enter that kingdom with
an army of twenty-five thousand men; and no equal force could be opposed
to their incursion. Maximilian had received an advance of one hundred
and twenty thousand crowns from Henry, and had promised to reenforce the
Swiss with eight thousand men, but failed in his engagements. That
he might make atonement to the king, he himself appeared in the Low
Countries, and joined the English army with some German and Flemish
soldiers, who were useful in giving an example of discipline to Henry's
new-levied forces. Observing the disposition of the English monarch
to be more bent on glory than on interest, he enlisted himself in his
service, wore the cross of St. George, and received pay, a hundred
crowns a day, as one of his subjects and captains. But while he
exhibited this extraordinary spectacle, of an emperor of Germany serving
under a king of England, he was treated with the highest respect by
Henry, and really directed all the operations of the English army.
* Polyd. Virg. lib. xxvii. Bellarius, lib. xiv.
Before the arrival of Henry and Maximilian in the camp, the earl of
Shrewsbury and Lord Herbert had formed the siege of Terouane, a town
situated on the frontiers of Picardy; and they began to attack the place
with vigor. Teligni and Crequi commanded in the town, and had a garrison
not exceeding two thousand men; yet made they such stout resistance as
protracted the siege a month; and they at last found themselves more in
danger from want of provisions and ammunition than from the assaults of
the besiegers. Having conveyed intelligence of their situation to Lewis,
who had advanced to Amiens with his army, that prince gave orders to
throw relief into the place. Fontrailles appeared at the head of eight
hundred horsemen, each of whom carried a sack of gunpowder behind him,
and two quarters of bacon. With this small force he made a sudden
and unexpected irruption into the English camp, and, surmounting all
resistance, advanced to the fosse of the town, where each horseman threw
down his burden. They immediately returned at the gallop, and were so
fortunate as again to break through the English and to suffer little or
no loss in this dangerous attempt.[*]
But the English had, soon after, full revenge for the insult. Henry
had received intelligence of the approach of the French horse, who had
advanced to protect another incursion of Fontrailles; and he ordered
some troops to pass the Lis, in order to oppose them. The cavalry of
France, though they consisted chiefly of gentlemen, who had behaved with
great gallantry in many desperate actions in Italy, were, on sight of
the enemy, seized with so unaccountable a panic, that they immediately
took to flight, and were pursued by the English. The duke of
Longueville, who commanded the French, Bussi d'Amboise, Clermont,
Imbercourt, the chevalier Bayard, and many other officers of distinction
were made prisoners.[**] This action, or rather rout, is sometimes
called the battle of Guinegate, from the place where it was fought; but
more commonly the "battle of spurs," because the French that day made
more use of their spurs than of their swords or military weapons.
* Hist. de Chev. Bayard, chap. 57. Memoires de Bellai.
** Memoires de Bellai, liv. i. Polyd. Virg. liv. xxvii.
Holingshed, p. 822. Herbert.
After so considerable an advantage, the king, who was at the head of a
complete army of above fifty thousand men, might have made incursions to
the gates of Paris, and spread confusion and desolation every where. It
gave Lewis great joy when he heard that the English, instead of pushing
their victory, and attacking the dismayed troops of France, returned to
the siege of so inconsiderable a place as Terouane. The governors were
obliged soon after to capitulate; and Henry found his acquisition of so
little moment, though gained at the expense of some blood, and what, in
his present circumstances, was more important, of much valuable time,
that he immediately demolished the fortifications. The anxieties of the
French were again revived with regard to the motions of the English. The
Swiss at the same time had entered Burgundy with a formidable army, and
laid siege to Dijon, which was in no condition to resist them. Ferdinand
himself, though he had made a truce with Lewis, seemed disposed to lay
hold of every advantage which fortune should present to him. Scarcely
ever was the French monarchy in greater danger, or less in a condition
to defend itself against those powerful armies which on every side
assailed or threatened it. Even many of the inhabitants of Paris, who
believed themselves exposed to the rapacity and violence of the enemy,
began to dislodge, without knowing what place could afford them greater
security.
But Lewis was extricated from his present difficulties by the manifold
blunders of his enemies. The Swiss allowed themselves to be seduced into
a negotiation by Tremoille, governor of Burgundy; and without making
inquiry whether that nobleman had any powers to treat, they accepted of
the conditions which he offered them. Tremoille, who knew that he should
be disavowed by his master, stipulated whatever they were pleased to
demand; and thought himself happy, at the expense of some payments and
very large promises, to get rid of so formidable an enemy.[*]
The measures of Henry showed equal ignorance in the art of war with that
of the Swiss in negotiation. Tournay was a great and rich city, which,
though it lay within the frontiers of Flanders, belonged to France,
and afforded the troops of that kingdom a passage into the heart of the
Netherlands. Maximilian, who was desirous of freeing his grandson from
so troublesome a neighbor, advised Henry to lay siege to the place; and
the English monarch, not considering that such an acquisition nowise
advanced his conquests in France, was so imprudent as to follow this
interested counsel. The city of Tournay, by its ancient charters,
being exempted from the burden of a garrison, the burghers, against the
remonstrance of their sovereign, strenuously insisted on maintaining
this dangerous privilege; and they engaged, by themselves, to make a
vigorous defence against the enemy.[**] Their courage failed them
when matters came to trial; and after a few days' siege, the place was
surrendered to the English. The bishop of Tournay was lately dead; and
as a new bishop was already elected by the chapter, but not installed
in his office, the king bestowed the administration of the see on his
favorite Wolsey, and put him in immediate possession of the revenues,
which were considerable.[***]
* Memoires du Mareschal de Fleuranges. Bellarius, lib. xiv.
** Memoires de Fleuranges.
*** Strype's Memorials, vol. i. p. 5, 6.
Hearing of the retreat of the Swiss, and observing the season to be far
advanced, he thought proper to return to England; and he carried the
greater part of his army with him. Success had attended him in every
enterprise; and his youthful mind was much elated with this seeming
prosperity, but all men of judgment, comparing the advantages of his
situation with his progress, his expense with his acquisitions, were
convinced that this campaign, so much vaunted, was, in reality, both
ruinous and inglorious to him.[*]
* Guicciardini.
The success which, during this summer, had attended Henry's arms in the
north, was much more decisive. The king of Scotland had assembled the
whole force of his kingdom; and having passed the Tweed with a brave,
though a tumultuary army of above fifty thousand men, he ravaged those
parts of Northumberland which lay nearest that river, and he employed
himself in taking the Castles of Norham, Etal, Werke, Ford, and other
places of small importance. Lady Ford, being taken prisoner in her
castle, was presented to James, and so gained on the affections of that
prince, that he wasted in pleasure the critical time which, during the
absence of his enemy, he should have employed in pushing his conquests.
His troops, lying in a barren country, where they soon consumed all the
provisions, began to be pinched with hunger; and as the authority of
the prince was feeble, and military discipline during that age extremely
relaxed, many of them had stolen from the camp, and retired homewards.
Meanwhile, the earl of Surrey, having collected a force of twenty-six
thousand men, of which five thousand had been sent over from the king's
army in France, marched to the defence of the country, and approached
the Scots, who lay on some high ground near the hills of Cheviot. The
River Till ran between the armies, and prevented an engagement: Surrey
therefore sent a herald to the Scottish camp, challenging the enemy to
descend into the plain of Milfield, which lay towards the south; and
there, appointing a day for the combat, to try their valor on equal
ground. As he received no satisfactory answer, he made a feint of
marching towards Berwick; as if he intended to enter Scotland, to lay
waste the borders, and cut off the provisions of the enemy. The Scottish
army, in order to prevent his purpose, put themselves in motion; and
having set fire to the huts in which they had quartered, they descended
from the hills. Surrey, taking advantage of the smoke, which was blown
towards him, and which concealed his movements, passed the Till with his
artillery and vanguard at the bridge of Twisel, and sent the rest of his
army to seek a ford higher up the river.
An engagement was now become inevitable, and both sides prepared for it
with tranquillity and order.[*] The English divided their army into
two lines: Lord Howard led the main body of the first line, Sir Edmond
Howard the right wing, Sir Marmaduke Constable the left. The earl of
Surrey himself commanded the main body of the second line, Lord Dacres
the right wing, Sir Edward Stanley the left. The front of the Scots
presented three divisions to the enemy: the middle was led by the king
himself; the right by the earl of Huntley, assisted by Lord Hume; the
left by the earls of Lenox and Argyle. A fourth division under the earl
of Bothwell made a body of reserve. Huntley began the battle, and, after
a sharp conflict, put to flight the left wing of the English, and chased
them off the field: but on returning from the pursuit, he found the
whole Scottish army in great disorder. The division under Lenox and
Argyle, elated with the success of the other wing, had broken their
ranks, and, notwithstanding the remonstrances and entreaties of La
Motte, the French ambassador, had rushed headlong upon the enemy. Not
only Sir Edmond Howard, at the head of his division, received them with
great valor, but Dacres, who commanded in the second line, wheeling
about during the action, fell upon their rear, and put them to the sword
without resistance. The division under James and that under Bothwell,
animated by the valor of their leaders, still made head against the
English, and throwing themselves into a circle, protracted the action,
till night separated the combatants. The victory seemed yet undecided,
and the numbers that fell on each side were nearly equal, amounting to
above five thousand men: but the morning discovered where the advantage
lay. The English had lost only persons of small note; but the flower
of the Scottish nobility had fallen in battle, and their king himself,
after the most diligent inquiry, could nowhere be found. In searching
the field, the English met with a dead body which resembled him, and was
arrayed in a similar habit; and they put it in a leaden coffin, and sent
it to London. During some time it was kept unburied; because James died
under sentence of ex-communication, on account of his confederacy
with France, and his opposition to the holy see:[**] but upon Henry's
application, who pretended that this prince had, in the instant before
his death, discovered signs of repentance, absolution was given him, and
his body was interred.
* Buchanan, lib. xiii. Drummond. Herbert. Polyd. Virg. lib.
xxvii. Stowe, p. 493. Paulus Jovius.
** Buchanan, lib. xiii. Herbert.
The Scots, however, still asserted that it was not James's body which
was found on the field of battle, but that of one Elphinston, who had
been arrayed in arms resembling their king's, in order to divide the
attention of the English, and share the danger with his master. It was
believed that James had been seen crossing the Tweed at Kelso;* and some
imagined that he had been killed by the vassals of Lord Hume, whom that
nobleman had instigated to commit so enormous a crime. But the populace
entertained the opinion that he was still alive, and having secretly
gone in pilgrimage to the Holy Land, would soon return and take
possession of the throne. This fond conceit was long entertained among
the Scots.
The king of Scotland and most of his chief nobles being slain in the
field of Flouden, (so this battle was called,) an inviting opportunity
was offered to Henry of gaining advantages over that kingdom, perhaps
of reducing it to subjection. But he discovered on this occasion a mind
truly great and generous. When the queen of Scotland, Margaret, who
was created regent during the infancy of her son, applied for peace, he
readily granted it; and took compassion of the helpless condition of
his sister and nephew. The earl of Surrey, who had gained him so great
a victory, was restored to the title of duke of Norfolk, which had been
forfeited by his father for engaging on the side of Richard III.
{1514.} Lord Howard was honored with the title of earl of Surrey.
Sir Charles Brandon, the king's favorite, whom he had before created
Viscount Lisle, was now raised to the dignity of duke of Suffolk.
Wolsey, who was both his favorite and his minister, was created bishop
of Lincoln. Lord Herbert obtained the title of earl of Worcester; Sir
Edward Stanley, that of Lord Monteagle.
Though peace with Scotland gave Henry security on that side, and enabled
him to prosecute in tranquillity his enterprise against France, some
other incidents had happened, which more than counterbalanced this
fortunate event, and served to open his eyes with regard to the rashness
of an undertaking, into which his youth and high fortune had betrayed
him.
Lewis, fully sensible of the dangerous situation to which his kingdom
had been reduced during the former campaign, was resolved, by every
expedient, to prevent the return of like perils, and to break the
confederacy of his enemies. The pope was nowise disposed to push the
French to extremity; and provided they did not return to take possession
of Milan, his interests rather led him to preserve the balance among the
contending parties. He accepted, therefore, of Lewis's offer to renounce
the council of Lyons; and he took off the excommunication which his
predecessor and himself had fulminated against that king and his
kingdom. Ferdinand was now fast declining in years, and as he
entertained no further ambition than that of keeping possession of
Navarre, which he had subdued by his arms and policy, he readily
hearkened to the proposals of Lewis for prolonging the truce another
year; and he even showed an inclination of forming a more intimate
connection with that monarch. Lewis had dropped hints of his intention
to marry his second daughter, Renee, either to Charles, prince of Spain,
or his brother Ferdinand, both of them grandsons of the Spanish monarch;
and he declared his resolution of bestowing on her, as her portion, his
claim to the duchy of Milan. Ferdinand not only embraced these proposals
with joy, but also engaged the emperor Maximilian in the same views, and
procured his accession to a treaty which opened so inviting a prospect
of aggrandizing their common grandchildren.
When Henry was informed of Ferdinand's renewal of the truce with
Lewis, he fell into a violent rage, and loudly complained, that his
father-in-law had first, by high promises and professions, engaged him
in enmity with France, and afterwards, without giving him the least
warning, had now again sacrificed his interests to his own selfish
purposes, and had left him exposed alone to all the danger and expense
of the war. In proportion to his easy credulity, and his unsuspecting
reliance on Ferdinand, was the vehemence with which he exclaimed against
the treatment which he met with; and he threatened revenge for this
egregious treachery and breach of faith.[*] But he lost all patience
when informed of the other negotiation, by which Maximilian was also
seduced from his alliance, and in which proposals had been agreed to
for the marriage of the prince of Spain with the daughter of France.
Charles, during the lifetime of the late king, had been affianced to
Mary, Henry's younger sister; and as the prince now approached the
age of puberty, the king had expected the immediate completion of the
marriage, and the honorable settlement of a sister for whom he had
entertained a tender affection. Such a complication, therefore, of
injuries gave him the highest displeasure, and inspired him with a
desire of expressing his disdain towards those who had imposed on his
youth and inexperience, and had abused his too great facility.
* Petrus de Angleria, Epist. 545, 646.
The duke of Longueville, who had been made prisoner at the battle of
Gumegate, and who was still detained in England, was ready to take
advantage of all these dispositions of Henry, in order to procure a
peace, and even an alliance, which he knew to be passionately desired
by his master. He represented to the king, that Anne, queen of France,
being lately dead, a door was thereby opened for an affinity, which
might tend to the advantage of both kingdoms, and which would serve to
terminate honorably all the differences between them: that she had left
Lewis no male children; and as he had ever entertained a strong desire
of having heirs to the crown, no marriage seemed more suitable to him
than that with the princess of England, whose youth and beauty afforded
the most flattering hopes in that particular: that though the marriage
of a princess of sixteen with a king of fifty-three might seem
unsuitable, yet the other advantages attending the alliance were more
than a sufficient compensation for this inequality; and that Henry, in
loosening his connections with Spain, from which he had never reaped
any advantage, would contract a close affinity with Lewis, a prince
who, through his whole life, had invariably maintained the character of
probity and honor.
As Henry seemed to hearken to this discourse with willing ears,
Longueville informed his master of the probability which he discovered
of bringing the matter to a happy conclusion; and he received full
powers for negotiating the treaty. The articles were easily adjusted
between the monarchs. Louis agreed that Tournay should remain in the
hands of the English; that Richard de la Pole should be banished to
Metz, there to live on a pension assigned him by Lewis; that Henry
should receive payment of a million of crowns, being the arrears due
by treaty to his father and himself; and that the princess Mary should
bring four hundred thousand crowns as her portion, and enjoy as large
a jointure as any queen of France, even the former, who was heiress of
Brittany. The two princes also agreed on the succors with which they
should mutually supply each other, in case either of them was attacked
by an enemy.[*]
In consequence of this treaty, Mary was sent over to France with a
splendid retinue; and Lewis met her at Abbeville, where the espousals
were celebrated. He was enchanted with the beauty, grace, and numerous
accomplishments of the young princess; and being naturally of an amorous
disposition, which his advanced age had not entirely cooled, he was
seduced into such a course of gayety and pleasure, as proved very
unsuitable to his declining state of health.[**]
* Du Tillet.
** Brantome, Eloge de Louis XII.
{1515.} He died in less than three months after the marriage, to the
extreme regret of the French nation, who, sensible of his tender concern
for their welfare, gave him with one voice the honorable appellation of
"father of his people."
Francis, duke of Angouleme, a youth of one and twenty, who had married
Lewis's eldest daughter, succeeded him on the throne; and, by his
activity, valor, generosity, and other virtues, gave prognostics of a
happy and glorious reign. This young monarch had been extremely
struck with the charms of the English princess; and even during his
predecessor's lifetime, had paid her such assiduous court, as made some
of his friends apprehend that he had entertained views of gallantry
towards her. But being warned that, by indulging this passion, he
might probably exclude himself from the throne he forbore all further
addresses; and even watched the young dowager with a very careful eye
during the first months of her widowhood. Charles Brandon, duke of
Suffolk, was at that time in the court of France, the most comely
personage of his time, and the most accomplished in all the exercises
which were then thought to befit a courtier and a soldier. He was
Henry's chief favorite; and that monarch had even once entertained
thoughts of marrying him to his sister, and had given indulgence to the
mutual passion which took place between them. The queen asked Suffolk,
whether he had now the courage, without further reflection, to espouse
her; and she told him that her brother would more easily forgive him for
not asking his consent, than for acting contrary to his orders. Suffolk
declined not so inviting an offer; and their nuptials were secretly
celebrated at Paris. Francis, who was pleased with this marriage, as
it prevented Henry from forming any powerful alliance by means of
his sister,[*] interposed his good offices in appeasing him: and even
Wolsey, having entertained no jealousy of Suffolk, who was content to
participate in the king's pleasures, and had no ambition to engage in
public business, was active in reconciling the king to his sister and
brother-in-law; and he obtained them permission to return to England.
* Petrus de Angleria, Epist. 544.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
[Illustration: 1-30-henry8.jpg HENRY VIII.]
HENRY VIII.
{1515.} The numerous enemies whom Wolsey's sudden elevation, his
aspiring character, and his haughty deportment had raised him, served
only to rivet him faster in Henry's confidence; who valued himself
on supporting the choice which he had made, and who was incapable of
yielding either to the murmurs of the people or to the discontents
of the great. That artful prelate, likewise, well acquainted with the
king's imperious temper, concealed from him the absolute ascendant which
he had acquired; and while he secretly directed all public councils,
he ever pretended a blind submission to the will and authority of
his master. By entering into the king's pleasures, he preserved his
affection; by conducting his business, he gratified his indolence; and
by his unlimited complaisance in both capacities, he prevented all
that jealousy to which his exorbitant acquisitions and his splendid
ostentatious train of life should naturally have given birth. The
archbishopric of York falling vacant by the death of Bambridge, Wolsey
was promoted to that see, and resigned the bishopric of Lincoln. Besides
enjoying the administration of Tournay, he got possession, on easy
leases, of the revenues of Bath, Worcester, and Hereford, bishoprics
filled by Italians, who were allowed to reside abroad, and who were glad
to compound for this indulgence, by yielding a considerable share of
their income. He held "in commendam" the abbey of St. Albans, and many
other church preferments. He was even allowed to unite with the see of
York, first that of Durham, next that of Winchester; and there seemed to
be no end of his acquisitions. His further advancement in ecclesiastical
dignity served him as a pretence for engrossing still more revenues:
the pope, observing his great influence over the king, was desirous of
engaging him in his interests, and created him a cardinal. No churchman,
under color of exacting respect to religion, ever carried to a greater
height the state and dignity of that character. His train consisted of
eight hundred servants, of whom many were knights and gentlemen; some
even of the nobility put their children into his family as a place of
education; and in order to gain them favor with their patron, allowed
them to bear offices as his servants. Whoever was distinguished by any
art or science paid court to the cardinal; and none paid court in vain.
Literature, which was then in its infancy, found in him a generous
patron; and both by his public institutions and private bounty, he gave
encouragement to every branch of erudition.[*] Not content with this
munificence, which gained him the approbation of the wise, he strove
to dazzle the eyes of the populace by the splendor of his equipage and
furniture, the costly embroidery of his liveries, the lustre of his
apparel. He was the first clergyman in England that wore silk and gold,
not only on his habit, but also on his saddles and the trappings of his
horses.[**] He caused his cardinal's hat to be borne aloft by a person
of rank; and when he came to the king's chapel, would permit it to be
laid on no place but the altar. A priest, the tallest and most comely
he could find, carried before him a pillar of silver, on whose top was
placed a cross: but not satisfied with this parade, to which he thought
himself entitled as cardinal, he provided another priest of equal
stature and beauty, who marched along, bearing the cross of York, even
in the diocese of Canterbury; contrary to the ancient rule and the
agreement between the prelates of these rival sees.[***] The people made
merry with the cardinal's ostentation; and said, they were now sensible
that one crucifix alone was not sufficient for the expiation of his sins
and offences.
* Erasm. Epist. lib. ii. epist. i.; lib. xvi. epist. 3.
** Polyd. Virg. lib. xxvii. Stowe, p, 501. Hollingshed, p.
847.
*** Polyd. Virg. lib. xxvii.
Warham, chancellor and archbishop of Canterbury, a man of a moderate
temper, averse to all disputes, chose rather to retire from public
employment, than maintain an unequal contest with the haughty cardinal.
He resigned his office of chancellor; and the great seal was immediately
delivered to Wolsey. If this new accumulation of dignity increased his
enemies, it also served to exalt his personal character, and prove the
extent of his capacity. A strict administration of justice took
place during his enjoyment of this high office and no chancellor ever
discovered greater impartiality in his decisions, deeper penetration of
judgment, or more enlarged knowledge of law and equity.[*]
The duke of Norfolk, finding the king's money almost entirely exhausted
by projects and pleasures, while his inclination for expense still
continued, was glad to resign his office of treasurer and retire from
court. His rival, Fox, bishop of Winchester reaped no advantage from his
absence; but partly overcome by years and infirmities, partly disgusted
at the ascendant acquired by Wolsey, withdrew himself wholly to the care
of his diocese. The duke of Suffolk had also taken offence, that the
king, by the cardinal's persuasion, had refused to pay a debt which
he had contracted during his residence in France; and he thenceforth
affected to live in privacy. These incidents left Wolsey to enjoy
without a rival the whole power and favor of the king; and they put
into his hands every kind of authority. In vain did Fox, before his
retirement, warn the king "not to suffer the servant to be greater than
his master." Henry replied, "that he well knew how to retain all his
subjects in obedience;" but he continued still an unlimited deference in
every thing to the directions and counsels of the cardinal.
The public tranquillity was so well established in England, the
obedience of the people so entire, the general administration of
justice, by the cardinal's means,[**] so exact, that no domestic
occurrence happened considerable enough to disturb the repose of the
king and his minister: they might even have dispensed with giving any
strict attention to foreign affairs, were it possible for men to enjoy
any situation in absolute tranquillity, or abstain from projects and
enterprises however fruitless and unnecessary.
The will of the late king of Scotland, who left his widow regent of the
kingdom, and the vote of the convention of states, which confirmed that
destination, had expressly limited her authority to the condition of her
remaining unmarried;[***] but, notwithstanding this limitation, a few
months after her husband's death, she espoused the earl of Angus, of the
name of Douglas, a young nobleman of great family and promising hopes.
Some of the nobility now proposed the electing of Angus to the regency,
and recommended this choice as the most likely means of preserving peace
with England; but the jealousy of the great families, and the fear of
exalting the Douglases, begat opposition to this measure.
* Sir Thomas More. Stowe, p. 504.
** Erasm. lib. ii. epist. i. Cavendish. Hall.
*** Buchanar, lib. xiv. Drummond. Herbert.
Lord Hume in particular, the most powerful chieftain in the kingdom,
insisted on recalling the duke of Albany, son to a brother of James III.
who had been banished into France, and who, having there married, had
left posterity that were the next heirs to the crown, and the nearest
relations to their young sovereign. Albany, though first prince of the
blood, had never been in Scotland, was totally unacquainted with the
manners of the people, ignorant of their situation, unpractised in their
language; yet such was the favor attending the French alliance, and so
great the authority of Hume, that this prince was invited to accept the
reins of government. Francis, careful not to give offence to the king
of England, detained Albany some time in France; but at length, sensible
how important it was to keep Scotland in his interests, he permitted
him to go over and take possession of the regency: he even renewed
the ancient league with that kingdom, though it implied such a close
connection as might be thought somewhat to intrench on his alliance with
England.
When the regent arrived in Scotland, he made inquiries concerning the
state of the country, and character of the people; and he discovered a
scene with which he was hitherto but little acquainted. That turbulent
kingdom, he found, was rather to be considered as a Confederacy, and
that not a close one, of petty princes, than a regular system of civil
polity; and even the king, much more a regent, possessed an authority
very uncertain and precarious. Arms, more than laws, prevailed; and
courage, preferably to equity or justice, was the virtue most valued
and respected. The nobility, in whom the whole power resided, were so
connected by hereditary alliances, or so divided by inveterate enmities,
that it was impossible, without employing an armed force, either to
punish the most flagrant guilt, or give security to the most entire
innocence. Rapine and violence, when exercised on a hostile tribe,
instead of making a person odious among his own clan, rather recommended
him to their esteem and approbation; and by rendering him useful to the
chieftain, entitled him to a preference above his fellows. And though
the necessity of mutual support served as a close cement of amity among
those of the same kindred, the spirit of revenge against enemies, and
the desire of prosecuting the deadly feuds, (so they were called,) still
appeared to be passions the most predominant among that uncultivated
people.
The persons to whom Albany, on his arrival, first Applied for
information with regard to the state of the country, happened to be
inveterate enemies of Hume;[*] and they represented that powerful
nobleman as the chief source of public disorders, and the great obstacle
to the execution of the law; and the administration of justice. Before
the authority of the magistrate could be established, it was necessary,
they said, to make an example of this great offender; and, by the terror
of his punishment, teach all lesser criminals to pay respect to the
power of their sovereign. Albany, moved by these reasons, was induced
to forget Hume's past services, to which he had in a great measure
been indebted for the regency; and he no longer bore towards him that
favorable countenance with which he was wont to receive him. Hume
perceived the alteration, and was incited, both by regard to his own
safety and from motives of revenge, to take measures in opposition
to the regent. He applied himself to Angus and the queen dowager, and
represented to them the danger to which the infant prince was exposed
from the ambition of Albany, next heir to the crown, to whom the states
had imprudently intrusted the whole authority of government. By his
persuasion Margaret formed the design of carrying off the young king,
and putting him under the protection of her brother; and when that
conspiracy was detected, she herself, attended by Hume and Angus,
withdrew into England, where she was soon after delivered of a daughter.
* Buchanan, lib. xiv. Drummond.
Henry, in order to check the authority of Albany and the French party,
gave encouragement to these malecontents, and assured them of his
support. Matters being afterwards in appearance accommodated between
Hume and the regent, that nobleman returned into his own country; but
mutual suspicions and jealousies still prevailed. He was committed to
custody, under the care of the earl of Arran, his brother-in-law; and
was for some time detained prisoner in his castle. But having persuaded
Arran to enter into the conspiracy with him, he was allowed to make his
escape; and he openly levied war upon the regent. A new accommodation
ensued, not more sincere than the foregoing; and Hume was so imprudent
as to intrust himself, together with his brother, into the hands of that
prince. They were immediately seized, committed to custody, brought to
trial, condemned and executed. No legal crime was proved against these
brothers: it was only alleged, that at the battle of Flouder they had
not done their duty in supporting the king; and as this backwardness
could not, from the course of their past life, be ascribed to cowardice,
it was commonly imputed to a more criminal motive. The evidence,
however, of guilt produced against them was far from being valid or
convincing; and the people, who hated them while living, were much
dissatisfied with their execution.
Such violent remedies often produce for some time a deceitful
tranquillity; but as they destroy mutual confidence, and beget the most
inveterate animosities, their consequences are commonly fatal, both to
the public and to those who have recourse to them. The regent, however,
took advantage of the present calm which prevailed; and being invited
over by the French king, who was at that time willing to gratify Henry
he went into France, and was engaged to remain there for some years.
During the absence of the regent, such confusions prevailed in Scotland,
and such mutual enmity, rapine, and violence among the great families,
that that kingdom was for a long time utterly disabled both from
offending its enemies and assisting its friends. We have carried on the
Scottish history some years beyond the present period; that, as that
country had little connection with the general system of Europe, we
might be the less interrupted in the narration of those more memorable
events which were transacted in the other kingdoms.
It was foreseen, that a young, active prince, like Francis, and of so
martial a disposition, would soon employ the great preparations which
his predecessor before his death had made for the conquest of Milan. He
had been observed even to weep at the recital of the military exploits
of Gaston de Foix; and these tears of emulation were held to be sure
presages of his future valor. He renewed the treaty which Lewis had made
with Henry; and having left every thing secure behind him, he marched
his armies towards the south of France; pretending that his sole purpose
was to defend his kingdom against the incursions of the Swiss. This
formidable people still retained their animosity against France; and
having taken Maximilian, duke of Milan, under their protection, and in
reality reduced him to absolute dependence,--they were determined,
from views both of honor and of interest, to defend him against the
invader.[*] They fortified themselves in all those valleys of the Alps
through which they thought the French must necessarily pass; and when
Francis, with great secrecy, industry, and perseverance, made his
entrance into Piedmont by another passage, they were not dismayed, but
descended into the plain, though unprovided with cavalry, and opposed
themselves to the progress of the French arms. At Marignan, near Milan,
they fought with Francis one of the most furious and best contested
battles that is to be met with in the history of these later ages; and
it required all the heroic valor of this prince to inspire his troops
with courage sufficient to resist the desperate assault of those
mountaineers. After a bloody action in the evening, night and darkness
parted the combatants; but next morning the Swiss renewed the attack
with unabated ardor; and it was not till they had lost all their bravest
troops that they could be prevailed on to retire. The field was strewed
with twenty thousand slain on both sides; and the mareschal Trivulzio,
who had been present at eighteen pitched battles, declared that every
engagement which he had yet seen was only the play of children; the
action of Marignan was a combat of heroes.[**] After this great victory,
the conquest of the Milanese was easy and open to Francis.
The success and glory of the French monarch began to excite jealousy in
Henry; and his rapid progress, though in so distant a country, was
not regarded without apprehensions by the English ministry. Italy was,
during that age, the seat of religion, of literature, and of commerce;
and as it possessed alone that lustre which has since been shared out
among other nations, it attracted the attention of all Europe, and every
acquisition which was made there appeared more important than its weight
in the balance of power was, strictly speaking, entitled to. Henry also
thought that he had reason to complain of Francis for sending the duke
of Albany into Scotland, and undermining the power and credit of his
sister the queen dowager.[***] The repairing of the fortifications of
Terouenne was likewise regarded as a breach of treaty. But, above all,
what tended to alienate the court of England, was the disgust which
Wolsey had entertained against the French monarch.
* Memoires du Bellai, lib. i. Guicciard. lib. xii.
** Histoire de la Ligue de Cambray.
*** Pere Daniel, vol. iii. p. 31.
Henry, on the conquest of Tournay had refused to admit Lewis Gaillart,
the bishop elect, to the possession of the temporalities, because that
prelate declined taking the oath of allegiance to his new sovereign; and
Wolsey was appointed as above related, administrator of the bishopric.
As the cardinal wished to obtain the free and undisturbed enjoyment
of this revenue, he applied to Francis, and desired him to bestow
on Gaillart some see of equal value in France, and to obtain his
resignation of Tournay. Francis, who still hoped to recover possession
of that city, and who feared that the full establishment of Wolsey
in the bishopric would prove an obstacle to his purpose, had hitherto
neglected to gratify the haughty prelate; and the bishop of Tournay, by
applying to the court of Rome, had obtained a bull for his settlement in
the see. Wolsey, who expected to be indulged in every request, and who
exacted respect from the greatest princes, resented the slight put upon
him by Francis and he pushed his master to seek an occasion of quarrel
with that monarch.[*]
Maximilian, the emperor, was ready to embrace every overture for a new
enterprise; especially if attended with an offer of money, of which
he was very greedy, very prodigal, and very indigent. Richard Pace,
formerly secretary to Cardinal Bambridge, and now secretary of state,
was despatched to the court of Vienna, and had a commission to propose
some considerable payments to Maximilian:[**] he thence made a journey
into Switzerland; and by like motives engaged some of the cantons
to furnish troops to the emperor. That prince invaded Italy with a
considerable army; but being repulsed from before Milan, he retreated
with his army into Germany, made peace with France and Venice, ceded
Verona to that republic for a sum of money, and thus excluded himself
in some measure from all future access into Italy. And Henry found, that
after expending five or six hundred thousand ducats, in order to gratify
his own and the cardinal's humor, he had only weakened his alliance with
Francis, without diminishing the power of that prince.
* Polyd. Virg. lib. xxvii.
** Petrus de Angleria, epist. 568.
There were many reasons which engaged the king not to proceed further at
present in his enmity against France: he could hope for assistance from
no power in Europe. Ferdinand, his father-in-law, who had often deceived
him, was declining through age and infirmities; and a speedy period
was looked for to the long and prosperous reign of that great monarch.
Charles, prince of Spain, sovereign of the Low Countries, desired
nothing but peace with Francis, who had it so much in his power, if
provoked, to obstruct his peaceable accession to that rich inheritance
which was awaiting him. The pope was overawed by the power of France,
and Venice was engaged in a close alliance with that monarchy.[*] Henry,
therefore, was constrained to remain in tranquillity during some time;
and seemed to give himself no concern with regard to the affairs of
the continent. In vain did Maximilian endeavor to allure him into some
expense, by offering to make a resignation of the imperial crown in
his favor. The artifice was too gross to succeed, even with a prince
so little politic as Henry; and Pace, his envoy, who was perfectly well
acquainted with the emperor's motives and character, gave him warning
that the sole view of that prince, in making him so liberal an offer,
was to draw money from him.
* Guicciard. lib. xii.
{1516.} While a universal peace prevailed in Europe, that event happened
which had so long been looked for, and from which such important
consequences were expected--the death of Ferdinand the Catholic, and the
succession of his grandson Charles to his extensive dominions. The more
Charles advanced in power and authority, the more was Francis sensible
of the necessity he himself lay under of gaining the confidence and
friendship of Henry; and he took at last the only method by which he
could obtain success, the paying of court, by presents and flattery, to
the haughty cardinal.
{1518.} Bonnivet, admiral of France, was despatched to London, and he
was directed to employ all his insinuation and address, (qualities in
which he excelled,) to procure himself a place in Wolsey's good
graces. After the ambassador had succeeded in his purpose, he took an
opportunity of expressing his master's regret that, by mistakes and
misapprehensions, he had been so unfortunate as to lose a friendship
which he so much valued as that of his eminence. Wolsey was not deaf to
these honorable advances from so great a monarch and he was thenceforth
observed to express himself, on all occasions, in favor of the French
alliance. The more to engage him in his interests, Francis entered into
such confidence with him, that he asked his advice even in his most
secret affairs; and had recourse to him in all difficult emergencies, as
to an oracle of wisdom and profound policy. The cardinal made no
secret to the king of this private correspondence; and Henry was so
prepossessed in favor of the great capacity of his minister, that he
said he verily believed he would govern Francis as well as himself.[*]
When matters seemed sufficiently prepared, Bonnivet opened to the
cardinal his master's desire of recovering Tournay; and Wolsey
immediately, without hesitation, engaged to effect his purpose. He took
an opportunity of representing to the king and council, that Tournay
lay so remote from Calais, that it would be very difficult, if not
impossible, in case of war, to keep the communication open between these
two places; that as it was situated on the frontiers both of France and
the Netherlands, it was exposed to attacks from both these countries,
and must necessarily, either by force or famine, fall into the hands
of the first assailant; that even in time of peace it could not be
preserved without a large garrison, to restrain the numerous and
mutinous inhabitants, ever discontented with the English government; and
that the possession of Tournay, as it was thus precarious and expensive,
so was it entirely useless, and afforded little or no means of annoying,
on occasion, the dominions either of Charles or of Francis.
These reasons were of themselves convincing, and were sure of meeting
with no opposition when they came from the mouth of the cardinal. A
treaty therefore was catered into for the ceding of Tournay; and in
order to give to that measure a more graceful appearance, it was agreed,
that the dauphin and the princess Mary, both of them infants, should be
betrothed, and that this city should be considered as the dowry of the
princess. Such kinds of agreement were then common among sovereigns;
though it was very rare that the interests and views of the parties
continued so steady as to render the intended marriages effectual.
But as Henry had been at considerable expense in building a citadel at
Tournay, Francis agreed to pay him six hundred thousand crowns at twelve
annual payments, and to put into his hands eight hostages, all of them
men of quality, for the performance of the article.[**] And lest the
cardinal should think himself neglected in these stipulations,
Francis promised him a yearly pension of twelve thousand livres, as an
equivalent for his administration of the bishopric of Tournay.
* Polyd. Virg. lib. xxvii.
** Memoires du Bellal, lib. i.
The French monarch, having succeeded so well in this negotiation, began
to enlarge his views, and to hope for more considerable advantages by
practising on the vanity and self-conceit of the favorite. He redoubled
his flatteries to the cardinal, consulted him more frequently in every
doubt or difficulty, called him in each letter "father," "tutor,"
"governor," and professed the most unbounded deference to his advice and
opinion. All these caresses were preparatives to a negotiation for the
delivery of Calais, in consideration of a sum of money to be paid
for it; and if we may credit Polydore Virgil, who bears a particular
ill-will to Wolsey, on account of his being dispossessed of his
employment and thrown into prison by that minister, so extraordinary a
proposal met with a favorable reception from the cardinal. He ventured
not, however, to lay the matter before the council: he was content to
sound privately the opinion of the other ministers, by dropping hints
in conversation, as if he thought Calais a useless burden to the
kingdom:[*] but when he found that all men were strongly riveted in a
contrary persuasion, he thought it dangerous to proceed any further in
his purpose; and as he fell soon after into new connections with the
king of Spain, the great friendship between Francis and him began
gradually to decline.
* Polyd. Virg. lib. xxvii.
The pride of Wolsey was now further increased by a great accession
of power and dignity. Cardinal Campeggio had been sent as legate into
England, in order to procure a lithe from the clergy, for enabling the
pope to oppose the progress of the Turks; a danger which was become
real, and was formidable to all Christendom, but on which the politics
of the court of Rome had built so many interested projects that it had
lost all influence on the minds of men. The clergy refused to comply
with Leo's demands: Campeggio was recalled; and the king desired of the
pope that Wolsey, who had been joined in this commission, might alone
be invested with the legatine power, together with the right of visiting
all the clergy and monasteries, and even with suspending all the laws
of the church during a twelvemonth. Wolsey, having obtained this new
dignity, made a new display of that state and parade to which he was so
much addicted. On solemn feast-days, he was not content without saying
mass after the manner of the pope himself: not only he had bishops and
abbots to serve him; he even engaged the first nobility to give him
water and the towel. He affected a rank superior to what had ever been
claimed by any churchman in England. Warham, the primate, having written
him a letter in which he subscribed himself "your loving brother,"
Wolsey complained of his presumption in thus challenging an equality
with him. When Warham was told what offence he had given, he made light
of the matter. "Know ye not," said he, "that this man is drunk with too
much prosperity?"
But Wolsey carried the matter much further than vain pomp and
ostentation. He erected an office which he called the legatine court;
and as he was now, by means of the pope's commission and the king's
favor, invested with all power, both ecclesiastical and civil, no man
knew what bounds were to be set to the authority of his new tribunal. He
conferred on it a kind of inquisitorial and censorial powers even over
the laity, and directed it to inquire into all matters of conscience;
into all conduct which had given scandal; into all actions which, though
they escaped the law, might appear contrary to good morals. Offence was
taken at this commission, which was really unbounded; and the people
were the more disgusted, when they saw a man who indulged himself in
pomp and pleasure, so severe in repressing the least appearance of
licentiousness in others. But to render his court more obnoxious, Wolsey
made one John Allen judge in it, a person of scandalous life,[*] whom he
himself, as chancellor, had, it is said, condemned for perjury: and as
it is pretended, that this man either extorted fines from every one whom
he was pleased to find guilty, or took bribes to drop prosecutions, men
concluded, and with some appearance of reason, that he shared with the
cardinal those wages of iniquity.
* Strype's Memorials, vol. i. p. 125.
The clergy, and in particular the monks, were exposed to this tyranny;
and as the libertinism of their lives often gave a just handle against
them, they were obliged to purchase an indemnity by paying large sums
of money to the legate or his judge. Not content with this authority,
Wolsey pretended, by virtue of his commission, to assume the
jurisdiction of all the bishops' courts, particularly that of judging of
wills and testaments; and his decisions in those important points were
deemed not a little arbitrary. As if he himself were pope, and as if
the pope could absolutely dispose of every ecclesiastical preferment, he
presented to whatever priories or benefices he pleased, without regard
to the right of election in the monks, or of patronage in the nobility
and gentry.[*]
* Polyd. Virg. lib. xxvii.
No one durst carry to the king any complaint against these usurpations
of Wolsey, till Warham ventured to inform him of the discontents of his
people. Henry professed his ignorance of the whole matter. "A man," said
he, "is not so blind any where as in his own house: but do you, father,"
added he to the primate, "go to Wolsey, and tell him, if any thing be
amiss, that he amend it." A reproof of this kind was not likely to be
effectual: it only served to augment Wolsey's enmity to Warham: but one
London having prosecuted Allen, the legate's judge, in a court of law,
and having convicted him of malversation and iniquity, the clamor at
last reached the king's ears; and he expressed such displeasure to
the cardinal, as made him ever after more cautious in exerting his
authority.
{1519.} While Henry, indulging himself in pleasure and amusement,
intrusted the government of his kingdom to this imperious minister, an
incident happened abroad which excited his attention. Maximilian, the
emperor, died; a man who, of himself, was indeed of little consequence;
but as his death left vacant the first station among Christian princes,
it set the passions of men in agitation, and proved a kind of era in
the general system of Europe. The kings of France and Spain immediately
declared themselves candidates for the imperial crown, and employed
every expedient of money or intrigue, which promised them success in
so great a point of ambition. Henry also was encouraged to advance his
pretensions; but his minister Pace, who was despatched to the electors,
found that he began to solicit too late, and that the votes of all these
princes were already preengaged either on one side or the other.
Francis and Charlea made profession from the beginning of carrying on
this rivalship with emulation, but without enmity.
This whole narrative has been copied by all the historians from
the author here cited: there are many circumstances, however, very
suspicious, both because of the obvious partiality of the historian, and
because the parliament, when they afterwards examined Wolsey's conduct,
could find no proof of any material offence he had ever committed, and
Francis in particular declared, that his brother Charles and he were,
fairly and openly, suitors to the same mistress; the more fortunate,
added he, will carry her; the other must rest contented.[*]
* Belcario, lib. xvi. Guicciard. lib. xiii.
But all men apprehended that this extreme moderation, however
reasonable, would not be of long duration; and that incidents would
certainly occur to sharpen the minds of the candidates against each
other. It was Charles who at length prevailed, to the great disgust of
the French monarch, who still continued to the last in the belief that
the majority of the electoral college was engaged in his favor. And as
he was some years superior in age to his rival, and, after his victory
at Marignan and conquest of the Milanese, much superior in renown, he
could not suppress his indignation at being thus, in the face of the
world, after long and anxious expectation, disappointed in so important
a pretension. From this competition, as much as from opposition of
interests, arose that emulation between those two great monarchs, which,
while it kept their whole age in movement, sets them in so remarkable
a contrast to each other: both of them princes endowed with talents and
abilities; brave, aspiring, active warlike; beloved by their servants
and subjects, dreaded by their enemies, and respected by all the world:
Francis, open, frank, liberal, munificent, carrying these virtues to an
excess which prejudiced his affairs: Charles, political, close, artful,
frugal; better qualified to obtain success in wars and in negotiations,
especially the latter. The one the more amiable man; the other the
greater monarch. The king, from his oversights and indiscretions,
naturally exposed to misfortunes; but qualified, by his spirit and
magnanimity, to extricate himself from them with honor: the emperor, by
his designing, interested character, fitted, in his greatest successes,
to excite jealousy and opposition even among his allies, and to rouse up
a multitude of enemies in the place of one whom he had subdued. And as
the personal qualities of these princes thus counterpoised each other,
so did the advantages and disadvantages of their dominions. Fortune
alone, without the concurrence of prudence or valor, never reared up of
a sudden so great a power as that which centred in the emperor Charles.
He reaped the succession of Castile, of Arragon, of Austria, of the
Netherlands: he inherited the conquest of Naples, of Grenada: election
entitled him to the empire: even the bounds of the globe seemed to
be enlarged a little before his time, that he might possess the whole
treasure, as yet entire and unrifled, of the new world. But though the
concurrence of all these advantages formed an empire greater and more
extensive than any known in Europe since that of the Romans, the kingdom
of France alone, being close, compact, united, rich, populous, and being
interposed between the provinces of the emperor's dominions, was able
to make a vigorous opposition to his progress, and maintain the contest
against him.
Henry possessed the felicity of being able, both by the native force
of his kingdom and its situation, to hold the balance between those two
powers; and had he known to improve by policy and prudence this singular
and inestimable advantage, he was really, by means of it, a greater
potentate than either of those mighty monarchs, who seemed to strive for
the dominion of Europe. But this prince was in his character heedless,
inconsiderate, capricious, impolitic; guided by his passions or his
favorite; vain, imperious, haughty; sometimes actuated by friendship for
foreign powers, oftener by resentment, seldom by his true interest.
And thus, though he exulted in that superiority which his situation in
Europe gave him, he never employed it to his own essential and durable
advantage, or to that of his kingdom.
{1520.} Francis was well acquainted with Henry's character, and
endeavored to accommodate his conduct to it. He solicited an interview
near Calais; in expectation of being able by familiar conversation to
gain upon his friendship and confidence. Wolsey earnestly seconded this
proposal; and hoped, in the presence of both courts, to make parade of
his riches, his splendor, and his influence over both monarchs.[*]
* Polyd. Virg. lib. xxvii.
And as Henry himself loved show and magnificence, and had entertained
a curiosity of being personally acquainted with the French king,
he cheerfully adjusted all the preliminaries of this interview. The
nobility of both nations vied with each other in pomp and expense: many
of them involved themselves in great debts, and were not able, by the
penury of their whole lives, to repair the vain splendor of a few days.
The duke of Buckingham, who, though very rich, was somewhat addicted to
frugality, finding his preparations for this festival amount to immense
sums, threw out some expressions of displeasure against the cardinal,
whom he believed the author of that measure;[*] an imprudence which was
not forgotten by this minister.
* Polyd. Vii.g. lib. xxvii. Herbert. Holingshed, p. 855.
While Henry was preparing to depart for Calais, he heard that the
emperor was arrived at Dover; and he immediately hastened thither with
the queen, in order to give a suitable reception to his royal guest.
That great prince, politic though young, being informed of the
intended interview between Francis and Henry, was apprehensive of the
consequences; and was resolved to take the opportunity, in his passage
from Spain to the Low Countries, to make the king still a higher
compliment, by paying him a visit in his own dominions. Besides the
marks of regard and attachment which he gave to Henry, he strove by
every testimony of friendship, by flattery, protestations, promises, and
presents, to gain on the vanity, the avarice, and the ambition of the
cardinal. He here instilled into this aspiring prelate the hope of
attaining the papacy; and as that was the sole point of elevation beyond
his present greatness, it was sure to attract his wishes with the same
ardor as if Fortune had never yet favored him with any of her presents.
In confidence of reaching this dignity by the emperor's assistance, he
secretly devoted himself to that monarch's interests; and Charles was
perhaps the more liberal of his promises, because Leo was a very young
man; and it was not likely that for many years he should be called upon
to fulfil his engagements. Henry easily observed this courtship paid
to his minister; but instead of taking umbrage at it, he only made it
a subject of vanity; and believed that, as his favor was Wolsey's sole
support, the obeisance of such mighty monarchs to his servant was, in
reality, a more conspicuous homage to his own grandeur.
The day of Charles's departure, Henry went over to Calais with the queen
and his whole court; and thence proceeded to Guisnes, a small town near
the frontiers. Francis, attended in like manner, came to Ardres, a few
miles distant; and the two monarchs met, for the first time, in the
fields, at a place situated between these two towns, but still within
the English pale; for Francis agreed to pay this compliment to Henry, in
consideration of that prince's passing the sea that he might be
present at the interview. Wolsey, to whom both kings had intrusted the
regulation of the ceremonial, contrived this circumstance, in order to
do honor to his master. The nobility both of France and England here
displayed their magnificence with such emulation and profuse expense, as
procured to the place of interview the name of "the field of the cloth
of gold."
The two monarchs, after saluting each other in the most cordial manner,
retired into a tent which had been erected on purpose, and they held a
secret conference together. Henry here proposed to make some amendments
on the articles of their former alliance; and he began to read the
treaty, "I Henry, king:" these were the first words; and he stopped
a moment. He subjoined only the words "of England," without adding
"France," the usual style of the English monarchs.[*] Francis remarked
this delicacy, and expressed by a smile his approbation of it.
He took an opportunity soon after of paying a compliment to Henry of a
more flattering nature. That generous prince, full of honor himself,
and incapable of distrusting others, was shocked at all the precautions
which were observed whenever he had an interview with the English
monarch: the number of their guards and attendants was carefully
reckoned on both sides: every step was scrupulously measured and
adjusted: and if the two kings intended to pay a visit to the queens,
they departed from their respective quarters at the same instant, which
was marked by the firing of a culverin; they passed each other in the
middle point between the places; and the moment that Henry entered
Ardres, Francis put himself into the hands of the English at Guisnes.
In order to break off this tedious ceremonial, which contained so many
dishonorable implications, Francis one day took with him two gentlemen
and a page, and rode directly into Guisnes. The guards were surprised at
the presence of the monarch, who called aloud to them, "You are all my
prisoners: carry me to your master." Henry was equally astonished at the
appearance of Francis; and taking him in his arms, "My brother," said
he, "you have here played me the most agreeable trick in the world,
and have showed me the full confidence I may place in you: I surrender
myself your prisoner from this moment." He took from his neck a collar
of pearls, worth fifteen thousand angels;[**] and putting it about
Francis's, begged him to wear it for the sake of his prisoner.
* Memoires de Fleuranges.
** An angel was then estimated at seven shillings,* or near
twelve of our present money.
Francis agreed, but on condition that Henry should wear a bracelet
of which he made him a present, and which was double in value to
the collar.[*] The king went next day to Ardres without guards or
attendants; and confidence being now fully established between the
monarchs, they employed the rest of the time entirely in tournaments and
festivals.
A defiance had been sent by the two kings to each other's court, and
through all the chief cities in Europe, importing, that Henry and
Francis, with fourteen aids, would be ready, in the plains of Picardy,
to answer all comers that were gentlemen, at tilt, tournament, and
barriers. The monarchs, in order to fulfil this challenge, advanced
into the field on horseback, Francis surrounded with Henry's guards, and
Henry with those of Francis. They were gorgeously apparelled; and were
both of them the most comely personages of their age, as well as the
most expert in every military exercise. They carried away the prize at
all trials in those rough and dangerous pastimes; and several horses and
riders were overthrown by their vigor and dexterity. The ladies were
the judges in these feats of chivalry, and put an end to the rencounter
whenever they judged it expedient. Henry erected a spacious house of
wood and canvas, which had been framed in London; and he there feasted
the French monarch. He had placed a motto on this fabric, under the
figure of an English archer embroidered on it, "Cui adhaereo praeest," He
prevails whom I favor;[**] expressing his own situation, as holding in
his hands the balance of power among the potentates of Europe. In these
entertainments, more than in any serious business, did the two kings
pass their time, till their departure.
* Memoires de Fleuranges.
** Mezeray.
Henry paid then a visit to the emperor and Margaret of Savoy at
Gravelines, and engaged them to go along with him to Calais, and
pass some days in that fortress. The artful and politic Charles here
completed the impression which he had begun to make on Henry and his
favorite, and effaced all the friendship to which the frank and generous
nature of Francis had given birth. As the house of Austria began
sensibly to take the ascendant over the French monarchy, the interests
of England required that some support should be given to the latter,
and, above all, that any important wars should be prevented which might
bestow on either of them a decisive superiority over the other. But the
jealousy of the English against France has usually prevented a cordial
union between those nations; and Charles, sensible of this hereditary
animosity, and desirous further to flatter Henry's vanity, had made him
an offer, (an offer in which Francis was afterwards obliged to concur,)
that he should be entirely arbiter in any dispute or difference that
might arise between the monarchs. But the masterpiece of Charles's
politics was the securing of Wolsey in his interests, by very important
services, and still higher promises. He renewed assurances of assisting
him in obtaining the papacy; and he put him in present possession of the
revenues belonging to the sees of Badajoz and Paleneia in Castile. The
acquisitions of Wolsey were now become so exorbitant, that, joined to
the pensions from foreign powers which Henry allowed him to possess, his
revenues were computed nearly to equal those which belonged to the crown
itself; and he spent them with a magnificence; or rather an ostentation,
which gave general offence to the people; and even lessened his master
in the eyes of all foreign nations.[*]
* Polyd. Virg. Hall.
The violent personal emulation and political jealousy which had taken
place between the emperor and the French king, soon broke out in
hostilities. But while these ambitious and warlike princes were acting
against each other in almost every part of Europe, they still made
professions of the strongest desire of peace; and both of them
incessantly carried their complaints to Henry, as to the umpire between
them. The king, who pretended to be neutral, engaged them to send their
ambassadors to Calais, there to negotiate a peace under the mediation
of Wolsey and the pope's nuncio. The emperor was well apprised of the
partiality of these mediators; and his demands in the conference were
so unreasonable as plainly proved him conscious of the advantage. He
required the restitution of Burgundy, a province which many years before
had been ceded to France by treaty, and which, if in his possession,
would have given him entrance into the heart of that kingdom: and he
demanded to be freed from the homage which his ancestors had always done
for Flanders and Artois, and which he himself had by the treaty of Noyon
engaged to renew.
{1521.} On Francis's rejecting these terms, the congress of Calais broke
up; and Wolsey soon after took a journey to Bruges, where he met with
the emperor. He was received with the same state, magnificence,
and respect, as if he had been the king of England himself; and he
concluded, in his master's name, an offensive alliance with the pope
and the emperor against France. He stipulated that England should next
summer invade that kingdom with forty thousand men; and he betrothed
to Charles the princess Mary, the king's only child, who had now some
prospect of inheriting the crown. This extravagant alliance, which was
prejudicial to the interests, and might have proved fatal to the liberty
and independence, of the kingdom, was the result of the humors and
prejudices of the king, and the private views and expectations of the
cardinal.
The people saw every day new instances of the uncontrolled authority of
this minister. The duke of Buckingham, constable of England, the first
nobleman both for family and fortune in the kingdom, had imprudently
given disgust to the cardinal; and it was not long before he found
reason to repent of his indiscretion. He seems to have been a man
full of levity and rash projects; and being infatuated with judicial
astrology, he entertained a commerce with one Hopkins, a Carthusian
friar, who encouraged him in the notion of his mounting one day the
throne of England. He was descended by a female from the duke of
Glocester, youngest son of Edward III.; and though his claim to the
crown was thereby very remote, he had been so unguarded as to let fall
some expressions, as if he thought himself best entitled, in case the
king should die without issue, to possess the royal dignity. He had not
even abstained from threats against the king's life; and had provided
himself with arms, which he intended to employ, in case a favorable
opportunity should offer. He was brought to a trial; and the duke
of Norfolk, whose son, the earl of Surrey, had married Buckingham's
daughter, was created lord steward, in order to preside at this solemn
procedure. The jury consisted of a duke, a marquis, seven earls, and
twelve barons; and they gave their verdict against Buckingham, which
was soon after carried into execution. There is no reason to think the
sentence unjust;[*] but as Buckingham's crimes seemed to proceed more
from indiscretion than deliberate malice, the people, who loved him,
expected that the king would grant him a pardon, and imputed their
disappointment to the animosity and revenge of the cardinal.
* Herbert. Hall. Stowe, p. 513. Holingshed, p. 862.
The king's own jealousy, however, of all persons allied to the crown,
was, notwithstanding his undoubted title, very remarkable during the
whole course of his reign; and was alone sufficient to render him
implacable against Buckingham. The office of constable, which this
nobleman inherited from the Bohuns, earls of Hereford, was forfeited,
and was never after revived in England.
CHAPTER XXIX
HENRY VIII.
{1521.} During some years, many parts of Europe had been agitated with
those religious controversies which produced the reformation, one of the
greatest events in history: but as it was not till this time that the
king of England publicly took part in the quarrel, we had no occasion to
give any account of its rise and progress. It will now be necessary to
explain these theological disputes; or, what is more material, to trace
from their origin those abuses which so generally diffused the opinion,
that a reformation of the church or ecclesiastial order was become
highly expedient, if not absolutely necessary. We shall be better
enabled to comprehend the subject if we take the matter a little higher,
and reflect a moment on the reasons why there must be an ecclesiastical
order and a public establishment of religion in every civilized
community. The importance of the present occasion will, I hope, excuse
this short digression.
Most of the arts and professions in a state are of such a nature, that,
while they promote the interests of the society, they are also useful or
agreeable to some individuals; and, in that case, the constant rule of
the magistrate, except, perhaps, on the first introduction of any art,
is to leave the profession to itself, and trust its encouragement to
those who reap the benefit of it. The artisans, finding their profits to
rise by the favor of their customers, increase as much as possible their
skill and industry; and as matters are not disturbed by any injudicious
tampering, the commodity is always sure to be at all times nearly
proportioned to the demand.
But there are also some callings which, though useful and even necessary
in a state, bring no particular advantage or pleasure to any individual;
and the supreme power is obliged to alter its conduct with regard to the
retainers of those professions. It must give them public encouragement
in order to their subsistence; and it must provide against that
negligence to which they will naturally be subject, either by annexing
peculiar honors to the profession, by establishing a long subordination
of ranks and a strict dependence, or by some other expedient. The
persons employed in the finances, armies, fleets, and magistracy, are
instances of this order of men.
It may naturally be thought, at first sight, that the ecclesiastics
belong to the first class, and that their encouragement, as well as that
of lawyers and physicians, may safely be intrusted to the liberality of
individuals, who are attached to their doctrines, and who find benefit
or consolation from their spiritual ministry and assistance. Their
industry and vigilance will no doubt, be whetted by such an additional
motive; and their skill in their profession, as well as their address
in governing the minds of the people, must receive daily increase from
their increasing practice, study, and attention.
But if we consider the matter more closely, we shall find, that this
interested diligence of the clergy is what every wise legislator will
study to prevent; because in every religion, except the true, it is
highly pernicious, and it has even a natural tendency to pervert the
true, by infusing into it a strong mixture of superstition, folly, and
delusion. Each ghostly practitioner, in order to render himself more
precious and sacred in the eyes of his retainers, will inspire them
with the most violent abhorrence of all other sects, and continually
endeavor, by some novelty, to excite the languid devotion of his
audience. No regard will be paid to truth, morals, or decency, in the
doctrines inculcated. Every tenet will be adopted that best suits the
disorderly affections of the human frame. Customers will be drawn to
each conventicle by new industry and address, in practising on the
passions and credulity of the populace. And, in the end, the civil
magistrate will find, that he has dearly paid for his pretended
frugality, in saving a fixed establishment for the priests; and that in
reality the most decent and advantageous composition which he can make
with the spiritual guides is to bribe their indolence, by assigning
stated salaries to their profession, and rendering it superfluous
for them to be further active than merely to prevent their flock from
straying in quest of new pastures. And in this manner ecclesiastical
establishments, though commonly they arose at first from religious
views, prove in the end advantageous to the political interests of
society.
But we may observe, that few ecclesiastical establishments have been
fixed upon a worse foundation than that of the church of Rome, or have
been attended with circumstances more hurtful to the peace and happiness
of mankind. The large revenues, privileges, immunities, and powers of
the clergy, rendered them formidable to the civil magistrate; and armed
with too extensive authority an order of men who always adhere
closely together, and who never want a plausible pretence for their
encroachments and usurpations. The higher dignities of the church
served, indeed, to the support of gentry and nobility; but by the
establishment of monasteries, many of the lowest vulgar were taken
from the useful arts, and maintained in those receptacles of sloth
and ignorance. The supreme head of the church was a foreign potentate,
guided by interests always different from those of the community,
sometimes contrary to them. And as the hierarchy was necessarily
solicitous to preserve a unity of faith, rites, and ceremonies, all
liberty of thought ran a manifest risk of being extinguished; and
violent persecutions, or, what was worse, a stupid and abject credulity,
took place every where.
To increase these evils, the Church, though she possessed large
revenues, was not contented with her acquisitions, but retained a power
of practising further on the ignorance of mankind. She even bestowed
on each individual priest a power of enriching himself by the voluntary
oblations of the faithful, and left him still an urgent motive for
diligence and industry in his calling. And thus that church, though
an expensive and burdensome establishment, was liable to many of the
inconveniences which belong to an order of priests, trusting entirely to
their own art and invention for obtaining a subsistence.
The advantages attending the Romish hierarchy were but a small
compensation for its inconveniences. The ecclesiastical privileges,
during barbarous times, had served as a check on the despotism of
kings. The union of all the western churches under the supreme pontiff
facilitated the intercourse of nations, and tended to bind all the parts
of Europe into a close connection with each other. And the pomp and
splendor of worship which belonged to so opulent an establishment,
contributed in some respect to the encouragement of the fine arts,
and began to diffuse a general elegance of taste by uniting it with
religion.
It will easily be conceived that, though the balance of evil prevailed
in the Romish church, this was not the chief reason which produced the
reformation. A concurrence of incidents must have contributed to forward
that great revolution.
Leo X., by his generous and enterprising temper, had much exhausted his
treasury, and was obliged to employ every invention which might yield
money, in order to support his projects, pleasures, and liberalities.
The scheme of selling indulgences was suggested to him, as an expedient
which had often served in former times to draw money from the Christian
world, and make devout people willing contributors to the grandeur and
riches of the court of Rome. The church, it was supposed, was possessed
of a great stock of merit, as being entitled to all the good works of
all the saints, beyond what were employed in their own justification;
and even to the merits of Christ himself, which were infinite and
unbounded; and from this unexhausted treasury the pope might retail
particular portions, and by that traffic acquire money to be employed in
pious purposes, in resisting the infidels, or subduing schismatics. When
the money came into his exchequer, the greater part of it was usually
diverted to other purposes.[*]
It is commonly believed that Leo, from the penetration of his genius,
and his familiarity with ancient literature, was fully acquainted with
the ridicule and falsity of the doctrines which, as supreme pontiff,
he was obliged by his interest to promote: it is the less wonder,
therefore, that he employed for his profit those pious frauds which
his predecessors, the most ignorant and credulous, had always, under
plausible pretences, made use of for their selfish purposes. He
published the sale of a general indulgence; [**] and as his expenses
had not only exhausted his usual revenue, but even anticipated the money
expected from this extraordinary expedient, the several branches of it
were openly given away to particular persons, who were entitled to levy
the imposition. The produce, particularly of Saxony and the countries
bordering on the Baltic, was assigned to his sister Magdalene, married
to Cibo, natural son of Innocent VIII.; and she, in order to enhance her
profit, had farmed out the revenue to one Arcemboldi, a Genoese, once a
merchant, now a bishop, who still retained all the lucrative arts of his
former profession.[***] The Austin friars had usually been employed in
Saxony to preach the indulgences, and from this trust had derived both
profit and consideration: but Arcemboldi, fearing lest practice might
have taught them means to secrete the money,[****] and expecting no
extraordinary success from the ordinary methods of collection, gave this
occupation to the Dominicans.
* Father Paul and Sleidan.
** In 1517.
*** Father Paul. Sleidan.
**** Father Paul, lib. 1
These monks, in order to prove themselves worthy of the distinction
conferred on them, exaggerated the benefits of indulgences by the most
unbounded panegyrics; and advanced doctrines on that head, which,
though not more ridiculous than those already received, were not as yet
entirely familiar to the ears of the people.[*] [4] To add to the scandal,
the collectors of this revenue are said to have lived very licentious
lives, and to have spent in taverns, gaming-houses, and places still
more infamous, the money which devout persons had saved from their usual
expenses, in order to purchase a remission of their sins.[**]
All these circumstances might have given offence, but would have been
attended with no event of any importance, had there not arisen a man
qualified to take advantage of the incident. Martin Luther, an Austin
friar, professor in the university of Wittemberg, resenting the affront
put upon his order, began to preach against these abuses in the sale
of indulgences; and being naturally of a fiery temper, and provoked by
opposition, he proceeded even to decry indulgences themselves; and was
thence carried, by the heat of dispute, to question the authority of the
pope, from which his adversaries derived their chief arguments against
him.[***] Still, as he enlarged his reading, in order to support these
tenets, he discovered some new abuse or error in the church of Rome;
and finding his opinions greedily hearkened to, he promulgated them by
writing, discourse, sermon, conference; and daily increased the number
of his disciples. All Saxony, all Germany, all Europe, were in a very
little time filled with the voice of this daring innovator; and men,
roused from that lethargy in which they had so long slept, began to call
in question the most ancient and most received opinions. The elector of
Saxony, favorable to Luther's doctrine, protected him from the violence
of the papal jurisdiction: the republic of Zurich even reformed their
church according to the new model: many sovereigns of the empire, and
the imperial diet itself, showed a favorable disposition towards it: and
Luther, a man naturally inflexible, vehement, opinionative, was become
incapable, either from promises of advancement or terrors of severity,
to relinquish a sect of which he was himself the founder, and which
brought him a glory superior to all others--the glory of dictating the
religious faith and principles of multitudes.
* See note D, at the end of the volume.
** Father Paul, lib. i.
*** Father Paul. Sleidan
The rumor of these innovations soon reached England and as there
still subsisted in that kingdom great remains of the Lollards, whose
principles resembled those of Luther, the new doctrines secretly gained
many partisans among the laity of all ranks and denominations. But Henry
had been educated in a strict attachment to the church of Rome; and he
bore a particular prejudice against Luther, who, in his writings, spoke
with contempt of Thomas Aquinas, the king's favorite author: he opposed
himself, therefore, to the progress of the Lutheran tenets, by all the
influence which his extensive and almost absolute authority conferred
upon him: he even under took to combat them with weapons not usually
employed by monarchs, especially those in the flower of their age and
force of their passions. He wrote a book in Latin against the principles
of Luther; a performance which, if allowance be made for the subject and
the age, does no discredit to his capacity. He sent a copy of it to Leo,
who received so magnificent a present with great testimony of
regard; and conferred on him the title of "defender of the faith;" an
appellation still retained by the kings of England. Luther, who was in
the heat of controversy, soon published an answer to Henry; and, without
regard to the dignity of his antagonist, treated him with all the
acrimony of style to which, in the course of his polemics, he had
so long been accustomed. The king, by this ill usage, was still more
prejudiced against the new doctrines; but the public, who naturally
favor the weaker party, were inclined to attribute to Luther the victory
in the dispute.[*] And as the controversy became more illustrious by
Henry's entering the lists, it drew still more the attention of mankind;
and the Lutheran doctrine daily acquired new converts in every part of
Europe.
* Father Paul, lib. i.
The quick and surprising progress of this bold sect may justly in part
be ascribed to the late invention of printing, and revival of learning:
not that reason bore any considerable share in opening men's eyes with
regard to the impostures of the Romish church; for of all branches of
literature, philosophy had, as yet, and till long afterwards, made
the most inconsiderable progress; neither is there any instance, that
argument has ever been able to free the people from that enormous load
of absurdity with which superstition has every where overwhelmed them;
not to mention, that the rapid advance of the Lutheran doctrine and the
violence with which it was embraced, prove sufficiently, that it owed
not its success to reason and reflection. The art of printing and the
revival of learning forwarded its progress in another manner. By means
of that art, the books of Luther and his sectaries full of vehemence,
declamation, and a rude eloquence, were propagated more quickly, and
in greater numbers. The minds of men, somewhat awakened from a profound
sleep of so many centuries, were prepared for every novelty, and
scrupled less to tread in any unusual path which was opened to them. And
as copies of the Scriptures and other ancient monuments of the Christian
faith became more common, men perceived the innovations which were
introduced after the first centuries; and though argument and reasoning
could not give conviction, an historical fact, well supported, was able
to make impression on their understandings. Many of the powers, indeed,
assumed by the church of Rome, were very ancient, and were prior to
almost every political government established in Europe: but as the
ecclesiastics would not agree to possess their privileges as matters
of civil right, which time might render valid, but appealed still to a
divine origin, men were tempted to look into their primitive charter,
and they could, without much difficulty, perceive its defect in truth
and authenticity.
In order to bestow on this topic the greater influence, Luther and his
followers, not satisfied with opposing the pretended divinity of the
Romish church, and displaying the temporal inconveniences of that
establishment, carried matters much further, and treated the religion of
their ancestors as abominable, detestable, damnable; foretold by
sacred writ itself as the source of all wickedness and pollution. They
denominated the pope Antichrist, called his communion the scarlet whore,
and gave to Rome the appellation of Babylon; expressions which, however
applied, were to be found in Scripture, and which were better calculated
to operate on the multitude than the most solid arguments. Excited by
contest and persecution on the one hand, by success and applause on the
other, many of the reformers carried to the greatest extremities their
opposition to the church of Rome; and in contradiction to the multiplied
superstitions with which that communion was loaded, they adopted an
enthusiastic strain of devotion, which admitted of no observances,
rites, or ceremonies, but placed all merit in a mysterious species of
faith in inward vision, rapture, and ecstasy. The new sectaries seized
with this spirit, were indefatigable in the propagation of their
doctrine, and set at defiance all the anathemas and punishments with
which the Roman pontiff endeavored to overwhelm them.
That the civil power, however, might afford them protection against the
ecclesiastical jurisdiction, the Lutherans advanced doctrines favorable
in some respect to the temporal authority of sovereigns. They inveighed
against the abuses of the court of Rome, with which men were at that
time generally discontented; and they exhorted princes to reinstate
themselves in those powers, of which the encroaching spirit of the
ecclesiastics, especially of the sovereign pontiff, had so long bereaved
them. They condemned celibacy and monastic vows, and thereby opened the
doors of the convents to those who were either tired of the obedience
and chastity, or disgusted with the license, in which they had hitherto
lived. They blamed the excessive riches, the idleness, the libertinism
of the clergy; and pointed out their treasures and revenues as lawful
spoil to the first invader. And as the ecclesiastics had hitherto
conducted a willing and a stupid audience, and were totally unacquainted
with controversy, much more with every species of true literature, they
were unable to defend themselves against men armed with authorities,
quotations, and popular topics, and qualified to triumph in every
altercation or debate. Such were the advantages with which the reformers
began their attack on the Romish hierarchy; and such were the causes of
their rapid and astonishing success.
Leo X., whose oversights and too supine trust in the profound ignorance
of the people had given rise to this sect, but whose sound judgment,
moderation, and temper, were well qualified to retard its progress, died
in the flower of his age, a little after he received the king's book
against Luther, and he was succeeded in the papal chair by Adrian, a
Fleming, who had been tutor to the emperor Charles. This man was fitted
to gain on the reformers by the integrity, candor, and simplicity of
manners which distinguished his character but, so violent were their
prejudices against the church, he rather hurt the cause by his imprudent
exercise of those virtues. He frankly confessed, that many abominable
and detestable practices prevailed in the court of Rome; and by this
sincere avowal, he gave occasion of much triumph to the Lutherans. This
pontiff also, whose penetration was not equal to his good intentions,
was seduced to concur in that league which Charles and Henry had formed
against France;[*] and he thereby augmented the scandal occasioned by
the practice of so many preceding popes, who still made their spiritual
arms subservient to political purposes.
{1522.} The emperor, who knew that Wolsey had received a disappointment
in his ambitious hopes by the election of Adrian, and who dreaded the
resentment of that haughty minister, was solicitous to repair the breach
made in their friendship by this incident. He paid another visit to
England; and besides flattering the vanity of the king and the cardinal,
he renewed to Wolsey all the promises which he had made him of seconding
his pretensions to the papal throne. Wolsey, sensible that Adrian's
great age and infirmities promised a speedy vacancy, dissembled his
resentment, and was willing to hope for a more prosperous issue to the
next election. The emperor renewed the treaty made at Bruges, to which
some articles were added; and he agreed to indemnify both the king and
Wolsey for the revenue which they should lose by a breach with France.
The more to ingratiate himself with Henry and the English nation, he
gave to Surrey, admiral of England, a commission for being admiral of
his dominions; and he himself was installed knight of the garter
at London. After a stay of six weeks in England, he embarked at
Southampton, and in ten days arrived in Spain, where he soon pacified
the tumults which had arisen in his absence.[**]
* Guicciard. lib. xiv.
** Petrus de Angleria, epist. 765.
The king declared war against France; and this measure was founded on so
little reason, that he could allege nothing as a ground of quarrel, but
Francis's refusal to submit to his arbitration, and his sending Albany
into Scotland. This last step had not been taken by the French king,
till he was quite assured of Henry's resolution to attack him. Surrey
landed some troops at Cherbourg, in Normandy; and after laying waste the
country, he sailed to Morlaix, a rich town in Brittany, which he took
and plundered. The English merchants had great property in that place,
which was no more spared by the soldiers than the goods of the French.
Surrey then left the charge of the fleet to the vice-admiral; and sailed
to Calais, where he took the command of the English army destined for
the invasion of France. This army, when joined by forces from the Low
Countries, under the command of the count de Buren, amounted in the
whole to eighteen thousand men.
The French had made it a maxim, in almost all their wars with the
English since the reign of Charles V., never, without great necessity,
to hazard a general engagement; and the duke of Vendome, who commanded
the French army, now embraced this wise policy. He supplied the towns
most exposed, especially Boulogne, Montreuil, Terouenne, Hedin with
strong garrisons and plenty of provisions: he himself took post at
Abbeville, with some Swiss and French infantry, and a body of cavalry:
the count of Guise encamped under Montreuil with six thousand men. These
two bodies were in a situation to join upon occasion; to throw supply
into any town that was threatened; and to harass the English in every
movement. Surrey, who was not provided with magazines, first divided
his troops for the convenience of subsisting them; but finding that
his quarters were every moment beaten up by the activity of the French
generals, he drew together his forces, and laid siege to Hedin. But
neither did he succeed in this enterprise. The garrison made vigorous
sallies upon his army: the French forces assaulted him from without:
great rains fell: fatigue and bad weather threw the soldiers into
dysenteries: and Surrey was obliged to raise the siege, and put his
troops into winter quarters about the end of October. His rear guard was
attacked at Pas, in Artois, and five or six hundred men were cut off;
nor could all his efforts make him master of one place within the French
frontier.
The allies were more successful in Italy. Lautrec, who commanded the
French, lost a great battle at Bicocca, near Milan; and was obliged to
retire with the remains of his army. This misfortune, which proceeded
from Francis's negligence in not supplying Lautrec with money,[*]
was followed by the loss of Genoa. The castle of Cremona was the sole
fortress in Italy which remained in the hands of the French.
* Guicciard. lib. xiv.
Europe was now in such a situation, and so connected by different
alliances and interests, that it was almost impossible for war to be
kindled in one part, and not diffuse itself throughout the whole; but
of all the leagues among kingdoms the closest was that which had so long
subsisted between France and Scotland; and the English, while at war
with the former nation, could not hope to remain long unmolested on the
northern frontier. No sooner had Albany arrived in Scotland, than he
took measures for kindling a war with England; and he summoned the whole
force of the kingdom to meet in the fields of Rosline.[*] He thence
conducted the army southwards into Annandale, and prepared to pass the
borders at Solway Frith. But many of the nobility were disgusted with
the regent's administration; and observing that his connections with
Scotland were feeble in comparison of those which he maintained with
France, they murmured that for the sake of foreign interests, their
peace should so often be disturbed and war, during their king's
minority, be wantonly entered into with a neighboring nation, so much
superior in force and riches. The Gordons, in particular, refused to
advance any farther; and Albany, observing a general discontent to
prevail was obliged to conclude a truce with Lord Dacres, warden of the
English west marches. Soon after he departed for France; and lest the
opposite faction should gather force in his absence, he sent thither
before him the earl of Angus, husband to the queen dowager.
{1523.} Next year, Henry, that he might take advantage of the regent's
absence, marched an army into Scotland under the command of Surrey, who
ravaged the Merse and Teviotdale without opposition, and burned the town
of Jedburgh. The Scots had neither king nor regent to conduct them:
the two Humes had been put to death: Angus was in a manner banished: no
nobleman of vigor or authority remained, who was qualified to assume the
government: and the English monarch, who knew the distressed situation
of the country, determined to push them to extremity, in hopes of
engaging them, by the sense of their present weakness, to make a solemn
renunciation of the French alliance, and to embrace that of England.[*]
He even gave them hopes of contracting a marriage between the lady Mary,
heiress of England, and their young monarch; an expedient which would
forever unite the two kingdoms:[**] and the queen dowager, with her
whole party, recommended every where the advantages of this alliance,
and of a confederacy with Henry.
* Buchanan, lib. xiv. Drummond. Pitscottie.
** Buchanan, lib. xiv. Herbert.
*** Le Grand, vol. iii. p. 39.
They said that the interests of Scotland had too long been sacrificed to
those of the French nation, who, whenever they found themselves reduced
to difficulties, called for the assistance of their allies; but were
ready to abandon them as soon as they found their advantage in making
peace with England: that where a small state entered into so close a
confederacy with a greater, it must always expect this treatment, as
a consequence of the unequal alliance; but there were peculiar
circumstances in the situation of the kingdoms, which, in the present
case, rendered it inevitable: that France was so distant, and so divided
from them by sea, that she scarcely could, by any means, and never could
in time, send succors to the Scots, sufficient to protect them against
ravages from the neighboring kingdom: that nature had, in a manner,
formed an alliance between the two British nations; having enclosed them
in the same island; given them the same manners, language, laws, and
form of government; and prepared every thing for an intimate union
between them: and that, if national antipathies were abolished, which
would soon be the effect of peace, these two kingdoms, secured by the
ocean and by their domestic force, could set at defiance all foreign
enemies, and remain forever safe and unmolested.
The partisans of the French alliance, on the other hand, said, that the
very reasons which were urged in favor of a league with England, the
vicinity of the kingdom and its superior force, were the real causes
why a sincere and durable confederacy could never be formed with that
hostile nation: that among neighboring states occasions of quarrel were
frequent, and the more powerful would be sure to seize every frivolous
pretence for oppressing the weaker, and reducing it to subjection: that
as the near neighborhood of France and England had kindled a war almost
perpetual between them, it was the interest of the Scots, if they wished
to maintain their independence, to preserve their league with the former
kingdom, which balanced the force of the latter: that if they deserted
that old and salutary alliance on which their importance in Europe
chiefly depended, their ancient enemies, stimulated both by interest and
by passion, would soon invade them with superior force, and bereave them
of all their liberties: or if they delayed the attack, the insidious
peace, by making the Scots forget the use of arms, would only prepare
the way for a slavery more certain and more irretrievable.[*]
* Buchanan, lib. xiv.
The arguments employed by the French party, being seconded by the
natural prejudices of the people, seemed most prevalent: and when the
regent himself, who had been long detained beyond his appointed time by
the danger from the English fleet, at last appeared among them, he was
able to throw the balance entirely on that side. By authority of the
convention of states, he assembled an army, with a view of avenging the
ravages committed by the English in the beginning of the campaign; and
he led them southwards towards the borders. But when they were passing
the Tweed at the bridge of Melross, the English party raised again such
opposition, that Albany thought proper to make a retreat. He marched
downwards, along the banks of the Tweed, keeping that river on his
right; and fixed his camp opposite to Werkcastle, which Surrey had
lately repaired. He sent over some troops to besiege this fortress, who
made a breach in it, and stormed some of the outworks: but the regent,
hearing of the approach of an English army, and discouraged by the
advanced season, thought proper to disband his forces and retire to
Edinburgh. Soon after, he went over to France, and never again returned
to Scotland. The Scottish nation, agitated by their domestic factions,
were not, during several years, in a condition to give any more
disturbance to England; and Henry had full leisure to prosecute his
designs on the continent.
The reason why the war against France proceeded so slowly on the part
of England, was the want of money. All the treasures of Henry VII. were
long ago dissipated; the king's habits of expense still remained; and
his revenues were unequal even to the ordinary charge of government,
much more to his military enterprises. He had last year caused a general
survey to be made of the kingdom; the numbers of men, their years,
profession, stock, revenue;[*] and expressed great satisfaction on
finding the nation so opulent. He then issued privy seals to the most
wealthy, demanding loans of particular sums: this act of power, though
somewhat irregular and tyrannical, had been formerly practised by kings
of England; and the people were now familiarized to it. But Henry, this
year, carried his authority much further. He published an edict for
a general tax upon his subjects, which he still called a loan; and he
levied five shillings in the pound upon the clergy, two shillings upon
the laity. This pretended loan, as being more regular, was really more
dangerous to the liberties of the people, and was a precedent for the
king's imposing taxes without consent of parliament.
* Herbert. Stowe, p. 514.
Henry soon after summoned a parliament, together with a convocation; and
found neither of them in a disposition to complain of the infringement
of their privileges. It was only doubted how far they would carry their
liberality to the king. Wolsey, who had undertaken the management of the
affair, began with the convocation, in hopes that their example would
influence the parliament to grant a large supply. He demanded a moiety
of the ecclesiastical revenues to be levied in five years, or two
shillings in the pound during that time; and though he met with
opposition, he reprimanded the refractory members in such severe terms,
that his request was at last complied with. The cardinal afterwards,
attended by several of the nobility and prelates, came to the house of
commons; and in a long and elaborate speech laid before them the public
necessities, the danger of an invasion from Scotland, the affronts
received from France, the league in which the king was engaged with the
pope and the emperor; and he demanded a grant of eight hundred thousand
pounds, divided into four yearly payments; a sum computed, from the late
survey or valuation, to be equal to four shillings in the pound of one
year's revenue, or one shilling in the pound yearly, according to the
division proposed.[*] So large a grant was unusual from the commons;
and though the cardinal's demand was seconded by Sir Thomas More the
speaker, and several other members attached to the court, the house
could not be prevailed with to comply.[**]
* This survey or valuation is liable to much suspicion, as
fixing the rents a great deal too high; unless the sum
comprehend the revenues of all kinds, industry as well as
land and money.
** Herbert. Stowe, p. 518. Parl. Hist. Strype, vol. i. p.
49, 59.
[Illustration: 1-371-more.jpg SIR THOMAS MORE]
They only voted two shillings in the pound on all who enjoyed twenty
pounds a year and upwards; one shilling on all who possessed between
twenty pounds and forty shillings a year; and on the other subjects
above sixteen years of age, a groat a head. This last sum was divided
into two yearly payments; the former into four, and was not therefore at
the utmost above sixpence in the pound. The grant of the commons was
but the moiety of the sum demanded; and the cardinal, therefore, much
mortified with the disappointment, came again to the house, and desired
to reason with such as refused to comply with the king's request. He
was told that it was a rule of the house never to reason but among
themselves; and his desire was rejected. The commons, however, enlarged
a little their former grant, and voted an imposition of three shillings
in the pound on all possessed of fifty pounds a year and upwards.[*] [5]
The proceedings of this house of commons evidently discover the humor of
the times: they were extremely tenacious of their money, and refused a
demand of the crown which was far from being unreasonable; but they
allowed an encroachment on national privileges to pass uncensured,
though its direct tendency was to subvert entirely the liberties of the
people. The king was so dissatisfied with this saving disposition of the
commons, that, as he had not called a parliament during seven years
before, he allowed seven more to elapse before he summoned another. And
on pretence of necessity, he levied in one year, from all who were worth
forty pounds, what the parliament had granted him payable in four
years;[**] a new invasion of national privileges. These irregularities
were commonly ascribed to the cardinal's counsels, who, trusting to the
protection afforded him by his ecclesiastical character, was the less
scrupulous in his encroachment on the civil rights of the nation.
* See note E, at the end of the volume.
** Speed. Hall. Herbert.
That ambitious prelate received this year a new disappointment in his
aspiring views. The pope, Adrian VI., died; and Clement VII., of the
family of Medicis, was elected in his place, by the concurrence of
the imperial party. Wolsey could not perceive the insincerity of the
emperor, and he concluded that that prince would never second his
pretensions to the papal chair. As he highly resented this injury, he
began thenceforth to estrange himself from the imperial court, and
to pave the way for a union between his master and the French king.
Meanwhile he concealed his disgust; and after congratulating the new
pope on his promotion, applied for a continuation of the legatine powers
which the two former popes had conferred upon him. Clement, knowing the
importance of gaining his friendship, granted him a commission for life;
and, by this unusual concession, he in a manner transferred to him the
whole papal authority in England. In some particulars Wolsey made a good
use of this extensive power. He erected two colleges, one at Oxford,
another at Ipswich, the place of his nativity: he sought all over Europe
for learned men to supply the chairs of these colleges; and in order to
bestow endowments on them, he suppressed some smaller monasteries, and
distributed the monks into other convents. The execution of this project
became the less difficult for him, because the Romish church began
to perceive, that she overabounded in monks, and that she wanted some
supply of learning, in order to oppose the inquisitive, or rather
disputative humor of the reformers.
The confederacy against France seemed more formidable than ever, on
the opening of the campaign.[*] Adrian before his death had renewed the
league with Charles and Henry. The Venetians had been induced to desert
the French alliance, and to form engagements for securing Francis
Sforza, brother to Maximilian, in possession of the Milanese. The
Florentines, the dukes of Ferrara and Mantua, and all the powers of
Italy, combined in the same measure. The emperor in person menaced
France with a powerful invasion on the side of Guienne: the forces of
England and the Netherlands hovered over Picardy: a numerous body of
Germans were preparing to ravage Burgundy: but all these perils from
foreign enemies were less threatening than a domestic conspiracy, which
had been formed, and which was now come to full maturity, against the
French monarch.
* Guicciard. lib. xiv.
Charles, duke of Bourbon, constable of France, was a prince of the most
shining merit; and, besides distinguishing himself in many military
enterprises, he was adorned with every accomplishment which became a
person of his high station. His virtues, embellished with the graces of
youth, had made such impression on Louise of Savoy, Francis's mother,
that, without regard to the inequality of their years, she made him
proposals of marriage; and meeting with a repulse, she formed schemes
of unrelenting vengeance against him. She was a woman false, deceitful,
vindictive, malicious; but, unhappily for France, had, by her capacity,
which was considerable, acquired an absolute ascendant over her son. By
her instigation, Francis put many affronts on the constable, which it
was difficult for a gallant spirit to endure; and at last he permitted
Louise to prosecute a lawsuit against him, by which, on the most
frivolous pretences, he was deprived of his ample possessions; and
inevitable ruin was brought upon him.
Bourbon, provoked at all these indignities, and thinking that, if
any injuries could justify a man in rebelling against his prince
and country, he must stand acquitted, had entered into a secret
correspondence with the emperor and the king of England.[*] Francis,
pertinacious in his purpose of recovering the Milanese, had intended to
lead his army in person into Italy; and Bourbon, who feigned sickness
in order to have a pretence for staying behind, purposed, as soon as
the king should have passed the Alps, to raise an insurrection among
his numerous vassals, by whom he was extremely beloved, and to introduce
foreign enemies into the heart of the kingdom. Francis got intimation
of his design; but as he was not expeditious enough in securing so
dangerous a foe, the constable made his escape;[**] and entering into
the emperor's service, employed all the force of his enterprising
spirit, and his great talents for war, to the prejudice of his native
country.
The king of England, desirous that Francis should undertake his Italian
expedition, did not openly threaten Picardy this year with an invasion;
and it was late before the duke of Suffolk, who commanded the English
forces, passed over to Calais. He was attended by the lords Montacute,
Herbert, Ferrars, Morney, Sandys, Berkeley, Powis, and many other
noblemen and gentlemen.[***]
* Memoires du Bellai, liv. ii.
** Belcarius, lib. xvii.
*** Herbert.
The English army, reenforced by some troops drawn from the garrison
of Calais, amounted to about twelve thousand men; and having joined an
equal number of Flemings under the count de Buren, they prepared for an
invasion of France. The siege of Boulogne was first proposed; but that
enterprise appearing difficult, it was thought more advisable to leave
this town behind them. The frontier of Picardy was very ill provided
with troops; and the only defence of that province was the activity of
the French officers, who infested the allied army in their march,
and threw garrisons, with great expedition, into every town which
was threatened by them. After coasting the Somme, and passing Hedin,
Montreuil, Dourlens, the English and Flemings presented themselves
before Bray, a place of small force, which commanded a bridge over that
river. Here they were resolved to pass, and, if possible, to take up
winter quarters in France; but Crequi threw himself into the town and
seemed resolute to defend it. The allies attacked him with vigor and
success; and when he retreated over the bridge, they pursued him so
hotly, that they allowed him not time to break it down, but passed
it along with him, and totally routed his army. They next advanced to
Montdidier, which they besieged, and took by capitulation. Meeting with
no opposition, they proceeded to the River Oise, within eleven leagues
of Paris, and threw that city into great consternation; till the duke
of Vendome hastened with some forces to its relief. The confederates,
afraid of being surrounded, and of being reduced to extremities
during so advanced a season, thought proper to retreat. Montdidier was
abandoned; and the English and Flemings, without effecting any thing,
retired into their respective countries.
France defended herself from the other invasions with equal facility
and equal good fortune. Twelve thousand Lansquenets broke into Burgundy
under the command of the count of Furstenberg. The count of Guise, who
defended that frontier, had nothing to oppose to them but some militia,
and about nine hundred heavy-armed cavalry. He threw the militia into
the garrison towns; and with his cavalry he kept the field, and so
harassed the Germans, that they were glad to make their retreat into
Lorraine. Guise attacked them as they passed the Meuse, put them into
disorder, and cut off the greater part of their rear.
The emperor made great preparations on the side of Navarre; and though
that frontier was well guarded by nature, it seemed now exposed to
danger from the powerful invasion which threatened it. Charles besieged
Fontarabia, which a few years before had fallen into Francis's hands;
and when he had drawn thither Lautrec, the French general, he of a
sudden raised the siege, and sat down before Bayonne. Lautrec, aware
of that stratagem, made a sudden march, and threw himself into Bayonne,
which he defended with such vigor and courage, that the Spaniards were
constrained to raise the siege. The emperor would have been totally
unfortunate on this side, had he not turned back upon Fontarabia, and,
contrary to the advice of all his generals, sitten down in the winter
season before that city, well fortified and strongly garrisoned. The
cowardice or misconduct of the governor saved him from the shame of a
new disappointment. The place was surrendered in a few days; and the
emperor, having finished this enterprise, put his troops into winter
quarters.
So obstinate was Francis in prosecuting his Italian expedition, that,
notwithstanding these numerous invasions with which his kingdom was
menaced on every side, he had determined to lead in person a powerful
army to the conquest of Milan. The intelligence of Bourbon's conspiracy
and escape stopped him at Lyons; and fearing some insurrection in the
kingdom from the intrigues of a man so powerful and so much beloved,
he thought it prudent to remain in France and to send forward his army
under the command of Admiral Bonnivet. The duchy of Milan had been
purposely left in a condition somewhat defenceless, with a view of
alluring Francis to attack it, and thereby facilitating the enterprises
of Bourbon; and no sooner had Bonnivet passed the Tesin, than the army
of the league, and even Prosper Colonna, who commanded it, a prudent
general, were in the utmost confusion. It is agreed, that if Bonnivet
had immediately advanced to Milan, that great city, on which the whole
duchy depends, would have opened its gates without resistance: but as
he wasted his time in frivolous enterprises, Colonna had opportunity to
reenforce the garrison, and to put the place in a posture of defence.
Bonnivet was now obliged to attempt reducing the city by blockade and
famine; and he took possession of all the posts which commanded the
passages to it. But the army of the league, meanwhile, was not inactive;
and they so straitened and harassed the quarters of the French, that it
seemed more likely the latter should themselves perish by famine, than
reduce the city to that extremity.
{1524.} Sickness, and fatigue, and want had wasted them to such a
degree, that they were ready to raise the blockade; and their only hopes
consisted in a great body of Swiss, which was levied for the service
of the French king, and whose arrival was every day expected. But these
mountaineers no sooner came within sight of the French camp, than they
stopped, from a sudden caprice and resentment; and instead of joining
Bonnivet, they sent orders to a great body of their countrymen, who then
served under him, immediately to begin their march, and to return home
in their company.[*] After this desertion of the Swiss, Bonnivet had
no other choice but that of making his retreat as fast as possible into
France.
* Guicciard. lib. xv. Memoires de Bellai, liv. ii.
The French being thus expelled Italy, the pope, the Venetians, the
Florentines, were satisfied with the advantage obtained over them, and
were resolved to prosecute their victory no further. All these powers,
especially Clement, had entertained a violent jealousy of the emperor's
ambition; and their suspicions were extremely augmented when they saw
him refuse the investiture of Milan, a fief of the empire, to Francis
Sforza, whose title he had acknowledged, and whose defence he had
embraced.[*] They all concluded, that he intended to put himself in
possession of that important duchy, and reduce Italy to subjection:
Clement in particular, actuated by this jealousy, proceeded so far in
opposition to the emperor, that he sent orders to his nuncio at London
to mediate a reconciliation between France and England. But affairs were
not yet fully ripe for this change. Wolsey, disgusted with the emperor,
but still more actuated by vain-glory, was determined that he himself
should have the renown of bringing about that great alteration; and he
engaged the king to reject the pope's mediation.
* Guicciard. lib. xv.
A new treaty was even concluded between Henry and Charles for the
invasion of France. Charles stipulated to supply the Duke of Bourbon
with a powerful army, in order to conquer Provence and Dauphiny: Henry
agreed to pay him a hundred thousand crowns for the first month; after
which he might either choose to continue the same monthly payments,
or invade Picardy with a powerful army. Bourbon was to possess these
provinces with the title of king; but to hold them in fee of Henry as
king of France. The duchy of Burgundy was to be given to Charles; the
rest of the kingdom to Henry. This chimerical partition immediately
failed of execution in the article which was most easily performed:
Bourbon refused to acknowledge Henry as king of France. His enterprise,
however, against Provence still took place. A numerous army of
imperialists invaded that country, under his command and that of the
marquis of Pescara. They laid siege to Marseilles, which, being weakly
garrisoned, they expected to reduce in a little time; but the citizens
defended themselves with such valor and obstinacy, that Bourbon and
Pescara, who heard of the French king's approach with a numerous army,
found themselves under the necessity of raising the siege; and they led
their forces, weakened, baffled, and disheartened, into Italy.
Francis might now have enjoyed in safety the glory of repulsing all his
enemies, in every attempt which they had hitherto made for invading
his kingdom; but as he received intelligence that the king of England,
discouraged by his former fruitless enterprises, and disgusted with
the emperor, was making no preparations for any attempt on Picardy, his
ancient ardor seized him for the conquest of Milan; and notwithstanding
the advanced season, he was immediately determined, contrary to the
advice of his wisest counsellors, to lead his army into Italy.
He passed the Alps at Mount Cenis, and no sooner appeared in Piedmont
than he threw the whole Milanese into consternation. The forces of the
emperor and Sforza retired to Lodi; and had Francis been so fortunate
as to pursue them, they had abandoned that place, and had been totally
dispersed;[*] but his ill fate led him to besiege Pavia, a town of
considerable strength, well garrisoned, and defended by Leyva, one of
the bravest officers in the Spanish service. Every attempt which the
French king made to gain this important place proved fruitless. He
battered the walls and made breaches; but, by the vigilance of Leyva,
new retrenchments were instantly thrown up behind the breaches: he
attempted to divert the course of the Tesin, which ran by one side of
the city and defended it; but an inundation of the river destroyed in
one night all the mounds which the soldiers during a long time, and with
infinite labor, had been erecting.
* Guicciard. lib. xv. Du Bellai, lib. ii.
{1525.} Fatigue and the bad season (for it was the depth of winter)
had wasted the French army. The imperial generals meanwhile were not
inactive. Pescara, and Lannoy, viceroy of Naples, assembled forces from
all quarters. Bourbon, having pawned his jewels, went into Germany, and
with the money, aided by his personal interest, levied a body of twelve
thousand Lansquenets, with which he joined the imperialists. This whole
army advanced to raise the siege of Pavia; and the danger to the French
became every day more imminent.
The state of Europe was such during that age, that, partly from the
want of commerce and industry every where, except in Italy and the Low
Countries, partly from the extensive privileges still possessed by the
people in all the great monarchies and their frugal maxims in granting
money, the revenues of the princes were extremely narrow, and even the
small armies which they kept on foot could not be regularly paid by
them*[**missing period] The imperial forces, commanded by Bourbon,
Pescara, and Lannoy, exceeded not twenty thousand men; they were the
only body of troops maintained by the emperor, (for he had not been able
to levy any army for the invasion of France, either on the side of
Spain or Flanders.) Yet so poor was that mighty monarch, that he could
transmit no money for the payment of this army; and it was chiefly the
hopes of sharing the plunder of the French camp which had made them
advance and kept them to their standards. Had Francis raised the siege
before their approach, and retired to Milan, they must immediately have
disbanded; and he had obtained a complete victory without danger or
bloodshed. But it was the character of this monarch to become obstinate
in proportion to the difficulties which he encountered; and having once
said, that he would take Pavia or perish before it, he was resolved
rather to endure the utmost extremities than depart from this
resolution.
The imperial generals, after cannonading the French camp for several
days, at last made a general assault, and broke into the intrenchments.
Leyva sallied from the town, and increased the confusion among the
besiegers. The Swiss infantry, contrary to their usual practice, behaved
in a dastardly manner, and deserted their post. Francis's forces were
put to rout; and he himself, surrounded by his enemies, after fighting
with heroic valor, and killing seven men with his own hand, was at last
obliged to surrender himself prisoner. All most the whole army, full
of nobility and brave officers, either perished by the sword or were
drowned in the river. The few who escaped with their lives fell into the
hands of the enemy.
The emperor received this news by Pennalosa, who passed through
France by means of a safe-conduct granted him by the captive king. The
moderation which he displayed on this occasion, had it been sincere,
would have done him honor. Instead of rejoicing, he expressed sympathy
with Francis's ill fortune, and discovered his sense of those calamities
to which the greatest monarchs are exposed.[*] He refused the city of
Madrid permission to make any public expressions of triumph; and said
that he reserved all his exultation till he should he able to obtain
some victory over the infidels. He sent orders to his frontier garrisons
to commit no hostilities upon France.
* Vera. Hist. de Carl. V.
He spoke of concluding immediately a peace on reasonable terms. But all
this seeming moderation was only hypocrisy, so much the more dangerous
as it was profound. And he was wholly occupied in forming schemes
how, from this great incident, he might draw the utmost advantage, and
gratify that exorbitant ambition by which, in all his actions, he was
ever governed.
The same Pennalosa, in passing through France, carried also a letter
from Francis to his mother, whom he had left regent, and who then
resided at Lyons. It contained only these few words: "Madam, all is
lost, except our honor." The princess was struck with the greatness of
the calamity. She saw the kingdom without a sovereign, without an army,
without generals, without money; surrounded on every side by implacable
and victorious enemies; and her chief resource, in her present
distresses, were the hopes which she entertained of peace and even of
assistance from the king of England.
Had the king entered into the war against France from any concerted
political views, it is evident that the victory of Pavia and the
captivity of Francis were the most fortunate incidents that could have
befallen him, and the only ones that could render his schemes effectual.
While the war was carried on in the former feeble manner, without any
decisive advantage, he might have been able to possess himself of some
frontier town, or perhaps of a small territory, of which he could not.
have kept possession without expending much more than its value. By some
signal calamity alone, which annihilated the power of France, could he
hope to acquire the dominion of considerable provinces, or dismember
that great monarchy, so affectionate to its own government and its own
sovereigns. But as it is probable that Henry had never before carried
his reflections so far, he was startled at this important event, and
became sensible of his own danger, as well as that of all Europe, from
the loss of a proper counterpoise to the power of Charles. Instead of
taking advantage, therefore, of the distressed condition of Francis, he
was determined to lend him assistance in his present calamities; and
as the glory of generosity in raising a fallen enemy concurred with
his political interests, he hesitated the less in embracing these new
measures.
Some disgusts also had previously taken place between Charles and Henry,
and still more between Charles and Wolsey; and that powerful minister
waited only for a favorable opportunity of revenging the disappointments
which he had met with. The behavior of Charles, immediately after the
victory of Pavia, gave him occasion to revive the king's jealousy and
suspicions. The emperor so ill supported the appearance of moderation
which he at first assumed, that he had already changed his usual
style to Henry; and instead of writing to him with his own hand, and
subscribing himself "Your affectionate son and cousin," he dictated
his letters to a secretary, and simply subscribed himself "Charles."[*]
Wolsey also perceived a diminution in the caresses and professions with
which the emperor's letters to him were formerly loaded; and this last
imprudence, proceeding from the intoxication of success, was probably
more dangerous to Charles's interests than the other.
Henry, though immediately determined to embrace new measures, was
careful to save appearances in the change; and he caused rejoicings to
be every where made on account of the victory of Pavia and the captivity
of Francis. He publicly dismissed a French envoy, whom he had formerly
allowed, notwithstanding the war, to reside at London;[**] but upon the
regent of France's submissive applications to him, he again opened a
correspondence with her; and besides assuring her of his friendship and
protection, he exacted a promise that she never would consent to the
dismembering of any province from the monarchy for her son's ransom.
With the emperor, however, he put on the appearance of vigor and
enterprise; and in order to have a pretence for breaking with him, he
despatched Tonstal, bishop of London, to Madrid with proposals for a
powerful invasion of France. He required that Charles should immediately
enter Guienne at the head of a great army, in order to put him in
possession of that province; and he demanded the payments of large sums
of money which that prince had borrowed from him in his last visit
at London. He knew that the emperor was in no condition of fulfilling
either of these demands; and that he had as little inclination to make
him master of such considerable territories upon the frontiers of Spain.
* Guicciard. lib. xvi.
** Du Bellai, liv. iii Stowe, p. 221. Baker, p. 273.
Tonstal, likewise, after his arrival at Madrid, informed his master that
Charles, on his part, urged several complaints against England; and in
particular was displeased with Henry, because last year he had neither
continued his monthly payments to Bourbon nor invaded Picardy, according
to his stipulations. Tonstal added, that instead of expressing an
intention to espouse Mary when she should be of age, the emperor had
hearkened to proposals for marrying his niece Isabella, princess of
Portugal; and that he had entered into a separate treaty with Francis,
and seemed determined to reap alone all the advantages of the success
with which fortune had crowned his arms.
The king, influenced by all these motives, concluded at Moore his
alliance with the regent of France, and engaged to procure her son his
liberty on reasonable conditions:[*] the regent also, in another treaty,
acknowledged the kingdom Henry's debtor for one million eight hundred
thousand crowns to be discharged in half-yearly payments of fifty
thousand crowns; after which Henry was to receive, during life, a yearly
pension of a hundred thousand. A large present of a hundred thousand
crowns was also made to Wolsey for his good offices, but covered under
the pretence of arrears due on the pension granted him for relinquishing
the administration of Tournay.
* Du Tillet, Recueil des Traites de Leonard, tom. ii.
Herbert.
Meanwhile Henry, foreseeing that this treaty with France might involve
him in a war with the emperor, was also determined to fill his treasury
by impositions upon his own subjects; and as the parliament had
discovered some reluctance in complying with his demands, he followed,
as is believed, the counsel of Wolsey, and resolved to make use of his
prerogative alone for that purpose. He issued commissions to all the
counties of England, for levying four shillings in the pound upon
the clergy, three shillings and fourpence upon the laity; and so
uncontrollable did he deem his authority, that he took no care to cover,
as formerly, this arbitrary exaction, even under the slender pretence
of a loan. But he soon found that he had presumed too far on the passive
submission of his subjects. The people, displeased with an exaction
beyond what was usually levied in those days, and further disgusted with
the illegal method of imposing it, broke out in murmurs, complaints,
opposition to the commissioners; and their refractory disposition
threatened a general insurrection. Henry had the prudence to stop short
in that dangerous path into which he had entered. He sent letters to all
the counties, declaring that he meant no force by this last imposition,
and that he would take nothing from his subjects but by way of
"benevolence." He flattered himself, that his condescension in employing
that disguise would satisfy the people, and that no one would dare to
render himself obnoxious to royal authority, by refusing any payment
required of him in this manner. But the spirit of opposition, once
roused, could not so easily be quieted at pleasure. A lawyer in the
city objecting the statute of Richard III., by which benevolences were
forever abolished, it was replied by the court, that Richard being a
usurper, and his parliament a factious assembly, his statutes could not
bind a lawful and absolute monarch, who held his crown by hereditary
right, and needed not to court the favor of a licentious populace.[*]
* Herbert Hall.
The judges even went so far as to affirm positively, that the king might
exact by commission any sum he pleased; and the privy council gave
a ready assent to this decree, which annihilated the most valuable
privilege of the people, and rendered all their other privileges
precarious. Armed with such formidable authority of royal prerogative
and a pretence of law, Wolsey sent for the mayor of London, and desired
to know what he was willing to give for the supply of his majesty's
necessities. The mayor seemed desirous, before he should declare
himself, to consult the common council; but the cardinal required that
he and all the aldermen should separately confer with himself about
the benevolence; and he eluded by that means the danger of a formed
opposition. Matters, however, went not so smoothly in the country. An
insurrection was begun in some places; but as the people were not headed
by any considerable person, it was easy for the duke of Suffolk, and
the earl of Surrey, now duke of Norfolk, by employing persuasion
and authority, to induce the ringleaders to lay down their arms and
surrender themselves prisoners. The king, finding it dangerous to punish
criminals engaged in so popular a cause, was determined, notwithstanding
his violent, imperious temper, to grant them a general pardon; and
he prudently imputed their guilt, not to their want of loyalty or
affection, but to their poverty. The offenders were carried before the
star chamber; where, after a severe charge brought against them by the
king's council, the cardinal said, "that notwithstanding their grievous,
offence, the king, in, consideration of their necessities, had granted
them his gracious pardon, upon condition that they would find sureties
for their future good behavior." But they, replying that they had no
sureties, the cardinal first, and after him the duke of Norfolk, said
that they would be bound for them. Upon which they were dismissed.[*]
* Herbert. Hall. Stowe, p. 525. Holingshed, p. 891.
These arbitrary impositions being imputed, though on what grounds is
unknown, to the counsels of the cardinal, increased the general odium
under which he labored: and the clemency of the pardon, being ascribed
to the king, was considered as an atonement on his part for the
illegality of the measure. But Wolsey, supported both by royal and
papal authority, proceeded without scruple to violate all ecclesiastical
privileges, which, during that age, were much more sacred than civil;
and having once prevailed in that unusual attempt of suppressing some
monasteries, he kept all the rest in awe, and exercised over them an
arbitrary jurisdiction. By his commission as legate he was empowered to
visit them, and reform them, and chastise their irregularities; and he
employed his usual agent, Allen, in the exercise of this authority.
The religious houses were obliged to compound for their guilt, real or
pretended, by paying large sums to the cardinal or his deputy; and this
oppression was carried so far, that it reached at last the king's ears,
which were not commonly open to complaints against his favorite.
Wolsey had built a splendid palace at Hampton Court, which he probably
intended, as well as that of York Place, in Westminster, for his
own residence; but fearing the increase of envy on account of this
magnificence, and desirous to appease the king, he made him a present of
the building, and told him that, from the first, he had erected it for
his use.
The absolute authority possessed by the king rendered his domestic
government, both over his people and his ministers, easy and
expeditious: the conduct of foreign affairs alone required effort and
application; and they were now brought to such a situation, that it
was no longer safe for England to remain entirely neutral. The feigned
moderation of the emperor was of short duration; and it was soon obvious
to all the world, that his great dominions, far from gratifying
his ambition, were only regarded as the means of acquiring an more
extensive. The terms which he demanded of his prisoner were such as must
forever have annihilated the power of France, and destroyed the balance
of Europe. These terms were proposed to Francis soon after the battle
of Pavia, while he was detained in Pizzichitone; and as he had hitherto
trusted somewhat to the emperor's generosity, the disappointment excited
in his breast the most lively indignation. He said, that he would rather
live and die a prisoner than agree to dismember his kingdom; and that
even were he so base as to submit to such conditions, his subjects would
never permit him to carry them into execution.
Francis was encouraged to persist in demanding more moderate terms by
the favorable accounts which he heard of Henry's disposition towards
him, and of the alarm which had seized all the chief powers in Italy
upon his defeat and captivity. He was uneasy, however, to be so far
distant from the emperor, with whom he must treat; and he expressed his
desire (which was complied with) to be removed to Madrid, in hopes that
a personal interview would operate in his favor, and that Charles, if
not influenced by his ministers, might be found possessed of the same
frankness of disposition by which he himself was distinguished. He was
soon convinced of his mistake. Partly from want of exercise, partly
from reflections on his present melancholy situation, he fell into a
languishing illness; which begat apprehensions in Charles, lest the
death of his captive should bereave him of all those advantages which he
purposed to extort from him. He then paid him a visit in the castle
of Madrid; and as he approached the bed in which Francis lay, the sick
monarch called to him, "You come, sir, to visit your prisoner." "No,"
replied the emperor, "I come to visit my brother and my friend, who
shall soon obtain his liberty." He soothed his afflictions with many
speeches of a like nature, which had so good an effect that the king
daily recovered;[*] and thenceforth employed himself in concerting with
the ministers of the emperor the terms of his treaty.
* Herbert. Le Vera. Sandoval.
{1526.} At last, the emperor, dreading a general combination against
him, was willing to abate somewhat of his rigor: and the treaty of
Madrid was signed, by which, it was hoped an end would be finally put
to the differences between these great monarchs. The principal condition
was the restoring of Francis's liberty, and the delivery of his two
eldest sons as hostages to the emperor for the cession of Burgundy. If
any difficulty should afterwards occur in the execution of this last
article, from the opposition of the states either of France or of that
province, Francis stipulated, that in six weeks' time, he should return
to his prison, and remain there till the full performance of the treaty.
There were many other articles in this famous convention, all of them
extremely severe upon the captive monarch; and Charles discovered
evidently his intention of reducing Italy, as well as France, to
subjection and dependence.
Many of Charles's ministers foresaw that Francis, how solemn soever the
oaths, promises, and protestations exacted of him, never would execute
a treaty so disadvantageous, or rather ruinous and destructive, to
himself, his posterity, and his country. By putting Burgundy, they
thought, into the emperor's hands, he gave his powerful enemy an
entrance into the heart of the kingdom: by sacrificing his allies
in Italy, he deprived himself of foreign assistance; and, arming his
oppressor with the whole force and wealth of that opulent country,
rendered him absolutely irresistible. To these great views of interest
were added the motives, no less cogent, of passion and resentment; while
Francis, a prince who piqued himself on generosity, reflected on the
rigor with which he had been treated during his captivity, and the
severe terms which had been exacted of him for the recovery of his
liberty. It was also foreseen, that the emulation and rivalship, which
had so long subsisted between these two monarchs, would make him feel
the strongest reluctance on yielding the superiority to an antagonist
who, by the whole tenor of his conduct, he would be apt to think, had
shown himself so little worthy of that advantage which fortune, and
fortune alone, had put into his hands. His ministers, his friends, his
subjects, his allies, would be sure with one voice to inculcate on him,
that the first object of a prince was the preservation of his people;
and that the laws of honor, which, with a private man, ought to
be absolutely supreme, and superior to all interests, were, with a
sovereign, subordinate to the great duty of insuring the safety of his
country. Nor could it be imagined that Francis would be so romantic in
his principles, as not to hearken to a casuistry which was so plausible
in itself, and which so much flattered all the passions by which, either
as a prince or a man, he was strongly actuated.
Francis, on entering his own dominions, delivered his two eldest sons
as hostages into the hands of the Spaniards. He mounted a Turkish horse,
and immediately putting him to the gallop, he waved his hand, and cried
aloud several times, "I am yet a king." He soon reached Bayonne,
where he was joyfully received by the regent and his whole court. He
immediately wrote to Henry; acknowledging that to his good offices alone
he owed his liberty, and protesting that he should be entirely governed
by his counsels in all transactions with the emperor. When the Spanish
envoy demanded his ratification of the treaty of Madrid, now that he had
fully recovered his liberty, he declined the proposal; under color that
it was previously necessary to assemble the states both of France and of
Burgundy, and to obtain their consent. The states of Burgundy soon
met; and declaring against the clause which contained an engagement for
alienating their province, they expressed their resolution of opposing,
even by force of arms, the execution of so ruinous and unjust an
article. The imperial minister then required that Francis, in conformity
to the treaty of Madrid, should now return to his prison; but the French
monarch, instead of complying, made public the treaty which a little
before he had secretly concluded at Cognac, against the ambitious
schemes and usurpations of the emperor.[*]
* Guicciard. lib. xvii.
The pope, the Venetians, and other Italian states, who were deeply
interested in these events, had been held in the most anxious suspense
with regard to the resolutions which Francis should take after the
recovery of his liberty; and Clement, in particular, who suspected that
this prince would never execute a treaty so hurtful to his interests,
and even destructive of his independency, had very frankly offered him a
dispensation from all his oaths and engagements. Francis remained not in
suspense; but entered immediately into the confederacy proposed to him.
It was stipulated by that king, the pope, the Venetians, the Swiss,
the Florentines, and the duke of Milan, among other articles, that they
would oblige the emperor to deliver up the two young princes of France
on receiving a reasonable sum of money; and to restore Milan to Sforza,
without further condition or encumbrance.
The king of England was invited to accede, not only as a contracting
party, but as protector of the "holy league,"--so it was called; and
if Naples should be conquered from the emperor, in prosecution of this
confederacy, it was agreed that Henry should enjoy a principality in
that kingdom of the yearly revenue of thirty thousand ducats; and that
cardinal Wolsey, in consideration of the services which he had rendered
to Christendom, should also, in such an event, be put in possession of a
revenue of ten thousand ducats.
Francis was desirous that the appearance of this great confederacy
should engage the emperor to relax somewhat in the extreme rigor of the
treaty of Madrid; and while he entertained these hopes, he was the
more remiss in his warlike preparations; nor did he send in due time
reenforcements to his allies in Italy.
{1527.} The duke of Bourbon had got possession of the whole Milanese,
of which the emperor intended to grant him the investiture; and having
levied a considerable army in Germany, he became formidable to all the
Italian potentates; and not the less so because Charles, destitute, as
usual, of money, had not been able to remit any pay to the forces. The
general was extremely beloved by his troops; and in order to prevent
those mutinies which were ready to break out every moment, and which
their affection alone for him had hitherto restrained, he led them to
Rome, and promised to enrich them by the plunder of that opulent city.
He was himself killed, as he was planting a scaling ladder against the
walls; but his soldiers, rather enraged than discouraged by his death,
mounted to the assault with the utmost valor, and entering the city
sword in hand, exercised all those brutalities which may be expected
from ferocity excited by resistance, and from insolence which takes
place when that resistance is no more. This renowned city, exposed by
her renown alone to so many calamities, never endured, in any age, even
from the barbarians by whom she was often subdued, such indignities as
she was now compelled to suffer. The unrestrained massacre and pillage,
which continued for several days, were the least ills to which the
unhappy Romans were exposed.[*] Whatever was respectable in modesty or
sacred in religion, seemed but the more to provoke the insults of the
soldiery. Virgins suffered violation in the arms of their parents, and
upon those very altars to which they had fled for protection.
* Guicciard. lib. xviii. Bellai. Stowe, p. 527.
Aged prelates, after enduring every indignity, and even every torture,
were thrown into dungeons, and menaced with the most cruel death, in
order to make them reveal their secret treasures, or purchase liberty by
exorbitant ransoms. Clement himself, who had trusted for protection to
the sacredness of his character, and neglected to make his escape in
time, was taken captive; and found that his dignity, which procured him
no regard from the Spanish soldiers, did but draw on him the insolent
mockery of the German, who, being generally attached to the Lutheran
principles, were pleased to gratify their animosity by the abasement of
the sovereign pontiff.
When intelligence of this great event was conveyed to the emperor,
that young prince, habituated to hypocrisy, expressed the most profound
sorrow for the success of his arms: he put himself and all his court in
mourning: he stopped the rejoicings for the birth of his son Philip: and
knowing that every artifice, however gross, is able, when seconded by
authority, to impose upon the people, he ordered prayers during several
months to be put up in the churches for the pope's liberty; which all
men knew a letter under his hand could in a moment have procured.
The concern expressed by Henry and Francis for the calamity of their
ally was more sincere. These two monarchs, a few days before the sack
of Rome, had concluded a treaty[*] at Westminster, in which, besides
renewing former alliances, they agreed to send ambassadors to Charles,
requiring him to accept of two millions of crowns as the ransom of the
French princes, and to repay the money borrowed from Henry; and in
case of refusal, the ambassadors, attended by heralds, were ordered to
denounce war against him.
* 30th April.
This war it was agreed to prosecute in the Low Countries, with an army
of thirty thousand infantry and fifteen hundred men at arms, two thirds
to be supplied by Francis, the rest by Henry. And in order to strengthen
the alliance between the princes, it was stipulated, that either
Francis, or his son, the duke of Orleans, as should afterwards be agreed
on, should espouse the princess Mary, Henry's daughter. No sooner did
the monarchs receive intelligence of Bourbon's enterprise than they
changed, by a new treaty, the scene of the projected war from the
Netherlands to Italy; and hearing of the pope's captivity, they were
further stimulated to undertake the war with vigor for restoring him to
liberty. Wolsey himself crossed the sea, in order to have an interview
with Francis and to concert measures for that purpose; and he
displayed all that grandeur and magnificence with which he was so
much intoxicated. He was attended by a train of a thousand horse. The
cardinal of Lorraine, and the chancellor Alencon, met him at Boulogne;
Francis himself, besides granting to that haughty prelate the power of
giving, in every place where he came, liberty to all prisoners, made a
journey as far as Amiens to meet him, and even advanced some miles from
the town, the more to honor his reception. It was here stipulated, that
the duke of Orleans should espouse the princess Mary; and as the emperor
seemed to be taking some steps towards assembling a general council, the
two monarchs agreed not to acknowledge it, but, during the interval
of the pope's captivity, to govern the churches in their respective
dominions by their own authority. Wolsey made some attempts to get his
legatine power extended over France, and even over Germany; but finding
his efforts fruitless, he was obliged, though with great reluctance, to
desist from these ambitious enterprises.[*]
* Burnet, book iii. coll. 12, 13.
The more to cement the union between these princes, a new treaty was
some time after concluded at London; in which Henry agreed finally
to renounce all claims to the crown of France; claims which might now
indeed be deemed chimerical, but which often served as a pretence for
exciting the unwary English to wage war upon the French nation. As a
return for this concession, Francis bound himself and his successors to
pay forever fifty thousand crowns a year to Henry and his successors;
and that greater solemnity might be given to this treaty, it was agreed
that the parliaments and great nobility of both kingdoms should give
their assent to it. The mareschal Montmorency, accompanied by many
persons of distinction, and attended by a pompous equipage, was sent
over to ratify the treaty; and was received at London with all the
parade which suited the solemnity of the occasion. The terror of the
emperor's greatness had extinguished the ancient animosity between the
nations; and Spain, during more than a century, became, though a more
distant power, the chief object of jealousy to the English.
This cordial union between France and England, though it added influence
to the joint embassy which they sent to the emperor, was not able to
bend that monarch to submit entirely to the conditions insisted on by
the allies. He departed, indeed, from his demand of Burgundy as the
ransom of the French princes; but he required, previously to their
liberty, that Francis should evacuate Genoa, and all the fortresses held
by him in Italy; and he declared his intention of bringing Sforza to a
trial, and confiscating the duchy of Milan, on account of his pretended
treason. The English and French heralds, therefore, according to
agreement, declared war against him, and set him at defiance. Charles
answered the English herald with moderation; but to the French he
reproached his master with breach of faith, reminded him of the private
conversation which had passed between them at Madrid before their
separation, and offered to prove by single combat that he had acted
dishonorably. Francis retaliated this challenge, by giving Charles the
lie; and, after demanding security of the field, he offered to maintain
his cause by single combat. Many messages passed to and fro between
them; but though both princes were undoubtedly brave, the intended duel
never took place. The French and Spaniards, during that age, zealously
disputed which of the monarchs incurred the blame of this failure; but
all men of moderation every where lamented the power of fortune, that
the prince the more candid, generous, and sincere, should, by unhappy
incidents, have been reduced to so cruel a situation, that nothing but
his violation of treaty could preserve his people, and that he must ever
after, without being able to make a proper reply, bear to be reproached
with breach of promise, by a rival inferior to him both in honor and
virtue.
But though this famous challenge between Charles and Francis had no
immediate consequence with regard to these monarchs themselves, it
produced a considerable alteration on the manners of the age. The
practice of challenges and duels, which had been part of the ancient
barbarous jurisprudence, which was still preserved on very solemn
occasions, and which was sometimes countenanced by the civil magistrate,
began thenceforth to prevail in the most trivial incidents; and men, on
any affront or injury, thought themselves entitled, or even required
in honor, to take revenge on their enemies, by openly vindicating their
right in single combat. These absurd, though generous maxims, shed much
of thee best blood in Christendom, during more than two centuries; and
notwithstanding the severity of law and authority of reason, such is
the prevailing force of custom, they are far from being as yet entirely
exploded.
CHAPTER XXX.
HENRY VIII
{1527.} Notwithstanding the submissive deference paid to papal
authority before the reformation, the marriage of Henry with Catharine
of Arragon, his brother's widow, had not passed without much scruple and
difficulty. The prejudices of the people were in general bent against a
conjugal union between such near relations; and the late king, though he
had betrothed his son when that prince was but twelve years of age, gave
evident proofs of his intention to take afterwards a proper opportunity
of annulling the contract.[*] He ordered the young prince, as soon as
he came of age, to enter a protestation against the marriage;[**] and on
his death-bed he charged him, as his last injunction, not to finish an
alliance so unusual, and exposed to such insuperable objections. After
the king's accession, some members of the privy council, particularly
Warham, the primate, openly declared against the resolution of
completing the marriage; and though Henry's youth and dissipation kept
him, during some time, from entertaining any scruples with regard to the
measure which he had embraced, there happened incidents sufficient
to rouse his attention, and to inform him of the sentiments generally
entertained on that subject. The states of Castile had opposed the
emperor Charles's espousals with Mary, Henry's daughter; and among
other objections, had insisted on the illegitimate birth of the young
princess.[***] And when the negotiations were afterwards opened with
France, and mention was made of betrothing her to Francis or the duke
of Orleans, the bishop of Tarbe, the French ambassador, revived the same
objection.[****] But though these events naturally raised some doubts
in Henry's mind, there concurred other causes, which tended much to
increase his remorse, and render his conscience more scrupulous.
* Morison's Apomaxis, p. 13.
** Morison's Apomaxis, p. 13. Heylin's Queen Mary, p. 2.
*** Lord Herbert, Fiddes's Life of Wolsey.
**** Rymer vol. xiv. p. 192, 203. Heylin, p. 3.
The queen was older than the king by no less than six years; and the
decay of her beauty, together with particular infirmities and diseases,
had contributed, notwithstanding her blameless character and deportment,
to render her person unacceptable to him. Though she had born him
several children, they all died in early infancy, except one daughter,
and he was the more struck with this misfortune, because the curse of
being childless is the very threatening contained in the Mosaical law
against those who espouse their brother's widow. The succession, too, of
the crown was a consideration that occurred to every one, whenever
the lawfulness of Henry's marriage was called in question; and it was
apprehended, that if doubts of Mary's legitimacy concurred with the
weakness of her sex, the king of Scots, the next heir, would advance his
pretensions, and might throw the kingdom into confusion. The evils, as
yet recent, of civil wars and convulsions arising from a disputed title,
made great impression on the minds of men, and rendered the people
universally desirous of any event which might obviate so irreparable a
calamity. And the king was thus impelled, both by his private passions
and by motives of public interest, to seek the dissolution of his
inauspicious, and, as it was esteemed, unlawful marriage with Catharine.
Henry afterwards affirmed that his scruples arose entirely from private
reflection; and that on consulting his confessor, the bishop of Lincoln,
he found the prelate possessed with the same doubts and difficulties.
The king himself, being so great a casuist and divine, next proceeded to
examine the question more carefully by his own learning and study;
and having had recourse to Thomas of Aquine, he observed that this
celebrated doctor, whose authority was great in the church, and absolute
with him, had treated of that very case, and had expressly declared
against the lawfulness of such marriages.[*]
* Burnet. Fiddes.
The prohibitions, said Thomas, contained in Leviticus, and among the
rest that of marrying a brother's widow, are moral, eternal, and founded
on a divine sanction; and though the pope may dispense with the rules
of the church, the laws of God cannot be set aside by any authority
less than that which enacted them. The archbishop of Canterbury was
then applied to; and he was required to consult his brethren: all the
prelates of England, except Fisher, bishop of Rochester unanimously
declared, under their hand and seal, that they deemed the king's
marriage unlawful.[*] Wolsey also fortified the king's scruples;[**]
partly with a view of promoting a total breach with the emperor,
Catharine's nephew; partly desirous of connecting the king more closely
with Francis, by marrying him to the duchess of Alencon, sister to that
monarch; and perhaps, too, somewhat disgusted with the queen herself,
who had reproved him for certain freedoms, unbefitting his character and
station,[***] But Henry was carried forward, though perhaps not at first
excited, by a motive more forcible than even the suggestions of that
powerful favorite.
Anne Boleyn, who lately appeared at court, had been appointed maid of
honor to the queen; and having had frequent opportunities of being
seen by Henry, and of conversing with him, she had acquired an entire
ascendant over his affections. This young lady, whose grandeur and
misfortunes have rendered her so celebrated, was daughter of Sir Thomas
Boleyn, who had been employed by the king in several embassies, and
who was allied to all the principal nobility in the kingdom. His wife,
mother to Anne, was daughter of the duke of Norfolk; his own mother was
daughter of the earl of Ormond; his grandfather, Sir Geoffrey Boleyn,
who had been mayor of London, had espoused one of the daughters and
coheirs of Lord Hastings.[****]
* Burnet, vol. i. p. 38. Stowe, p. 548.
** Le Grand, vol. iii. p. 48, 166, 168. Saunders. Heylin, p.
4.
***Burnet, vol. i. p. 38. Strype, vol. i. p. 88.
**** Camden's Preface to the Life of Elizabeth. Burnet, vol.
i p. 44.
Anne herself, though then in very early youth, had been carried over
to Paris by the king's sister, when the princess espoused Lewis XII.
of France; and upon the demise of that monarch, and the return of his
dowager into England, this damsel, whose accomplishments even in her
tender years were always much admired, was retained in the service of
Claude, queen of France, spouse to Francis; and after the death of that
princess, she passed into the family of the duchess of Alencon, a woman
of singular merit. The exact time when she returned to England is not
certainly known; but it was after the king had entertained doubts with
regard to the lawfulness of his marriage with Catharine, if the account
is to be credited which he himself afterwards gave of that transaction.
Henry's scruples had made him break off all conjugal commerce with
the queen; but as he still supported an intercourse of civility and
friendship with her, he had occasion, in the frequent visits which he
paid her, to observe the beauty, the youth, the charms of Anne Boleyn.
Finding the accomplishments of her mind nowise inferior to her exterior
graces, he even entertained the design of raising her to the throne; and
was the more confirmed in this resolution, when he found that her virtue
and modesty prevented all hopes of gratifying his passion in any other
manner. As every motive, therefore, of inclination and policy seemed
thus to concur in making the king desirous of a divorce from Catharine,
and as his prospect of success was inviting, he resolved to make
application to Clement; and he sent Knight, his secretary, to Rome for
that purpose.
That he might not shock the haughty claims of the pontiff, he resolved
not to found the application on any general doubts concerning the papal
power to permit marriage in the nearer degrees of consanguinity; but
only to insist on particular grounds of nullity in the bull which Julius
had granted for the marriage of Henry and Catharine. It was a maxim in
the court of Rome, that if the pope be surprised into any concession, or
grant any indulgence upon false suggestions, the bull may afterwards be
annulled; and this pretence had usually been employed wherever one pope
had recalled any deed executed by any of his predecessors. But Julius's
bull, when examined, afforded abundant matter of this kind; and any
tribunal favorable to Henry needed not want a specious color for
gratifying him in his applications for a divorce. It was said in the
preamble, that the bull had been granted upon his solicitation; though
it was known that, at that time, he was under twelve years of age; it
was also affirmed, as another motive for the bull, that the marriage was
requisite, in order to preserve peace between the two crowns; though it
is certain that there was not then any ground or appearance of quarrel
between them. These false premises in Julius's bull seemed to afford
Clement a sufficient reason or pretence for annulling it, and granting
Henry a dispensation for a second marriage.[*]
* Collier, Eccles. Hist. vol. ii p. 25, from the Cott. Lib.
Vitel. p. 9
But though the pretext for this indulgence had been less plausible,
the pope was in such a situation that he had the strongest motives to
embrace every opportunity of gratifying the English monarch. He was then
a prisoner in the hands of the emperor; and had no hopes of recovering
his liberty on any reasonable terms, except by the efforts of the league
which Henry had formed with Francis and the Italian powers, in order to
oppose the ambition of Charles. When the English secretary, therefore,
solicited him in private, he received a very favorable answer: and a
dispensation was forthwith promised to be granted to his master.[*]
Soon after, the march of a French army into Italy, under the command of
Lautrec, obliged the imperialists to restore Clement to his liberty; and
he retired to Orvietto, where the secretary, with Sir Gregory Cassali,
the king's resident at Rome, renewed their applications to him. They
still found him full of high professions of friendship, gratitude, and
attachment to the king; but not so prompt in granting his request
as they expected. The emperor, who had got intelligence of Henry's
application to Rome, had exacted a promise from the pope, to take
no steps in the affair before he communicated them to the imperial
ministers; and Clement, embarrassed by this promise, and still more
overawed by the emperor's forces in Italy, seemed willing to postpone
those concessions desired of him by Henry. Importuned, however, by
the English ministers, he at last put into their hands a commission to
Wolsey, as legate, in conjunction with the archbishop of Canterbury,
or any other English prelate, to examine the validity of the king's
marriage, and of Julius's dispensation:[**] he also granted them a
provisional dispensation for the king's marriage with any other person;
and promised to issue a decretal bull, annulling the marriage with
Catharine. But he represented to them the dangerous consequences which
must ensue to him, if these concessions should come to the emperor's
knowledge; and he conjured them not to publish those papers, or make
any further use of them, till his affairs were in such a situation as to
secure his liberty and independence. And his secret advice was, whenever
they should find the proper time for opening the scene, that they should
prevent all opposition, by proceeding immediately to a conclusion, by
declaring the marriage with Catharine invalid, and by Henry's instantly
espousing some other person. Nor would it be so difficult, he said
for himself to confirm these proceedings, after they were passed, as
previously to render them valid by his consent and authority.[***]
* Burnet, vol. i. p. 47.
** Rymer, vol. xiv. p. 237.
*** Collier, from Cott. Lib. Vitel. b. 10.
{1528.} When Henry received the commission and dispensation from his
ambassadors, and was informed of the pope's advice, he laid the
whole before his ministers, and asked their opinion in so delicate a
situation. The English counsellors considered the danger of proceeding
in the manner pointed out to them. Should the pope refuse to ratify a
deed which he might justly call precipitate and irregular, and should
he disavow the advice which he gave in so clandestine a manner, the king
would find his second marriage totally invalidated; the children
which it might bring him declared illegitimate; and his marriage with
Catharine more firmly riveted than ever.[*] And Henry's apprehensions
of the possibility, or even probability, of such an event, were much
confirmed when he reflected on the character and situation of the
sovereign pontiff.
Clement was a prince of excellent judgment, whenever his timidity, to
which he was extremely subject, allowed him to make full use of
those talents and that penetration with which he was endowed.[**] The
captivity and other misfortunes which he had undergone by entering into
a league against Charles, had so affected his imagination, that he never
afterwards exerted himself with vigor in any public measure; especially
if the interest or inclinations of that potentate stood in opposition to
him. The imperial forces were at that time powerful in Italy, and might
return to the attack of Rome, which was still defenceless, and exposed
to the same calamities with which it had already been overwhelmed. And
besides these dangers, Clement fancied himself exposed to perils which
threatened still more immediately his person and his dignity.
* Burnet, vol. i. p. 51.
** Father Paul, lib. i. Guicciard.
Charles, apprised of the timid disposition of the holy father, threw out
perpetual menaces of summoning a general council; which he represented
as necessary to reform the church, and correct those enormous abuses
which the ambition and avarice of the court of Rome had introduced
into every branch of ecclesiastical administration. The power of the
sovereign pontiff himself, he said, required limitation; his conduct
called aloud for amendment; and even his title to the throne which he
filled might justly be called in question. That pope had always passed
for the natural son of Julian of Medicis, who was of the sovereign
family of Florence; and though Leo X., his kinsman, had declared him
legitimate, upon a pretended promise of marriage between his father and
mother, few believed that declaration to be founded on any just reason
or authority.[*] The canon law, indeed, had been entirely silent with
regard to the promotion of bastards to the papal throne; but, what was
still dangerous, the people had entertained a violent prepossession,
that this stain in the birth of any person was incompatible with so holy
an office. And in another point the canon law was express and positive,
that no man guilty of simony could attain that dignity. A severe bull
of Julius II. had added new sanctions to this law, by declaring that
a simoniacal election could not be rendered valid, even by a posterior
consent of the cardinals. But unfortunately Clement had given to
Cardinal Colonna a billet, containing promises of advancing that
cardinal, in case he himself should attain the papal dignity by his
concurrence; and this billet Colonna, who was in entire dependence on
the emperor, threatened every moment to expose to public view.[**]
While Charles terrified the pope with these menaces, he also allured him
by hopes, which were no less prevalent over his affections. At the time
when the emperor's forces sacked Rome, and reduced Clement to captivity,
the Florentines, passionate for their ancient liberty, had taken
advantage of his distresses, and revolting against the family of
Medicis, had entirely abolished their authority in Florence, and
reestablished the democracy. The better to protect themselves in their
freedom, they had entered into the alliance with France, England, and
Venice, against the emperor; and Clement found that by this interest,
the hands of his confederates were tied from assisting him in the
restoration of his family; the event which, of all others, he most
passionately desired. The emperor alone, he knew, was able to effect
this purpose; and therefore, whatever professions he made of fidelity
to his allies, he was always, on the least glimpse of hope, ready
to embrace every proposal of a cordial reconciliation with that
monarch.[***]
* Father Paul lib. i.
** Father Paul, lib. i.
*** Father Paul.
These views and interests of the pope were well known in England; and as
the opposition of the emperor to Henry's divorce was foreseen, both
on account of the honor and interests of Catharine, his aunt, and the
obvious motive of distressing an enemy, it was esteemed dangerous
to take any measure of consequence, in expectation of the subsequent
concurrence of a man of Clement's character, whose behavior always
contained so much duplicity, and who was at present so little at his own
disposal. The safest measure seemed to consist in previously engaging
him so far, that he could not afterwards recede, and in making use of
his present ambiguity and uncertainty, to extort the most important
concessions from him. For this purpose, Stephen Gardiner, the cardinal's
secretary, and Edward Fox, the king's almoner, were despatched to Rome,
and were ordered to solicit a commission from the pope, of such a
nature as would oblige him to confirm the sentence of the commissioners,
whatever it should be, and disable him on any account to recall the
commission, or evoke the cause to Rome.[*]
But the same reasons which made the king so desirous of obtaining this
concession, confirmed the pope in the resolution of refusing it: he
was still determined to keep the door open for an agreement with the
emperor; and he made no scruple of sacrificing all other considerations
to a point, which he deemed the most essential and important to his own
security, and to the greatness of his family. He granted, therefore, a
new commission, in which Cardinal Campeggio was joined to Wolsey, for
the trial of the king's marriage; but he could not be prevailed on to
insert the clause desired of him. And though he put into Gardiner's hand
a letter, promising not to recall the present commission, this promise
was found, on examination, to be couched in such ambiguous terms, as
left him still the power, whenever he pleased, of departing from it.[**]
* Lord Herbert. Burnet, vol. i. p. 29, in the Collect. Le
Grand, vol iii. p. 28. Strype, vol. i. p. 93, with App. No.
23-24, etc.
** Lord Herbert, p. 221 Burnet, p. 59.
Campeggio lay under some obligations to the king; but his dependence on
the pope was so much greater, that he conformed himself entirely to the
views of the latter; and though he received his commission in April,
he delayed his departure under so many pretences, that it was October
before he arrived in England. The first step which he took was to exhort
the king to desist from the prosecution of his divorce; and finding
that this counsel gave offence, he said, that his intention was also to
exhort the queen to take the vows in a convent, and that he thought
it his duty previously to attempt an amicable composure of all
differences.[* ]The more to pacify the king, he showed to him, as also
to the cardinal the decretal bull, annulling the former marriage with
Catharine; but no entreaties could prevail on him to make any other of
the king's council privy to the secret.[**] In order to atone in some
degree for this obstinacy, he expressed to the king and the cardinal the
pope's great desire of satisfying them in every reasonable demand; and
in particular, he showed that their request for suppressing some more
monasteries, and converting them into cathedrals and episcopal sees, had
obtained the consent of his holiness.[***]
These ambiguous circumstances in the behavior of the pope and the
legate, kept the court of England in suspense, and determined the king
to wait with patience the issue of such uncertain councils.
{1529.} Fortune, meanwhile, seemed to promise him a more sure and
expeditious way of extricating himself from his present difficulties.
Clement was seized with a dangerous illness; and the intrigues, for
electing his successor, began already to take place among the cardinals.
Wolsey, in particular, supported by the interest of England and of
France, entertained hopes of mounting the throne of St. Peter;[****] and
it appears, that if a vacancy had then happened, there was a probability
of his reaching that summit of his ambition. But the pope recovered,
though after several relapses; and he returned to the same train of
false and deceitful politics, by which he had hitherto amused the court
of England. Be still flattered Henry with professions of the most
cordial attachment, and promised him a sudden and favorable issue to his
process: he still continued his secret negotiations with Charles, and
persevered in the resolution of sacrificing all his promises, and all
the interests of the Romish religion, to the elevation of his family.
Campeggio, who was perfectly acquainted with his views and intentions,
protracted the decision by the most artful delays; and gave Clement full
leisure to adjust all the terms of his treaty with the emperor.
* Herbert, p 225.
** Burnet, p. 58.
*** Rymer, vol xiv. p. 270. Strype, vol.i. p. 110, 111. App.
No 28
**** Burnet, vol. i. p. 63.
The emperor, acquainted with the king's extreme earnestness in this
affair, was determined that he should obtain success by no other
means than by an application to him and by deserting his alliance with
Francis, which had hitherto supported, against the superior force
of Spain, the tottering state of the French monarchy. He willingly
hearkened, therefore, to the applications of Catharine, his aunt; and
promising her his utmost protection, exhorted her never to yield to the
malice and persecutions of her enemies. The queen herself was naturally
of a firm and resolute temper; and was engaged by every motive to
persevere in protesting against the injustice to which she thought
herself exposed. The imputation of incest, which was thrown upon her
marriage with Henry, struck her with the highest indignation: the
illegitimacy of her daughter, which seemed a necessary consequence, gave
her the most just concern: the reluctance of yielding to a rival, who,
she believed, had supplanted her in the king's affections, was a very
natural motive. Actuated by all these considerations, she never
ceased soliciting her nephew's assistance, and earnestly entreating
an evocation of the cause to Rome, where alone, she thought, she could
expect justice. And the emperor, in all his negotiations with the pope,
made the recall of the commission which Campeggio and Wolsey exercised
in England a fundamental article.[*]
* Herbert, p. 225. Burnet, vol i. p. 69.
The two legates, meanwhile, opened their court at London, and cited the
king and queen to appear before it. They both presented themselves; and
the king answered to his name, when called: but the queen, instead of
answering to hers rose from her seat, and throwing herself at the king's
feet, made a very pathetic harangue, which her virtue, her dignity, and
her misfortunes rendered the more affecting. She told him, that she
was a stranger in his dominions, without protection, without council,
without assistance; exposed to all the injustice which her enemies were
pleased to impose upon her: that she had quitted her native country
without other resource than her connections with him and his family, and
had expected that, instead of suffering thence any violence or iniquity,
she was assured in them of a safeguard against every misfortune: that
she had been his wife during twenty years, and would here appeal to
himself, whether her affectionate submission to his will had not merited
better treatment, than to be thus, after so long a time, thrown from
him with so much indignity: that she was conscious--he himself was
assured--that her virgin honor was yet unstained when he received her
into his bed and that her connections with his brother had been carried
no further than the ceremony of marriage: that their parents, the kings
of England and Spain, were esteemed the wisest princes of their time,
and had undoubtedly acted by the best advice, when they formed the
agreement for that marriage, which was now represented as so criminal
and unnatural: and that she acquiesced in their judgment, and would not
submit her cause to be tried by a court, whose dependence on her enemies
was too visible, ever to allow her any hopes of obtaining from them an
equitable or impartial decision.[*] Having spoken these words, she rose,
and making the king a low reverence, she departed from the court, and
never would again appear in it.
After her departure, the king did her the justice to acknowledge, that
she had ever been a dutiful and affectionate wife, and that the whole
tenor of her behavior had been conformable to the strictest rules of
probity and honor. He only insisted on his own scruples with regard
to the lawfulness of their marriage; and he explained the origin, the
progress, and the foundation of those doubts, by which he had been so
long and so violently agitated. He acquitted Cardinal Wolsey from having
any hand in encouraging his scruples; and he craved a sentence of the
court agreeable to the justice of his cause.
The legates, after citing the queen anew, declared her contumacious,
notwithstanding her appeal to Rome; and then proceeded to the
examination of the cause. The first point which came before them
was, the proof of Prince Arthur's consummation of his marriage with
Catharine; and it must be confessed, that no stronger arguments could
reasonably be expected of such a fact after so long an interval. The age
of the prince, who had passed his fifteenth year, the good state of his
health, the long time that he had cohabited with his consort, many of
his expressions to that very purpose; all these circumstances form a
violent presumption in favor of the king's assertion.[**] Henry himself,
after his brother's death was not allowed for some time to bear the
title of prince of Wales, in expectation of her pregnancy: the Spanish
ambassador, in order the better to insure possession of her jointure,
had sent over to Spain proofs of the consummation of her marriage:[***]
Julius's bull itself was founded on the supposition that Arthur had
perhaps had knowledge of the princess: in the very treaty, fixing
Henry's marriage, the consummation of the former marriage with Prince
Arthur is acknowledged on both sides.[****]
* Burnet, vol. i. p. 73. Hall. Stowe, p. 543.
** Herbert.
*** Burnet, vol. ii. p. 85.
**** Rymer, vol. xiii. p. 81.
These particulars were all laid before the court; accompanied with many
reasonings concerning the extent of the pope's authority, and against
his power of granting a dispensation to marry within the prohibited
degrees. Campeggio heard these doctrines with great impatience; and
notwithstanding his resolution to protract the cause, he was often
tempted to interrupt and silence the king's counsel, when they
insisted on such disagreeable topics. The trial was spun out till the
twenty-third of July; and Campeggio chiefly took on him the part of
conducting it. Wolsey, though the elder cardinal, permitted him to act
as president of the court; because it was thought, that a trial managed
by an Italian cardinal would carry the appearance of greater candor and
impartiality, than if the king's own minister and favorite had presided
in it. The business now seemed to be drawing near to a period; and the
king was every day in expectation of a sentence in his favor; when, to
his great surprise, Campeggio, on a sudden, without any warning, and
upon very frivolous pretences,[*] prorogued the court till the first of
October. The evocation, which came a few days after from Rome, put
an end to all the hopes of success which the king had so long and so
anxiously cherished.[**]
During the time that the trial was carried on before the legates at
London, the emperor had by his ministers earnestly solicited Clement to
evoke the cause; and had employed every topic of hope or terror which
could operate either on the ambition or timidity of the pontiff. The
English ambassadors, on the other hand, in conjunction with the French,
had been no less earnest in their applications, that the legates should
be allowed to finish the trial; but though they employed the same
engines of promises and menaces, the motives which they could set before
the pope were not so urgent or immediate as those which were held up to
him by the emperor.[***] The dread of losing England, and of fortifying
the Lutherans by so considerable an accession, made small impression on
Clement's mind, in comparison of the anxiety for his personal safety,
and the fond desire of restoring the Medici to their dominion in
Florence. As soon, therefore, as he had adjusted all terms with the
emperor he laid hold of the pretence of justice, which required him,
as he asserted, to pay regard to the queen's appeal; and suspending the
commission of the legates, he adjourned the cause to his own personal
judgment at Rome. Campeggio had beforehand received private orders,
delivered by Campana, to burn the decretal bull with which he was
intrusted.
* Burnet, vol. i. p. 76, 77.
** Herbert, p. 254.
**** Burnet, vol. i. p. 75.
Wolsey had long foreseen this measure as the sure forerunner of his
ruin. Though he had at first desired that the king should rather marry
a French princess than Anne Boleyn, he had employed himself with the
utmost assiduity and earnestness to bring the affair to a happy issue:
[*] he was not, therefore, to be blamed for the unprosperous event which
Clement's partiality had produced. But he had sufficient experience of
the extreme ardor and impatience of Henry's temper, who could bear no
contradiction, and was wont, without examination or distinction, to
make his ministers answerable for the success of those transactions
with which they were intrusted. Anne Boleyn also, who was prepossessed
against him, had imputed to him the failure of her hopes; and as she was
newly returned to court, whence she had been removed, from a regard to
decency, during the trial before the legates, she had naturally acquired
an additional influence on Henry, and she served much to fortify his
prejudices against the cardinal.[**] Even the queen and her partisans,
judging of Wolsey by the part which he had openly acted, had expressed
great animosity against him; and the most opposite factions seemed
now to combine in the ruin of this haughty minister. The high opinion
itself, which Henry had entertained of the cardinal's capacity, tended
to hasten his downfall; while he imputed the bad success of that
minister's undertakings, not to ill fortune or to mistake, but to the
malignity or infidelity of his intentions. The blow, however, fell not
instantly on his head. The king, who probably could not justify by any
good reason his alienation from his ancient favorite, seems to have
remained some time in suspense; and he received him, if not with all his
former kindness, at least with the appearance of trust and regard.
* Collier, vol. ii. p. 45. Burnet, vol, i. p. 53.
** Cavendish, p. 40.
But constant experience evinces how rarely a high confidence and
affection receives the least diminution, without sinking into absolute
indifference, or even running into the opposite extreme. The king now
determined to bring on the ruin of the cardinal with a motion almost as
precipitate as he had formerly employed in his elevation. The dukes of
Norfolk and Suffolk were sent to require the great seal from him; and
on his scrupling to deliver it[*] without a more express warrant, Henry
wrote him a letter, upon which it was surrendered; and it was delivered
by the king to Sir Thomas More, a man who, besides the ornaments of
an elegant literature, possessed the highest virtue, integrity, and
capacity.
Wolsey was ordered to depart from York Place, a palace which he had
built in London, and which, though it really belonged to the see of
York, was seized by Henry, and became afterwards the residence of the
kings of England, by the title of Whitehall. All his furniture and plate
were also seized: their riches and splendor befitted rather a royal than
a private fortune. The walls of his palace were covered with cloth of
gold or cloth of silver: he had a cupboard of plate of massy gold: there
were found a thousand pieces of fine holland belonging to him. The rest
of his riches and furniture was in proportion; and his opulence was
probably no small inducement to this violent persecution against him.
The cardinal was ordered to retire to Asher, a country seat which he
possessed near Hampton Court. The world, that had paid him such abject
court during his prosperity, now entirely deserted him on this fatal
reverse of all his fortunes. He himself was much dejected with the
change; and from the same turn of mind which had made him be so vainly
elated with his grandeur, he felt the stroke of adversity with double
rigor.[**] The smallest appearance of his return to favor threw him into
transports of joy unbecoming a man. The king had seemed willing, during
some time, to intermit the blows which overwhelmed him. He granted
him his protection, and left him in possession of the sees of York and
Winchester. He even sent him a gracious message, accompanied with a
ring, as a testimony of his affection. Wolsey, who was on horseback when
the messenger met him, immediately alighted; and, throwing himself on
his knees in the mire, received in that humble attitude these marks of
his majesty's gracious disposition towards him.
* Cavendish, p. 41.
** Strype, vol. i. p. 114, 115. App. No. 31, etc.
*** Stowe, p. 547.
But his enemies, who dreaded his return to court, never ceased plying
the king with accounts of his several offences; and Anne Boleyn, in
particular, contributed her endeavors, in conjunction with her uncle,
the duke of Norfolk, to exclude him from all hopes of ever being
reinstated in his former authority. He dismissed, therefore, his
numerous retinue and as he was a kind and beneficent master, the
separation passed not without a plentiful effusion of tears on both
sides. [*] The king's heart, notwithstanding some gleams of kindness,
seemed now totally hardened against his old favorite. He ordered him
to be indicted in the star chamber, where a sentence was passed against
him. And, not content with this severity, he abandoned him to all the
rigor of the parliament, which now after a long interval, was again
assembled. The house of lords voted a long charge against Wolsey,
consisting of forty-four articles; and accompanied it with an
application to the king for his punishment, and his removal from all
authority. Little opposition was made to this charge in the upper house:
no evidence of any part of it was so much as called for; and as it
chiefly consists of general accusations, it was scarcely susceptible of
any.[**] [6] The articles were sent down to the house of commons; where
Thomas Cromwell, formerly a servant of the cardinal's, and who had been
raised by him from a very low station, defended his unfortunate patron
with such spirit, generosity, and courage, as acquired him great honor,
and laid the foundation of that favor which he afterwards enjoyed with
the king.
* Cavendish. Stowe, p. 549.
** See note F, at the end of the volume.
Wolsey's enemies, finding that either his innocence or his caution
prevented them from having any just ground of accusing him, had recourse
to a very extraordinary expedient. An indictment was laid against him,
that, contrary to a statute of Richard II., commonly called the
statute of provisors, he had procured bulls from Rome, particularly one
investing him with the legatine power, which he had exercised with very
extensive authority. He confessed the indictment, pleaded ignorance
of the statute, and threw himself on the king's mercy. He was perhaps
within reach of the law but besides that this statute had fallen into
disuse, nothing could be more rigorous and severe than to impute to
him as a crime what he had openly, during the course of so many years,
practised with the consent and approbation of the and the acquiescence
of the parliament and kingdom. Not to mention what he always
asserted,[*] and what we can scarcely doubt of, that he had obtained
the royal license in the most formal manner, which, had he not been
apprehensive of the dangers attending any opposition to Henry's lawless
will, he might have pleaded in his own defence before the judges.
Sentence, however, was pronounced against him, "That he was out of the
king's protection; his lands and goods forfeited; and that his person
might be committed to custody." But this prosecution of Wolsey was
carried no further. Henry even granted him a pardon for all offences;
restored him part of his plate and furniture; and still continued, from
time to time, to drop expressions of favor and compassion towards him.
The complaints against the usurpations of the ecclesiastics had been
very ancient in England, as well as in most other European kingdoms; and
as this topic was now become popular every where, it had paved the way
for the Lutheran tenets, and reconciled the people, in some measure, to
the frightful idea of heresy and innovation. The commons, finding the
occasion favorable, passed several bills restraining the impositions of
the clergy; one for the regulating of mortuaries; another against the
exactions for the probates of wills; [**] a third against non-residence
and pluralities, and against church-men's being farmers of land. But
what appeared chiefly dangerous to the ecclesiastical order, were the
severe invectives thrown out, almost without opposition, in the house,
against the dissolute lives of the priests, their ambition, their
avarice, and their endless encroachments on the laity. Lord Herbert
[***] has even preserved the speech of a gentleman of Gray's Inn, which
is of a singular nature, and contains such topics as we should little
expect to meet with during that period. The member insists upon the vast
variety of theological opinions which prevailed in different nations and
ages; the endless inextricable controversies maintained by the several
sects; the impossibility that any man, much less the people, could ever
know, much less examine, the tenets and principles of every sect; the
necessity of ignorance and a suspense of judgment with regard to all
those objects of dispute: and, upon the whole, he infers, that the only
religion obligatory on mankind is the belief of one Supreme Being, the
author of nature; and the necessity of good morals, in order to
obtain his favor and protection. Such sentiments would be deemed
latitudinarian, even in our time; and would not be advanced, without
some precaution, in a public assembly.
* Cavendish, p. 72.
** These exactions were quite arbitrary, and had risen to a
great height. A member said in the house, that a thousand
marks had been exacted from him on that account. Hall, fol.
188 Strype, vol. i. p. 73.
*** Page 293.
But though the first broaching of religious controversy might encourage
the sceptical turn in a few persons of a studious disposition, the zeal
with which men soon after attached themselves to their several parties,
served effectually to banish for a long time all such obnoxious
liberties.
The bills for regulating the clergy met with some opposition in the
house of lords. Bishop Fisher, in particular, imputed these measures of
the commons to their want of faith; and to a formed design, derived
from heretical and Lutheran principles, of robbing the church of her
patrimony, and over-turning the national religion. The duke of Norfolk
reproved the prelate in severe, and even somewhat indecent terms. He
told him, that the greatest clerks were not always the wisest men. But
Fisher replied, that he did not remember any fools in his time who had
proved great clerks. The exceptions taken at the bishop of Rochester's
speech stopped not there. The commons, by the mouth of Sir Thomas
Audley, their speaker, made complaints to the king of the reflections
thrown upon them; and the bishop was obliged to put a more favorable
construction on his words.[*]
Henry was not displeased that the court of Rome and the clergy should
be sensible that they were entirely dependent on him, and that his
parliament, if he were willing to second their inclinations, was
sufficiently disposed to reduce the power and privileges of the
ecclesiastics. The commons gratified the king in another particular of
moment: they granted him a discharge of all those debts which he had
contracted since the beginning of his reign,[**] and they grounded this
bill, which occasioned many complaints, on a pretence of the king's
great care of the nation, and of his regularly employing all the money
which he had borrowed in the public service.
* Parl. Hist. vol. iii. p. 59.
**Burnet, vol. ii. p. 82.
Most of the king's creditors consisted of friends to the cardinal who
had been engaged by their patron to contribute to the supply of Henry's
necessities; and the present courtiers were well pleased to take the
opportunity of mulcting them.[*] Several also approved of an expedient
which, they hoped, would ever after discredit a method of supply so
irregular and so unparliamentary.
* Burnet, vol. ii. p. 83.
The domestic transactions of England were at present so interesting
to the king, that they chiefly engaged his attention; and he regarded
foreign affairs only in subordination to them. He had declared war
against the emperor; but the mutual advantages reaped by the commerce
between England and the Netherlands, had engaged him to stipulate a
neutrality with those provinces; and, except by money contributed to the
Italian wars, he had in effect exercised no hostility against any of
the imperial dominions. A general peace was this summer established
in Europe. Margaret of Austria and Louisa of Savoy met at Cambray,
and settled the terms of pacification between the French king and the
emperor. Charles accepted of two millions of crowns in lieu of Burgundy;
and he delivered up the two princes of France, whom he had retained as
hostages. Henry was, on this occasion, so generous to his friend and
ally Francis, that he sent him an acquittal of near six hundred thousand
crowns, which that prince owed him. Francis's Italian confederates were
not so well satisfied as the king with the peace of Cambray: they were
almost wholly abandoned to the will of the emperor, and seemed to have
no means of security left but his equity and moderation. Florence,
after a brave resistance, was subdued by the imperial arms, and finally
delivered over to the dominion of the family of Medici. The Venetians
were better treated: they were only obliged to relinquish some
acquisitions which they had made on the coast of Naples. Even Francis
Sforza obtained the investiture of Milan, and was pardoned for all past
offences. The emperor in person passed into Italy with a magnificent
train, and received the imperial crown from the hands of the pope at
Bologna. He was but twenty-nine years of age; and having already, by
his vigor and capacity, succeeded in every enterprise, and reduced to
captivity the two greatest potentates in Europe, the one spiritual,
the other temporal, he attracted the eyes of all men; and many
prognostications were formed of his growing empire.
But though Charles seemed to be prosperous on every side, and though the
conquest of Mexico and Peru now began to prevent that scarcity of money
under which he had hitherto labored, he found himself threatened with
difficulties in Germany; and his desire of surmounting them was the
chief cause of his granting such moderate conditions to the Italian
powers. Sultan Solyman, the greatest and most accomplished prince that
ever sat on the Ottoman throne, had almost entirely subdued Hungary,
had besieged Vienna, and, though repulsed, still menaced the hereditary
dominions of the house of Austria with conquest and subjection. The
Lutheran princes of the empire, finding that liberty of conscience
was denied them, had combined in a league for their own defence at
Smalcalde, and because they protested against the votes passed in
the imperial diet, they thenceforth received the appellation, of
"protestants." Charles had undertaken to reduce them to obedience; and
on pretence of securing the purity of religion, he had laid a scheme for
aggrandizing his own family, by extending its dominion over all Germany.
The friendship of Henry was one material circumstance yet wanting to
Charles, in order to insure success in his ambitious enterprises; and
the king was sufficiently apprised that the concurrence of that prince
would at once remove all the difficulties which lay in the way of his
divorce; that point which had long been the object of his most earnest
wishes. But besides that the interests of his kingdom seemed to require
an alliance with France, his haughty spirit could not submit to a
friendship imposed on him by constraint; and as he had ever been
accustomed to receive courtship, deference, and solicitation from the
greatest potentates, he could ill brook that dependence to which this
unhappy affair seemed to have reduced him. Amidst the anxieties with
which he was agitated, he was often tempted to break off all
connections with the court of Rome; and though he had been educated in
a superstitious reverence to papal authority, it is likely that his
personal experience of the duplicity and selfish politics of Clement
had served much to open his eyes in that particular. He found his
prerogative firmly established at home: lie observed that his people
were in general much disgusted with clerical usurpations, and disposed
to reduce the powers find privileges of the ecclesiastical order: he
knew that they had cordially taken part with him in his prosecution of
the divorce, and highly resented the unworthy treatment which after
so many services and such devoted attachment, he had received from the
court of Rome. Anne Boleyn also could not fail to use all her
efforts, and employ every insinuation, in order to make him proceed to
extremities against the pope; both as it was the readiest way to her
attaining royal dignity, and as her education in the court of the
duchess of Alencon, a princess inclined to the reformers, had already
disposed her to a belief of the new doctrines. But notwithstanding these
inducements, Henry had strong motives still to desire a good agreement
with the sovereign pontiff. He apprehended the danger of such great
innovations: he dreaded the reproach of heresy: he abhorred all
connections with the Lutherans, the chief opponents of the papal power;
and having once exerted himself with such applause, as he imagined, in
defence of the Romish communion, he was ashamed to retract his former
opinions, and betray from passion such a palpable inconsistency. While
he was agitated by these contrary motives, an expedient was proposed,
which, as it promised a solution of all difficulties, was embraced by
him with the greatest joy and satisfaction.
Dr. Thomas Cranmer, fellow of Jesus College in Cambridge, was a man
remarkable in that university for his learning, and still more for
the candor and disinterestedness of his temper. He fell one evening by
accident into company with Gardiner, now secretary of state, and Fox,
the king's almoner; and as the business of the divorce became the
subject of conversation, he observed that the readiest way either to
quiet Henry's conscience, or extort the pope's consent, would be to
consult all the universities of Europe with regard to this controverted
point: if they agreed to approve of the king's marriage with Catharine,
his remorses would naturally cease; if they condemned it, the pope would
find it difficult to resist the solicitations of so great a monarch,
seconded by the opinion of all the learned men in Christendom.[*] When
the king was informed of the proposal, he was delighted with it; and
swore, with more alacrity than delicacy that Cranmer had got the right
sow by the ear: he sent for that divine; entered into conversation with
him; conceived a high opinion of his virtue and understanding; engaged
him to write in defence of the divorce; and immediately, in prosecution
of the scheme proposed, employed his agents to collect the judgments of
all the universities in Europe.
* Fox, p. 1860 2d edit. Burnet, vol. i. p. 79. Speed, p.
769. Heylin, p. 5
Had the question of Henry's marriage with Catharine been examined by the
principles of sound philosophy, exempt from superstition, it seemed not
liable to much difficulty. The natural reason why marriage in certain
degrees is prohibited by the civil laws, and condemned by the moral
sentiments of all nations, is derived from men's care to preserve
purity of manners; while they reflect, that if a commerce of love
were authorized between near relations, the frequent opportunities of
intimate conversation, especially during early youth, would introduce a
universal dissoluteness and corruption. But as the customs of countries
vary considerably, and open an intercourse, more or less restrained,
between different families, or between the several members of the same
family, we find that the moral precept, varying with its cause, is
susceptible, without any inconvenience, of very different latitude in
the several ages and nations of the world. The extreme delicacy of the
Greeks permitted no communication between persons of different sexes,
except where they lived under the same roof; and even the apartments
of a step-mother and her daughters were almost as much shut up against
visits from the husband's sons, as against those from any stranger or
more distant relation: hence, in that nation, it was lawful for a man to
marry not only his niece, but his half-sister by the father; a liberty
unknown to the Romans, and other nations, where a more open intercourse
was authorized between the sexes. Reasoning from this principle, it
would appear, that the ordinary commerce of life among great princes
is so obstructed by ceremony and numerous attendants, that no ill
consequence would result among them from marrying a brother's widow;
especially if the dispensation of the supreme priest be previously
required, in order to justify what may in common cases be condemned, and
to hinder the precedent from becoming too common and familiar. And
as strong motives of public interest and tranquillity may frequently
require such alliances between the foreign families, there is the less
reason for extending towards them the full rigor of the rule which has
place among individuals.[*] [7]
* See note G, at the end of the volume.
But in opposition to these reasons, and many more which might be
collected, Henry had custom and precedent on his side, the principle by
which men are almost wholly governed in their actions and opinions. The
marrying of a brother's widow was so unusual, that no other instance of
it could be found in any history or record of any Christian nation;
and though the popes were accustomed to dispense with more essential
precepts of morality, and even permitted marriages within other
prohibited degrees, such as those of uncle and niece, the imaginations
of men were not yet reconciled to this particular exercise of his
authority.
{1530.} Several universities of Europe, therefore, without hesitation,
as well as without interest or reward,[*] gave verdict in the king's
favor; not only those of France, Paris, Orleans, Bourges, Toulouse,
Angiers, which might be supposed to lie under the influence of their
prince, ally to Henry; but also those of Italy, Venice, Ferrara, Padua;
even Bologna itself, though under the immediate jurisdiction of Clement.
Oxford alone[**] and Cambridge* made some difficulty; because these
universities, alarmed at the progress of Lutheranism, and dreading a
defection from the holy see, scrupled to give their sanction to
measures whose consequences they feared would prove fatal to the ancient
religion. Their opinion, however, conformable to that of the other
universities of Europe, was at last obtained; and the king, in order to
give more weight to all these authorities, engaged his nobility to write
a letter to the pope, recommending his cause to the holy father, and
threatening him with the most dangerous consequences in case of a denial
of justice.[***] The convocations, too, both of Canterbury and York,
pronounced the king's marriage invalid, irregular, and contrary to the
law of God, with which no human power had authority to dispense.[****]
* Herbert. Burnet.
** Wood, Hist. and Ant. Ox. lib. i. p. 225.
*** Burnet, vol. i, p. 6.
**** Rymer, vol. xiv. p. 405. Burnet, vol. i. p. 95.
But Clement, lying still under the influence of the emperor, continued
to summon the king to appear, either by himself or proxy, before his
tribunal at Rome; and the king, who knew that he could expect no fair
trial there, refused to submit to such a condition, and would not
even admit of any citation, which he regarded as a high insult, and a
violation of his royal prerogative. The father of Anne Boleyn, created
earl of Wiltshire, carried to the pope the king's reasons for not
appearing by proxy; and, as the first instance of disrespect from
England, refused to kiss his holiness's foot which he very graciously
held out to him for that purpose.[*]
The extremities to which Henry was pushed, both against the pope and the
ecclesiastical order, were naturally disagreeable to Cardinal Wolsey;
and as Henry foresaw his opposition, it is the most probable reason that
can be assigned for his renewing the prosecution against his ancient
favorite. After Wolsey had remained some time at Asher, he was allowed
to remove to Richmond, a palace which he had received as a present from
Henry, in return for Hampton Court; but the courtiers, dreading still
his vicinity to the king, procured an order for him to remove to his
see of York. The cardinal knew it was in vain to resist: he took up his
residence at Cawood, in Yorkshire, where he rendered himself extremely
popular in the neighborhood by his affability and hospitality;[**] but
he was not allowed to remain long unmolested in this retreat.
* Burnet, vol. i. p. 94.
** Cavendish. Stowe, p. 551.
The earl of Northumberland received, orders, without regard to Wolsey's
ecclesiastical character, to arrest him for high treason, and to conduct
him to London, in order to his trial. The cardinal, partly from the
fatigues of his journey, partly from the agitation of his anxious mind,
was seized with a disorder which turned into a dysentery; and he was
able, with some difficulty, to reach Leicester Abbey. When the abbot and
the monks advanced to receive him with much respect and reverence,
he told them that he was come to lay his bones among them; and he
immediately took to his bed, whence he never rose more. A little before
he expired, he addressed himself in the following words to Sir William
Kingston, constable of the Tower, who had him in custody. "I pray you
have me heartily recommended unto his royal majesty, and beseech him
on my behalf to call to his remembrance all matters that have passed
between us from the beginning, especially with regard to his business
with the queen; and then will he know in his conscience whether I have
offended him.
"He is a prince of a most royal carriage, and hath a princely heart; and
rather than he will miss or want any part of his will, he will endanger
the one half of his kingdom.
"I do assure you, that I have often kneeled before him, sometimes three
hours together, to persuade him from his will and appetite; but could
not prevail: had I but served God as diligently as I have served the
king, he would not have given me over in my gray hairs. But this is the
just reward that I must receive for my indulgent pains and study, not
regarding my service to God, but only to my prince. Therefore, let me
advise you, if you be one of the privy council, as by your wisdom you
are fit, take care what you put into the king's head; for you can never
put it out again."[*]
* Cavendish.
[Illustration: 1-376-tower.jpg THE TOWER OF LONDON]
Thus died this famous cardinal, whose character seems to have contained
as singular a variety as the fortune to which he was exposed. The
obstinacy and violence of the king's temper may alleviate much of the
blame which some of his favorite's measures have undergone; and when
we consider, that the subsequent part of Henry's reign was much more
criminal than that which had been directed by Wolsey's counsels, we
shall be inclined to suspect those historians of partiality, who
have endeavored to load the memory of this minister with such violent
reproaches. If, in foreign politics, he sometimes employed his influence
over the king for his private purposes, rather than his master's
service, which, he boasted, he had solely at heart, we must remember,
that he had in view the papal throne; a dignity which, had he attained
it, would have enabled him to make Henry a suitable return for all his
favors. The cardinal of Amboise, whose memory is respected in France,
always made this apology for his own conduct, which was, in some
respect, similar to Wolsey's; and we have reason to think, that Henry
was well acquainted with the views by which his minister was influenced,
and took a pride in promoting them. He much regretted his death, when
informed of it, and always spoke favorably of his memory; a proof that
humor, more than reason, or any discovery of treachery, had occasioned
the last persecutions against him.
{1531.} A new session of parliament was held, together with a
convocation; and the king here gave strong proofs of his extensive
authority, as well as of his intention to turn it to the depression
of the clergy. As an ancient statute, now almost obsolete, had been
employed to ruin Wolsey, and render his exercise of the legatine power
criminal, notwithstanding the king's permission, the same law was now
turned against the ecclesiastics. It was pretended, that every one who
had submitted to the legatine court, that is, the whole church, had
violated the statute of provisors; and the attorney-general accordingly
brought an indictment against them.[*] The convocation knew, that it
would be in vain to oppose reason or equity to the king's arbitrary
will, or plead that their ruin would have been the certain consequence
of not submitting to Wolsey's commission, which was procured by Henry's
consent, and supported by his authority. They chose, therefore, to throw
themselves on the mercy of their sovereign; and they agreed to pay
a hundred and eighteen thousand eight hundred and forty pounds for a
pardon.[**] A confession was likewise extorted from them, that the
king was the protector and the supreme head of the church and clergy of
England; though some of them had the dexterity to get a clause inserted,
which invalidated the whole submission, and which ran in these terms:
"in so far as is permitted by the law of Christ."
The commons, finding that a pardon was granted the clergy, began to
be apprehensive for themselves, lest either they should afterwards be
brought into trouble on account of their submission to the legatine
court, or a supply, in like manner, be extorted from them, in return for
their pardon. They therefore petitioned the king to grant a remission to
his lay subjects; but they met with a repulse. He told them, that if he
ever chose to forgive their offence, it would be from his own goodness,
not from their application, lest he should seem to be compelled to it.
Some time after, when they despaired of obtaining this concession, he
was pleased to issue a pardon to the laity; and the commons expressed
great gratitude for that act of clemency.[***]
{1532.} By this strict execution of the statute of provisors, a great
part of the profit, and still more of the power of the court of Rome
was cut off; and the connections between the pope and the English clergy
were in some measure dissolved. The next session found both king and
parliament in the same dispositions. An act was passed against levying
the annates or first-fruits,[****] being a year's rent of all the
bishoprics that fell vacant; a tax which was imposed by the court of Rome
for granting bulls to the new prelates, and which was found to amount to
considerable sums.
* Antiq. Brit. Eccles. p. 325. Burnet, vol. i. p. 106.
** Holingshed, p. 923.
*** Hall's Chronicle. Holingshed, p. 923. Baker, p. 208.
**** Burnet, vol. i. Collect. No. 41. Strype, vol. i. p.
144.
Since the second of Henry VII., no less than one hundred and sixty
thousand pounds had been transmitted to Rome on account of this claim;
which the parliament, therefore, reduced to five per cent. on all the
episcopal benefices. The better to keep the pope in awe, the king was
intrusted with a power of regulating these payments, and of confirming
or infringing this act at his pleasure; and it was voted, that any
censures which should be passed by the court of Rome on account of that
law, should be entirely disregarded, and that mass should be said, and
the sacraments administered, as if no such censures had been issued.
This session, the commons preferred to the king a long complaint against
the abuses and oppressions of the ecclesiastical courts; and they were
proceeding to enact laws for remedying them, when a difference arose,
which put an end to the session before the parliament had finished all
their business. It was become a custom for men to make such settlements,
or trust deeds, of their lands by will, that they defrauded not only the
king, but all other lords, of their wards, marriages, and reliefs; and
by the same artifice the king was deprived of his premier seizin, and
the profits of the livery, which were no inconsiderable branches of his
revenue. Henry made a bill be drawn to moderate, not remedy altogether,
this abuse; he was contented, that every man should have the liberty
of disposing in this manner of the half of his land; and he told the
parliament in plain terms, "if they would not take a reasonable thing
when it was offered, he would search out the extremity of the law; and
then would not offer them so much again." The lords came willingly into
his terms; but the commons rejected the bill; a singular instance, where
Henry might see that his power and authority, though extensive, had yet
some boundaries. The commons, however, found reason to repent of their
victory. The king made good his threats: he called together the judges
and ablest lawyers, who argued the question in chancery; and it was
decided that a man could not by law bequeath any part of his lands in
prejudice of his heir.[*]
* Burnet, vol. i. p. 116. Hall. Parl. Hist.
The parliament being again assembled after a short prorogation, the king
caused the two oaths to be read to them, that which the bishops took
to the pope, and that to the king, on their installation; and as a
contradiction might be suspected between them, while the prelates seemed
to swear allegiance to two sovereigns;[*] the parliament showed their
intention of abolishing the oath to the pope, when their proceedings
were suddenly stopped by the breaking out of the plague at Westminster,
which occasioned a prorogation. It is remarkable, that one Temse
ventured this session to move, that the house should address the king,
to take back the queen, and stop the prosecution of his divorce. This
motion made the king send for Audley, the speaker, and explain to him
the scruples with which his conscience had long been burdened; scruples,
he said, which had proceeded from no wanton appetite, which had arisen
after the fervors of youth were past, and which were confirmed by the
concurring sentiments of all the learned societies in Europe. Except in
Spain and Portugal, he added, it was never heard of, that any man had
espoused two sisters; but he himself had the misfortune, he believed,
to be the first Christian man that had ever married his brother's
widow.[**]
* Burnet, vol. i. p. 123, 124.
** Herbert. Hall, fol. 205.
After the prorogation, Sir Thomas More, the chancellor, foreseeing that
all the measures of the king and parliament led to a breach with
the church of Rome, and to an alteration of religion, with which his
principles would not permit him to concur, desired leave to resign the
great seal; and he descended from his high station with more joy and
alacrity than he had mounted up to it. The austerity of this man's
virtue, and the sanctity of his manners, had nowise encroached on the
gentleness of his temper, or even diminished that frolic and gayety to
which he was naturally inclined. He sported with all the varieties
of fortune into which he was thrown; and neither the pride naturally
attending a high station, nor the melancholy incident to poverty and
retreat, could ever lay hold of his serene and equal spirit. While his
family discovered symptoms of sorrow on laying down the grandeur and
magnificence to which they had been accustomed, he drew a subject of
mirth from their distresses; and made them ashamed of losing even a
moment's cheerfulness on account of such trivial misfortunes. The
king, who had entertained a high opinion of his virtue, received his
resignation with some difficulty; and he delivered the great seal soon
after to Sir Thomas Audley.
During these transactions in England, and these invasions of the
papal and ecclesiastical authority, the court of Rome was not without
solicitude; and she entertained just apprehensions of losing entirely
her authority in England; the kingdom which, of all others, had long
been the most devoted to the holy see and which had yielded it the most
ample revenue. While the imperial cardinals pushed Clement to proceed
to extremities against the king, his more moderate and impartial
counsellors represented to him the indignity of his proceedings; that
a great monarch, who had signalized himself, both by his pen and his
sword, in the cause of the pope, should be denied a favor which he
demanded on such just grounds, and which had scarcely ever before been
refused to any person of his rank and station. Notwithstanding these
remonstrances, the queen's appeal was received at Rome; the king was
cited to appear; and several consistories were held, to examine the
validity of their marriage. Henry was determined not to send any proxy
to plead his cause before this court: he only despatched Sir Edward
Karne and Dr. Bonner, in quality of excusators, (so they were called,)
to carry his apology, for not paying that deference to the papal
authority. The prerogatives of his crown, he said, must be sacrificed,
if he allowed appeals from his own kingdom; and as the question regarded
conscience, not power or interest, no proxy could supply his place, or
convey that satisfaction which the dictates of his own mind alone could
confer. In order to support himself in this measure, and add greater
security to his intended defection from Rome, he procured an interview
with Francis it Boulogne and Calais, where he renewed his personal
friendship as well as public alliance with that monarch, and concerted
all measures for their mutual defence. He even employed arguments, by
which he believed he had persuaded Francis to imitate his example in
withdrawing his obedience from the bishop of Rome, and administering
ecclesiastical affairs without having further recourse to that see. And
being now fully determined in his own mind, as well as resolute to stand
all consequences, he privately celebrated his marriage with Anne Boleyn,
whom he had previously created marchioness of Pembroke. Rouland Lee,
soon after raised to the bishopric of Coventry, officiated at the
marriage. The duke of Norfolk, uncle to the new queen, her father,
mother, and brother, together with Dr. Cranmer, were present at the
ceremony.[*]
* Herbert, p. 340, 341.
Anne became pregnant soon after her marriage, and this event both gave
great satisfaction to the king, and was regarded by the people as a
strong proof of the queen's former modesty and virtue.
{1533.} The parliament was again assembled; and Henry, in conjunction
with the great council of the nation, proceeded still in those gradual
and secure steps, by which they loosened their connections with the see
of Rome, and repressed the usurpations of the Roman pontiff. An act
was made against all appeals to Rome in causes of matrimony, divorces,
wills, and other suits cognizable in ecclesiastical courts; appeals
esteemed dishonorable to the kingdom, by subjecting it to a foreign
jurisdiction; and found to be very vexatious by the expense and the
delay of justice which necessarily attended them.[*] The more to show
his disregard to the pope, Henry, finding the new queen's pregnancy to
advance, publicly owned his marriage; and in order to remove all doubts
with regard to its lawfulness, he prepared measures for declaring, by
a formal sentence, the invalidity of his marriage with Catharine;
a sentence which ought naturally to have preceded his espousing of
Anne.[**]
The king, even amidst his scruples and remorses on account of his first
marriage, had always treated Catharine with respect and distinction; and
he endeavored, by every soft and persuasive art, to engage her to depart
from her appeal to Rome, and her opposition to his divorce. Finding
her obstinate in maintaining the justice of her cause, he had totally
forborne all visits and intercourse with her; and had desired her to
make choice of any one of his palaces, in which she should please
to reside. She had fixed her abode for some time at Amphill, near
Dunstable; and it was in this latter town that Cranmer, now created
archbishop of Canterbury, on the death of Warham,[**] [8] was appointed
to open his court for examining the validity of her marriage. The near
neighborhood of the place was chosen, in order to deprive her of all
plea of ignorance; and as she made no answer to the citation, either
by herself or proxy, she was declared "contumacious;" and the primate
proceeded to the examination of the cause.
* 24 Henry VIII. c. 12.
** Collier, vol. ii. p. 31, and Records, No. 8.
*** See note H, at the end of the volume.
The evidences of Arthur's consummation of his marriage were anew
produced; the opinions of the universities were read, together with
the judgment pronounced two years before by the convocations both
of Canterbury and York, and after these preliminary steps, Cranmer
proceeded to a sentence, and annulled the king's marriage with Catharine
as unlawful and invalid. By a subsequent sentence, he ratified the
marriage with Anne Boleyn, who soon after was publicly crowned queen,
with all the pomp and dignity suited to that ceremony.[*] To complete
the king's satisfaction on the conclusion of this intricate and
vexatious affair, she was safely delivered of a daughter, who received
the name of Elizabeth, and who afterwards swayed the sceptre with such
renown and felicity. Henry was so much delighted with the birth of this
child, that soon after he conferred on her the title of princess of
Wales,[**] a step somewhat irregular, as she could only be presumptive,
not apparent heir of the crown. But he had, during his former marriage,
thought proper to honor his daughter Mary with that title; and he was
determined to bestow on the offspring of his present marriage the same
mark of distinction, as well as to exclude the elder princess from all
hopes of the succession. His regard for the new queen seemed rather to
increase than diminish by his marriage; and all men expected to see the
entire ascendant of one who had mounted a throne from which her birth
had set her at so great a distance, and who, by a proper mixture of
severity and indulgence, had long managed so intractable a spirit as
that of Henry. In order to efface as much as possible all marks of his
first marriage, Lord Mountjoy was sent to the unfortunate and divorced
queen, to inform her, that she was thenceforth to be treated only as
princess dowager of Wales; and all means were employed to make her
acquiesce in that determination. But she continued obstinate in
maintaining the validity of her marriage; and she would admit no person
to her presence who did not approach her with the accustomed ceremonial.
Henry, forgetting his wonted generosity towards her, employed menaces
against such of her servants as complied with her commands in this
particular; but was never able to make her relinquish her title and
pretensions.[***]
* Heylin, p. 6.
** Burnet, vol. i, p. 134.
*** Herbert, p. 326. Burnet, vol. i. p. 132.
When intelligence was conveyed to Rome of these transactions, so
injurious to the authority and reputation of the holy see, the conclave
was in a rage, and all the cardinals of the imperial faction urged the
pope to proceed to a definitive sentence, and to dart his spiritual
thunders against Henry. But Clement proceeded no further than to declare
the nullity of Cranmer's sentence, as well as that of Henry's second
marriage; threatening him with excommunication, if before the first
of November ensuing he did not replace every thing in the condition in
which it formerly stood.[*] An event had happened from which the
pontiff expected a more amicable conclusion of the difference, and which
hindered him from carrying matters to extremity against the king.
The pope had claims upon the duchy of Ferrara for the sovereignty of
Reggio and Modena;[**] and having submitted his pretensions to the
arbitration of the emperor, he was surprised to find a sentence
pronounced against him. Enraged at this disappointment, he hearkened to
proposals of amity from Francis; and when that monarch made overtures of
marrying the duke of Orleans, his second son, to Catharine of Medicis,
niece of the pope, Clement gladly embraced an alliance by which his
family was so much honored. An interview was even appointed between the
pope and French king at Marseilles; and Francis, as a common friend,
there employed his good offices in mediating an accommodation between
his new ally and the king of England.
* Le Grand, vol. iii. p. 566.
** Burnet, vol. ii. p. 133. Guicciard.
Had this connection of France with the court of Rome taken place a few
years sooner, there had been little difficulty in adjusting the quarrel
with Henry. The king's request was an ordinary one; and the same plenary
power of the pope which had granted a dispensation for his espousing of
Catharine, could easily have annulled the marriage. But, in the progress
of the quarrel, the state of affairs was much changed on both sides.
Henry had shaken off much of that reverence which he had early imbibed
for the apostolic see; and finding that his subjects of all ranks
had taken part with him, and willingly complied with his measures for
breaking off foreign dependence, he had begun to relish his spiritual
authority, and would scarcely, it was apprehended, be induced to renew
his submissions to the Roman pontiff. The pope, on the other hand, now
ran a manifest risk of infringing his authority by a compliance with
the king; and as a sentence of divorce could no longer be rested on
nullities in Julius's bull, but would be construed as an acknowledgment
of papal usurpations, it was foreseen that the Lutherans would thence
take occasion of triumph, and would persevere more obstinately in their
present principles. But notwithstanding these obstacles, Francis did not
despair of mediating an agreement. He observed that the king had still
some remains of prejudice in favor of the Catholic church, and was
apprehensive of the consequences which might ensue from too violent
innovations. He saw the interest that Clement had in preserving the
obedience of England, which was one of the richest jewels in the papal
crown. And he hoped that these motives on both sides would facilitate a
mutual agreement, and would forward the effects of his good offices.
{1534.} Francis first prevailed on the pope to promise, that if the king
would send a proxy to Rome, and thereby submit his cause to the holy
see, he should appoint commissioners to meet at Cambray, and form the
process; and he should immediately afterwards pronounce the sentence of
divorce required of him. Bellay, bishop of Paris, was next despatched
to London, and obtained a promise from the king that he would submit his
cause to the Roman consistory, provided the cardinals of the imperial
faction were excluded from it. The prelate carried this verbal promise
to Rome; and the pope agreed that, if the king would sign a written
agreement to the same purpose, his demands should be fully complied
with. A day was appointed for the return of the messengers; and all
Europe regarded this affair, which had threatened a violent rupture
between England and the Romish church, as drawing towards an amicable
conclusion.[*] But the greatest affairs often depend on the most
frivolous incidents. The courier who carried the king's written promise
was detained beyond the day appointed: news was brought to Rome that
a libel had been published in England against the court of Rome, and a
farce acted before the king in derision of the pope and cardinals.[**]
* Father Paul, lib. i.
** Father Paul, lib, i.
The pope and cardinals entered into the consistory inflamed with anger;
and by a precipitate sentence the marriage of Henry and Catharine was
pronounced valid, and Henry declared to be excommunicated if he refused
to adhere to it. Two days after, the courier arrived; and Clement, who
had been hurried from his usual prudence, found that though he heartily
repented of this hasty measure, it would be difficult for him to retract
it, or replace affairs on the same footing as before.
It is not probable that the pope, had he conducted himself with ever so
great moderation and temper, could hope, during the lifetime of Henry,
to have regained much authority or influence in England. That monarch
was of a temper both impetuous and obstinate; and having proceeded
so far in throwing off the papal yoke, he never could again have been
brought tamely to bend his neck to it. Even at the time when he was
negotiating a reconciliation with Rome, he either entertained so little
hopes of success, or wa |
