The image traditionally favoured by king and dictators is of a figure so large it complements or even competes with the sun (see 336 BC: Alexander meets Diogenes), an image evoked perfectly in A Man for All Seasons (1966), in which Robert Shaw’s Henry VIII blocks out the sun when he appears to Paul Scofield’s Thomas More. Henry has had a bad press from posterity’s novelists and historians, largely because he deserves one. One of the few real intellectuals to inherit the English throne (or any throne) he was genuinely interested in science and all aspects of learning, and corresponded with the great humanist Erasmus while still a youth; and although he almost certainly did not compose ‘Greensleeves’, as used to be believed, he was an accomplished musician and composer.
But from an early age, this royal paragon was also fascinated with war, and with the age’s ritualised substitute for war, tournaments (and was a very keen hunter). and fought a war with France 1512-14. Henry was 23 when the war began, and his kingdom was a member of the Holy League, an alliance against Francis I’s France (Henry didn’t get much out of the conflict, except for a resounding victory over the Scots at Flodden in 1513). By 1520, Henry’s realm of England was a growing power in Europe, courted cautiously by the two main forces in Europe, the Hapsburg Emperor Charles V (the son of Philip the Handsome and Joanna the Mad), and Francis I, the latter being also a young man flexing his imperial muscles.
England’s diplomacy during this period has come in for some recent revision. Cardinal Wolsey used to be seen as the dominant player on the English side, ‘the King’s ruler’, it used to be said, but there now seems to be pretty much a consensus that Henry was happy to let Wolsey, who became a cardinal in 1515, take the public credit for English policy – for as long as the policy suited Henry. England had a population much smaller than France’s, a national income a great deal lower than the Hapsburg’s, yet Wolsey and the King somehow enabled England to, as several historians have said, punch well above its weight.
Peace was finally made with France, and the two young lions agreed to meet in June 1520 at what has come to be called the ‘Field of the Cloth of Gold’, near Calais (as pedants never tire of saying, strictly it should be called Field of Cloth of Gold). It was so called because of the large amount of gold cloth on display, on both costumes and tents. The event lasted a month. The proclaimed intention was to strengthen the bonds between England and France, who were neighbours and should be friends in a rapidly changing world. With the old certainties failing, and with the Ottomans encroaching on Christendom, why should old enemies not become friends? Two 12 foot paintings – now at Hampton Court – were made to record the meeting, one showing Henry embarking for France, the other (a much-pondered painting) showing details of the place and the events.
Everything about the meeting was designed – by Wolsey, who had become a papal legate in 1518 – not to cause offence to either side (Calais was English territory). An ad hoc 300-foot long palace was built, with 30-foot (mostly cloth) walls; fountains flowed with wine; dozens of priests tended to the gathering’s spiritual needs where required; over 2000 sheep were eaten, the finest choristers sang; knights jousted; and Francis and Henry wrestled. The latter encounter was not planned, and Wolsey would certainly not have wanted it. It was a definite mistake: to have two burly young and ambitious kings wrestling in front of their watchful courts, indeed in front of beady eyes from every court in Europe, was to court misfortune. Francis succeeded in pinning Henry to the ground; Henry rose white-faced and all the fun was over.
What Happened Next
The Field of the Cloth of Gold represents what may well be proportionately the biggest outlay in diplomatic expenditure for the least result, effectively a silly and hugely expensive interlude. England and France were back at war within two years, after Wolsey arranged an alliance with Charles. Henry’s soldiers raided France in 1522 and 1523, and he suggested to Charles that they carve up France between them, after Charles captured Francis. Charles was not interested. Pope Clement VII then persuaded Henry into an alliance – the League of Cognac – against Charles, but Henry’s war chest was already running out at this point. England was an important player in European affairs, that was now clear, but not one wealthy enough to sustain a European war.