A fresh expedition was being prepared against France. The Duke of Suffolk had placed himself at the head of the troops in the month of August, 1523. A powerful auxiliary was counted upon at the very court of Francis I.; the Constable Bourbon offended by his master, pursued by the jealous hatred of Louise of Savoy, who had hoped to become his wife, had succumbed to his desire for vengeance; he had betrayed his country and undertaken to serve her enemies. As soon as the King of France should have crossed the Alps, in his expedition to Italy, the Constable, with seven thousand men, was to co-operate in the attacks of the English and Imperialists. The plot was suspected; King Francis delayed his departure, and the Constable, who had feigned an illness, was compelled to fly into Italy. The allies entered upon the campaign alone and too late; they were moreover disconcerted in their operations by the absence of the troops of the Constable. Francis I. everywhere faced the enemy in France, while his faithful servant, Admiral Bonnivet, commanded the army of Italy.
The Duke of Suffolk was not destined for more glory than the Earl of Surrey; he delayed before St. Omer, instead of affecting a junction with the Germans who had invaded Burgundy; at length, when he desired to pass, it was too late, the French army cut off his communications; he was without provisions, his troops were suffering from grave distempers. It was necessary to fall back upon Calais. This unfortunate campaign almost cost the Duke of Suffolk his head, so great was the anger of King Henry.
Pope Adrian VI. had died (4th of September, 1523) after a pontificate of twenty months; his austere conscience had so greatly exasperated the Italians, that the physician who had attended him during his illness was styled the "Saviour of his country." The hopes of Wolsey blossomed again; he hastened to write to King Henry to assure him of the repugnance which he should experience at leaving his good master and burthening himself with so heavy a duty as the government of Christendom. Henry understood, and caused the emperor to be reminded of all his promises, commanding his ambassador at Rome also to spare nothing in order to insure the election of the minister.
This time Wolsey was among the number of the candidates; he had even brought together sufficient votes, but the Italians, the people of Rome, came almost beneath the windows of the conclave, crying out that there had been too many barbarians on the seat of St. Peter, and that they would have no more. This opposition, supported by the efforts of the French cardinals, secured the tiara to cardinal Julius de Medicis. He had had the intention of retaining his name, but he was reminded that no Pope who had done so had reigned two years, and he assumed the title of Clement VII.
Wolsey was too sagacious not to contrive to conceal his disappointment; the instructions of Henry VIII. were, moreover, to assist Cardinal de Medicis if the election of the chancellor of England was impossible; the new Pope immediately confirmed Wolsey in his office of legate, authorizing him even to suppress in England the religious houses which he should find to be corrupt. The cardinal made use of this authority with moderation, employing the property of the closed monasteries in endowing the colleges and universities, in order, he said, to instruct learned doctors "capable of refuting the ever-growing and widespread heresies of the monster, Martin Luther."
The French army, under the orders of Admiral Bonnivet, had obtained some success in Italy; but when that commander had to deal with the Constable Bourbon, placed by the emperor at the head of his troops, he suffered check after check; the loss of nearly all the towns was crowned by the death of the brave Bayard, the flower of European chivalry. The invasion of France was resolved upon, and Charles V. besought Henry VIII. to make an attack in the north; but England was weary of making war without glory, and the king, who had, while advancing in years, conceived as little liking as he had little aptitude for the command of armies, refused his co-operation, promising money, however, which he did not pay. Bourbon and the Marquis of Peschiera entered France, but, contrary to the advice of the Constable, who wished to march upon Lyons, they delayed at the fruitless siege of Marseilles, and the generals, urged by the proximity of the army which Francis I. had gathered together at Avignon, re-entered Italy. To his misfortune the king of France followed them there; the struggle began before Pavia, which the French were besieging; all the forces of the empire were united there, and on the 24th of February, 1525, when the combat ceased, the French army was decimated and the king a prisoner. "All is lost, save honour!" wrote the captured monarch, who had valiantly defended himself, to his mother. He was immediately conducted to the fortress of Pizzighitone, and people rejoiced greatly in England at the victory of the emperor, as though King Henry VIII. had not been upon the point, a few months before, of separating himself from the league, in order to become reconciled with the King of France.
The victory caused the scale to incline to the side of Charles V., and Henry hastened to despatch ambassadors to him, promising to invade France in conjunction with the emperor, in order to divide that kingdom amicably. As preliminaries of the treaty, the King of England proposed to ascend the throne of France, which belonged to him by right of inheritance, while Charles should content himself with the provinces formerly dependant upon the House of Burgundy. In order to accomplish this dazzling project, fresh taxes were demanded without any vote of Parliament, recent experience of the temper of that body not having been favourable; but this was too much. Insurrections broke out on all sides; placards insulting to the king and the cardinal were affixed by night upon the walls; arms were taken up against the commissioners. Wolsey perceived that it was necessary to yield, and the king, more bold in words than in deeds, speedily announced that he revoked and annulled his demands; it was also repeated very loudly that the cardinal had always been opposed to this fresh benevolence, that it was at his entreaty that the king abandoned it; but the people said, "God bless the king; as to the cardinal, we know him but too well."
The rejoicing had been neither general nor spontaneous in England after the battle of Pavia and the captivity of Francis I. "I have heard it related," wrote Warham, Archbishop of Canterbury, formerly a minister of Henry VII., to the cardinal, "that the people said in several places that it would be a subject rather for weeping than for rejoicing that the King of France was a prisoner; if he could recover his liberty, and there should be a good peace, the king would no longer dream of retaking France, the conquest of which would be more burdensome to England than profitable, and the maintenance more burdensome than the conquest."