Cassell's Illustrated History of England/Volume 2/Chapter 7
CHAPTER VII.
REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH.
No prince ever ascended a throne under more auspicious circumstances than Henry VIII. While his father had strengthened the throne, he had made himself extremely unpopular. The longer he lived, the more the selfish meanness and the avarice of his character had become conspicuous, and excited the disgust of his subjects. His insatiable robberies of the wealthy by the instrumentality of Dudley and Empson made him as much hated as he was despised. But at the same time he had wonderfully consolidated the throne by the union of the houses of York and Lancaster, by cultivating peace, and by hoarding up an immense treasure. He died the meanest and the richest prince in Christendom. Besides the money he had laid up, he had improved the landed revenues of the crown by the attainders and forfeitures of the Yorkist nobility. To his son, Henry VIII, these circumstances at once presented a platform of vast power from which to start on his royal career, and a most advantageous foil to his own character.
Henry was young, handsome, accomplished, and gay. He was in many respects the very opposite of his father, and the people always give to a young prince every virtue under the sun. Accordingly, Henry, who was only eighteen, was regarded as a fine, buxom young fellow; frank, affable, generous, capable of everything, and disposed to the best. The people flattered themselves that they had got another Prince Hal, who, though notoriously addicted to pleasure, had in him all the elements of a great, popular, and glorious king. The jealousy of his father, as in the case of Prince Hal, had kept him back from the exercise of any affairs of state, or of popular influence; he had, therefore, had the more time to devote to his education, and report gave him credit for no ordinary acquirements. The very ardour and vehemence of his disposition, which afterwards developed themselves into such terrible violence and sanguinary brutality of character, were as yet regarded only as the warmth of youth, indicative of generosity and independence, the promises of many princely virtues; and for a time all the measures of the young king corroborated such prognostics of good. His grandmother, the Countess of Richmond and Derby, was highly esteemed for her virtue and prudence, and Henry appeared quite disposed to be guided by her sage experience in the conduct of the national affairs. By her advice he continued in his council the men who had been the counsellors of his father. Warham, the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Earl of Shrewsbury, Lord Herbert, Sir Thomas Level, Sir Edward Poynings, Sir Henry Marney, Sir Thomas Darcy, and Sir Henry Wyatt, surrounded his council-board, and occupied the chief offices of the State. But still more influential were the Earl of Surrey and Bishop Fox.
Fox was grown old, and under Henry VII. had, grown habitually parsimonious. He, therefore, attempted to keep a tight rein on the young monarch, and discouraged all mere schemes of pleasure which necessarily brought expense. But the old proverb, that a miser is sure to be succeeded by a spendthrift, was not likely to be falsified in Henry. He was full of health, youth, vigour, and affluence. He was disposed to enjoy all the gaieties and enjoyments which a brilliant Court, and the resources of a great kingdom, spread around him, and in this tendency he found in the Earl of Surrey a far more facile counsellor than in Fox. He saw at a glance the real character of Henry: that he was full of passion and impetuosity, and that you might just as well attempt to chain the winds, or dam a mountain torrent, as to keep him quiet, sober, and virtuous. As he had fallen in with the sordid, scraping views of the old Henry, he now, as an adroit courtier, as readily encouraged the young man to sow his wild oats. Under his fostering hand, and followed and applauded by a shoal of other courtiers, who hailed with acclamation the opening reign of pleasure, Henry soon launched forth into an ocean of gaieties and courtly festivities which were enough to make his penurious father groan in his grave. Those rows of strong and capacious iron chests in the palace of Richmond, began now to open and shut quickly, and the riches of the first of the Tudors threatened "to make themselves wings and fly away."
One scene of pleasure and pageantry succeeded to another. Henry was charged from the sole of the foot to the crown of the head with ambition. He was burning to distinguish himself a hundred ways. He was proud of his own person, proud of his abilities for all purposes, proud of his learning, proud of his accomplishment in all chivalrous practices, proud of his position as one of the greatest monarchs in the world. He had therefore tilts and tournaments, dances and carousals, masquerades and huntings, in all of which he was determined to take the first place. To joust with the spear at the tournament, to fight with axes at the barriers, to lead the chase, and bring down his stag, all the ladies and the courtiers looking on in real or affected wonder; to figure in the dance or the mummery, to sing and play on musical instruments, to win at tennis or at chess, were so many modes in which his vanity indulged itself. Nor did he stop there. He entered the lists with men of learning, of science, and divinity. He wrote church music, which was sung in his chapel, and songs to popular airs, which were carolled in his halls; he competed in poetry with the brightest spirits of the age, and we have some fragments of his verse which are far from despicable. He discussed the beauties of the literature of Greece and Rome with his most learned men, and he entered eagerly into the religious questions of the age, a circumstance which afterwards led to the most remarkable consequences. He was at peace with all the world, but he believed he had a genius for war, and dreamed ever amid these frolics and carousals of his unripe years, of one day emulating the glories of the greatest Edwards and Henries.
All this made deep inroads into his parental treasures, but it augmented his popularity, and he vastly extended that by bringing to justice the two great extortioners of the last reign. To prepare the way for this, he appointed commissioners to hear the complaints of those who had suffered from the grievous exactions of the late reign; but these complaints were so loud and so universal that he was soon convinced that it would be impossible to make full restitution; and he therefore resolved to appease the injured in some degree by punishing the injurers. A number of the most notorious informers were therefore seized, set on horses, and paraded through the streets of London, on the 6th of June, with their faces to the horses' tails. That done, they were set in the pillory, and left to the vengeance of the people, who so maltreated them that they all died soon after in prison. The fate of the two main instruments of popular oppression was suspended by the coronation, which took place on the 24th of the same month.
Henry had been married to Catherine of Arragon on the 3rd of the month at Greenwich. Whatever pretences Henry made in after years of his scruples about this marriage—Catherine having been the wife of his elder brother, Prince Arthur—he seems to have felt or expressed none now. Archbishop Warham had protested against it on that ground in Henry VII.'s time; but though the princess was eight years older than himself, there is every reason to believe that Henry was now anxious for the match. Catherine was at this time very agreeable in person, and was distinguished for the excellence of her disposition and the spotless purity and modesty of her life. She was the daughter of one of the most powerful sovereigns of Europe; and the alliance of Spain was held to be essentially desirable to counteract the power of France. Besides this, the princess had a large dower, which must be restored if she were allowed to return home. The majority of his council, therefore, zealously concurred with him in his wish to complete this marriage; and his grandmother, the sagacious Countess of Richmond, was one of its warmest advocates. "There were few women," says Lord Herbert, "who could compete with Queen Catherine when in her prime; and Henry himself, writing to her father a short time after the marriage, sufficiently expresses his satisfaction at the union:—"As regards that sincere love which we have to the most serene queen, our consort, her eminent virtues daily more shine forth, blossom, and increase so much, that if we were still free, her would we yet choose for our wife before all others." The conduct of Henry for many years, indeed, bore out this profession.
The coronation was conducted with groat splendour; but the rejoicings for it were interrupted by the death of the Countess of Richmond, which took place on the 29th of June, only five days afterwards. Whilst the people were in high good humour with these galas, the Court proceeded to the trials of Dudley and Empson. If they had been fairly tried and condemned for their long career of villany and extortion, nothing could have been more satisfactory to the public. But these two men were lawyers, and they were no sooner brought into court than they confounded their judges by the force of the plea they set up. To condemn them, they must still more condemn the king's late father; for they were prepared to prove the notorious fact that they had only been his obedient instruments; and that whatever they had done, they had done at his express command, and for his benefit. He was the man who had received the gross amount of the wealth wrested from the groaning people. With the caution of astute men, who knew they were engaged in a hazardous business, they had taken care to preserve all the orders and warrants of the king for their transactions.
Empson, who was as plausible as he was daring and impudent, was no sooner put on his defence before the council than he produced his guarantees and vouchers, and threw the whole burden of the guilt on the late monarch. "The crime," he then said, "for which we are accused, and for which we are to be tried, is of a very extraordinary nature. Others are arraigned for violating the laws, but we are to be condemned for putting them in execution, though our offices made it imperative upon us, and we were bound by the express commands of the sovereign, to whom the execution of the law is committed by the constitution. If we are to be sacrificed to the clamours of those whom our duty has obliged us to punish, I entreat that the cause of our suffering may be kept a profound secret; for, otherwise, if it become known in "foreign countries, it will be concluded that all law and government are at an end in England."
The matter was so palpable, that the council having remanded the prisoners, concluded to shift the ground of accusation, and to try them on a charge of which they were as innocent as they were really guilty on the true ground of accusation. They were now indicted for high treason, and it was alleged that they had in March last, when the late king lay on his death-bed, summoned their friends to be ready in arms to march to London, and to seize the person of the young king, either for the purpose of continuing through that means their unrighteous rule, or of putting him to death. On so flimsy and improbable a ground were these two arch-knaves accused, and witnesses were in readiness to swear all this. Dudley was tried at the Guildhall, in London, on the 16th of July; and Empson at Northampton, on the 1st of October. Both were found guilty and committed to the Tower, where they lay for upwards of ten months, and then were beheaded on the 18th of August, 1510. Though they were not condemned for the crimes they had really done, it was enough for the people that they were punished for them. It was on that account and no other that they died.
To make the satisfaction complete, Henry summoned a Parliament, in which the chief topic was the prevention in future of such abominable exactions, and the obsolete penal statutes on which these men had acted were formally repealed. The whole number of temporal peers who were summoned to this Parliament was only thirty-six—one duke, one marquis, eight earls, and twenty-six barons.
Henry was now at peace with all the world. At home and abroad, so far as he was concerned, all was tranquillity. No English monarch had ever been more popular, powerful, and prosperous. Nothing could show more the advance which England had made of late in strength and importance than the deference paid to Henry by the greatest princes on the Continent, and their anxiety to cultivate his alliance. The balance of power in Europe appeared more widely established than at any former period. England had freed herself of her intestine divisions, and stood compact and vigorous from united political power and the active spirit of commerce. The people were thriving; the crown, owing to the cares of Henry VII., was rich. Spain had united its several provinces into one potent state, which was ruled by the crafty but able Ferdinand. France had done the same work of consolidation under Louis XII., by his marriage with Anne of Brittany, and the incorporation of her duchy. Maximilian, the Emperor of Germany, with his hereditary dominions of Austria, possessed the weight given him by his imperial office over all Germany; and his son Charles, heir at once of Austria, Spain, and the Netherlands, was at this time the ruler of Burgundy and the Netherlands, under the guardianship of his aunt, Margaret of Savoy, a princess of high character for sense and virtue. Henry had taken the earliest opportunity of renewing the treaties made by his father with all these princes, and with Scotland; and declared that he was resolved to maintain peace with them, and to cultivate the interests of his subjects at home.
How great and glorious a monarch would he have been had he possessed the wisdom to persist in this idea! By holding himself free from any partisanship on the Continent, he was in a position to act as arbiter betwixt his contending neighbours, and might have assumed a more influential and beneficent position than any other prince—a position as illustrious to himself as advantageous to his country. But Henry, though for some years he was leading a life of pleasure and gaiety at home, was charged with every egotistic principle which disturbs the rest of princes and nations. His personal vanity was enormous. In all the endless series of revelries, pageants, balls, and maskings which filled the court for a couple of years, he was the great object of attraction; they were his accomplishments which were to be displayed. The queen and her ladies, the foreign ambassadors and the distinguished nobility, were often called upon to witness his feats of arms, his contests at the barriers with the battle-axe, or the two-handed sword; and he was proclaimed invincible on such occasions—for who would presume to defeat the king? It was soon suggested by his flatterers that the same prowess carried into a more glorious field would speedily renew all the renown of Creçy and Azincourt. The delicious poison of adulation fell sweetly on the proud mind of Henry; and by the acts of those whose interests were to fish in troubled waters, he was soon involved in a long career of wars and Continental entanglements. The life of Henry may indeed be divided into three eras—the first and shortest, that of mere pleasure and vanity; the second, of martial contest; and the third, a dark and ever-deepening descent into tyranny and bloodshed, in which he was busily at work deposing and decapitating queens and ministers. In his youth, like a tiger not yet fully grown, he was sportive but rather dangerous; in his manhood, like the tiger having tasted blood, he was become terrible, for his playfulness had disappeared; and in his age, having long accustomed himself to strike down and devour all that approached him, he was vindictive, ferocious, and sanguinary almost beyond example.
The first means of exciting him to mingle in the distraction of the Continent were found in the fact that Louis XII. of France was reluctant to continue the annual payment of £80,000 which he made to his father. Henry had made a considerable vacuum in the treasury chests of his father, and was not willing to forego this convenient subsidy. There were those on the watch ready to stimulate him to hostile action. Pope Julius II., and Ferdinand of Spain, had their own reasons for fomenting ill-will betwixt Louis of France and Henry. Louis had added Milan, and part of the north of Italy, to the French crown. Ferdinand had become possessed of Naples and Sicily, first, by aiding the French in conquering them, and then by driving out the French. Pope Julius was equally averse to the presence of the French and Spaniards in Italy, but he was, at the same 
Great Seal of Henry VIII.
time, jealous of the spreading power of Venice, and therefore concealed his ultimate designs against France and Spain, so that he might engage Louis and Ferdinand to aid him in humbling Venice. For this purpose he engaged Louis, Ferdinand, and Maximilian of Austria to enter into a league at Cambray, as early as December, 1508, by which they engaged to assist him in regaining the dominions of the church from the Venetians. Henry, who had no interest in the matter, was induced, in course of time, to add his name to this league, as a faithful son of the church.
No sooner had Julius driven back the Venetians, and reduced them to seek for peace, than he found occasion to quarrel with the French, and a new league was formed to protect the Pope from what he termed the ambitious designs of the French, into which Ferdinand, Maximilian, and Henry entered. Louis XII., seeing this powerful alliance arrayed against him, determined to carry a war of another nature into the camp of the militant Pope Julius. He induced a number of the cardinals to declare against the violence and aggressive spirit of the pontiff, as totally unbecoming his sacred character. But Julius, who, though now old, had all the resolution and the ambition of youth, set this schismatic conclave at defiance. He declared Pisa, where the opposing cardinals had summoned a council, and every other place to which they transferred themselves under an interdict. He excommunicated all cardinals and prelates who should attend any such council, and not only they, but any temporal prince or chief who should receive, shelter, or countenance them.
Curious Antique Clock, belonging to Henry VIII.
At the same time that Julius launched his thunders thus liberally at his disobedient cardinals, he made every court in Europe ring with his outcries against the perfidy and lawless ambition of Louis, who, not content with seizing on Milan, he now asserted, was striving to make himself master of the domains of the holy Mother Church. Henry was prompt in responding to this appeal. He regarded the claims of the church as sacred and binding on all Christian princes; he had his own demands on Louis, and he was naturally disposed to co-operate with his father-in-law, Ferdinand. But beyond this, he was greatly flattered by the politic Pope declaring him "the head of the Italian league;" and assuring him that Louis by his hostility to the church, having forfeited the "Most Christian King", he would transfer it to him.
Henry was perfectly intoxicated by these skilful addresses to his vanity, and condescended to a piece of deception, which, though often practised by potentates and statesmen, is at all times unworthy of any Englishman; he joined the Kings of Scotland and Spain, in recommending Louis to make peace with the Pope, on condition that Bologna should be restored to the Church, the council of cardinals at Pisa be dissolved, and the cause of Alphonso, the Duke of Ferrara, whose territories-Julius, the fighting Pope, had invaded, should be referred to impartial judges. These propositions on the
Henry VIII.
part of Henry were made by Young, the English ambassador; but Louis, on his part, was perfectly aware at this very time that Henry was not only in alliance with the Pope and Spain, but had engaged to join Ferdinand in an invasion of France at spring. He therefore treated the hollow overture with just contempt.
Henry was at this time in profound peace with Louis. He had but a few months before renewed his treaty with him, yet he was at the very time that he sent his hypocritical proposal of arbitration, diligently, though secretly, preparing for war with him. He sent a commission to gentlemen in each county on June 20th, 1511, to array and exercise all the men-at-arms and archers in their county, and to make a return of their names, and the quality of their aims, before the 1st of August.
On opening his plans to his council, he there met with strong dissuasion from war against France, and on very rational grounds. It was contended that "the natural situation of islands seems not to consort with conquests on the Continent. If we will enlarge ourselves, let it be in the way for which Providence hath fitted us, which is by sea." Never was sounder or more enlightened council given to an English king. Had our rulers always borne this in mind, we should now inherit from our ancestors a larger glory and a lessor debt. But such language was in vain addressed to the ears of Henry, which had been assiduously tickled by the emissaries of Pope Julius and Ferdinand the Artful, who assured him that nothing would be more easy, while they attacked France in other quarters, than to recover all the provinces once possessed there. He hastened to form a separate treaty with his cunning father-in-law, who had his own scheme in it, and this treaty was signed on the 10th of November, 1511. The preamble of this treaty was a fine specimen of the solemn pretences with which men attempt to varnish over their unprincipled designs. It represented Louis as an enemy to God and religion, a cruel and unrelenting persecutor of the Church, one who despised all admonition, and had rejected the generous offer of the Pope to pardon all his sins. It then added, that "knowing how detrimental such conduct must prove to the Catholic faith, to the Church of God, and the welfare of Christendom, they had thought proper to agree upon the following articles, to the praise and glory of Almighty God, of our Lord Jesus Christ, and of the whole triumphant court of heaven."
And what was this pious scheme, so greatly to the glory of God and of all heaven? It was professedly to seize on the French province of Guienne, in which Ferdinand promised to help Henry, but in reality to seize Navarre, in which Ferdinand meant Henry to help him, but took care not to say so. The old man, long practised in every art of royal treachery, was far too knowing for the vain-glorious young man his son-in-law.
Things being put into this train, Henry sent a herald to Louis, to command him not to make war upon the Pope, whom he styled "the father of all Christians." Louis, who was well acquainted with all that was going on, knew that Pope Julius was as much a soldier and a politician as a Pope. He was the most busy, scheming, restless, and ambitious old man of his time. He not only made war on his neighbours, but attended the field in person, watched the progress of sieges, saw his attendants fall by his very side, and inspected all his outposts with the watchful diligence of a prudent general. Louis knew that he was at the bottom of all these leagues against him, and he only smiled at Henry's message. This herald was therefore speedily followed by another, demanding the surrender of Anjou, Maine, Normandy, and Guienne, as Henry's lawful inheritance. This, of course, was tantamount to a declaration of war, and the formal declaration only awaited the sanction of Henry by Parliament. Parliament was therefore summoned by him on the 4th of February, 1512, and was opened by Warham, Archbishop of Canterbury, with a sermon, the extraordinary text of which was—"Righteousness and peace hath kissed each other."
On this peaceful text the prelate held forth for an hour and a half; Stowe says, "to his great commendation and the singular comfort of his hearers." But on the fifteenth day of the session, this note of promised tranquillity was disturbed by the chancellor producing in the Lords an apostolic brief, charged with the most grievous complaints of the injuries done to the Pope and the Church by the King of France. The chancellor then disclosed the fact that this was the real cause for the summoning of this Parliament; and, accompanied by the treasurer and some other members, he went to the Commons and made this same statement. Henry now found a very different reception of his warlike purposes to what he had done in the council. Both Houses displayed all the old passion for war with France. The nobility and gentry had not yet been sufficiently taught the folly of seeking to enrich themselves by the plunder of that country; the nation was yet resentful of the loss of our possessions there, and far from comprehending that we were much better without them; that, as the council had wisely suggested, a far more superb and affluent dominion lay for us in the ocean. Two-tenths and two-fifteenths were cheerfully granted Henry for prosecuting the war, and the clergy in convocation voted a subsidy of £23,000.
Thus zealously supported and encouraged, Henry despatched Clarenceaux, King-at-arms, to Louis, with a declaration of war, and sent an army of 10,000 men, chiefly archers, with a train of artillery, under command of the Marquis of Dorset, to co-operate with the Spaniards for the reduction of Guienne. These troops embarked at Southampton, May 16th, 1512, and soon landed safely at Guipuscoa, whilst the fleet under the Lord Admiral, Sir Edward Howard, cruised during the summer off the coast. With the English army, besides the commander-in-chief, the Marquis of Dorset, there were Lord Howard, son of the Earl of Surrey, the Lord Broke, the Lord Ferrers, and many gentlemen of the noblest families of England. They were all eager to be led against Guienne, the avowed object of the expedition, and Ferdinand promised them a speedy union of his own forces. Meantime he ordered them to encamp at Fontarabia, near the mouth of the Bidassoa. Dorset proposed at once to cross that river into France, and to proceed to the siege of Bayonne; but, as he had not sufficient numbers or artillery himself to attempt a regular investment of the place, he was compelled to wait for the arrival of the Spanish army. But Ferdinand's real object was a very different one: his intention was not to secure Guienne for his duped son-in-law, but Navarre for himself.
Navarre was a separate kingdom in possession of John d'Albret, who had married the heiress, the Infanta Catalina; and, justly suspicious of the covetous intentions of the King of Spain, he had sought to fortify himself against it by a secret treaty with the King of France. While, therefore, Dorset and his army were impatiently waiting for the Spanish reinforcements, they received from Ferdinand a message that it would not be safe for them to quit the Spanish frontiers until they had secured the neutrality of the King of Navarre, who was also Lord of Bearne, on the French side of the Pyrenees. The English had thus to wait while Ferdinand demanded of D'Albret a pledge of strict neutrality during the present war. D'Albret readily assented to this; but Ferdinand then demanded security for his keeping this neutrality. To this also John of Navarre freely acceded; which was again followed by a demand from Ferdinand, that this security should consist of the surrender of six of the most considerable places in his dominions into the hands of the Spaniards, and of his son as a hostage. The King of Navarre was compelled to refuse so unreasonable a requisition, and therefore Ferdinand, professing to believe that D'Albret meant to cut off the communication of the Spanish army with Spain if it ventured into France, and showing that he had obtained a copy of the secret treaty of D'Albret with Louis, immediately ordered the Duke of Alva to invade Navarre, who soon made himself master of the smaller towns and the open country, and then summoned, to their great astonishment, the England to march into Navarre, and assist him to reduce Pampeluna.
Dorset now perceived the real game that was being played. Having no orders, however, to do anything but attack Guienne, he positively refused to move a foot for the reduction of Navarre, and demanded afresh the supplies of artillery and horse which had been guaranteed for that enterprise. But Ferdinand with all suavity replied, that it was quite out of the question to furnish him with any till Navarre was made secure; that was the first necessary step, and that effected, he should be prepared to march with him to Bayonne, Bordeaux, and to the conquest of all Guienne.
These representations only increased the disgust of Dorset and his army: but they could do nothing but await the event, and saw themselves thus most adroitly posted by Ferdinand, as the necessary guard of his position against the French, whilst he accomplished his long-desired acquisition of Navarre. So Alva went on leisurely reducing Pampeluna, Ferdinand still calling on Dorset to accelerate the business by marching to Alva's support.
Thus the summer was passed in mutual recriminations. The English, too inconsiderable in force to attempt the siege of Bayonne alone, lay inactive in their camp, cursing the perfidy of their treacherous ally, and brooding gloomily over all their blasted hopes from the expedition. Ill supplied with provisions, and indulging too freely in the fruits and wines of the country, disease ravaged the army, as it had done that of the Black Prince in the same country and the same circumstances, when supporting Pedro the Cruel. Dorset repeatedly demanded transports to lead back his perishing army to England; and, at length, when Navarre was perfectly secured, Ferdinand offered to join the English and march with them into Guienne. This Dorset rejected; for he found that the real design was, first to march into Bearne, the King of Navarre's hereditary territory, and whither he had fled on the fall of Pampeluna. Dorset indignantly repeated his demand for transports. This was at length granted; and scarcely had he sailed, when orders reached Spain from Henry, in consequence of Ferdinand's representations, that the army should remain and follow the route indicated by the King of Spain.
Henry did not yet perceive how grossly he had been deluded by his loving father-in-law, who had only used him to secure a kingdom for himself most essential to the compactness and power of Spain; and he would have been led by him to assist in his still contemplated aggressions. Meantime Louis, more clearly cognisant of the game, marched his troops into Bearne, and left them, professedly for his ally, whilst the remnant of the English army reached home, shorn of all its anticipated honours, reduced in numbers, in rags, and more than half famished. Henry was disposed to charge upon Dorset the disasters and disappointments of the expedition, but the officers succeeded in convincing him that they could not have done differently, consistent with their orders; but the time was yet far off when the vain-glorious young king was to have his eyes opened to the selfish deceptions which his Machiavelian father-in-law was practising upon him.
At sea, the fleet under Sir Edward Howard had not been more successful than the forces on land. Sir Edward harassed the coasts of Brittany during the spring and summer, and on the 10th of August fell in with a fleet of thirty-nine sail, under the command of Admiral Primauget. Sir Charles Brandon, afterwards the Duke of Suffolk, bore down upon the Cordelier, of Brest, a vessel of huge bulk, and carrying 900 men. Brandon's vessel was soon dismasted, and fell astern, giving place to the Regent, the largest vessel in the English navy, a ship of 1,000 tons. The Regent was commanded by Sir Thomas Knevet, a young officer of a daring character. He continued the contest with Primauget for more than an hour, when, another ship coming to his aid, Primauget set fire to the Cordelier, the flames of which soon catching the Regent, which lay alongside with her in full action, both vessels were wrapt in fire, amid which the crews continued their desperate fight till the French admiral's ship blow up, destroying with it the Regent; and all the crews went down, with the commanders, amid the horror of the spectators. The rest of the French fleet then escaped into Brest, and Sir Edward Howard made a vow to God that he would never see the king's face again till he had avenged the death of the valiant Sir Thomas Knevet.
But though Henry had been duped by the wily Ferdinand, and had suffered greatly at sea, his efforts had inflicted very serious evil on the King of France. The menace of his dominions in the south, and the English fleet hovering upon his coasts, had prevented him sending into Italy the necessary force to ensure lasting advantage there. At first his generals marched forward with the impetuosity characteristic of French troops, and drove the armies of the Pope and of Ferdinand before them. On the 11th of April they forced the entrenched camp under the walls of Ravenna, and carried that city by assault. It was a splendid but a fatal action. The general, Gaston de Foix, a young nobleman of the highest bravery and genius, fell, and with him 10,000 of his best soldiers. La Palico, who succeeded to the command, sent urgent despatches to Louis for fresh forces, and whilst awaiting them proceeded to complete the subjection of the rest of Romagna. But Louis was not able to spare him the necessary reinforcement, and therefore he led back the remains of his victorious army to Milan, where he continued to maintain himself—still urging the absolute necessity of fresh troops—till December. But no forces arrived; the Italians rose and harassed him on all sides; the Pope engaged a body of Swiss to march down upon him, and, therefore, giving up the city to Maximilian Sforza, the son of the late duke, Palice endeavoured to secure his retreat. The enemy pursued him with renewed fury, and coming up with him on the banks of the Ticino, defeated him with a loss of one-fourth of his number. Before Christmas Julius had fulfilled his boast that he would drive the barbarians beyond the Alps. He had done it, says Muratori, without stopping a moment to ask himself whether this was the precise function o£ the chief pastor of the Church.
Louis, convinced that the Holy League, as it was called, was proving too strong for him, employed the ensuing winter in devising means to break it up, or to corrupt some of its members. Julius, the great soul of the league, died—a grand advantage to Louis—in February, 1513, and the new pontiff, Leo X., who was Cardinal John de Medici, though he prosecuted the same object of clearing Italy of the foreigner, did not possess the same belligerent temperament as his predecessor. Leo laboured to keep the league together, but at the same time he was busily engaged in schemes for the aggrandisement of his own family, and especially of securing to it the sovereignty of Florence. In pursuing this object, Venice felt itself neglected in its claims of support against the emperor, and went over to the alliance with France. Yet the plan of a renewed league betwixt the Pope, the emperor, the Kings of Spain and England, against Louis, which had long been secretly concocting at Mechlin, was signed by the plenipotentiaries on the 5th of April, 1513. By this league Leo engaged to invade France in Provence or Dauphiny, and to launch all the thunders of the Church at Louis. He had managed to detach the emperor from the French king, and engaged him to attack France from his own side, but not in Italy. To enable him to take the field, Henry of England was to advance him 100,000 crowns of gold. Ferdinand engaged to invade Bearne, for which he particularly yearned, or Languedoc; Henry to attack Normandy, Picardy, or Guienne. All the invading armies were to be strong and well appointed, and none of the confederates were to make a peace without the consent of all the rest.
Henry, in his self-confident ardour, blinded by his vanity, little read as yet in the wiles and selfish cunning of men, was delighted with this accomplished league. To him it appeared overwhelming, and Louis of France, encompassed on all sides, certain of utter defeat, and thus as certain to be compelled to restore all the rich provinces which his fathers had wrested from England. But little did he dream that at the very moment he was empowering his plenipotentiary to sign this league, his Spanish father-in-law was signing another with Louis himself, in conjunction with James of Scotland and the Duke of Gueldres. By this Ferdinand engaged to be quiet, and do Louis no harm. In fact, none of the parties in that league meant to fight at all. Their only object was to obtain Henry's money, or to derive some other advantage from him, and they would enjoy the pleasure of seeing him expending his wealth and his energies in the war on France, and thus reducing his too formidable ascendancy in Europe. Ferdinand's intention was to spend the summer in strengthening his position in the newly acquired kingdom of Navarre, and Maximilian, the emperor, having got the subsidy from Henry, would be ready to reap farther benefits whilst he idly amused the young king with his pretences of service. Henry alone was all on fire to wipe away the disgrace of his troops, and the disasters of his navy; to win martial renown, and to restore the ancient continental possessions of the crown.
The war commenced first at sea. Sir Edward Howard, burning to discharge his vow by taking vengeance for the death of Admiral Knevet, blockaded the harbour of Brest. On the 23rd of April he attempted to cut away a squadron of six galleys, moored in the bay of Conquét, a few leagues from Brest, and commanded by Admiral Prejeant, or Prior-John. With two galleys, one of which he gave into the command of Lord Ferrers, and four boats, he rowed up to the admiral's galley, leaped upon its deck, and was followed by one Carroz, a Spanish cavalier, and sixteen Englishmen. But the cable which bound the vessel to that of Prejeant being cut, his ship instead of lying alongside, fell astern, and left him unsupported. He was forced overboard with all his gallant followers, by the pikes of an overwhelming weight of the enemy, and perished. Sir Thomas Cheney, Sir John Wallop, and Sir William Sidney, seeing the danger of Sir Edward Howard, pressed forward to his rescue, but in vain, and the Enghsh fleet, discouraged by the loss of their gallant commander, put back to port. Prejeant sailed out of harbour after it, and gave chase, but fading in overtaking it, he made a descent on the coast of Sussex, where he was repulsed, and lost an eye by the shot of an arrow. Henry, on hearing the unfortunate affair of Brest, appointed Lord Thomas Howard to his brother's post, and bade him go out and avenge his death; whereupon the French fleet again made sail for Brest, and left the English masters of the Channel.
Whilst these events were occurring at sea, Henry himself was endeavouring, before leaving for France, to secure a treaty with James of Scotland, that he might have no fear of a disturbance in his absence, from that quarter. Henry knew that James had various causes of complaint. The destruction of his admiral. Sir Andrew Barton, by the English admirals, Lord Howard and Sir Edward Howard, the two sons of the brave Earl of Surrey, whom Henry had treated as a pirate, was a bitter memory in James's breast. Henry had, moreover, refused to deliver the jewels which his father had left to Margaret, Queen of Scotland, Henry's own sister, and for which James had made repeated demands. These and other matters made James IV. indisposed to friendly relations with Henry; while, on the other hand, he was flattered and courted by France. Anne, the French queen, sent him a ring from her own finger, and named him her knight; and Louis was equally prodigal of his presents.
When, therefore, the envoy of Henry, Doctor West, Dean of Windsor, was dispatched to Edinburgh in April, to endeavour to accommodate all matters of difference, he found James busy putting his fleet in order, and West reported that there was "one mighty great ship, which was to carry more ordnance than the French king had ever had in the siege of any town." This did not look very pacific, and James was haughty and stiff, though he declared that he had no intention of breaking the truce. The fact was, as we have seen, James was actually solicited to join in a treaty with France and Spain, which was signed secretly, about the same time that the famous league was ratified by Spain, the emperor, and the Pope, with Henry. Under these circumstances, no good result could take place, though Henry, in his anxiety for a safe peace with Scotland, had given one commission for that purpose to William Lord Conyers and Sir Robert Drury on the 2nd of February, and another on the 15th of the same month to Dean West. Convinced, however, that argument was hopeless, unless he gave up his sister's jewels, and made open concessions, which his pride would not admit of, he ordered all his towns and forts on the Scottish borders to be put into a state of perfect defence; and appointed the Earl of Surrey, the ablest general, to take the command there, desiring him to array all the fencible men in Yorkshire and the five other northern counties, and have them in constant readiness to oppose the Scots.
Whilst ordering these arrangements in reference to Scotland, Henry all the time had been actively employed in his preparations for the invasion of France. The long peace had had its usual effect in unfitting the English for military matters, while the war which had been constantly waging on the Continent had rendered those nations more formidable and expert. There was a great change, moreover, in the weapons employed. The Swiss and the Spaniards had greatly improved the stability and tactics of their infantry, which, armed with pike and sword, was often more than a match for the heavy-armed cavalry of the period. Firearms had grown considerably into use, but the cannon was so heavy and difficult of transport and of quick removal, and the hand-guns were so clumsy, that they could not, after all, compete with the English bow in practical hands. Peace in England, however, had greatly decayed that practice, and strenuous exertions, all spring and early summer, were obliged to be made to render the archers equal to those who had done such wonders in France aforetime.
In June, however, Henry deemed himself fully prepared to cross with his army to Calais. Lord Howard was ordered to bring his fleet into the Channel, to cover the passage, and on the 6th of June, 1513, the vanguard of the army passed over, under the command of the Earl of Shrewsbury, accompanied by the Earl of Derby, the Lords Fitzwater, Hastings, Cobham, and Sir Rice ap Thomas. A second division followed on the 16th, under Lord Herbert, the chamberlain, accompanied by the Earls of Northumberland and Kent; the Lords Audley and Delawar, with Carew, Curson, and many other gentlemen. Henry himself followed on the 30th, with the main body and the rear of the army. The whole force consisted of 25,000 men, the majority of which consisted of the old victorious arm of archers.
Before leaving Dover, to which place the queen attended him, Henry appointed her regent during his absence, and constituted Archbishop Warham and Sir Thomas Level her chief counsellors and ministers. On the plea of leaving no cause of disturbance behind him to trouble her majesty, he cut off the head of the Earl of Suffolk. The reader will remember the art by which Henry VII. inveigled this nobleman into his hands at the time of the visit of the Archduke Philip, on the assurance that he would not take his life. We have related that Henry VII., however, on his death-bed, left an order that his son should put him to death. The earl had remained till now prisoner in the Tower, and Henry had been fatally reminded of him and of his father's dying injunction by the imprudence of Richard de la Pole, the brother of Suffolk, who had not only attempted to revive the York faction, but had taken a high command in the French army.
Henry himself, instead of crossing direct to Calais, ran down the coast as far as Boulogne, firing continually his artillery to terrify the French, and then returning entered Calais amid a tremendous uproar of cannon from ships and batteries, announcing rather prematurely that another English monarch was come to conquer France. In order to this conquest, however, he found none of his allies fulfilling their agreements, except the Swiss, who, always alive at the touch of money, and having fingered that of Henry, were in full descent on the south of France, elated, moreover, with their victory over the French in the last Italian campaign. Maximilian, who had received 120,000 crowns, was not yet visible. But Henry's own officers had show no remissness. Before his arrival, Lord Herbert and the Earl of Shrewsbury had laid siege to Terouenne, a town situate on the borders of Picardy, where they found a stout resistance from the two commanders, Teligni and Crequi. The siege had been continued a month, and Henry, engaged in a round of pleasures and gaieties in Calais amongst his courtiers, seemed to have forgotten the great business before him, of rivalling the Edwards and the fifth of his own name. But news from the scene of action at length roused him. The besieged people of Terouenne, on the point of starvation, contrived to send word of their situation to Louis, who dispatched Fontrailles with 800 Albanian horses, each soldier carrying behind him a sack of gunpowder and two quarters of bacon. Coming unawares upon the English camp, they made a sudden dash through it, up to the town fosse, where flinging down their load, which was as quickly snatched up by the famishing inhabitants, they returned at full gallop, and so great was the surprise of the English that they again cut their way out and got clear off.
This bold deed startled Henry from his effeminate inertia, and the information that a strong force was advancing under the Duke of Longueville, to support another attempt at relief, by Fontrailles; he marched out of Calais on the 21st of July, with a splendid force of 15,000 foot and horse. Sir Charles Brandon, now created Viscount Lisle, and the Earl of Essex, led the van; his minister, old Bishop Fox, and his rising favourite, Wolsey, brought up the rear; and Henry advanced in the centre, which was commanded by the Duke of Buckingham and Sir Edward Poynings. Scarcely had they passed Ardres when they saw a powerful body of French cavalry manœuvring before them. At this sight preparation was made for a battle. Henry threw himself from his horse, determined to imitate the example of his great predecessors, and fight on foot, in the midst of his chosen body-guard of 1,200 men, armed with his battle-axe. The celebrated Bayard, le chevalier sans peur et sans reproche, who led on the cavalry, was ready to charge them; but he was held back by Longueville, who had strict orders from the cautious Louis to avoid the fatal temerity of their ancestors in engaging the English in the open field. Accordingly, the French, after closely reconnoitring the advancing force, turned and rode off, giving great triumph to Henry and his commanders, who saw them thus fly at the very sight of them. But the clever Frenchmen, while they had drawn not only the attention of the monarch and his detachment, but also that of the officers before Terouenne, to their movements, had managed again to throw supplies into that town.
On arriving before Terouenne, on the 4th of August, Henry was soon joined by Maximilian, the emperor. This strange ally, who had received 120,000 crowns to raise and bring with him an army, appeared with only a miserable complement of 4,000 horse. Henry had taken up his quarters in a magnificent tent, blazing in silks, blue damask, and cloth of gold, but the bad weather had driven him out of it into a wooden house. To do all honour to his German ally—who, by rank, was the first prince in Christendom—Henry arrayed himself and his nobles in all their bravery of attire. They and their horses were loaded with gold and silver tissue; the camp glittered with the display of golden ornaments and utensils; and, in this royal splendour, he rode at the head of his Court and commanders to meet and escort his guest. They encountered the Emperor and his attendants clad in simple black, mourning for the recent death of the empress. But there was little opportunity for comparisons—for the weather was terrible; and they exchanged their greetings amid tempests of wind and deluges of rain. Maximilian, to prevent any too-well founded complaints as to the smallness of his force compared with the greatness of his position, his promises in the alliance, and his princely pay, declared himself only the king's volunteer, ready to serve under him as his own soldier, for the payment of 100 crowns a day. He adopted Henry's badge of the red rose, was adorned with the cross of St. George, and, by flattering Henry's vanity, made him forget all his deficiencies.
Death of Gaston de Foix at Ravenna.(See page 123.)
The pleasure of receiving his great ally was somewhat dashed with bitter by the arrival of the Scottish Lion king-at-arms with the declaration of war from James IV., accompanied by the information that his master was already in the field, and had sent a fleet to the succour of the French king. Henry proudly replied that he left the Earl of Surrey to entertain James, who would know very well how to do it.
The French still continued to throw succours into Terouenne, in spite of all the vigilance of the English. In this service no one was more active than the Duke of Angouleme, the heir-apparent to the crown, and afterwards Francis I. When the siege had lasted about six weeks, and the whole energy of the British army was roused to cut off these introductions of provisions and ammunition, the French advanced in great force to effect a diversion in favour of the place. A formidable display of cavalry issued from Blangy, and marched along the opposite bank of the Lis. As they approached Terouenne they divided into two bodies, one under Longueville, the other under the Duke of Alençon. Henry wisely followed the advice of Maximilian, who knew the country well, and had before this won two victories over the French in that very quarter.
The Battle of Spurs
The troops wore drawn out, and Maximilian crossed the river with his German horse and the English archers, also mounted on horseback. Henry followed with the infantry.
The French cavalry, who had won a high reputation for bravery and address in the Italian campaigns, charged the united army brilliantly; but speedily gave way and rode off. The English archers and German horse gave chase; the French fled faster and faster, till in hot pursuit they were driven upon the lines of the main body, and threw them into confusion. This was, no doubt, more than was intended; for the probable solution of the mystery is, that the retreat of the advanced body of cavalry was a feint, to enable the Duke of Alençon to seize the opportunity of the pursuit by the English to throw the necessary supplies into the city. This he attempted. Dashing across the river, he made for the gates of the city, whence simultaneously was made an impetuous sally. But Lord Herbert met and beat back Alençon; and the Earl of Shrewsbury chased back the sallying party. Meantime the feigned retreat of the decoy cavalry, by the brisk pursuit of the German and English horse had become a real one. After galloping almost four miles before their enemies, they rushed upon their own main body with such fiery haste that they communicated a real panic. All wheeled about to fly; the English came on with vehement shouts of "St. George! St. George!" The French commanders, full of wonder, called to their terror-stricken men to halt, and face the enemy, in vain; every man dashed his spurs into the flanks of his steed, and the huge army, in irretrievable confusion, galloped away, without striking a single blow. The officers, while using every endeavour to bring the terrified soldiers to a stand, soon found themselves abandoned and in the hands of the enemy. The Duke de Longueville, the famous Chevalier Bayard, Bussy d'Amboise, the Marquis of Rotelin, Clermont, and La Fayette, men of the highest reputation in the French army, were instantly surrounded and taken, with many other distinguished officers. La Palice and Imbrecourt were also taken, but effected their escape.
When these commanders, confounded by the unaccountable flight of their whole army, were presented to Henry and Maximilian, who had witnessed the sudden rout with equal amazement, Henry, laughing, complimented them ironically on the speed of their men, when the light-hearted Frenchmen, entering into the monarch's humour, declared that it was only a battle of spurs, for they were the only weapons that had been used. The Battle of Spurs has ever since been the name of this singular action, though it is sometimes called the battle of Guinegate, from the place where the officers were come up with. This event took place on the 22nd of August.
The garrison of Terouenne, seeing that all hope of relief was now over, surrendered; but, instead of leaving a sufficient force in the place to hold it, Henry, at the artful suggestion of the emperor, who was anxious to destroy such a stronghold on the frontiers of his grandson Charles, Duke of Burgundy, first wasted his time in demolishing the fortifications of the town, and then, under the same mischievous counsel, perpetrated a still grosser error. He was now at the head of a victorious force of 50,000 men. The French, annoyed at the late astonishing defeat of their army, were perfectly paralysed. Whilst they expected Henry to march directly upon Paris, they beheld with augmenting consternation an army of 20,000 Swiss, in the English pay, descend from their mountains, having crossed the Jura, and pour into the plains of Burgundy as far as Dijon, without any effectual check. With Henry on the one side of the capital and this menacing force on the other, and with no confidence in Ferdinand of Spain, who, notwithstanding his truce, was believed capable of seizing on such a crisis to his own advantage, France experienced the most terrible alarm. Had Henry been as great a general as he imagined himself, the most brilliant finish to his campaign, if not the surrender of Paris itself, was inevitable. But whilst the inhabitants of Paris were contemplating where they would flee to save themselves and their property from the approaching ruin, the folly of the English king and the cunning of the German emperor rescued them. They beheld, with equal wonder and exultation, Henry coolly commence his march, not towards Paris, which lay without defence, but towards the neighbouring city of Tournay.
Tournay was another of those cities which Maximilian was anxious to reduce for the benefit of his grandson, Charles. It was a wealthy place, formerly belonged to Flanders, and lay properly within its boundaries. It had, ever since it had been in the French possession, proved a most troublesome neighbour to the Flemings, and opened an easy road for the French monarchs into the heart of the Netherlands. To get possession of such a prize was a strong temptation to Maximilian. In persuading Henry to this fatal scheme, he had made a powerful instrument of Wolsey, the king's new favourite, for the bishopric was rich, the bishop was lately dead, and the new bishop, though elected, was not yet installed. Maximilian promised Wolsey the see if they took the city, and the plan was adopted. Leaving Terouenne, therefore, at the mercy of the Flemings, the subjects of Maximilian's son, who razed the walls, filled up the ditches, and in the fury of their old enmity almost utterly destroyed the city, Henry proceeded by slow and stately marches towards Tournay. On the 22nd of September, a whole month after the Battle of Spurs, Henry and his artful ally sat down before that city. It contained 80,000 inhabitants, and having a charter which exempted it from the admission of a garrison, it was accustomed to defend itself by its own trained guards. When Louis had urged them to receive a sufficient supply of the royal troops, they had haughtily refused; when summoned to surrender by Henry, they as haughtily refused. Yet in eight days their courage had so thoroughly evaporated, that they capitulated, submitting to receive an English garrison, to swear fealty to the king, to pay 50,000 livres down, and 4,000 livres per annum for ten years.
Here ended this extraordinary campaign, where so much had been prognosticated, and what was done should have only been the stepping-stones to infinitely greater advantages. But Henry entered the city of Tournay with as much pomp as if he had really entered into Paris instead. Wolsey received the promised wealthy bishopric, and Henry gratified his overweening vanity by his favourite tournaments and revelries. Charles, the young Duke of Burgundy, accompanied by his aunt Margaret, the Duchess Dowager of Savoy, and Regent of the Netherlands, hastened to pay his respects to the English monarch, who had been so successfully fighting for his advantage.
During the reign of Henry VII., Charles had been affianced to Mary, the daughter of Henry, and sister of the present King of England. As he was then only four years of age, oaths had been plighted, and bonds to a heavy amount entered into by Henry and Maximilian for the preservation of the contract. The marriage was to take place on Charles reaching his fourteenth year. That time was now approaching; and, therefore, a new treaty was now subscribed, by which Maximilian, Margaret, and Charles were bound to meet Henry, Catherine, and Mary in the following spring to complete this union.
Henry endeavoured, moreover, to accomplish another match. His prime favourite at this period was Sir Charles Brandon, the son of that Sir Robert Brandon, who had fallen by his father's side at Bosworth. As Henry could never heap too many favours on his reigning favourite, he had created Brandon Viscount Lisle, and betrothed him, before leaving England, to the infant daughter and heiress of the late Lord Lisle, so that he might succeed to both the honours and estate of that nobleman. But now he took it into his head to marry Brandon to no other than Margaret, the Dowager Duchess of Savoy. This lady was the daughter of the Emperor of Germany, the Regent of the Netherlands, the aunt of the heir to the mighty kingdoms of Austria, the Netherlands, and Spain. She had been already married to John, Prince of Spain, and afterwards to Philibert, Duke of Savoy. She had all the pride of her race and her position; yet Henry saw no difficulty in asking her to become the wife of a simple English knight, of an origin plebeian. Margaret repelled the attempt with astonishment and indignation; but whether it were from some sudden fit of passion and ambition on the part of the favourite, or the whim of the monarch, he pressed his suit, and managed to extort from her some expression which seemed to favour his proposal. It is not likely that the lady would ever really have consented to this marriage—but we shall see that another equally extraordinary alliance was reserved for Brandon.
In affairs like these, the great hero of imaginary Creçys and Azincourts had wasted the precious moments which might have made him master of Paris. For himself or his country he had done nothing; for his ally, the calculating Maximilian, he had done much. Henry bad paid enormous sums of money, Maximilian had received a very desirable share of the disbursement. He had got Terouenne destroyed, and Tournay into his hands, and was left in possession of the whole of the conquered district; for in the late league he was engaged to keep on foot an army of 6,000 infantry and 4,000 cavalry for the protection of the Low Countries, the security of Tournay, and the harassing of the French frontiers—all purposes entirely concerning himself and Charles his grandson; and yet for this Henry was to pay him 200,000 crowns, at the rate of 30,000 per month. When Henry returned to France in the following spring to complete the marriage of his sister, the Princess of England, with Charles of Burgundy, he was to bring a fresh army, and fresh funds for the prosecution of the war with France.
Meantime, the Swiss, discovering what sort of an ally they had got, entered into a negotiation with Tremoille, the Governor of Burgundy, who paid them handsomely in money, promised them much more, and saw them march off again to their mountains. Relieved from those dangerous visitants, Louis once more breathed freely. He concentrated his forces in the north, watched the movements of Henry VIII. with increasing satisfaction, and at length saw him embark for England with a secret resolve to accumulate a serious amount of difficulties in the way of his return. France had escaped from one of the most imminent perils of its history by the folly of the vain-glorious English king. Yet he returned with all the assumption of a great conqueror, and utterly unconscious that he had been a laughing-stock and a dupe.
We have seen that James IV. of Scotland sent his declaration of war to Henry whilst he was engaged at the siege of Terouenne. We have enumerated some of the causes of complaint which James deemed he had against Henry; amongst others, the refusal to deliver up the jewels left by Henry's father to the Queen Margaret of Scotland—a truly dishonest act on the part of the English monarch, who, with all the wasteful prodigality peculiar to himself, inherited the avaricious disposition of his father. No sooner, therefore, did Henry set out for France, than James dispatched a fleet with a body of 3,000 men to the aid of Louis, and by his herald at Terouenne, after detailing the catalogue of his own grievances, demanded that Henry should evacuate France. This haughty message received as haughty a reply, but James did not live to receive it.
In August, whilst Henry still lay before Terouenne, on the very same day that the Scottish herald left that place with his answer, the peace betwixt England and Scotland was broken by Lord Home, chamberlain to King James, who crossed the border, and made a devastating raid on the defenceless inhabitants. His band of marauders was met by Sir William Bulmer, on their return, loaded with plunder, who slew 500 of his men upon the spot, and took 400 of them prisoners. Called to immediate action by this disaster, James collected his host on Burrow Moor, such an army as, say the writers of the time, never gathered round a king of Scotland. Some state it at 100,000 men; the lowest calculation is 80,000. But if this be true, what becomes of all the assertions that James undertook this enterprise in obstinate opposition to the entreaties, the protests, and the prognostics of his subjects? What becomes of all the charges of blind rashness against James, of the lamentations over the calamities with which he afflicted Scotland by madly rushing on the warfare? We are told by the chroniclers of the times that heaven, as well as earth, strove to deter him from the step, but in vain. That the queen and the wisest of the nobles strove to dissuade him by representing that he had but one child, a son of only sixteen months old, and that, should he fall, he would leave the kingdom and his family exposed to every evil. That the tears and vehement entreaties of his wife failing of effect, the patron saint of Scotland appeared to him at vespers in the church of Linlithgow, in the guise of an old man of venerable aspect, with a long beard, arrayed in a gown of azure hue, girt about the loins with a white sash, who, as he leaned on his staff, declared that he was sent from heaven to warn him from prosecuting the war, for it would be unfortunate; and to beware of the fascinations of woman on the way, for they would be fatal. That James, when the vespers were concluded, called for the ancient messenger, but he could not be found, but that at the dead of the night an awful supernatural voice at the cross of Edinburgh summoned the principal lords by name, to appear before the Judge of the dead. These were probably the artifices of the queen, who shuddered at this deadly strife betwixt her husband and her brother; but that the nation at large was eager for this demonstration against England, nothing is so convincing as the numbers which hurried to James's standard.
James passed the Tweed on the 22nd of August, and on that and the following day encamped at Twisel-haugh. On the 24th, with the consent of his nobles, he issued a declaration that the heirs of all who were killed or who died in that expedition, should be exempt from all charges for wardship, relief, or marriage, without regard to their age. He then advanced up the right bank of the Tweed, and attacked the border castle of Norham. This strong fortress was expected to detain the army some time, but the governor, rashly improvident of his ammunition, was compelled to surrender on the fifth day, August 29th. Wark, Etall, Heaton, and Ford castles, places of no great consequence, soon followed the example of Norham. Very different accounts are given of what took place at Ford. Some historians say that James spared it in consequence of the blandishments of Dame Heron, the wife of William Heron, the owner of the castle; and that James, lingering there, fascinated by her charms, both allowed his enemies time to gather strength, and occasioned numbers of his followers to desert and return home. But others, and with far more probability, assert that, on the contrary, James refused to listen to any terms from the Herons. One of the bitterest causes of his complaint against Henry VIII. was that John Heron, a bastard brother of this William Heron, had killed James's favourite, Sir Robert Ker, and that, having fled to England, Henry refused to surrender him. William Heron was at this moment a prisoner in Scotland, and Dame Heron, in his absence, fled to Surrey, and obtained from him the promise to give up two Scottish prisoners of importance, the Lord Johnstone and Alexander Home, on condition that James spared the castle of Ford, and liberated William Heron, her husband. James appears to have refused, rejected the exchange of prisoners, and razed Ford Castle to the ground. That done, James fixed his camp on Flodden Hill, the east spur of the Cheviot Mountains, with the deep river Till flowing at his feet to join the neighbouring Tweed. In that strong position he awaited the approach of the English army.
Costume of an English Gentleman in the time of Henry VIII.
The Earl of Surrey, commissioned by Henry on his departure expressly to arm the northern counties and defend the frontiers from an irruption of the Scots, no sooner heard of the muster of James on Burrow Moor, than he dispatched messages to all the noblemen and gentlemen of those counties to assemble their forces, and meet him on the 1st of September at Newcastle-on-Tyne. He marched out of York on the 27th of August, and, though the weather was very wet and stormy, and the roads consequently very bad, he marched day and night till he reached Durham. There he received the news that the Scots had taken Norham, which the commander had bragged he would hold against all comers till Henry returned from France. Receiving the banner of St. Cuthbert from the Prior of Durham, Surrey marched to Newcastle, where a council of war was held, and the troops from all parts were appointed to assemble on the 4th of September at Bolton, in Glendale, about twenty miles from Ford, where the Scots were said to be lying.
On the 4th of September, before Surrey had left Alnwick, which he had reached the evening before, he was joined, to his great encouragement, by his gallant son, Lord Thomas Howard, the Admiral of England, with a choice body of 5,000 men, whom Henry had dispatched from France. From Alnwick the earl sent a herald to the Scottish king to reproach him with his breach of faith to his brother, the King of England, and to offer him battle on Friday, the 9th, if he dared to wait so long for his arrival. The lord admiral also bade the herald say from him that he had come to justify the slaughter of the pirate, Andrew Barton, with which James had charged him, and that he would take no quarter and give none to any one but the king. James denied the breach of faith, charged that on Henry, assured the herald that he should wait for Lord Surrey, and took no notice of the message of his son, the admiral.
Costume of an English Lady in the time of Henry VIII.
During the interval betwixt this defiance and the appearance of the English, the minds of the Scottish nobles appear to have misgiven there, and they endeavoured to persuade James that he had already done enough in taking and destroying the King of England's castles, and gathering much plunder. Lord Patrick Lindsay represented, by a parable, the inequality of the stakes—the life and fortunes of the King of Scotland against those of an inferior man. James threatened that, if he lived to return, he would hang up Lindsay before his own castle. The Earl of Angus, the well-known Bell-the-Cat, supported Lindsay, and repeated that the English army consisted for the most part of men of mean rank, the Scottish one of the flower of the nobility and gentlemen of the kingdom. James, irritated at this opposition, said, scornfully, "Angus, if you are afraid, you may be gone." At this, the old earl burst into tears, and replied that, his counsel being despised, and his age forbidding his services on the field, he would withdraw, but would leave his two sons with the vassals of the Douglas, and his prayer that old Angus's foreboding might prove unfounded.
By this time, the 6th of September, the Earl of Surrey had reached Wooller-haugh, within three miles of the Scottish camp. Perceiving the difficulty of the ground betwixt him and them, intersected by several brooks, which united to form the river Till, Surrey anxiously inquired for an experienced guide, and the Bastard Heron, who was following the army, but in disguise, offered his services, at which Surrey was greatly rejoiced, aware that he was intimately familiar with the whole neighbourhood. When Surrey came in sight of the Scottish camp, he was greatly struck with the formidable nature of James's position, and sent a messenger to him charging him with having shifted his ground after having accepted the challenge, and called upon him to come down into the spacious plain of Millfield, where both armies could contend on more equal terms, the army of Surrey only amounting to 25,000 men. James, resenting this accusation, refused to admit the herald to his presence, but sent him word that he had sought no undue advantage, should seek none, and that it did not become an earl to send such a message to a king.
This endeavour to induce James by his high, and often imprudent, sense of honour, to weaken his position, not succeeding, on the 8th, Surrey, at the suggestion of his son, the lord admiral, adopted a fresh stratagem. He marched northward, sweeping round the hill of Flodden, crossed the Till near Twisell Castle, and thus placed the whole of his army between James and Scotland. From that point they directed their march as if intending to cross the Tweed, and enter Scotland. On the morning of Friday, the 9th, leaving their night halt at Barmoor Wood, they continued this course, till the Scots were greatly alarmed lest the English should plunder the fertile country of the Merse, and they implored the king to descend and fight in defence of his country. Moved by these representations, and this being the day on which Surrey had promised to fight him, he ordered his army to set fire to their tents with all the litter and refuse of the camp, so as to make a great smoke, under which they might descend, unperceived, on the English. But no sooner did the English perceive this, than also availing themselves of the obscurity of the smoke, they wheeled about, and made once more for the Till. As the reek blew aside, they were observed in the very act of crossing the narrow bridge of Twisell, and Robert Borthwick, the commander of James's artillery, fell on his knees and implored his sovereign to allow him to turn all the fire of his cannon on the bridge, which he would destroy, and prevent the passage of Surrey's host. But James, with that romantic spirit of chivalry which seems to have possessed him to a degree of insanity, is said to have replied, "Fire one shot on the bridge, and I will command you to be hanged, drawn, and quartered. I will have all my enemies before me, and fight them fairly."
Thus the English host defiled over the bridge at leisure, and drew up in a long double line, consisting of a centre and two wings, with a strong body of cavalry, under Lord Dacre, in the rear. They beheld the Scots, in like form, descending the hill in solemn silence. The two conflicting armies came into action about four o'clock in the afternoon by the mutual discharge of their artillery. The thunder and concussion were terrific, but it was soon seen that the guns of the Scots being placed too high, their balls passed over the heads of their opponents, whilst those of the English, sweeping up the hill, did hideous execution, and made the Scots impatient to come to closer fight. The master gunner of Scotland was soon slain, his men driven from their guns, whilst the shot of the English continued to strike into the very heart of the battle. The loft wing of the Scots, under the Earl of Huntley and Lord Home, came first into contact with the right wing of the English, and fighting on foot with long spears, they charged the enemy with such impetuosity, that Sir Edmund Howard, the commander of that wing, was borne down, his banner flung to the earth, and his lines broken into utter confusion. But at this critical moment Sir Edmund and his division were suddenly succoured by the Bastard Heron, who appeared at the head of a body of daring outlaws, like himself; this movement was supported by the advance of the second division of the English right wing, under the Lord Admiral, who attacked Home and Huntley, and these again were followed by the cavalry of Lord Dacre's reserve.
The Highlanders, under Home and Huntley, when they overthrew Sir Edmund Howard, imagined that they had won the victory, and fell eagerly to stripping and plundering the slain; but they soon found enough to do to defend themselves, and the battle then raged with desperate energy. At length the Scottish left gave way, and the lord admiral and the cavalry of Dacre next fell on the division under the Earls of Crawford and Montrose, both of whom were slain.
In this part of the battle, Lord Home has been accused of not supporting his fellow officers as he ought to have done, but Sir Walter Scott suggests that this, from all that appears, seems merely to have been invented by the Scotch to account for the defeat by some other means than the superiority of the English.
On the extreme right wing of the Scottish army fought the clans of the Macleans, the Mackenzies, the Campbells, and Macleods, under the Earls of Lennox and Argyle. These encountered the stout bowmen of Lancashire and Cheshire, under Sir Edward Stanley, who galled the half-naked Highlanders so intolerably with their arrows, that they flung down their targets, and dashed forward with claymore and axe pell-mell amongst the enemy. The French commissioner, De la Motte, who was present, astounded at this display of wild passion and savage insubordination, assisted by other French officers, shouted, stormed, gesticulated, to check the disorderly rabble, and restrain them in their ranks. In vain! The English, for a moment surprised by this sudden, furious onslaught, yet kept their ranks unbroken, and, advancing like a solid wall, flung back their disintegrated assailants, swept them before them, and dispatched them piece-meal. The Earls of Argyle and Lennox perished in the midst of their unmanageable men.
The two main bodies of the armies were now only left where James and Surrey were contending at the head of their troops, but with this difference, that the Scottish right and left were now unprotected, and those of James's center were attacked on each side by the victorious right and left wings of the English. On one side Sir Edward Stanley charged with archers and pikemen, on the other Lord Howard, Sir Edmund Howard, and Lord Dacre, were threatening with both horse and foot.
James and all his nobility about him in the main body were fighting on foot, and being clad in splendid armour, they suffered less from the English archers, who were opposed to them in the ranks of Surrey. On James's right hand fought his accomplished natural son, the Archbishop of St. Andrew's. Soon the combatants became engaged hand to hand in deadly struggle with their swords, spears, pikes, and other instruments of death. Whilst hewing and cleaving each other down in furious strife, face to face, life for life, showers of English arrows fell amid the Scottish ranks, and dealt terrible destruction to the less stoutly panoplied. When the Earls of Bothwell and Huntley rushed to the support of the main body on the one side, and Stanley, the Howards, and Dacre came to the aid of Surrey on the other, the strife became terrible beyond description, and the slaughter awful on every side of the environed Scots. Before the arrival of the reserves the Scots appeared at one time to have the best of it, and to be on the very edge of victory; and even after that James and the gallant band around him seemed to make a stupendous effort, as if they thought their sole hope was to force their way to Surrey and cut him down. James is said to have reached within a spear's length of him, when, after being twice wounded with arrows, he was dispatched by a bill.
Great Ship of King Henry VIII. From an original drawing by Holbein.
Still the battle raged on. In the centre it was like the heart of a glowing furnace, all heat and deadly rage; whilst all round the extremities of the Scottish host, a bristly circle of protruded spears pushed back the murderous foes. Neither side gave quarter. Lord Howard and his followers savagely maintained their vow; and the Scots, says Haslewood, were so vengeful and cruel in their fighting, that the English, when they had the better of them, would listen to no ransom, though the Scots often offered great sums. Night, which alone could part the maddened host, at length came down upon them, and compelled them to cease their fighting, though it could not induce them to quit the ground. They rested on their arms, but stood as if they would wait the first dawn of light to again renew the sanguinary conflict. The Scottish and the English centres stood doggedly on their guard; Home and Dacre with their cavalry sternly held each other at bay. But when the morning at length dawned, it was discovered that the Scots, having had time to become aware of their immense loss, and having learnt that not only their king but almost all the nobility were slain, had silently stolen away, and had made their way across the Tweed at Coldstream, or over the dry marshes to their own country.
And what ghastly, fearful, desolating tidings did these silent fugitives bear with them over every moor and mountain, to every town and village through the length and breadth of Scotland! When the battle-field came to be examined, there were found of the English few men of note fallen, but about 5,000 soldiers, chiefly of the ranks; but of the Scots, there lay the king and his son the Archbishop of St. Andrew's dead on the field, with two bishops, two mitred abbots, twelve earls, thirteen lords, five eldest sons of peers, fifty knights and chiefs, and of gentlemen a number uncalculated; there was scarcely a family in Scotland of any name in history which did not lose a member there. In the words of Scott—
"Their kings, their lords, their mightiest low,
They melted from the fields as snow.
When streams are swollen and south winds blow,
Dissolves in silent dew
Tweed's echoes heard the ceaseless plash,
While many a broken band,
Disordered, through her currents dash,
To gain the Scottish land:
To town and tower, to down and dale,
To tell red Flodden's dismal tale,
And raise the universal wail.
Tradition, legend, tune, and song,
Shall many an age that wail prolong;
Still from the sire the son shall hear
Of the stern strife and carnage drear
Of Flodden's fatal field,
Where shivered was fair Scotia's spear,
And broken was her shield."
The ballads and traditions of Scotland are yet full of the lamentations and desolation long produced there by this fatal battle, where
"The flowers of the forest were a' wede away."
The Shrine of Prince Arthur, brother of Henry VIII., in Worcester Cathedral.
"The Scots," says Sir Walter Scott, "were much disposed to dispute the fact that James IV. had fallen on Flodden Field. Some said he had retired from the kingdom, and made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem: others pretended that in the twilight, when the fight was nigh ended, four tall horsemen came into the field, having each a bunch of straw on the point of their spears as a token for them to know each other by. They said these men mounted the king on a dun hackney, and that he was seen to cross the Tweed with them at nightfall. Nobody pretended to say what they did with him, but it was believed that he was murdered in Home Castle, and I recollect, about forty years since, there was a report that, in cleansing the drawwell in that ruinous fortress, the workmen found a skeleton wrapped in a bull's hide, and having a belt of iron round the waist, for which, on inquiry, I could never find any better authority than the sexton of the parish having said that if the well were cleaned out, he should not be surprised at such a discovery. These are idle fables, and contrary to common sense. Home was the chamberlain of the king, and his prime favourite; he had much to lose, in fact, did lose all, in consequence of James's death, and nothing whatever to gain by that event; but the retreat or inactivity of the left wing, which he commanded, after defeating Sir Edmund Howard, and even the circumstance of his remaining unhurt, and loaded with spoil, from so fatal a conflict, rendered the propagation of any calumny against him easy and acceptable.
"It seems true that the king usually wore the belt of iron, in token of his repentance for his father's death, and the share he had in it. But it is not unlikely that he would lay aside such a cumbrous article of penance in a day of battle, or the English, when they despoiled his person, may have thrown it aside as of no value. The body, which the English affirm to have been that of James, was found on the field by Lord Dacre, and carried by him to Berwick, and presented to Surrey. Both of these lords knew James's person too well to be mistaken. The body was also acknowledged by his two favourite attendants. Sir William Scott and Sir John Forman, who wept at beholding it."
The fate of these renes was singular and degrading. Stowe, in his "Survey of London," gives this account from his own knowledge: "After the battle, the bodie of the same king being found, was closed in lead, and conveyed from thence to London, and to the monasterie of Sheyne, in Surrey, where it remained for a time in what order I am not certaine; but since the dissolution of that house, in the reygne of Edward the Sixt, Henry Grey, Duke of Suffolke, being lodged and keeping house there, I have been shewed the same bodie so lapped in lead, close to the head and bodie, throwne into a waste room amongst the old timber, lead, and other rubble, since the which time, workmen there, for their foolish pleasure, hewed off his head, and Launcelot Young, master glazier to Queen Elizabeth, feeling a sweet savour to come from thence, and yet the form remaining, with the hair of the head and beard red, brought it to London, to his house in Wood Street, where for a time, he kept it for the sweetness, but, in the end, caused the sexton of that church to bury it amongst other bones taken out of their charnel."
That the body which the English had thus secured and brought to London for so singular a fate, was the real body of James, was incontestibly proved by the monarch's well-known sword and dagger found upon it, and turquoise ring on his finger, supposed to be the same sent to him by the Queen of France. These are still preserved in the Herald's College in London. An unhewn column marks the spot where James fell, still called the King's stone.
The guns which were captured on this occasion, are related to have been of a very superior kind, and, according to an official report, "the neatest, the soundest, the best-fashioned, the smallest in the touch-hole, and the most beautiful of their size and length that were ever seen," especially a fine train of seven pieces, called the Seven Sisters, cast by the same Robert Borthwick, the Master of Artillery, who implored James to allow him to destroy Twisell Bridge with it, and who immediately afterwards perished while directing the operations of the cannon.
On his way northward, Surrey had prepared posts all the way for the rapid conveyance of intelligence, and, by these, he announced in brief time to Queen Catherine, who was at Woburn, the great and decisive victory. Catherine was in the same fortunate position as Queen Philippa while Edward III. was on his campaign in France, and though she did not hasten over herself with the news, she wrote an able letter of gratulation, in which she said he would see how she had kept her promise of protecting the kingdom in his absence, and she accompanied it by the coat of the King of Scots, that Henry might convert it into a banner, adding, that she thought of sending his body, but that English hearts would not permit it. What is more to Catherine's credit is, that she pleaded tenderly and earnestly for forbearance towards James's widow and infant son, Henry's own sister and nephew. Some historians have praised Henry's wonderful magnanimity in conceding this forbearance, but to say nothing of the determined attitude of defence which the Scotch, in the midst of their sorrows, assumed, and the heavy losses of the English, which occasioned Surrey to attempt no further advantages, but to put sufficient troops into the border garrisons, and then disband the rest, Henry must have become more of a monster than he was, at that period of his life, to have sought to commit more evil than he had done. His empty triumphs in France might be excused, for conquest and military glory have been the world's gospel in all ages, and are too much so still; but a dispassionate and philosophical view of his conduct to Scotland, must show it to have been at once as barbarous and wicked as it was impolitic.
James IV., who fell at Flodden in the thirty-ninth year of his age, and the twenty-fifth of his reign, was a prince of a quick, generous, and chivalric character. Though of only the middle height, he was remarkably strong and agile; and by continual exercise he made himself capable of enduring any amount of labour, cold, thirst, or hunger. His face was sweet and amiable in expression, and if he had not great command of his passions, he had of his countenance, so that he seldom changed colour on the most sudden tidings of good or evil. He was easy of access, dignified and affable in his deportment, and never used severe and harsh terms, even when most offended; his sense of honour was high, and he possessed even to a degree of romance all the spirit of ancient chivalry. His courage was daring, even to rashness. Like his father, he had a taste for the arts, particularly those of civil and naval architecture; he built the great ship St. Michael, and several churches, and maintained a Court far superior in its elegance and refinement to that of any of his predecesors. On such a nature Henry, by a kind and even just treatment, might have operated so as to excite the most devoted friendship. We see what James did for an adventurer like Warbeck; we see what a spirit the blandishments and courtesies of France evoked in him; and we might have seen far greater attachment elicited towards England by a conduct upright and cordial. But Henry treated James, and his own sister his queen, with the most barefaced dishonesty and haughty discourtesy. He withheld Margaret's jewels, the sacred bequest of her father; he refused to yield up the assassin of James's own friend; he refused a safe conduct to an ambassador whom he proposed to send to him—a thing, James declared, which had never been done even by the Turks; and now this, which was exulted over as a glorious victory, had destroyed the brave-spirited monarch and brother-in-law, made his sister a widow amidst an arrogant aristocracy, and his nephew an orphan exposed to every trouble and danger which can beset an infant king in a turbulent and faction-rent nation.
If Henry had been a wise and reflective prince, capable of comprehending what is really politic, great, and just, these certainly were not circumstances which could afford him much satisfaction. A neighbouring nation, instead of a firm ally, had been made a more embittered enemy; its prince had been slain, and his kingdom left exposed, in the peculiar weakness of a long minority, to the ambitious cupidity of his royal uncle, whose overbearing designs only tended to defeat that union of the crowns which he was most anxious to ensure, and to perpetuate crimes, heartburnings, and troubles betwixt the two governments, for two eventful generations yet to come. Henry, however, overlooking all those things, which were too profound for him and his age, on returning home elate with his own useless campaign and this brilliant but cruel victory, rewarded Surrey by restoring to him the title of Duke of Norfolk, forfeited by his father for his adherence to Richard III., and Lord Thomas Howard, his son, succeeded, for his part, to the title of Earl of Surrey, which had been his father's. Lord Herbert was made Earl of Somerset; and Sir Edward Stanley, Lord Monteagle. At the same time his favourite, Sir Charles Brandon, Lord Lisle, he elevated to the dignity of Duke of Suffolk, probably with a view to his marriage with Margaret of Savoy. Wolsey, his growing clerical favourite, he made Bishop of Lincoln, in addition to his French bishopric of Tournay.