THE UNIVERSAL PEACE
1515-1518
The death of Louis XII. was a severe blow to Wolsey. The French alliance
was not popular in England, and was bitterly opposed by the Duke of
Norfolk and the party of the old nobility, who saw with dislike the
growing influence of Wolsey. They now had an opportunity of reversing
his policy and securing his downfall. It required all Wolsey's sagacity
to devise a means of solving the difficulties which the death of Louis
created. The new King of France, Francis I., was aged twenty-one, and
was as ambitious of distinction as was Henry. The treaty between France
and England had not yet been carried out, and it would require much
dexterity to modify its provisions. The kings of the sixteenth century
were keen men of business, and never let money slip through their hands.
The widowed Queen of France must, of course, return to England, but
there were all sorts of questions about her dowry and the jewels which
Louis had given her. Henry claimed that she should bring back with her
everything to which any title could be urged: Francis I. wished to give
up as little as possible. The two monarchs haggled like two hucksters,
and neither of them had any care of the happiness or reputation of the
young girl round whom they bickered. In the background stood Wolsey's
enemies, who saw that if they could create a rupture between France and
England Wolsey's influence would be at an end.
In these dangerous conditions Wolsey had to seek an ally in Charles
Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, and had to trust to his private knowledge of
the character of Queen Mary. She had the strong will of the Tudors, and
had also their craving for admiration. These two qualities seem to have
drawn her in opposite directions. While her marriage with Prince Charles
was talked of she professed the greatest admiration for him, and gazed
with rapture on a very bad portrait of her intended husband. But this
did not prevent her from being attracted by the personal fascinations of
the Duke of Suffolk, as Wolsey knew. When he negotiated the French
alliance he had some difficulty in overcoming Mary's repugnance to an
old husband; but she viewed the proposal in a business-like way, and was
not indifferent to the position of Queen of France. She looked forward
to a speedy widowhood, and extracted from Henry a promise that, if she
undertook to marry for the first time to please him, she might choose
her second husband to please herself. When Mary was free the hopes of
the Duke of Suffolk revived, and Wolsey knowing this, chose him as the
best instrument for clearing away the difficulties raised by Francis I.,
and bringing back Mary honourably to England.
Francis, on his side, used his knowledge of the current rumour to
extract from Mary her confidences about Suffolk, and with this knowledge
approached Suffolk as a friend. By alternately encouraging Suffolk and
terrifying Mary he turned Wolsey's ambassador into an anxious lover.
Still Wolsey trusted that Suffolk would the more bestir himself to bring
Mary back, and would make such terms with Francis as would commend his
suit to Henry. But Wolsey's enemies led Henry to make exorbitant
demands, which Francis met by redoubling his persecution of Mary. At
last she asked Suffolk to marry her, which he did in secret. After this
Francis was free from any further need of conciliating Henry, who must
take back his sister on any terms, and Wolsey was left to appease Henry
as best he could. In April Mary and Suffolk returned to England, and in
May the luckless pair were publicly married. Wolsey manfully befriended
Suffolk in this matter, but the calculations of his diplomacy were
hopelessly upset by private feelings and the rashness of passion.
However, Mary received part of her dowry and some of her jewels. Francis
I. had no wish to quarrel with England, but only to make the best terms
for himself. He was bent upon gathering laurels in Italy, and on 5th
April renewed the alliance between France and England. This time,
however, the treaty was little more than a truce, and many questions
were left untouched; no mention was made of the return of Tournai, and
the question of Mary's jewels was left undecided. Francis I. counted on
keeping England quiet by an alliance which he formed at the same time
with Ferdinand, while he won over the Flemish counsellors of Prince
Charles, who betrothed himself to the infant daughter of Louis XII.,
Renée, a child of four.
Thus he had cleared the way for an expedition to Italy, where he longed
to claim for France the Duchy of Milan, that had been won and lost by
Louis XII. In July he set out contentedly, knowing that Henry was
powerless to interfere. He treated England with neglect, and gave Henry
no information of his movements. England looked on with growing jealousy
while Francis crossed the Alps and in September defeated the Swiss
mercenaries who held Milan in the name of the last Sforza Duke. The
battle of Marignano (14th September) was a splendid success for Francis,
who there beat back the Swiss infantry, hitherto considered invincible
in Europe. The star of France had risen, and Francis could look round
with proud superiority.
The princes of Europe were alarmed beyond measure at the completeness of
the French success. They had looked with equanimity at the preparations
of Francis, because they expected that he would be delayed, or, if he
attacked the Swiss, would be defeated. But his rapid march soon
convinced men that he was in earnest, and especially excited the fear of
Pope Leo X., whose ingenious policy of being secretly allied with
everybody was disturbed by this display of unexpected vigour. The alarm
of the Pope was useful to Wolsey. It awakened him to the need of making
the English king his friend, and fulfilling his desire to have Wolsey
created cardinal. Wolsey had not ceased, through his agent, the Bishop
of Worcester, to urge this point upon the Pope, and when Francis was
well advanced on his road to Milan the pleadings of Wolsey were
irresistible. "If the King of England forsake the Pope," wrote Wolsey to
the Bishop of Worcester, "he will be in greater danger on this day two
years than ever was Pope Julius." Leo X. had no wish to run the risks
which the impetuous Julius II. faced with unbroken spirit. He prepared
to keep himself supplied with allies to protect him against all
emergencies, and on 10th September nominated Wolsey cardinal sole, a
special mark of favour, as cardinals were generally created in batches
at intervals.
Wolsey's creation was not popular in the Roman Court. Cardinal
Bainbridge had been overbearing in manner and hasty in temper, and the
English were disliked for their outspokenness. England was regarded as a
political upstart, and Wolsey was considered to be a fitting emblem of
the country which he represented. Moreover, the attitude of England in
ecclesiastical matters was not marked by that subservience which the
Papacy wished to exact, and many doubted the expediency of exalting in
ecclesiastical authority an English prelate of such far-reaching views
as Wolsey was known to hold. An official of the Roman Court gives the
following account of the current opinion:--
"Men say that an English Cardinal ought not to be created lightly,
because the English behave themselves insolently in that dignity, as was
shown in the case of Cardinal Bainbridge just dead. Moreover, as Wolsey
is the intimate friend of the king, he will not be contented with the
Cardinalate alone, but, as is the custom of these barbarians, will wish
to have the office of legate over all England. If this be granted the
influence of the Roman Court will be at an end; if it be not granted the
Cardinal will be the Pope's enemy and will favour France. But despite
all this the Pope, in whose hands alone the matter was, created him
Cardinal on the seventh of September."
This elevation of Wolsey was due to the strong expression of desire on
the part of Henry, who further asked that legatine powers should be
given to the new cardinal. This Leo refused for the present; he had done
enough to induce Henry to enter into a secret league for the protection
of the Church, which meant a convenient pretext for attacking Francis if
he became too powerful in Italy. When this was arranged the red hat was
sent to England, and its reception gave Wolsey an opportunity of
displaying his love for magnificent ceremonial. On 17th November it was
placed on his head by Archbishop Warham in Westminster Abbey.
Ceremonial, however splendid, was but an episode in Wolsey's diplomatic
business. The news of the French victory at Marignano was so unpleasant
that Henry VIII. for some time refused to believe it to be true. When at
last it was impossible to doubt any longer, the necessity became urgent
to put a spoke in the wheel of Francis I. England was not prepared to go
to war with France without allies, and Wolsey developed his cleverness
in attaining his ends by secret means. Nothing could be done by uniting
with the cautious Ferdinand; but the flighty Maximilian was a more
hopeful subject. The only troops that could be used against France were
the German and Swiss mercenaries, men who made war a trade, and were
trained and disciplined soldiers. The first means of injuring France was
to prevent her from hiring Swiss soldiers, and the second was to induce
Maximilian to undertake an Italian expedition in his own interests. As
regards the Swiss, it was merely a matter of money, for they were ready
to sell themselves to the highest bidder. In like manner it was easy to
subsidise Maximilian, but it was difficult to hold him to his promise
and be sure that he would spend the money on the right purpose. Wolsey,
however, resolved to try and use Maximilian; he offered him the aid of a
large contingent of the Swiss if he would attack Milan. Knowing the
delicacy of the enterprise and the slipperiness of Maximilian, Wolsey
entrusted this matter to a man whose pertinacity had been already
tried,--Richard Pace, secretary of Cardinal Bainbridge, who had
stubbornly insisted on an investigation of the circumstances of his
master's death, and had annoyed the Roman Court by his watchful care of
his master's effects. Pace was sent to hire soldiers amongst the Swiss,
and Wolsey's ingenuity was sorely tried to supply him with money
secretly and safely.
The hindrances which beset Pace in carrying out his instructions
decorously were very many. Not the least troublesome was the want of
intelligence displayed by Sir Robert Wingfield, the English envoy to
Maximilian. Wingfield belonged to the old school of English officials,
honest and industrious, but entirely incapable of _finesse_. He did not
understand what Pace was about; he could not comprehend Wolsey's hints,
but was a blind admirer of Maximilian, and was made his tool in his
efforts to get the gold of England and do nothing in return. But Pace
was deaf to the entreaties of Maximilian and to the lofty remonstrances
of Wingfield. He raised 17,000 Swiss soldiers, who were to serve under
their own general, and whose pay was not to pass through Maximilian's
hands. Maximilian was sorely disappointed at this result, but led his
troops to join the Swiss in an attack on Milan. On 24th March 1516, the
combined army was a few miles from Milan, which was poorly defended, and
victory seemed secure. Suddenly Maximilian began to hesitate, and then
drew off his forces and retired. We can only guess at the motive of this
strange proceeding; perhaps he had never been in earnest, and only meant
to extract money from England. When Pace refused to pay he probably
negotiated with Francis I., and obtained money from him. Anyhow his
withdrawal was fatal to the expedition. The Germans at Brescia seized
the money which was sent to Pace for the payment of the Swiss. The Swiss
in anger mutinied, and Pace was for some days thrown into prison.
Maximilian vaguely promised to return, but the Swiss troops naturally
disbanded. Such was Maximilian's meanness that he threatened Pace, now
deserted and broken by disappointment, that if he did not advance him
money he would make peace with France. Pace, afraid to run the risk,
pledged Henry VIII. to pay 60,000 florins. All this time Wingfield was
convinced that it was Pace's ill-judged parsimony that had wrought this
disaster, and he continued to write in a strain of superior wisdom to
Wolsey. He even, at Maximilian's bidding, forged Pace's name to receipts
for money. Never was diplomat in more hopeless plight than the unlucky
Pace.
Wolsey saw that his plan had failed, but he put a good face upon his
failure. Maximilian enjoyed the advantage which consummate meanness
always gives for a moment. He put down the failure to niggardliness in
the supplies, and showed his goodwill towards Henry by treating him to
fantastic proposals. If Henry would only cross to Flanders with 6000
men, Maximilian would meet him with his army, set him up as Duke of
Milan, and resign the Empire in his favour. This preposterous scheme did
not for a moment dazzle the good sense of the English counsellors. Pace,
in announcing it to Wolsey, pointed out that the Emperor spoke without
the consent of the Electors, that Maximilian was thoroughly
untrustworthy, and that Henry in such an enterprise might imperil his
hold upon the English Crown, "which," writes Pace with pardonable pride,
"is this day more esteemed than the Emperor's crown and all his empire."
Henry was of the same opinion; and Maximilian failed on this plea "to
pluck money from the king craftily." Pace remained, and jingled English
money in Maximilian's ear, as a means of preventing him from turning to
France; but not a penny was Maximilian allowed to touch, to Sir Robert
Wingfield's great annoyance. Pace so far succeeded, that when, in
November 1516, Francis I. made an alliance with the Swiss, five of the
cantons stood aloof. Pace was rewarded for his labours and sufferings by
being made a secretary of state. Sir Robert Wingfield received a severe
rebuke from the king, which sorely disturbed his self-complacency. But
it is characteristic of Wolsey's absence of personal feeling that
Wingfield was not recalled from his post. Wolsey saw that he had been no
more foolish than most other Englishmen would have been in his place.
Meanwhile a change had taken place in the affairs of Europe which turned
the attention of France and England alike in a new direction. Ferdinand
the Catholic died in January 1516, and the preponderance of France had
so alarmed him that he laid aside his plan of dividing the power of the
House of Austria by instituting his second grandson, Ferdinand, King of
Spain. After the battle of Marignano he changed his will in favour of
his eldest grandson, the Archduke Charles, who now added the Spanish
kingdoms to his possession of the Netherlands. The young prince had just
emancipated himself from the tutelage of Maximilian, but was under the
influence of ministers who pursued a purely Flemish policy, and longed
to give peace to the Netherlands by an alliance with France. England was
connected with Flanders by commercial interests, and long negotiations
had been conducted with the Flemish Government for a close alliance. But
Charles's advisers were won over by France, and Charles himself was
attracted by the hope of a French marriage. His position was difficult,
as he was poor and helpless; he could not even go to take possession of
the Spanish Crowns without help from one side or the other. Had he been
older and wiser he would have seen that it was safer to accept the gold
of Henry VIII., from whose future projects he had nothing to fear,
rather than try and secure a precarious peace for the Netherlands by an
alliance with France. However, Charles turned a cold ear to the English
ambassadors, and his ministers secretly brought about a treaty with
France, which was signed at Noyon in August 1516.
The Treaty of Noyon was a further rebuff to Wolsey, England was passed
by in silence, and a tempting bait was laid to draw Maximilian also into
the French alliance, and so leave England entirely without allies.
Maximilian had been for some time at war with Venice about the
possession of the towns of Brescia and Verona. The Treaty of Noyon
provided that the Venetians should pay the Emperor 200,000 crowns and
remain in possession of the disputed territory. Maximilian used this
offer to put himself up to auction; he expressed his detestation of the
peace of Noyon, but pleaded that unless Henry came to his help he would
be driven by poverty to accept the proffered terms. Henry answered by a
proposal that Maximilian should earn the price he fixed upon his
services: let him come into the Netherlands, and work the overthrow of
the unworthy ministers who gave such evil advice to their sovereign.
Maximilian stipulated for the allowance which he was to receive for the
expenses of a journey to the Netherlands, for which he began to make
preparations. He raised all possible doubts and difficulties, and
received all the money he could extract on any pretext from Henry VIII.;
at last he secretly signed the Treaty of Noyon in December, and drew his
payments from both parties so long as he could keep his game unsuspected.
But Wolsey was not so much deceived as Maximilian thought, and showed no
discomfiture when Maximilian's shiftiness at length came to light. If
Maximilian would not be faithful it was well that his untrustworthiness
should be openly shown, and Francis I., who was watching his manoeuvres,
could not feel proud of his new ally. He knew what he had to expect from
Maximilian when the 200,000 crowns were spent. The money that had been
spent on Maximilian was not wasted if it gave him an encouragement to
display his feebleness to the full.
So Henry maintained a dignified attitude, and showed no resentment. He
received Maximilian's excuses with cold politeness, and waited for
Francis I. to discover the futility of his new alliances. Maximilian was
clearly of no account. Charles had gained all that he could gain from
his league with France towards quieting the Netherlands; for his next
step, a journey to Spain, he needed the help of England, and soon
dropped his attitude of indifference. After thwarting England as much as
he could, he was driven to beg for a loan to cover the expenses of his
journey, and England showed no petty resentment for his past conduct.
The loan was negotiated, Charles's ambassadors were honourably received,
it was even proposed that he should visit Henry on his way. This honour
Charles cautiously declined on the ground of ill health; but all the
other marks of Henry's goodwill were accepted with gratitude, and in
September 1517 Charles set out on his voyage to Spain, where he found
enough to employ his energies for some time.
This conciliatory attitude of England was due to a perception that the
time had come when simple opposition to France was no longer useful.
England had so far succeeded as to prevent the French ascendency from
being complete; she had stemmed the current, had shown Francis I. the
extent of her resources, and had displayed unexpected skill. Moreover,
she had made it clear that neither she nor France could form a
combination sufficiently powerful to enable the one to crush the other,
and had given Francis I. a lesson as to the amount of fidelity he might
expect from his allies. When it was clear to both sides that there was
no hope for far-reaching schemes, it was natural for the two powers to
draw together, and seek a reasonable redress for the grievances which
immediately affected them.
Chief amongst these on the French side was the possession of Tournai by
the English, glorious, no doubt, as a trophy of English valour, but of
very doubtful advantage to England. Negotiations about its restoration
were begun as early as March 1517, and were conducted with profound
secrecy. Of course Charles hoped to get Tournai into his own hands, and
did not wish it to be restored to France. It was necessary to keep him
in ignorance of what was going on, and not till he had sailed to Spain
were there any rumours of what was passing.
Wolsey and Henry VIII. deceived the ambassadors of Charles and of Venice
by their repeated professions of hostility against France, and Charles's
remonstrances were answered by equivocations, so that he had no
opportunity for interfering till the matter had been agreed upon as part
of a close alliance between England and France. The negotiations for
this purpose were long and intricate, and form the masterpiece of
Wolsey's diplomatic skill. They were made more difficult by the outbreak
in England of a pestilence, the sweating sickness, before which Henry
fled from London and moved uneasily from place to place. Wolsey was
attacked by it in June so seriously that his life was despaired of;
scarcely was he recovered when he suffered from a second attack, and
soon after went on a pilgrimage to Walsingham to perform a vow and enjoy
change of air. But with this exception, he stuck manfully to his work in
London, where, beside his manifold duties in internal administration, he
directed the course of the negotiations with France.
In fact Wolsey alone was responsible for the change of policy indicated
by the French alliance. He had thoroughly carried the king with him; but
he was well aware that his course was likely to be exceedingly
unpopular, and that on him would fall the blame of any failure. Henry
did not even inform his Council of his plans. He knew that they would
all have been opposed to such a sudden change of policy, which could
only be justified in their eyes by its manifest advantage in the end.
Wolsey was conscious that he must not only conclude an alliance with
France, but must show beyond dispute a clear gain to England from so
doing.
Wolsey's difficulties were somewhat lessened by the birth of an heir to
the French Crown in February 1518. France could now offer, as a
guarantee for her close alliance with England, a proposal of marriage
between the Dauphin and Henry's only daughter Mary. Still the
negotiations cautiously went on while Wolsey drove the hardest bargain
that he could. They were not finished till September, when a numerous
body of French nobles came on a splendid embassy to London. Never had
such magnificence been seen in England before as that with which Henry
VIII. received his new allies. Even the French nobles admitted that it
was beyond their power to describe. Wolsey entertained the company at a
sumptuous supper in his house at Westminster, "the like of which," says
the Venetian envoy, "was never given by Cleopatra or Caligula, the whole
banqueting hall being decorated with huge vases of gold and silver."
After the banquet a band of mummers, wearing visors on their faces,
entered and danced. There were twelve ladies and twelve gentlemen,
attended by twelve torch-bearers; all were clad alike "in fine green
satin, all over covered with cloth of gold, undertied together with
laces of gold." They danced for some time and then removed their masks,
and the evening passed in mirth. Such were the festivities of the
English Court, which Shakespeare has reproduced, accurately enough, in
his play of _Henry VIII._
But these Court festivities were only preliminary to the public
ceremonies whereby Wolsey impressed the imagination of the people. The
proclamation of the treaty and the marriage of the Princess Mary by
proxy were both the occasions of splendid ceremonies in St. Paul's
Cathedral. The people were delighted by pageantry and good cheer; the
opposition of old-fashioned politicians was overborne in the prevailing
enthusiasm; and men spoke only of the triumph of a pacific policy which
had achieved results such as warfare could not have won. Indeed, the
advantages which England obtained were substantial. France bought back
Tournai for 600,000 crowns, and entered into a close alliance with
England, which cut it off from interference in the affairs of Scotland,
which was included in the peace so long as it abstained from
hostilities. But more important than this was the fact that Wolsey
insisted on the alliance between France and England being made the basis
of a universal peace. The Pope, the Emperor, the King of Spain, were all
invited to join, and all complied with the invitation.
None of them, however, complied with goodwill, least of all Pope Leo X.,
whose claim to be the official pacifier of Europe was rudely set aside
by the audacious action of Wolsey. Leo hoped that the bestowal of a
cardinal's hat had established a hold on Wolsey's gratitude; but he soon
found that he was mistaken, and that his cunning was no match for
Wolsey's force. No sooner had Wolsey obtained the cardinalate than he
pressed for the further dignity of papal legate in England. Not
unnaturally Leo refused to endow with such an office a minister already
so powerful as to be almost independent; but Wolsey made him pay for his
refusal. Leo wanted money, and the pressure of the Turk on Southern
Europe lent a colour to his demand of clerical taxation for the purposes
of a crusade. In 1517 he sent out legates to the chief kings of
Christendom; but Henry refused to admit Cardinal Campeggio, saying that
"it was not the rule of this realm to admit legates _à latere_." Then
Wolsey intervened and suggested that Campeggio might come if he would
exercise no exceptional powers, and if his dignity were shared by
himself. Leo was forced to yield, and Campeggio's arrival was made
the occasion of stately ceremonies which redounded to Wolsey's
glorification. Campeggio got little for the crusade, but served to grace
the festivities of the French alliance, and afterwards to convey the
Pope's adhesion to the universal peace. Wolsey had taken matters out of
the Pope's hand, and Leo was driven to follow his lead with what grace
he could muster. Perhaps as he sighed over his discomfiture he consoled
himself with the thought that the new peace would not last much longer
than those previously made: if he did, he was right in his opinion.