Cardinal Wolsey

by M. Creighton

Under any circumstances it was an audacious step, and as things turned out it was an unfortunate one. Within a few days the news reached England that Francis had been attacked at Pavia by the imperial forces, had been entirely routed, and was a prisoner in the hands of Charles. Though Wolsey was prepared for some success of the imperial arms, he was taken aback at the decisiveness of the stroke. His time for widening the breach between Charles and Henry had not been well chosen.

However, Charles saw that he could not pursue his victory without money, and to obtain money he must adopt an appearance of moderation. So he professed in Italy willingness to forget the past, and he avoided a quarrel with England. He treated the insult to his ambassador as the result of a personal misunderstanding. Henry complained of De Praet's unfriendly bearing; Charles assured him that no offence was intended. Both parties saved their dignity; De Praet was recalled, and another ambassador was sent in his stead. Wolsey saw that he had been precipitate, and hastened to withdraw his false step; Henry lent him his countenance, but can scarcely have relished doing so. Wolsey knew that his difficulties were increased. The victory of Charles again drew Henry to his side and revived his projects of conquest at the expense of France, now left helpless by its king's captivity. As the defection of Bourbon had formerly awakened Henry's hopes, so now did the captivity of Francis. Again Wolsey's pacific plans were shattered; again he was driven to undertake the preparations for a war of which his judgment disapproved.

Indeed Wolsey knew that war was absolutely impossible for want of money; but it was useless to say so to the king. He was bound to try and raise supplies by some means or other, and his experience of the last Parliament had shown him that there was no more to be obtained from that source. In his extremity Wolsey undertook the responsibility of reviving a feudal obligation which had long been forgotten. He announced that the king purposed to pass the sea in person, and demanded that the goodwill of his subjects should provide for his proper equipment. But the goodwill of the people was not allowed the privilege of spontaneous generosity. Commissioners were appointed in every shire to assess men's property, and require a sixth part of it for the king's needs. Wolsey himself addressed the citizens of London. When they gave a feeble assent to his request for advice, "whether they thought it convenient that the king should pass the sea with an army or not," he proceeded, "Then he must go like a prince, which cannot be without your aid." He unfolded his proposals for a grant of 3s. 4d. in the pound on £50 and upwards, 2s. 8d. on £20 and upwards, and 1s. in the pound on £1 and upwards. Some one pleaded that the times were bad. "Sirs," said Wolsey, "speak not to break what is concluded, for some shall not pay even a tenth; and it were better that a few should suffer indigence than the king at this time should lack. Beware, therefore, and resist not, nor ruffle not in this case; otherwise it may fortune to cost some their heads." This was indeed a high-handed way of dealing with a public meeting, which was only summoned to hear the full measure of the coming calamity. We cannot wonder that "all people cursed the cardinal and his adherents as subverters of the laws and liberty of England." Nor was Wolsey ignorant of the unpopularity which he incurred; but there was no escape possible. He rested only on the king's favour, and he knew that the king's personal affection for him had grown colder. He was no longer the king's friend and tutor, inspiring him with his own lofty ideas and slowly revealing his far-reaching schemes. Late years had seen Wolsey immersed in the business of the State, while the king pursued his own pleasures, surrounded by companions who did their utmost to undermine Wolsey's influence. They advocated war, while he longed for peace; they encouraged the royal extravagance, while he worked for economy; they favoured the imperial alliance and humoured Henry's dreams of the conquest of France, while Wolsey saw that England's strength lay in a powerful neutrality. The king's plans had deviated from the lines which Wolsey had designed, and the king's arbitrary temper had grown more impatient of restraint. Wolsey had imperceptibly slipped from the position of a friend to that of a servant, and he was dimly conscious that his continuance in the royal service depended on his continued usefulness. Whatever the king required he was bound to provide.

So Wolsey strained every nerve to fill the royal coffers by the device of an "Amicable Loan," which raised a storm of popular indignation. Men said with truth that they had not yet paid the subsidy voted by Parliament, and already they were exposed to a new exaction. Coin had never been plentiful in England, and at that time it was exceptionally scarce. The commissioners in the different shires all reported the exceeding difficulty which they met with in the discharge of their unpleasant duty. It soon became clear to Wolsey that his demand had overshot the limits of prudence, and that money could not be raised on the basis of the parliamentary assessment without the risk of a rebellion. Accordingly Wolsey withdrew from his original proposal. He sent for the mayor and corporation of London and told them, in the fictitious language in which constitutional procedure is always veiled, "I kneeled down to his Grace, showing him both your good minds towards him and also the charge you continually sustain, the which, at my desire and petition, was content to call in and abrogate the same commission." The attempt to raise money on the basis of each man's ratable value was abandoned, and the more usual method of a benevolence was substituted in its stead.

This, however, was not much more acceptable. Again Wolsey summoned the mayor and corporation; but they had now grown bolder, and pleaded that benevolences had been abolished by the statute of Richard III. Wolsey angrily answered that Richard was a usurper and a murderer of his nephews; how could his acts be good? "An it please your Grace," was the answer, "although he did evil, yet in his time were many good acts made not by him only, but by the consent of the body of the whole realm, which is Parliament." There was nothing more to be said, and Wolsey had to content himself with leaving every man to contribute privily what he would. It did not seem that this spontaneous liberality went far to replenish the royal exchequer.

What happened in London was repeated in different forms in various parts of England. In Norwich there was a tumult, which it needed the presence of the Duke of Norfolk to appease. He asked the confused assembly who was their captain, and bade that he should speak. Then out spake one John Greene, a man of fifty years. "My lord, since you ask who is our captain, forsooth, his name is Poverty; for he and his cousin Necessity have brought us to this doing. For all these persons and many more live not of ourselves, but we live by the substantial occupiers of this country; and yet they give us so little wages for our workmanship that scarcely we be able to live; and thus in penury we pass the time, we, our wives and children: and if they, by whom we live, be brought in that case that they of their little cannot help us to earn our living, then must we perish and die miserably. I speak this, my lord: the clothmakers have put away all their people, and a far greater number, from work. The husbandmen have put away their servants and given up household; they say the king asketh so much that they be not able to do as they have done before this time, and then of necessity must we die wretchedly."

John Greene's speech expressed only too truly the condition of affairs in a period of social change. The old nobility had declined, and the old form of life founded on feudalism was slowly passing away. Trade was becoming more important than agriculture; the growth of wool was more profitable than the growth of corn. It is true that England as a whole was growing richer, and that the standard of comfort was rising; but there was a great displacement of labour, and consequent discontent. The towns had thriven at the expense of the country; and in late years the war with France had hindered trade with the Netherlands. The custom duties had diminished, the drain of bullion for war expenses had crippled English commerce. There had been a succession of bad seasons, and every one had begun to diminish his establishment and look more carefully after his expenditure.

All this was well known to the Duke of Norfolk, and was laid before the king. The commissions were recalled, pardons were granted to the rioters, and the loan was allowed to drop. But Wolsey had to bear all the odium of the unsuccessful attempt, while the king gained all the popularity of abandoning it. Yet Henry VIII. resented the failure, and was angry with Wolsey for exposing him to a rebuff. In spite of his efforts Wolsey was ceasing to be so useful as he had been before, and Henry began to criticise his minister. Brave and resolute as Wolsey was, his labours and disappointments began to tell upon him. Since the failure of the Conference of Calais he had been working not at the development of a policy which he approved, but at the uncongenial task of diminishing the dangers of a policy which he disapproved. The effects of this constant anxiety told upon his health and spirits, and still more upon his temper. He might be as able and as firm as ever, but he no longer had the same confidence in himself.

It was perhaps this feeling which led Wolsey to show the king the extremity of his desire to serve him by undertaking the desperate endeavour to wring more money from an exhausted people. Wolsey had done his utmost to satisfy the king; he had accepted without a murmur the burden of popular hatred which the attempt was sure to bring. There is a pathos in his words, reported by an unfriendly hand, addressed to the council: "Because every man layeth the burden from him, I am content to take it on me, and to endure the fume and noise of the people, for my goodwill towards the king, and comfort of you, my lords and other the king's councillors; but the eternal God knoweth all." Nor was it enough that he submitted to the storm; he wished to give the king a further proof of his devotion. Though others might withhold their substance, yet he would not. He offered the king his house at Hampton Court, which he had built as his favourite retreat, and had adorned to suit his taste. It was indeed a royal gift, and Henry had no scruple in accepting it. But the offer seems to show an uneasy desire to draw closer a bond which had been gradually loosened, and renew an intimacy which was perceptibly diminishing.

However, in one way Wolsey had a right to feel satisfaction even in his ill-success. If money was not to be had, war was impossible, and Wolsey might now pursue his own policy and work for peace. He had to face the actual facts that England was allied to Charles, who had won a signal victory over Francis, and had in his hands a mighty hostage in the person of the King of France. His first object was to discover Charles V.'s intentions, and prevent him from using his advantage solely for his own profit. Bishop Tunstal and Sir Richard Wingfield were sent to Charles with orders to put on a bold face, and find whether Charles thought of dethroning Francis or releasing him for a ransom. In the first case, they were to offer military aid from England; in the second, they were to claim for England a large share in the concessions to be wrung out of Francis. The English demands were so exorbitant that though they may have satisfied the fantastic aspirations of Henry, Wolsey must have known them to be impossible. Under cover of a friendly proposal to Charles he was really preparing the way for a breach.