part I

pass not of their cruelties, for I know very well I shall suffer most cruel death if I come once into their hands. It is not for myself therefore that I do lament, but it is for your sakes; it is for your lives; it is also for the safeguard of your persons. For so that ye might escape the danger of your enemies' hands, I would most gladly suffer death. Therefore, good companions and noble soldiers, I shall require you all, considering the dangerous misery and calamity that we stand in at this present, to sell our lives most dearly rather than to be murdered like beasts. If ye will follow my counsel we will take upon us this night to give our enemies an assault in their camp, and by that means we may either escape, or else give them an overthrow. And thus it were better to die in the field like men, than to live in captivity and misery as prisoners." To the which they all agreed. "Then," quoth the duke, "Ye perceive that our enemy hath encamped us with a strong camp, and that there is no way to enter but one, which is so planted with great ordnance, and force of men, that it is not possible to enter that way to fight with our enemies without great danger. And also, ye see that now of late they have had small doubt of us, insomuch as they have kept but slender watch. Therefore my policy and advice shall be this: That about the dead time of the night, when our enemies be most quiet at rest, there shall issue from us a number of the most deliverest soldiers to assault their camp; who shall give the assault right secretly, even directly against the entry of the camp, which is almost invincible. Your fierce and sharp assault shall be to them in the camp so doubtful, that they shall be compelled to turn the strength of their entry that lyeth over against your assault, to beat you from the assault. Then will I issue out at the postern, and come to the place of their strength newly turned, and there, or they be ware, will I enter and fight with them at the same place where their guns and strength lay before, and so come to the rescue of you of the assault, and winning their ordnance which they have turned, beat them with their own pieces. And then we joining together in the field, I trust we shall have a fair hand of them. This device pleased them wondrous well. Then prepared they all that day for the purposed device, and kept them secret and close, without any noise or shot of piece within the town, which gave their enemies the less fear of any trouble that night, but every man went to their rest within their tents and lodgings quietly, nothing mistrusting that after ensued.

Then when all the king's host was at rest, the assailants issued out of the town without any noise, according to the former appointment, and gave a fierce and cruel assault at the place appointed; that they within the camp had as much to do to defend it as was possible: and even as the duke had before declared to his soldiers, they within were compelled to turn their shot that lay at the entry against the assailants. With that issued the duke, and with him about fifteen or sixteen thousand men or more, and secretly in the night, his enemies being not privy of his coming until he was entered the field. And at his first entry he was master of all the ordnance that lay there, and slew the gunners; and charged the said pieces and bent them against his enemies, [of] whom he slew wondrously a great number. He cut down tents and pavilions, and murdered them within them, or they wist of [his] coming, suspecting nothing less than the duke's entry; so that he won the field or ever the king could arise to the rescue: who was taken in his lodging or ever he was armed. And when the duke had obtained the field, and the French king taken prisoner, his men slain, and his tents robbed and spoiled, which were wondrous rich. And in the spoil, searching of the king's treasure in his coffers there was found among them the league newly concluded between the King of England and the French king, under the great seal of England; which once by [the duke] perceived, he began to smell the impediment of his money which should have come to him from the king. Having upon due search of this matter further intelligence that all this matter and his utter undoing was concluded and devised by the Cardinal of England, the duke conceived such an indignation hereupon against the cardinal, that after he had established all things there in good order and security, he went incontinent unto Rome, intending there to sack the town, and to have taken the pope prisoner: where, at his first assault of the walls, he was the first man that was there slain. Yet, notwithstanding, his captains continued there the assault, and in conclusion won the town, and the pope fled unto Castle Angell, where he continued long after in great calamity.

I have written thus this history at large because it was thought that the cardinal gave the chief occasion of all this mischief[104]. Ye may perceive what thing soever a man purposeth, be he prince or prelate, yet notwithstanding God disposeth all things at his will and pleasure. Wherefore it is great folly for any wise man to take any weighty enterprise of himself, trusting altogether to his own wit, not calling for grace to assist him in all his proceedings.

I have known and seen in my days that princes and great men [who] would either assemble at any parliament, or in any other great business, first would most reverently call to God for his gracious assistance therein. And now I see the contrary. Wherefore me seems that they trust more in their own wisdoms and imaginations than they do to God's help and disposition; and therefore often they speed thereafter, and their matters take no success. Therefore not only in this history, but in divers others, ye may perceive right evident examples. And yet I see no man almost in authority or high estate regard or have any respect to the same; the greater is the pity, and the more to be lamented. Now will I desist from this matter and proceed to other.

Upon the taking of the French king, many consultations and divers opinions were then in argument among the council here in England. Whereof some held opinion that if the king would invade the realm of France in proper person, with a puissant army royal, he might easily conquer the same; considering that the French king, and the most part of the noble peers of France, were then prisoners with the emperor. Some again said how that were no honour for the king our sovereign lord, (the king being in captivity). But some said that the French king ought by the law of arms to be the king's prisoner, forasmuch as he was taken by the king's champion and general captain, the Duke of Bourbon, and not by the emperor. So that some moved the king to take war thereupon with the emperor, unless he would deliver the French king out of his hands and possession; with divers many other imaginations and inventions, even as men's fantasies served them, too long here to be rehearsed: the which I leave to the writers of chronicles.

Thus continuing long in debating upon the matter, and every man in the court had their talk, as will without wit led their fantasies; at the last it was devised by means of divers embassies sent into England out of the realm of France, desiring the king our sovereign lord to take order with the emperor for the French king's deliverance, as his royal wisdom should seem good, wherein the cardinal bare the stroke; so that after long deliberation and advice taken in this matter, it was thought good by the cardinal that the emperor should redeliver out of his ward the French king, upon sufficient pledges. And that the king's two sons, that is to say, the Dolphin and the Duke of Orleans should be delivered in hostage for the king their father; which was in conclusion brought to pass.

After the king's deliverance out of the emperor's bondage, and his two sons received in hostage to the emperor's use, and the king our sovereign lord's security for the recompense of all such demands and restitutions as should be demanded of the French king, the cardinal, lamenting the French king's calamity, and the pope's great adversity, who yet remained in castle Angell, either as a prisoner, or else for his defence and safeguard (I cannot tell whether), travailed all that he could[105] with the king and his council to take order as well for the delivery of the one as for the quietness of the other. At last, as ye have heard here before, how divers of the great estates and lords of the council lay in a-wait with my Lady Anne Boleyn, to espy a convenient time and occasion to take the cardinal in a brake[106]; [they] thought then, now is the time come that we have expected, supposing it best to cause him to take upon him the king's commission, and to travel beyond the seas in this matter, saying, to encourage him thereto, that it were more meet for his high discretion, wit, and authority, to compass and bring to pass a perfect peace among these great and most mighty princes of the world than any other within this realm or elsewhere. Their intent and purpose was only but to get him out of the king's daily presence, and to convey him out of the realm, that they might have convenient leisure and opportunity to adventure their long desired enterprise, and by the aid of their chief mistress, my Lady Anne, to deprave him so unto the king in his absence, that he should be rather in his high displeasure than in his accustomed favour, or at the least to be in less estimation with his majesty. Well! what will you have more? This matter was so handled that the cardinal was commanded to prepare himself to this journey; the which he was fain to take upon him; but whether it was with his good will or no, I am not well able to tell you. But this I know, that he made a short abode after the determined resolution thereof, but caused all things to be prepared onward toward his journey. And every one of his servants were appointed that should attend upon him in the same.

[Illustration: _Etched by I Harris Jun^r._

CARDINAL WOLSEY AND HIS SUITE IN PROGRESS.

_From a M.S. in the Collection of Francis Douce Esq.^r F.S.A._

_Published by Harding, Triphook, & Lepard, 1824._]

When all things were fully concluded, and for this noble embassy provided and furnished, then was no lett, but advance forwards in the name of God. My Lord Cardinal had with him such of the lords and bishops and other worthy persons as were not privy of the conspiracy.

Then marched he forward out of his own house at Westminster, passing through all London[107], over London Bridge, having before him of gentlemen a great number, three in a rank, in black velvet livery coats, and the most part of them with great chains of gold about their necks. And all his yeomen, with noblemen's and gentlemen's servants following him in French tawny livery coats; having embroidered upon the backs and breasts of the said coats these letters: T. and C., under the cardinal's hat. His sumpter mules, which were twenty in number and more, with his carts and other carriages of his train, were passed on before, conducted and guarded with a great number of bows and spears. He rode like a cardinal, very sumptuously, on a mule trapped with crimson velvet upon velvet, and his stirrups of copper, and gilt; and his spare mule following him with like apparel. And before him he had his two great crosses of silver, two great pillars of silver, the great seal of England, his cardinal's hat, and a gentleman that carried his valaunce, otherwise called a cloakbag; which was made altogether of fine scarlet cloth, embroidered over and over with cloth of gold very richly, having in it a cloak of fine scarlet. Thus passed he through London, and all the way of his journey, having his harbingers passing before to provide lodging for his train.

The first journey he made to Dartford in Kent, unto Sir Richard Wiltshire's house, which is two miles beyond Dartford; where all his train were lodged that night, and in the country thereabouts. The next day he rode to Rochester, and lodged in the bishop's palace there; and the rest of his train in the city, and in Stroud on this side the bridge. The third day he rode from thence to Feversham, and there was lodged in the abbey, and his train in the town, and some in the country thereabouts. The fourth day he rode to Canterbury, where he was encountered with the worshipfullest of the town and country, and lodged in the abbey of Christchurch, in the prior's lodging. And all his train in the city, where he continued three or four days; in which time there was the great jubilee, and a fair in honour of the feast of St. Thomas their patron. In which day of the said feast, within the abbey there was made a solemn procession; and my Lord Cardinal went presently in the same, apparelled in his legantine ornaments, with his Cardinal's hat on his head; who commanded the monks and all their quire to sing the litany after this sort, _Sancta Maria ora pro papa nostro Clemente_; and so perused the litany through, my Lord Cardinal kneeling at the quire door, at a form covered with carpets and cushions. The monks and all the quire standing all that while in the midst of the body of the church. At which time I saw the Lord Cardinal weep very tenderly; which was, as we supposed, for heaviness that the pope was at that present in such calamity and great danger of the Lance Knights[108].

The next day I was sent with letters from my Lord Cardinal unto Calais, by empost, insomuch as I was that same night at Calais. And at my landing I found standing upon the pier, without [the] Lantern Gate, all the council of the town, to whom I delivered and dispatched my message and letters or ever I entered the town; where I lay two days or my lord came thither; who arrived in the haven the second day after my coming, about eight of the clock in the morning: where he was received in procession with all the worshipfullest persons of the town in most solemn wise. And in the Lantern Gate was set for him a form, with carpets and cushions, whereat he kneeled and made his prayers before his entry any further in the town; and there he was censed with two great censers of silver, and sprinkled with holy water. That done he arose up and passed on, with all that assembly before him, singing, unto St. Mary's church, where he standing at the high altar, turning himself to the people, gave them his benediction and clean remission. And then they conducted him from thence unto a house called the Checker, where he lay and kept his house as long as he abode in the town; going immediately to his naked bed, because he was somewhat troubled with sickness in his passage upon the seas.

That night, unto this place of the Checker, resorted to him Mons. du Biez, captain of Boulogne, with a number of gallant gentlemen, who dined with him; and after some consultation with the cardinal, he with the rest of the gentlemen departed again to Boulogne. Thus the cardinal was daily visited with one or other of the French nobility.

Then when all his train and his carriages were landed at Calais, and every thing prepared in a readiness for his journey, he called before him all his noblemen and gentlemen into his privy chamber; where they being assembled, [he] said unto them in this wise in effect: "I have called you hither to this intent, to declare unto you, that I considering the diligence that ye minister unto me, and the good will that I bear you again for the same, intending to remember your diligent service hereafter, in place where ye shall receive condign thanks and rewards. And also I would show you further what authority I have received directly from the king's highness; and to instruct you somewhat of the nature of the French men; and then to inform you what reverence ye shall use unto me for the high honour of the king's majesty, and also how ye shall entertain the French men, whensoever ye shall meet at any time. First, ye shall understand that the king's majesty, upon certain weighty considerations, hath for the more advancement of his royal dignity, assigned me in this journey to be his lieutenant-general; and what reverence belongeth to the same I will tell you. That for my