cessors. On such a nature Henry, by a kind and even just treatment, might have operated so as to excite the most devoted friendship. We see what James did for an adventurer like Warbeck; we see what a spirit the blandishments and courtesies of France evoked in him; and we might have seen far greater attachment elicited towards England by a conduct upright and cordial. But Henry treated James, and his own sister his queen, with the most barefaced dishonesty and haughty discourtesy. He withheld Margaret's jewels, the sacred bequest of her father; he refused to yield up the assassin of James's own friend; he refused a safe conduct to an ambassador whom he proposed to send to him—a thing, James declared, which had never been done even by the Turks; and now this, which was exulted over as a glorious victory, had destroyed the brave-spirited monarch and brother-in-law, made his sister a widow amidst an arrogant aristocracy, and his nephew an orphan exposed to every trouble and danger which can beset an infant king in a turbulent and faction-rent nation.
If Henry had been a wise and reflective prince, capable of comprehending what is really politic, great, and just, these certainly were not circumstances which could afford him much satisfaction. A neighbouring nation, instead of a firm ally, had been made a more embittered enemy; its prince had been slain, and his kingdom left exposed, in the peculiar weakness of a long minority, to the ambitious cupidity of his royal uncle, whose overbearing designs only tended to defeat that union of the crowns which he was most anxious to ensure, and to perpetuate crimes, heartburnings, and troubles betwixt the two governments, for two eventful generations yet to come. Henry, however, overlooking all those things, which were too profound for him and his age, on returning home elate with his own useless campaign and this brilliant but cruel victory, rewarded Surrey by restoring to him the title of Duke of Norfolk, forfeited by his father for his adherence to Richard III., and Lord Thomas Howard, his son, succeeded, for his part, to the title of Earl of Surrey, which had been his father's. Lord Herbert was made Earl of Somerset; and Sir Edward Stanley, Lord Monteagle. At the same time his favourite, Sir Charles Brandon, Lord Lisle, he elevated to the dignity of Duke of Suffolk, probably with a view to his marriage with Margaret of Savoy. Wolsey, his growing clerical favourite, he made Bishop of Lincoln, in addition to his French bishopric of Tournay.
CHAPTER VIII.
REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH.—(Continued).
Henry VIII. had returned from the Continent as much inflated with the idea of his military greatness as if he had been Henry V.; his allies, in the meantime, were laughing in their sleeves at the success with which they had duped him. It was true that he had seriously distressed Louis, but it was for the benefit of those allies, who had all reaped singular advantages from Henry's campaign and heavy outlay. The Pope had got Italy freed from the French; Ferdinand of Spain had got Navarre, and leisure to fortify and make it safe; and Maximilian had got Terouenne, Tournay, and command of the French frontiers on the side of Flanders, with a fine pension from England. It was now the time to see what acknowledgment these allies wore likely to make him for his expensive services, and they did not permit him to wait long. While he had been so essentially obliging to the Pope, his Holiness had sent four bulls into his kingdom, by every one of which he had violated the statutes of the realm, especially that of previsors, taking upon himself to nominate bishops and to command the persecution of heretics. The pontiff now went further, and made a secret treaty with Louis of France, by which he removed the excommunication from Louis and the interdict from his kingdom, on condition that Louis should withdraw his countenance from the schismatic council of cardinals; but knowing Henry's vain character, the Pope, to prevent his expressing any anger, sent him a consecrated sword and bonnet, with many fulsome compliments on his valour and royal greatness.
Henry's father-in-law, Ferdinand, was growing old, and having obtained all that he wanted—Navarre—was most ready to listen to Louis' proposals for peace. Louis tempted him by offering to marry his second daughter, Renee, to his grandson Charles, and to give her as her portion his claim on the duchy of Milan. Ferdinand not only accepted with alacrity these terms, without troubling himself about what Henry might think of such treachery, but engaged to bring over Maximilian, Henry's ally and paid agent, but still the grandfather of Charles. When the news of these transactions, on the part of his trusty confederates, reached Henry, he was for a while incredulous, and then broke into a fury of rage. He complained that his father-in-law had been the first to involve him with France by his great promises and professions, not one of which he had kept, and now, without a moment's warning, had not only sacrificed his interests for his own selfish purposes, but had drawn over the Emperor of Germany, who lay under such signal obligations to him. He vowed the most determined revenge. Here was Maximilian, for whom he had conquered Terouenne and Tournay, whom he had subsidised to the amount of 200,000 crowns, and whose grandson Charles was affianced to his sister Mary, who had in a moment forgotten all these benefits and his engagement. As the time was come for the marriage of Charles and the Princess Mary, Henry sent a demand for its completion; Maximilian, who had already agreed to Louis' offer of his daughter Renee, sent an evasive answer, and Henry's wrath knew no bounds. It was impossible for even his egregious vanity to blind him any longer to the extent to which he had been duped all round.
Louis, having thus destroyed Henry's confederacy of broken reeds, next took measures to secure a peace with him. The Duke of Longueville, who was one of the prisoners taken at the Battle of Spurs, was in London,
