CHAPTER XXXVIII.
Men might say
Till this time pomp was single, but now married
To one above itself.--Shakspere.
Many were the anxious eyes turned towards the sky on the morning of the seventh of June, the day appointed for the meeting of the two kings of France and England; for some inauspicious clouds had ushered in the dawn, and several of those persons who take a delight in prognosticating evil, whenever they can find occasion; who enjoy mingling the sour with whatever is sweet in life--in short, the lemon-squeezers of society--had taken care to affirm that they had felt several drops of rain, and to prophesy that it would pour before night. To put their vaticinations out of joint, however, the jolly summer sun came like a cleanly housemaid, towards eight o'clock, and with his broom of rays swept all the dirty clouds from the floor of heaven. By this time the bustle of preparation had begun at the town of Guisnes. All was in activity amongst the tents, and many a lord and gentleman was already on his horse arraying his men in order of battle under the walls of the castle, from the gates of which presently issued forth the archer-guard of the king of England, and took the front of the array. Not long after, Lord Essex, the earl marshal, appeared on the plain, and riding along the line of foot, gave the strictest orders to the various officers for maintaining regularity and tranquillity through the day; well knowing that the excited hilarity of such occasions often creates more serious evils than do infinitely worse feelings. Another cause, however, seemed likely to have interrupted the general good-humour; for, in the midst of his injunctions to maintain order and propriety of demeanour towards their French allies, an officer was seen spurring at full speed from the side of Ardres, and as he rode up, it was very evident by his countenance that the good captain, Richard Gibson, was not the best pleased man in the world. All eyes were turned upon him, and a dead silence ensued amidst the archers, while the earl demanded, "Why! how now, Gibson? what is the matter?"
"So please you, my lord," replied the officer, "the four pennons of white and green, which, by your command, I set up on the edge of the hill, above the valley of Andern, have been vilely thrown down by the French lord châtelaine, who says, that as the French have none on the other hill, he wills not that we have any either."
A loud murmuring made itself heard at this news amongst the footmen; and one of the young gallants, riding near the earl, put spurs to his horse, as if to ride away to the scene of the dispute.
"Silence!" cried the earl, over whose cheek also an angry flush had passed at the first, but who speedily recovered his temper. "Brian, come back! come back, I say, sir! let not a man stir!"
"What! must we stand tamely and be insulted by the French?" cried the youth, unwillingly reining in his horse.
"They do not insult us, sir," replied Lord Essex, wisely determined not to let any trifling punctilio disturb the harmony of the meeting, yet knowing how difficult it was to rule John Bull from his surly humour. "They do not insult us. The pennons were set up for their convenience, to show them the place of meeting, which is within the English pale. If they choose to be such fools as to risk missing the way, and go a mile round, why, let them; we shall but laugh at them when they come."
The matter thus turned off, he whispered a few words to Gibson, and sending him back to the vale of Andern, proceeded, with the aid of heralds and other officers at arms, to arrange all the ceremonies of the march. However, various were the reports that spread amongst the people concerning the intentions of the French, some declaring openly that they believed they intended to surround the field with a great force, and take the king of England prisoner. Others shook the wise head, and implied much more than they ventured to say; and many a poor rogue, amongst those who "talk of court news as if they were God's spies," pretended that they had been with the French power and heard all about it; so that they would tell you the very cunning of the thing, and its fashion, and when it was to be.
While rumour was thus exercising her hundred tongues, and, as usual, lying with them all, the warning-gun was fired from the castle of Guisnes, giving notice that the King of England was ready to set out, and all hurried to place themselves in order. In a few minutes the distant roar of another large piece of artillery was heard from Ardres, answering the first; and for the five minutes before the procession was formed, like the five minutes of tuning before a concert, all was noise, clamour, and confusion. The sounding of the trumpets to horse, the shouts of the various leaders, the loud cries of the marshals and heralds, and the roaring of the artillery from the castle, as the king put his foot in the stirrup, all combined to make one general outcry, rarely equalled.
Gradually the tumult subsided; gradually also the confused assemblage assumed a regular form. Flags, and pennons, and banderols, embroidered banners and scutcheons, silver pillars, and crosses, and crooks, ranged themselves in long line, and the bright procession, an interminable stream of living gold, began to wind across the plain. First came about five hundred of the gayest and wealthiest gentlemen of England, below the rank of baron; squires, knights, and bannerets, rivalling each other in the richness of their apparel and the beauty of their horses; while the pennons of the knights fluttered above their heads, marking the place of the English chivalry. Next appeared the proud barons of the realm, each with his banner borne before him, and followed by a custrel with the shield of his arms. To these again succeeded the bishops, not in the simple robes of the Protestant clergy, but in the more gorgeous habits of the church of Rome; while close upon their steps rode the higher nobility, surrounding the immediate person of the king, and offering the most splendid mass of gold and jewels that the summer sun ever shone upon.
Slowly the procession moved forward, to allow the line of those on foot to keep an equal pace. Nor did this band offer a less gay and pleasing sight than the cavalcade; for here might be seen the athletic forms of the sturdy English yeomanry, clothed in the various splendid liveries of their several lords, with the family cognizance embroidered on the bosom or the arm, and the banners and banderols of their particular houses carried in the front of each company. Here also was to be seen the picked guard of the King of England, magnificently dressed for the occasion, with the royal banner carried in their centre by the deputy standard-hearer, and the banner of their company by their own ancient. In the rear of all, marshalled by officers appointed for the purpose, came the band of those whose rank did not entitle them to take place in the cavalcade, but who had sufficient interest at court to be admitted to the meeting. Though of an inferior class, this company was not the least splendid in the field; for here were all the wealthy tradesmen of the court, habited in many a rich garment, furnished by the extravagance of those that rode before; and many a gold chain hung round their necks, that not long ago had lain in the purse of some prodigal customer.
Thus marched on the procession at a walking pace, with steeds neighing, with trumpets sounding, banners and plumes fluttering in the wind, and gold and jewels sparkling in the sunshine; while loud acclaim, and the waving of hats, and hands, and handkerchiefs, from those that stayed behind, ushered it forth from the plain of Guisnes.
They had ridden on some way, when a horseman spurred up to the spot where the king rode, and doffing his high plumed hat, bent to his saddle-bow, saying, "My king and my sovereign, I have just been with the French party, and I hold myself bound, as your liege, to inform you that they are at least twice as numerous as we are. Your grace will act as in your wisdom you judge fit; but as a faithful and loving subject I could not let such knowledge sleep in my bosom."
An instant halt took place through the whole cavalcade, and the king for a moment consulted with Wolsey, who rode on his left hand; but Lord Shrewsbury, the lord steward, interposed, assuring the king that he had been amongst the French nobles the night before, and that amongst them the same reports prevailed concerning the English. "Therefore, sir," continued he, "if I were worthy to advise, your grace would march forward without hesitation; for sure I am that the French mean no treachery."
"We shall follow your advice, lord steward," replied the king; "let us march on."
"On before! On before!" cried the heralds at the word. The trumpets again sounded, and the procession, moving forward, very soon reached the brow of the hill that looks into the vale of Andern. A gentle slope, of not more than three hundred yards, led from the highest part of each of the opposite hills into the centre of the valley, in the midst of which was pitched the most magnificent tent that ever a luxurious imagination devised. The canopy, the walls, the hangings, were all of cloth of gold; the posts, the cones, the cords, the tassels, the furniture, were all of the same rare metal. Wherever the eye turned, nothing but that shining ore met its view, so that it required no very brilliant fancy to name it at once, the Field of the Cloth of Gold.
On reaching the verge of the descent, the cavalcade spread out, lining the side of the hill for some way down, and facing the line of the valley. Each cavalier placed himself unhesitatingly in the spot assigned him by the officers at arms, while the body of foot was drawn up in array to the left by the captains of the king's guard, so that not the least confusion or tumult took place; and the whole multitude, in perfect order, presented a long and glittering front to the opposite hill, before any of the French party appeared, except a few straggling horsemen sent to keep the ground.
As soon as the whole line was formed, and when, by the approaching sound of the French trumpets, it was ascertained that the Court of France was not far distant, Henry himself drew out from the ranks, ready to descend to the meeting; and never did a more splendid or more princely monarch present himself before so noble a host. Tall, stately, athletic, with a countenance full of imperial dignity, and mounted on a horse that seemed proudly conscious of the royalty of its rider, Henry rode forward to a small hillock, about twenty yards in advance of his subjects; and halting upon the very edge of the hill, with his attendants grouped behind him, and a clear background of sunny light throwing nil figure out from all the other objects, he offered a subject on which Wouvermans might well have exercised his pencil. Over his wide chest and shoulders he wore a loose vest of cloth of silver, damasked and ribbed with gold. This was plaited, and bound tightly towards the waist, while it was held down from the neck by the golden collars of many a princely order, and the broad baldrick studded with jewels, to which was suspended his sword. His jewelled hat was also of the same cloth; and in the only representation of this famous meeting that I have met with, which can be relied upon, having been executed at the time, he appears with a vast plume of feathers, rising from the left side of his hat, and falling over to his saddle behind. Nor was the horse less splendidly attired than the rider. Its housings, its trappers, its headstall, and its reins, were all curiously wrought and embossed with bullion, while a thousand fanciful ornaments of gold filigree-work hung about it in every direction.
Behind the king appeared Sir Henry Guilford, master of the horse, leading a spare charger for the monarch; not indeed with any likelihood of the king's using it, but more as a piece of state ornament than anything else, in the same manner as the sword of state was borne by the Marquis of Dorset. A little behind appeared nine youths of noble family, as the king's henchmen, mounted on beautiful horses trapped with golden scales, and sprinkled throughout their housings with loose bunches of spangles, which, twinkling in the sunshine, gave an inconceivable lightness and brilliancy to their whole appearance.
Shortly after this glittering group had taken its station in front of the English line, the first parties of the French nobility began to appear on the opposite hill, and spreading out upon its side, offered a corresponding mass of splendour to that formed by the array of England. Very soon the whole of Francis's court had deployed; and after a pause of a few minutes, during which the two hosts seemed to consider each other with no small admiration, and in profound silence, the trumpets from the French side sounded, and the constable Duke of Bourbon, bearing a naked sword upright, began to descend the hill. Immediately behind him followed the French monarch superbly arrayed, and mounted on a magnificent Barbary horse, covered from head to foot with gold. Instantly on beholding this, the English trumpets replied, and the Marquis of Dorset, unsheathing the sword of state, moved slowly forward before the king. Henry, having the lord cardinal on his left, and followed by his immediate suite, now descended the hill, and arrived in the valley exactly at the same moment as Francis. The two sword-bearers who preceded them fell back each to the right of his own sovereign; and the monarchs, spurring forward their highly-managed horses, met in the midst and embraced each other on horseback. Difficult and strange as such a manœuvre may seem, it was performed with ease and grace, both the kings being counted amongst the most skilful horsemen in Europe; and in truth, as the old historian expresses it, it must have been a marvellous sweet and goodly sight to see those two princes, in the flower of their age, in the height of their strength, and in the dignity of their manly beauty, commanding two great nations, that had been so long rivals and enemies, instead of leading hostile armies to desolate and destroy, meet in that peaceful valley, and embrace like brothers in the sight of the choice nobility of either land.
Two grooms and two pages, who had followed on foot, now ran to hold the stirrup and the rein, each of his own monarch; and springing to the ground, the kings embraced again; after which, clasped arm in arm, they passed the barrier, and entered the golden tent, wherein two thrones were raised beneath one canopy.
"Henry of England, my dear brother," said the King of France, as soon as they were seated, "thus far have I travelled to see you and do you pleasure; willing to hold you to my heart with brotherly love, and to show you that I am your friend: and surely I believe that you esteem me as I am. The realms that I command, and the powers that I possess, are not small; but if they may ever be of aid to my brother, of England, I shall esteem them greater than before."
"The greatness of your realms, sir, and the extent of your power," replied Henry, "weigh as nothing in my eyes, compared with your high and princely qualities; and it is to interchange regard with you, and renew in person our promises of love, that I have here passed the seas and come to the very verge of my dominions."
With such greetings commenced the interview of the two kings, who soon called to them the cardinal, and seating him beside them, with much honour, they commanded him to read the articles which he had drawn up for the arrangement and ordering of their future interviews. Wolsey complied; and all that he proposed seemed well to please both the monarchs, till he proceeded to stipulate, that when the King of England should go over to the town of Ardres, to revel with the queen and ladies of France, the King of France should at the same time repair to the town of Guisnes, there to be entertained by the Queen of England. At this Francis mused: "Nay, nay, my good lord cardinal," said he, "faith, I fear not to trust myself with my brother of England at his good castle of Guisnes, without holding him as a hostage in my court for my safe return; and, marry, I am sure he would put equal confidence in me, though I stayed not in his city till he was on his journey back."
"This clause is not inserted, most noble sovereign," replied Wolsey, "from any doubt or suspicion that one gracious king has of the other; for surely all trust and amicable confidence exist between ye: but it is for the satisfaction of the minds of your liege subjects, who, not understanding the true nature of princely friendship, might be filled with black apprehensions, were they to see their monarch confide himself, without warrant of safety, in the power of another nation."
"Well, well, my good lord," replied Francis, "let it be; time will show us." And from that moment he seemed to pay little attention to all the precautionary measures by which the cautious Wolsey proposed to secure the future meetings of the two kings from the least danger to either party. The generous mind of the French monarch revolted at the suspicious policy of the cardinal; and agreeing to anything that the other thought proper, he mentally revolved his own plans for shaming the English monarch and his minister out of their cold and injurious doubts.
The arrangement of these articles was the only displeasing circumstance that cast a shadow upon the meeting: all the rest passed in gaiety and joy. A sumptuous banquet was soon placed before them, and various of the nobles of England and France were called to mingle in the royal conversation while the monarchs were at table.
In the meanwhile the two courts and their retainers remained arranged on the opposing sides of the hill; the Englishmen, with their characteristic rigidity, standing each man in his place as immoveable as a statue, while the livelier Frenchmen, impatient of doing nothing, soon quitted their ranks, and, falling into broken masses, amused themselves as best they might; many of them crossing the valley, and with national facility beginning to make acquaintance with their new allies, nothing repulsed by the blunt reception they met with. Not that the English were inhospitable; for having, as usual, taken good care that no provision should be wanting against the calls of hunger or thirst, they communicated willingly to their neighbours of the comforts they had brought with them, sending over many a flagon of wine and hypocras, much to the consolation of the French, who had taken no such wise precautions against the two great internal enemies.
In about an hour, the hangings of the tent were drawn back, and the two kings re-appeared; ready to separate for the day. The grooms led up the horses; and Francis and Henry, embracing with many professions of amity, mounted and turned their steps each to his several dwelling.
The English procession marched back in the same order as it came, and arrived without interruption at the green plain of Guisnes, where Henry, ordering the band of footmen to halt, rode along before them, making them a gay and familiar speech, and bidding them be merry if they loved their king. Shouts and acclamations answered the monarch's speech, and the nobles, joining in his intent, showered their largesse upon their retainers as they followed along the line. The last band that Henry came to was that of the privileged tradesmen of the court, most of whom he recognised, possessing, in a high degree, that truly royal quality of never forgetting any one he had once known. To each he had some frank, bluff sentence to address; while they, with heads uncapped and bending low, enjoyed with proud hearts the honour of being spoken to by the king, and thought how they could tell it to all their neighbours and gossips when they got to England. As he rode on, Henry perceived in the second rank a face that he remembered, which, being attached to a very pliable neck, kept bending down with manifold reverences, not unlike the nodding of a mandarin cast in china-ware.
"Ha! my good clothier, Jekin Groby!" cried the king; "come forth, man! What! come forth, I say!"
Jekin Groby rushed forward from behind, knocking on one side the royal honey merchant, and fairly throwing down the household fishmonger who stood before him; then, casting himself on his knees by the side of the king's horse, he clasped the palms of his hands together, and turned up his eyes piteously to the monarch's countenance, exclaiming, "Justice! justice! your grace's worship, if your royal stomach be full of justice, as folks say, give me justice."
"Justice!" cried Henry, laughing at the sad and deplorable face poor Jekin thought necessary to assume for the purpose of moving his compassion. "Justice on whom, man--ha? Faith, if any man have done thee wrong, he shall repent it, as I am a king; though, good Jekin, I sent for thee a month ago to furnish cloth for all the household, and thou wert not to be found."
"Lord 'a mercy!" cried Jekin, "and I've missed the job! but it ought all to be put in the bill. Pray, your grace's worship, put it in the bill against that vile Sir Payan Wileton, who kidnapped me on your own royal highway, robbed me of my bagfull of angels, and sent me to sea, where I was so sick, your grace; you can't think how sick! And then they beat me with ropes' ends, and made me go up aloft, and damned me for a land-lubber, and a great deal more: all on account of that Sir Payan Wileton!"
"Ha!" cried the king; "Sir Payan Wileton again! I had forgot him. However, good Jekin, I cannot hear you now; come to my chamber to-morrow before I rise--ha, man! then I will hear and do you justice, if it be on the highest man in the land. There is my signet: the page will let you in. At six o'clock, man, fail not!"
"I told you so!" cried Jekin, starting upon his feet, and looking round him with delight as the king rode away; "I told you he would make that black thief give me back my angels. I knew his noble heart; Lord 'a mercy! 'tis a gracious prince, surely."